Relics of Our Past

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tomorrow marks a brand new year: 2014. It's weird that my life spans two centuries. Someday my grandkids will talk about it--in their teen years: You were born in 1966, Grandma? Wow! You lived in the 1900's? That's so long ago! What was it like back then?

My dad has this chest that sits by his chair in the living room that is an old family relic. Supposedly when my great grandma was a little girl way back in the late 1800's, she came with her family to Oklahoma in a covered wagon. One of their pieces of furniture was that chest. Every time I see it I think about that fact and wonder what stories that chest has witnessed: Let's settle down here, Honey. I love the red dirt of Oklahoma. It feels like home.

It's a new day now, though. No more settling down in one place, raising your kids, marrying them off and having them settle next door. Now the sky is the limit. Families are often spread from one side of the USA to the other, but, thankfully, we have Skype and cell phones. Life is ever-evolving into something new and different; the landscape is changing, filled with new opportunity and growth.

Roy and I have moved quite a lot in our 26 years of marriage: Colorado, California, New Mexico, Wisconsin, Texas, Missouri, and now North Carolina. Meanwhile, my roots are in Oklahoma and have been for generations. When we were home last week for Christmas, I looked around at the wide open countryside and thought This feels like home. In fact, Savana even said, "Mom, you fit here. I can see it."

And it's true.  Oklahoma is in my blood; it's a part of me--red dirt, dry air, the wind blowing amuck. But the people are genuine and friendly. It's a good place and I'm proud that it's my heritage.

I wonder what relics will survive me that, someday, my children will pass on to their children: This belonged to your grandparents way back in the day when I was a child. We don't have much of value really--no ancient chests sit in my living room, holding family secrets. Our furniture is wearing down and will soon be traded in for something new. I don't have much in the line of jewelry other than a set of pearls my grandma willed to me. We have gone the way of commercialism with waves of new and old and then new again where material items are concerned.

But I do think that my kids have learned the value of family. Though they've been tossed around a bit as we've moved from one academy to another, they've grown from it and understand the wealth that comes from sticking together in new and sometimes difficult situations. They are kind people--my kids--and I am proud of that.

And so as 2014 is ushered in tonight and tomorrow marks a brand new year, I want to be more mindful of creating a legacy of joy for my family. I may not have valuable items to pass down once my journey on this planet is over; but hopefully my kids will have their own version of "relics" from our lives: the value of family, the knowledge that life is what you make it, the opportunity to discover joy in each passing day because, really, in the end, that's all we have.

I Wish You Enough

After a whirlwind week of driving over 2200 miles, making and devouring my dad's ridiculously delicious homemade fudge, playing a silly version of charades at my mom's with all of the kids in her living room, and having more fun than I could ever imagine with every single person in my 20+ member extended family, we are home.

It is amazing to me how it is always so exciting to pack up the car, filled with anticipation, before the trip; yet it is just as sweet to walk back in those doors. This time we drove it straight on the return-trip. 17.5 hours in a car--3 in the backseat. Nobody complained (too much) as I guess we were all "smellin' the barn" a little bit. But gosh it was nice to be back in my own bed.

But I must say, I miss every single one of my family. I miss them a lot.

My nephew Nicholas came from California. Nicholas is 22 and due to complicated circumstances, hasn't come back to Oklahoma for five years. I didn't realize how much I have missed him. Seeing him this Christmas? It was a piece of perfection. He is so grown up and handsome. It was the most difficult telling him good-bye as I am unsure when I will see him again. I hope he keeps his promise. I hope he comes next year.

When Nicholas was born, we lived in California--practically neighbors with my sister Lori and her family. I had Ciara and then six months later, along came Nick. Since he was the oldest "healthy" child, he did all of the firsts. Of course, I was new to this parenting business and unaware of what children were like. You know--all of the "no's" and tantrums and selfish ways of toddlers...and children... (and really adults--we just learn to hide our tantrums behind closed doors). My first memory of Nick--I still can see him so clearly in my mind's eye--is him with the bicycle water bottles. Back in those days, Roy loved to ride his bicycle. He had, in typical Roy fashion, all of the paraphernalia in this odd room in our house that was between the living room and the dining room/kitchen area.  It was filled with weight lifting equipment and bicycles and oddly enough, a couch. But over to the side was a book shelf filled with bicycle magazines and on the bottom shelf, several water bottles neatly lined up so that Roy could grab one at a moment's notice as he headed out the door.  Every time Lori would visit, which was often, Nicholas in tow, he would make a bee-line for those water bottles, using his chubby little hand to knock every last one over. And then he would sit up and look at us with those big blue eyes as if to say, All done.

I wish I knew then what I know now. I wish I knew how quickly time flies and how these babies that can be exasperating and exhausting grow up so quickly. It's so cliche' but so very true that in the blink of an eye, they're gone.  And once they are gone, it's over. There's no going back. 

I wish I had appreciated it more.

I wish I had spent more time laughing and creating and embracing; less time worrying about discipline and having a clean house and "me" time.

The winds of change are in the air where my family is concerned. All of these kids are growing up and finding their life partners. Most of them are in college now and our get-togethers are no longer filled with rough and tumble, games with buttons, and contests of who can stand out in the snow with their bare feet the longest. Silliness still abounds, of course. I'm pretty sure that will be a pillar of family gatherings  and that's a good thing as it keeps us laughing. But everyone is all grown up and so, of course, they will soon be forging families of their own. They will be dividing the holidays between their family and the in-laws. Family Christmas on the Oklahoma plains will become a distant memory of a childhood gone by.

When I was young, I was so desperate to grow up and experience all that life had to offer. I was standing in the foreground, arms reaching forward, yearning for my future: marriage and then babies and then a fulfilling career and so much more--always looking ahead with dreamy eyes.

And I am still excited for the tomorrows of my life. I still have so much to experience. In many ways, I feel like I'm just getting started...and that's weird because I'm on the fringes of fifty. Who knew fifty felt so young? 

But where family is involved, where my kids and nieces and nephews and even my parents come into play, I find that I am now reaching backwards, yearning a little more for the yesterdays. I understand now the fleeting moments of today, how important it is to treasure those relationships and conversations and joys that come from being together. Because, sadly, those days of togetherness begin to change in subtle ways; and then before you know it, they take on a completely different look and what was once normal becomes a distance memory.

I was raised in a family that treasured family on both my mom's and dad's side. We spent so much time with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents growing up. But then I grew up, married, started a family of my own and became my own person. Family was compartmentalized to those two times a year when we all got together. The rest of my life was busy with small children and a husband and a career and doing all of those things that we do in our twenties and thirties. Extended family took a backseat in my life. I loved them all, of course--but didn't have this deep yearning or realization that, really, nobody gets you or has your back like family.

But the older I get, the more I appreciate all of them. Every single one. So seeing Nicholas? It was like comin' home. It was good for my soul, it brought completion to the trip. It made me want to take him by the hand and hold him close as he navigates his future. He's a bit unsure yet what he wants to do with his life and seems to be struggling in some areas. I yearn to shield him, protect him and plead with him to just hold the course. Don't give up. 

But of course...I can't. All I can do is hug him goodbye, hold him close for that one last moment, and then let go.

And meanwhile I will busy myself in North Carolina doing the things we do here. I will teach my classes, update the Alumni database, go to church, laugh at Jace and talk to my girls. I will carry on deep, soulful conversations with Roy about our tomorrows and enjoy the friendships of so many people that I hold dear to my heart. I will carry on with my life and, from an outside perspective, it will appear that all is well. 

And really, it is.

But a piece of me is back there in Oklahoma, surrounded by those that have my heart. A piece of me is grasping for my parents, begging them to stay healthy and well; holding my nieces and nephews and wishing them all good things as they traverse life's highway on their own; joining hands with my sisters as  we stand side by side, and look at each other with knowing eyes.

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."

Last Night

Last night was Merry Christmas! at our house. We are packing up and heading to Oklahoma bright and early Sunday morning so we wanted today (Saturday) for to be a fairly easy day as we need to get take the Christmas tree down and do those last minute details before leaving on a trip. Throwing in Merry Christmas! on top of it all just didn't sound very merry so...we made that very happy, once a year event last night.

And it was very merry indeed.

I love Christmas. It's a little bit of once a year perfection filled with special food and merry moods and bright smiles and happy surprises. I don't think we have ever opened our gifts on Christmas Day as it seems we're traveling or extended family is visiting or something is going on that disrupts it from being just us. But that's okay. It's all we know and we like it that way.

So last night I made cheesy potato soup as it's one of my family's favorite soups and then, at Roy's request, we purchased bread bowls from Panera. Darian cut up some Hickory Farms cheese and turkey sausage (for the meat lovers)  on a platter and added some crackers in the center. We used the fine china and added a candle so that it looked and felt rather festive. And then we took all kinds of family pictures around the tree that were a bit of a bust but...at least it was fun. :)

Why didn't someone tell me that shirt was so see-through??

One of our traditions is to hand out the gifts and then take turns opening them one by one circle-style, starting with Jace. Normally everyone decides which gift they open first; but I decided the order this year as I got all the kids a "bigger" gift and wanted them to save it for last. Oh my goodness--such fun.

The girls were ecstatic with every gift as they are just simple girls and love absolutely everything: underwear?? Thanks, Mom and Dad! I love underwear! I think this is my favorite gift!! And then a bit later: A bathrobe? Oh my goodness! This is exactly what I wanted! I love it! Pretty sure this is my favorite gift! ...or whatever it was.

And Jace gave it his all. He tried his best to be so excited and thankful for the clothes that he kept opening. The thing is, Jace wears a uniform every day and he rarely changes his clothes once he's home. He isn't much for clothes actually, choosing sweats or old shorts, raggedy jeans--whatever he happens to grab whenever he opens his drawers. And I tend to be ... eh ... in the clothes department as, really, where do we go?  But we're headed to Oklahoma and truly there are times he needs something decent to wear so...I picked up a few items.

And then the girls opened their big gifts: Nooks. And as they oohed and aaahed, squealed with excitement, it was just a little more than Jace could stand. He did his best to hide the tears, turned his face towards the chair so nobody could see and squeezed his eyes as hard as he could. It made me burst a little with pride that he tried so hard to contain his disappointment, as I knew that the surprise would be worth it once he got on the other side of the next package that was his to open...but meanwhile, I must admit I enjoyed watching all this drama as it would make the surprise that much better.

In typical Roy-fashion, he couldn't stand it, and he demanded that I get the misery over with and let Jace open his very last gift. And so...I said, "Here you go, Jace. Open your socks. You don't mind getting clothes for Christmas, right? I mean, you really needed them..."

And after ripping the paper off that box like it was burning his hands, he reached inside and pulled out his very much dreamed-for iPod 5. "I knew it! I knew it!" he exclaimed, his eyes lit up like Christmas itself. "I'm naming it Sexy!" And then he did his happy dance and hugged it to his body, closed his eyes, and soaked in the moment.

The girls' generosity was over the top as they are thoughtful and sweet and make me proud. They gave Roy and I a gift card to a restaurant of our choice labeled "Date Night! We'll babysit!"

I can't wait.

They rest of the night was filled with talking and laughing and playing with Nooks and iPods and drinking hot chocolate and just soaking in being together. Guerin came by and he and Savana did their thing and I went upstairs until, at last, it was time to turn out the lights and go to bed.

So today I will take down the tree. I will unplug the lights and carefully remove all the tinsel and sparkle and glitter. I will seal it up for eleven months, hiding it away in a closet, and by the time we go to bed tonight, our house will be back to normal.

But until then, I will relish these few last hours to enjoy the tree, enjoy the lights, enjoy the last moments of our 2013 Christmas.

But most of all, I will relish the memories of sparkling eyes and Thank you, Mom and Dad and squeals of delight. I will treasure everything about last night and carry it with me for the rest of my life, holding it tight. Because last night means Savana and Darian and Jace and Roy. Last night means family.

Last night means everything.

A Whole Lot of Sitting

I'm a really good sitter. One time, several years ago, my sister Lori told me that the only reason I'm fairly organized and get things done quickly is so that I can sit.

Sadly, she's right.

Yesterday Roy had to drive the students all the way to Hilton Head--about a 4 1/2 - 5 hour trip one way -- to drop them off for Christmas break. He asked me if I would go with him and then, on the way home, he would take me to Huhots in Columbia which is about two hours from home for dinner.

That was a huge temptation.

Huhots is a restaurant that we often traversed in Missouri as it was everybody's favorite. It's a Mongolian grill which translates into so many different sauces and vegetables and noodles (and meats, I suppose, if you want that) that you pile into a bowl and carry to a grill. They fry it up in front of you and then you devour it with rice and it is spot-on delicious.

And so, since I seriously don't mind sitting, I tagged along. And? I really enjoyed the day. Nine hours in the car. I read my Nook, played a few crosswords, sent some text messages, talked to some kids, talked to Roy a lot, and did quite a bit of thinking. And as promised, we dined at Huhots.

What's not to love?

Along the way, one of the students shared with me her pain as she is about to graduate high school and dreams of moving to Texas and living with her sister, going to school there. But pursuing her dream means abandoning her mom and leaving her here, all alone. And as she told me this, tears streamed down her face.

Oh the pain of growing up and making decisions, of chasing dreams and leaving loved ones behind.

But there were two absolutely amazing parts to coming home. First of all just as we were hitting the freeway that leads to Candler, Darian called. She was ten minutes from McDonalds and so, we filled up the van and headed to McD's, getting there just as she did. Oh my goodness. She's mine for 2.5 whole weeks.

Fabulous.

And then? We walked in the door at 10:00. Jace had been in bed for at least an hour but he has a difficult time sleeping and heard us come in. I'm sure we sounded like a herd of elephants, laughing and talking and dumping luggage. He walked out of his bedroom, practically ran to me, threw his arms around me in a bear hug and said, "Oh Mom, I'm so glad you're home. I just can't live without you."

Does it get any better than that?

Before I went to bed, Darian and I sat on her bed until way too late. She filled me in on the latest goings on in her life and we laughed. A lot. Poor girl. She has my decision-making skills which isn't saying much. That's why I married Roy as he doesn't suffer from I Can't Make a Decision! syndrome which, of course, is a beautiful thing.

Maybe someday she will find a man who doesn't suffer from it either. But really I would just prefer that she figures out how to make decisions as it seems to be a life skill that comes in handy.

But I guess I will let her figure that out.

I will let her chase her dreams.

And meanwhile I will watch, from a distance (probably as I sit in my chair)...

smiling proudly--because no matter what, I know she will come out on top.

Life is Good

Yesterday was such a great day. I don't think it could have gotten any better if it had tried. We had our staff Christmas party and that was just so much fun--filled with great salads and yummy rolls with this butter that surprised me with its twinge of sweetness and then two kinds of pasta and two desserts so of course I had to eat them both and a special punch that is to die for. Yum. And we sat at a table with the Littells and the Gonzales fam and the Stolenmeier's so that was just a kick as they are all great people and we laughed and talked and laughed some more. Every year since we've been here at Pisgah they have the Christmas party at the Country Club. It is in a remote area that twists and turns up a winding road past gorgeous homes. We get lost every year, end up backing up, turning around, Is this it? No...I think it's that direction...Wait. Is that car up ahead part of our party? Let's follow them...and finally we make it.

We do that every year.

Every. Single. Year.

We finally make it, and when we walk up to the country club--those large double doors looming in front of us-- it leaves me breathless. The blinking lights, the  Christmas decorations, marbled steps--it is all exquisitely decorated. It feels so rich and we are wined and dined as though we own the world. For two hours we get to pretend like this little slice of heaven is life as we know it and it's a beautiful thing.

And then we came home and life smashed me in the face as I had to finish cleaning the guest rooms. You know--pull the sheets out of the dryer and make the beds, fold the towels, clean the toilets, etc. No more May I hang up your coat for you?

Once Jace was in bed, I decided to email my very favorite Aunt Peggy.

Aunt Peggy is my mom's youngest sister and she's simply amazing. When I was a little girl, I remember going to my grandma's when Aunt Peggy visited and listening, awestruck, to her stories. She mesmerized me. Her life seemed fascinating, so different from the rest of us. Aunt Peggy  was a career woman that blazed trails in cities like Milwaukee rather than sticking to the Oklahoma countryside like the rest of us. My ten year old brain had a difficult time wrapping itself around that idea.

One of my Aunt Peggy's most admirable traits, in my opinion, is her love of family. She is inclusive of all of her nieces and nephews, taking time for each of us. She visits and texts and calls us. She gets to know us.

And so, after I sent the email, I decided on a whim to send her a text and see if she was available to skype...and whattayaknow....

She was.

And so for the next hour I skyped with my very favorite Aunt Peggy. We laughed and we talked and I cried (because I always cry) but it was so much fun and it was a perfect ending to an already perfect day.

So today? I am giving my freshman a final at 10:00 this morning and then I am officially done with class for the semester. I still have some grading to do and some paperwork before I can "close shop" and turn off my office lights for the final time and officially declare the beginning of Christmas break. But that's okay. I am relishing every moment.

So today, December 17, 2013, Savana is home and the Christmas tree is blinking and my house is warm and cozy and life is good at 190 Academy Drive in Asheville, North Carolina.

A Thing Called Hope

Every morning my deaf cat Bax greets me when I come down the stairs, the house cold and dark. He looks at me intently, those blue eyes focused solely on me as though I am the love of his life. It's rather sweet...but I know what he wants...and it isn't love.

It's food.

When it comes to love, Bax prefers Jace. Or Roy. He doesn't like me so much which, in my opinion, is weird. I'm a cat lover--always have been. My dad recognized my love for cats and so when I was about ten years old, he brought me home my very own cat and I named him Pepsi. We always had family cats--lots of them. But I come from a family with a farming mentality and that is that animals have a purpose: horses are used to round up cattle; dogs are used for hunting; cats are used for mousing. So we weren't really raised with this notion of fostering a deep attachment for our pets. As a result, we kind of went through cats like water, sadly. I won't mention how many of them came to their demise...but once I had my very own cat, I cared for him deeply and made sure that he came inside where he was safe. I fed him and played with him. I loved him.

Around Christmastime of that same year when I was ten, my dad was in a horrible carcrash in Oklahoma City in which he was lucky to escape with his life. He ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks and because we kids were still in school, we were shuffled around. It was a scary, lonely time. I was already an insecure little girl. I was one of those awkward children that wore popbottle glasses with frames that were too big for my face and clothes that were practical rather than stylish. I preferred playing by myself as I didn't know what to say in groups, relying heavily on my sisters to carry the ball even at family events.

And so I found myself at my parents' best friend's home that Christmas--Jackie and Norman Louthan. I don't know where my sisters were staying during that time, but what I do remember is that on this one particular evening, the Louthan's were having their family Christmas. I sat over in a corner on a chair and watched them pass out gifts to each other, feeling awkward and alone and so very out of place. They were laughing and enjoying each other, enjoying the tree and the sparkle and the season while I worried and fretted and wondered Is my dad going to be okay?? when suddenly Jackie came over with a gift and handed it to me. It took me completely by surprise, woke me up out of my reverie. I had no idea, didn't expect it at all!

Thank you!

And when I opened it up, it was a ceramic cat, standing about a foot tall, white with pink ears and blue eyes--a piggy bank that goes unused to this day.

I loved it.

That cat meant so much to me that evening. It meant that I was, in some small way, included as part of a family. It meant belonging and acceptance. It meant hope.

And so, I took it home and my dad came home. He could barely walk but...he came home.

One day, a few months later, my sister's boyfriend grabbed the ceramic cat and threw it down a tiled hallway as though he was using it as a bowling ball and it's head came off. "Noooo!" I cried, grabbing its lopped off head and futily trying to reattach it to its body.

"I'll fix it," Dad said. And using super glue, he reattached its jagged neck to its mismatched jagged body. It didn't look quite perfect but...it was good enough.

Thirty seven years later that ceramic cat still sits by my side of the bed. Its not quite as white as before. Its ears are barely pink these days and if someone looked at it, they would probably wonder why in the world I keep it around. But it still means so much to me.

It still means security and belonging and acceptance.

It still means hope.

So Much Fabulous

When I was a little girl, I remember traipsing with my family down by the creek on my grandparents' land and searching for the perfect Christmas tree. We would march around the banks, checking out different evergreens, my mom saying, "Duanie, what do you think about this one?" and then move on to the next. We all looked like a hodgepodge of characters straight out of Charlie Brown, colorful coats and hats and gloves and scarves that didn't match, and if there happened to be a hint of snow on the ground, we slipped bread bags over our tennis shoes then kept them on with rubber bands so that they wouldn't fall off.

Classy.

Oh the good ole days.

I was thinking about that this morning as I gazed at our tree that was purchased in a Christmas tree lot. It's Sunday morning--the first day of a week that brings so many good things: both of the girls come home for Christmas break, we have our staff Christmas party, we are finishing up our family Christmas shopping and then having our own family Christmas, and then on Saturday night we will take everything down and put it all away for another year because...

on Sunday? We are all loading up and heading to Oklahoma for a great big fat Oklahoma Christmas with the whole Nicholas side of the fam. Oh my goodness. I just can't wait.

I talked to both of my parents this week. Mom is so excited as she has completely remodeled her house and I can't wait to see how she has reinvented it. I know it looks adorable and she absolutely deserves this little piece of of goodness in her life. And I could tell by the tone in Dad's voice when he said, "Don't buy us anything. Your coming home is our Christmas gift" that he meant it.

I love this time of year. It's my favorite holiday actually with all of the bright packages and glittery ornaments and twinkling lights. I love the platters of sugar cookies and festive moods and cozy sweaters.

So much fabulous.

And so now here I am. Life has gotten busy in the Seals' home. The girls are making breakfast in the kitchen singing Hit the road, Jack. Don't you come back no more no more ...And then they will frantically pack up the truck and leave with me waving goodbye from the porch until I can't see them anymore as Darian has a final today. And even though I will see them again this week, tears will still stream down my face because...well...

I hate saying good-bye...even when it's just for a day or two.

But that's just how life goes. And chances are in a few years my girls will be bringing their kids home to where Roy and I live. They will be having their own family Christmas and then cleaning things up only to load up the car and travel to wherever it is we live. And I will be saying Don't buy us a thing, Dear. Your coming home is plenty enough for us.

Oh the cycle of life...it's a beautiful thing.

Choosing Unabashed Abandon

I love the weekends. Weird, I know. This morning I got up early just because I could have some extra time to read and think and spend exactly as I wanted before the world got up. I had this video that's been in my inbox for awhile that I've wanted to watch and so that's what I chose to view today. It was enlightening, inspiring. This man discussed how the the last three months of fetal development and then the first six years of our lives form the basis for human behavior. They create a "tape recording" for how we live our lives for the remainder of our lives. They provide imprinted recordings on our brains that play themselves over and over and over again.

Of course, this information had a purpose and went on to explain how we can "record" over this imprinting which was equally amazing and exciting--but that's not my point. My point is, when we really recognize this reality, it brings understanding to others. It opens our eyes to why others behave as they do. It explains destructive behaviors, repetitive patterns in families, and why, despite our best efforts, we turn out just like our parents.

Fascinating.

(I wish I'd known this information when I was pregnant, Oh, the things I'd change. But of course...)

Yesterday Darian shared with me a personality test she took online. It's quite simple in its approach. It has two lists of several behaviors and you have to choose which list reflects you the most. You do this four times and then it spits out a ridiculously accurate analysis of your personality. It's crazy! When I read Darian's, I felt like it was tailor-made for this daughter of mine, and so I wanted to take the test.

We had gone to Verizon as her phone was on the blink and she wanted a new one. So on the drive back home, traffic was a tad insane and I was fiddling with my phone as Roy weaved in and out, driving me just a wee bit crazy. Of course, Darian was in the backseat having all kinds of fun playing with her new phone as new phones are just the schizz. Anyway, so I asked Darian for the website, she gave it to me, and I pulled it up. "It's really simple," she said.

And then I read the first two lists.

And I read them again.

And again.

Possibly even again.

And then I sighed.

"Hey, Roy? Which one of these am I?" I asked, giving up. He answered without hesitation. As soon as he told me, I knew in my gut he was right. That boy. He knows me like the back of his hand.

And so I worked my way through the remainder of the next three lists fairly uneventfully and sure enough...it created a personality type for me that, in my opinion, was spot on.

How did it do that???

Personalities are fascininating to me. It's so crazy how the world is filled with billions of people who are each unique in their own right and yet we are all inherentlly the same. We all experience the same emotions yet may live entirely different lives. People are people are people.

And yet...

People are so complex and different and vulnerable.

The truth is, everybody desires love and acceptance. Everybody deserves a life of joy and unabashed abandon. But people are bruised--all of us, really. We are all hidden behind veils of pain to different degrees that others can't see. That video I watched this morning? It reminded me that I need to be more careful; I need to remember that we are all on this planet together giving it our best shot.

Sometimes people are simply reacting and maybe those reactions were learned in utero. Maybe they just can't help it.  Sometimes I need to step back and choose to see the good rather than judge based on my own perceptions which are simply that: perceptions.

 And meanwhile I am going to go about my day choosing joy, choosing happiness, choosing unabashed abandon.

Surprise!

My mom is all about health and always has been. Of course her degree of healthiness has varied over the years, getting more conversative as the years have gone by. One of Roy's famous statements currently is that that Mom makes Weimar look like McDonald's. But when I was in high school, Mom had a strong aversion for soda. It certainly wasn't something she condoned and she absolutely never purchased it.

When I was nearing my sixteenth birthday, I was getting something down from the shelves in the laundry room, and to my surprise, I found two or three 2-liter bottles of sprite. "Hey, Mom," I asked. "Why did you buy Sprite?"

"I don't know," she responded. " I just thought it might come in handy for something."

And I believed her.

Sometimes I'm not the brightest lightbulb.

A couple of days later, Mom threw me the biggest, best surprise 16th birthday party--one of my all-time best memories ever. It was filled with friends and laughter and silly games and so much crazy fun.

I love surprises. Maybe my love for surprises makes me an idiot?? Or, maybe I'm just excusing myself...but sometimes I just don't connect the dots too well.

Yesterday was simply a great day. Jace had his music concert with a soup and salad supper beforehand. And so I made this new cornbread salad compliments of Tammy Vaughan that was absolutely delicious (thanks Tammy--and I won't mention that you got it off of Pinterest) and away we went. It was so much fun as there were lots of silly people there ie Erin and Shane and Eileen and Donna and the list continues...so we all laughed and talked and then we went to the concert. I had full intentions of behaving and being quiet but then the Vaughans came so that was that. Bob and Roy are so embarrassing!

The kids did remarkably well and I was so proud of Jace. Normally he is so nervous before a conert that he can hardly stand himself and he oozes worry out of every pore of his body. But this time? He was filled with confidence and he seemed just fine up there on the stage. He played the tambourine and kept the beat and I wanted to run up on that stage and hug him right there. But he probably would have killed me. So I didn't.

And afterwards I took pictures of him and his buddies making gangster poses and acting silly. It was just a great great night.

Throughout the day, I had been texting Darian and Savana. I knew that Savana wanted to come home this weekend. That wasn't big news. She likes to come home every weekend--primarily to see me, but Guerin runs a close second. But her ride cancelled on her at the last minute and since she's coming Monday for break, we thought it senseless for her to drive the truck for the weekend only to turn around Monday and come back home. Darian had been texting me and telling me all about her big plans for the weekend as well and asking me what I was doing for my birthday which is coming on Sunday. She was sad that she wouldn't be here to celebrate with me for the first time ever in her life so we'd been texting about such things off and on throughout the evening.

So as we drove home from the concert, I noticed Guerin's car parked outside our driveway. My first thought was...What??? Surely not... And then I thought...No way....And then....typical me...I dismissed it...as though his car wasn't even there.

And so when we got home, Roy whispered, We should take Jace to Dunkin' to celebrate. I said, Great idea! But Jace said, Eh. I have a stomachache. And so we decided to wait until tomorrow as it was getting late anyway and so we would just chill for the remainder of the evening.

Anyway, so I was in the kitchen putting things away from the potluck when suddenly there was a loud knock on my kitchen window. My first thought was The Vaughan's are here bringing Christmas cheer! And so I looked out the window, peered through it, hands on the window, looking intently through the glass as it was fogging up and frosty. And there on the other side, waving frantically and grinning ear to ear...

were Darian and Savana.

Surprise!!!

Jace was miraculously healed from his stomach ailments and so we loaded up and went to Dunkin', laughing and talking all the way, all at once...

Happy birthday to me!

Extraordinary Moments

Sometimes simple things are extraordinary.

Yesterday was just an ordinary day really--nothing spectacular. I did the usual things I always do on a Wednesday--I got Jace off to school, I went to work, I taught my classes, I ate supper in the caf. Nothing too different than normal.

But for some reason, the shackles fell off.

I'm not sure why but I was making grapefruit orange in my kitchen last night as the I have two new boxes of fruit coming next week so I need to rid my refrigerator of what's remaining. Jace was so excited to see me standing there in my apron, grapefruit and orange juice spraying every direction, as it meant lots of yumminess would greet him in the morning. And then Ed and Roy came bounding in, declaring they had a hot chocolate date and would be back shortly. Of course, Ed had to stay a few minutes to proclaim that he  wanted an apron so that he could play with a rolling pin and sugar cookie dough (the purchased kind as he didn't want to have to go to the trouble of making it). And then they left, leaving me with my sticky hands and a counter-full of fruit-shells and and far too many whirling thoughts....and then suddenly...a breakthrough.

And now I'm free.

And it feels so good.

When I picked up Lisa for tutoring yesterday morning, she came out to the car looking frazzled as she was running a tad bit late. Lisa is from Korea where teachers are treated with such respect. She holds a firm line between us but we have worked together now for almost two years so walls are finally beginning to come down just a bit. But it has been quite a piece of work to get where we are. She rarely to never shares anything personal. Sometimes I can tell she's upset but she will rarely tell me why because that, in her opinion, would be crossing a line. Teachers are there to teach. She has a strong value system and likes things just so. We are studying intensely now, however, as we are nearing the end of our time together. She is taking her final TOEFL test in mid-January so we only have 1 1/2 more weeks.

So, seeing her frazzled, I said on a whim, "Hey, Lisa, how about let's do a lesson in conversational English and I'll take you to Dunkin'. Are you game? My treat." Her eyes lit up like no tomorrow and she said, "Are you serious?" So off we went like two little school girls skipping school for the day and she chatted a mile a minute. I have never heard her talk so fast nor so much. It was absolutely adorable. And then, when I got to Dunkin', I realized.......

I'd left my purse at home.

She laughed.

Back we went to Pisgah, picked up my purse at the house, and drove back to Dunkin' for take-out instead of going inside as I'd originally intended. But when we got back to the school? She followed me into my office, pulled the chair that she always sits in when we tutor up to my desk, sat down, and chatted with me. "Do you mind if I sit here with you while I eat my sandwich?" she asked.

Are you kidding?

Lisa has my heart--has always had my heart, she just never knew it.

Sometimes our normal everyday days are filled with little moments that bring surprises that make life extraordinary.

And yesterday was one of those days for me.

Wearing Sunlight

I got my hair cut yesterday--just a trim so nobody would notice. I recently discovered this girl--Dawn-- who is about my age and I really like her (though I probably won't use her much more as she is way overpriced and I simply can't afford her). The first time she cut my hair she barely talked and I learned very little about her life. But yesterday? I got her story. And wow. She's on her third marriage; she has two sets of kids--four total. The first two are 26 and 23; second set are 9 and 11. Her oldest son just found out he has a 6 week old baby and the mom of the baby is a pot smoker living with her pot smoking parents and they deal for a living. I can't even imagine the horror that would strike my heart.

Poor Dawn. She's tired.

The entire time I was there she complained that it's the Christmas season; she doesn't feel like celebrating. She complained that it's too cold outside and the wind is bitter. She complained that when her kids visit, she can't wait for them to leave. She complained that her 9 year old girl is difficult and she can't handle her. And she complained that when it comes to parenting, she's over it.

She complained. A lot.

And I just listened.

And when I left, I felt so burdened. I mean, she definitely had a lot to complain about. And she definitely wore it on her face. She looked sad. And that made me sad.

And it made me think.

Sometimes life is just sad. Sometimes things happen that bring sadness in in their wake. Our kids make bad choices; our spouses annoy us; family strife; financial struggles; for pity's sake, we live in a complicated world with lots of grit. The list is endless. It isn't difficult to find sadness. Just look out your window. Just turn on your tv. Just open your eyes from a good night's sleep (or even a restless one)...

About a year ago, I purchased a book called The Tapping Solution by Nick Ortner. It's a little weird to be honest and I only read about half of it. But it has an interesting theory regarding tapping on some places on our body that are energy forces where "energy" gets stuck due to some type of trauma or stress. When we state the stress or trauma and tap on those places (there are 9 of them) cyclically, the energy is released and it allows the energy to start flowing again and brings relief and happiness to our state of being. Last night I noticed that "they" made a video about this. It's an hour and a half in length. They found 9 people and took them on a four day retreat--people that had been brutally injured by life: one man suffered from trauma from serving in a war; one man lost his soulmate in a traffic accident that he felt he caused; one lady had cancer, etc. By the end of the four day retreat where they taught them the art of tapping, every single one of their lives was transformed.

It was fascinating and I was inspired.

It's so easy to get caught up on the complaining train. It's the easy way out. But I want more for my life. I don't want to be stuck there. It's so ugly and it not only drags others down, it drags me down too.

My heart goes out to Dawn. Life has dealt her some swift kicks so I'm certainly not criticizing. She deserves kindness and a listening ear and I'm not immune to that. I'm just saying I want to focus on the light in the eyes of others; I want to see opportunity; I want to wake up to the joy of the Christmas season and family gatherings and blinking lights and laughter. I want to experience the beauty of now.

I want to wear sunlight on my face.

When Opportunity Rolls Around

Last night I had a whole hour before me to read or watch something mindless when I got a text from Darian:  Let's skype! I readily complied. We talked for over an hour about so many things--God and discussions they have had in class and deep topics she has talked to her roommates about and all kinds of things that make our minds burn in wonder. Fascinating conversation. Her eyes sparkled and I couldn't help but be so proud of this daughter of mine who has recognized her own ability to think for herself. She has a new lease on life and her whole life to discover what life is about.

You go, girl.

Life is all about opportunity and doing our best to stay focused on the dream.

Recently I read that when life gets dull, it's time to ask a new question. It doesn't matter your age nor does it matter your job. There are always new horizons to explore, new ventures to be made. I found that fascinating.

I tend to be "fat and happy" these days. I am tired of change, I think. Roy and I have moved way too much in our day, in my opinion. When we first married, we lived in Colorado and we loved it there. In fact, we dreamed of living there until we retired--taking sunset drives along the Rocky Mountain ridges with Dr. Pepper and tea in hand on Friday nights until the day we died. But then I graduated from college and saw no hope of getting a job and my sister said, "Come out to Southern California! They are hiring teachers by the hundreds!" And so we did. Hopped in our car on a whim one Wednesday morning and made the 1000 mile trek, just the two of us, to see what could happen. You can do a lot with no kids in tow. And within a couple of days, we both had contracts making triple the money we currently made and so we journeyed back home, loaded up a small u-haul, and ventured to California for a brand new adventure. Sometimes I look back, shake my head, and think, Who does that?

But we were young; the world was at our feet. We had dreams and laughter and the shrug of our shoulders...so off we went.

But this last time we moved (from Missouri to North Carolina) I noticed a difference. I wasn't as "quick on my feet" to bounce back, to reach out to others, to become a part of a community. My resilience is waning. I need roots; it's time to settle down for good. So I guess the question is: where.
And I say that because our current house is a rental. I want to own my own home--yearn for that actually. I don't know how so I'm not making any proclamation, not saying I'm going anywhere. I'm just saying I have dreams...

Over Thanksgiving when my sister's family was here, Chas (my brother in law) told me how his cats love the cat door they installed in their home and how convenient it is. I found that rather baffling as they have a rental and in my head, a cat door is something you cut into a literal door. I expressed my surprise that they mutilated a rental house's door and the landlord didn't mind and he laughed. "No," he said. "It's a gadget that you install in a window!" He proceeded to show me a picture on google and I immediately demanded that Roy get me one. And so Roy went to work and several hours later, I had a "cat door" installed in our living room window, complete with a catwalk so the cats can reach it from the outside. It's quite clever though it looks like, in my opinion, PWT (Poor White Trash). In fact, I laugh every single time I look at it. Like...seriously???

Anyway, we have had no problem training the cats to go out the cat door. In fact, they love it. And Bax, our deaf cat, figured out rather quickly that he can even come back in the cat door! Brilliant! But Sparti? Not so much. He gets that he can go out. And so he does. And then he circles around to the patio door...and meows to get back in. So I pick him up, carry him back around to the outside entrance and show him the entrance that lets him get back in and he's like Oh!! every time. So surprised!

Every. Time.

Brilliant he's not.

And so...I don't want to be so "fat and happy" that I miss a good opportunity when it comes around. I don't want to stop asking questions.

Sometimes it's okay to simply shrug my shoulders and say... why not. 

One Step at a Time

"Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies." Nelson Mandella

I have spent the past few days feeling really resentful; angry. I have hidden in my house and nursed my wounds quietly--lost in my own world of despair. It's fairly miserable.

I chose to marry a rather controversial figure. He is much like a bull in a china closet--stepping in headlong and speaking loudly without always thinking about how others may interpret his words or intentions. But he has such a good heart and despite his obnoxious ways at times, he means well and has a deep loves for kids. Two of my kids are much like their dad and so, between the three of them, my protective armor is often triggered.

It's tricky--this road of feeling so protective and wanting everyone to see what I see.

On Fridays, I show an inspirational video to my freshmen and it's their favorite part of the week. In fact, I don't dare try to skip it or they throw a fit. So yesterday, I showed them a youtube video that I watched earlier with Katy Perry. It highlights this little girl who is about ten years old and has autism. It shows how her parents have struggled with her, struggled with teaching her any sort of social graces. It shows her screaming endlessly and the frustrations and pain her parents experienced for this  little child that had their hearts and yet they couldn't reach her. And then one day she discovered music and she began to play. And then she began to sing. She loved Katy Perry and so she learned to play and sing her songs, putting them up on youtube. Katy Perry must have somehow seen them or heard about this so she invited her to sing with her at a concert. It's priceless and sweet and the first time I saw it, it made me cry.

So I showed it to my freshmen, expecting them to appreciate the struggle of this little girl (the singing is average). And many did. But one student covered his ears and said I can't listen to this. Another student said This is boring.

I sighed.

Sometimes you just can't fight perspective.

There have been times in my life when I have thought it would be easier to just stay inside my house and never leave--never speak a word--because we simply can't control how others perceive our words and actions. But we would miss out on so much living.

I remember hearing a story about Oprah one time where she talked about hating a girl who hurt her. She spent years resenting her, nursing her own personal wounds. And then, after six years of pouring so much energy into this passionate resentment, she passed this bitter enemy on the sidewalk. And the enemy was laughing. Her head was thrown back, mouth open in unabashed laughter, wide open pleasure. And Oprah realized in that moment that the only person her resentment and anger and misery had hurt for that entire six years was herself. She determined from that moment forward that she would never again harbor a grudge but, rather, would choose to let it go and move forward.

And so today I am going to leave resentment in the dust. Today I choose to take a deep breath; today I choose to move forward.

Taking for Granted

We take so many things for granted in life--rising sunsets that paint the sky shades of gold and bring promise of a new day, changing seasons, heat in the winter, air conditioning in the summer, the Internet, loved ones, the list is endless.

When I was a little girl, one of my very first memories is my mom asking me what I wanted for lunch. "Spaghetti," I said. And so she went to work making homemade spaghetti sauce. It wasn't one of those Let's open a jar of Prego kinds of sauces but rather one of those fry up some hamburger (as we weren't veggie on those days and add some tomato sauce--most likely home-canned as Mom always had a garden and worked herself to the bone--and throw in some spices and cook it all day so that the house smelled delicious in every corner kind of sauces...as I watched from a bar stool, my chin resting on my hands.

Mom was always there. When I got off the school bus and yanked open the door, yelling, "MOM!" there she was, usually in the kitchen, her presence bringing security to my day.

When Dad left, I was fifteen years old and both of my sisters were off exploring adulthood, so it was just Mom and me in Edmond, Oklahoma, experiencing life in a small home in the suburbs by ourselves. Mom was devastated and I quickly became her world. She worked as a teacher at the small school I attended, and so once we were home together, I would tell her every single detail about my day and she would soak it all in, asking questions and listening intently. She laughed and cried with me and she was absolutely, without question the best friend I had in the world. She was my role model for how I raised my own teenage daughters because I well-remember how very very much her attentive ear meant to me during those days of insecurity and teenage angst.

Once I left for college, I felt so sad for Mom, knowing that she would be alone in that house and would miss me  so much. I felt terribly for her and so one cold fall day, I called her. "How are you, Mom?" I asked, preparing myself for the pain in her response. "I'm fine!" she replied. "I'm so busy I hardly have time to think about the fact you're gone!"

That's Mom. Ever practical.

And then I got married. My newfound husband whisked me away to Colorado and then California where our firstborn child came along. Born with a devastating chromosomal condition, we called Mom with the news, and she boarded a bus and headed our way, bearing prayer and hope and a suitcase. She stayed two years and helped us care for our precious Ciara who outlived expectations.

But here's the thing. Mom stayed up nights. She cooked. She prayed. She waited on us. She built her life around us. She made life as easy as possible for her child who was going through her own sort of hell.

Ciara lived eighteen months and then she gently passed away. Mom started to pack up her suitcase but I begged her please don't go as it was just too much loss all at once. And so she stayed a few more months and then she quietly went back home to Oklahoma where she resumed her own life and we resumed ours.

Though Mom has never lived with us since, she visits often. And when she comes, she brings her computer and she goes about her business. She writes, She takes walks, often taking her "granddogs" with her along the way. She prepares plates of fruit for her grandkids and her kids. And? She stands at the sink and she washes dishes. Lots and lots of dishes. Whatever she can do to make life easier? That's what she does. Because...

That's Mom.

I've written quite a lot a lot about my dad recently because he has come back into my life. I've missed him for thirty years and so I am just so excited, so grateful to have this man back.

But my mom? She never left. She's always been there. She's a piece of me -- like my arm or my leg. She's solid and secure. She's a rock. And I'm so glad, so very very glad, that she's my mom.

A Cup of Cheer

My girls left this morning at 4:30. They tiptoed in our bedroom, using a cellphone as light so they didn't trip on anything, came to the edge of our bed, whispered, "We're leaving now!" and then whisked back out as our sleep-filled voices echoed "Be safe!" behind them. They attempted leaving last night around 7:00, but Savana called me at 7:45. They were at exit 33--4 miles away from exit 37 where they started after 45 minutes of "driving" in dead-stop traffic. So they did a quick turn around and came home. They had Julia with them--a precious girl I haven't seen since she was about ten. Her family lived at Wisconsin Academy at the same time we did and they are now at Fletcher Academy, so she was riding with them back to Southern. So before I went to bed last night, I brought down a stack of bedding and gave specific orders for the girls to just simply roll out of bed and leave everything alone. I have the day off today and will have plenty of time to wash sheets, make beds, fold blankets--don't worry about it!

But this morning when I turned the light on in Darian's bedroom, there stood a perfectly made bed and perfectly folded blankets and a bundle a sheets to wash. The trundle was placed back underneath Darian's bed and her room is in pristine condition.

Those girls. They are somethin' special. Even at 4:30 in the morning.

So yesterday we put our Christmas tree up. I really felt like being a scrooge this year as we are traversing to Oklahoma for the week of Christmas. It's such a hassle--putting up all of the decorations and lights and the tree...and then taking it all down. But then Jace made the comment a couple of weeks ago, "I am so excited, Mom! It's almost Christmas and that's my favorite time of year! I love the lights and all of the decorations! And I can't wait to have our tree up! When are we going to put our tree up?? And then there's all of the presents under the tree and it's all just so much fun and I just can't wait!" So of course I groaned inside and smiled outside and said, "I know, Jace! It is so much fun!" And began the plans to forgo being a scrooge a few more years.

He is eleven so his childhood is waning. I need to make the most of it while I can.

So we chose yesterday as THE day to run to Walmart and grab a tree. We tend to be spontaneous about that sort of thing. I always admire families that go to Christmas tree farms and make a day of it but we have never made such an adventure. Maybe one of these days we will take the time...but we always seem to have too many "irons in the fire" and an entire day dedicated to getting a tree isn't on the agenda. So we found the perfect tree--which really is quite beautiful, I might add--paid for it, and then skirted over to Sam's Club. Darian and Jace were rather squished in the backseat as we had to put the backseat down in order to fit the tree in the trunk. Roy is a bit particular about things (strange, I know, as most people don't know that about Roy --kidding) and refuses to tie the true on the hood, so Darian handled the squished part like a trooper; Jace? Not so much. Then we ran into Sam's and bought this huge box of ornaments as I remembered that my ornament collection had become slim pickin's. Then we came home and got to work.

In the midst of all of that, Ryan and Chris, Darian's high school buddies, called and came over and entertained us while we decorated. They are so funny and silly and just downright great kids so it was a genuinely good time filled with lots of laughter and chatter and fun.

So now here I am--alone in my living room while the girls are off to school and Jace is sleeping upstairs. I ran up a few minutes ago to ask him if he'd like to join me and sip on a cup of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in front of the blinking Christmas tree, complete with quiet conversation and some Christmas music. What a perfect way to start your day! He rolled over and went back to sleep. So it's just me, the blinking tree, an empty cup of chai, my white kitty that isn't very smart trying to knock balls off the tree, and my iPad. But that's okay. We, at least, have the Christmas spirit.

So here's a cup of cheer...

A Life of Learning

We are all teachers. I think that everybody has something to share, something to give--and if we are open to the "gifts" of others, we can learn from the people we encounter in our lives. I was thinking about that last night, and thinking about the different ways I have been changed forever because of things people have shared with me over the years. Here are just a few of them:

• EBT (Emotional Brain Training) At first glance, this appears to be hocus pocus. I actually shared this program with a couple of friends who were struggling but when they checked into it they ran scared and that's okay. My amazing friend in every way Jacque shared this with me when we first moved here to North Carolina. It's a one year program that helps you process your emotions in a new way--teaches you to think from the prefrontal cortex of your brain which allows you to experience more joy than stress. It is a scientifically proven strategy that works. Oh my goodness. It has changed my life forever! I can't even begin to explain the profound effect EBT has had on me. There is no possible way to explain it properly in a paragraph so I won't even try but Jacque introduced it to me in a time of profound stress and I am so very very glad that she did.
• My friend Tammy flippantly talked about how she and Bob got through med school financially one time by figuring out how much spending money they had each month and then dividing that by 30 and then giving themselves a daily allowance. The light bulb went off in my head and she transformed our financial life. Since moving to North Carolina Roy and I have been financially stressed as I have made less money than EVER--probably since my girls were babies--and it has been very stressful as I have two in college and one in elementary school. But since she shared this strategy, the stress is gone (well, mainly) as I've worried much less about money these days and we've made the almighty dollar stretch farther than ever before. Thanks, girl!
• I just spent 3 days with my sister Tami. Oh my goodness. My heart is so sad this morning that I could cry just thinking about the fact that she is gone. Every time I am with her it is just sheer fun and I am reminded of the beauty of family. Somehow I don't think that God intended for families to be spread across the country but rather live together in the same communities--or at least in close proximity as nobody gets you or loves you like family. Whether it's my nieces or nephews or my brother in law or my sisters--they are all just somethin' special in my heart and it gets harder and harder saying good-bye. But Tami? She always teaches me how to let go. She seems to have that down pat. She seems to just shrug everything off--no matter. She sees the good in people and nothing seems to get her down. I am reminded of that when we talk or when we're together--just about every time.
• My mom has many many strengths. But I wasn't exactly raised in an organized home. We cleaned the house faithfully once a week but the in-between times, we--at least in my memory--kind of let it go. So when Roy and I first got married, we had a lot of arguments about that. He was raised in a neat-freak home and I wasn't and neat-freak wasn't my style. Then I met the Schnell's. They moved in on a Monday and a few days later (like maybe three?) I went over to meet them and their house was unpacked, in pristine order, pictures hung. I was astounded. And so I sat at Kerrie's feet and learned. She taught me that she never went to bed with the kitchen a mess. She straightened the pillows on the couch before she left the living room. She never procrastinated a cleaning job. She changed my life. I'm by no means a Kerrie Schnell, but I am much, much better.
• I could go on forever. I have been so blessed to have so many many friends and family that have blessed me with so much over the years. And my kids are nothing short of phenomenal teachers themselves: Savana with her style; Darian with how she embraces life; Jace with his wit. I have great parents. But I am short on time now and my day is beckoning. Roy is currently downstairs rinsing dishes and I know any minute he is going to be chomping at the bit to get started on this day and wondering why I am taking so long to join him. So ... I shall bring this to a close by just saying that today I am grateful for the "teachers" in my life and looking forward to many, many more years of learning.

Improving the World

"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world."

Anne Frank

I was listening to someone talk about service to others today. Every time I hear that, I think about how I should be volunteering at a homeless shelter or giving of my time in a manner that requires blood, sweat and tears for the benefit of others. And frankly? I don't really do that. So when I hear sermons or talks about how we should be serving people, I usually hang my head in shame.

But then he went on to explain how service to others can be random acts of kindness: opening the door for someone behind us, smiling at a stranger sitting across from us at a restaurant, giving our spot in line to the gentleman behind us at the grocery store, etc. And then I felt a little lighter because, well, I do those things sometimes. 

I was looking out my window today and noticed that evidently my dog has been too. It is filled with nose prints and licks and all kinds of his smudges so that I can barely see out. It makes the outside world barely visible--swirls of green and brown that blend into a whole lot of chaotic. And sometimes I think life is like that. Sometimes we put life into little boxes and see ourselves and others through these lens that are skewed. We forget that they too do random acts of kindness; we forget that we ourselves serve once in awhile. Life isn't all about black and white and right and wrong and principle and balance and Republican and Democrat. Everybody breathes; everybody struggles; everybody, hopefully, laughs sometimes. And so, since we're all human and we're all on this planet together, we need to give each other a break--and that includes ourselves--and just let go and live.

Last night my sister, my mom, 7 kids and I went to the gym to play "Piggy Wants a Signal", a game that our kids have played for years. The kids are growing up as the oldest are 21 now, but they were appeasing Jace as he was desperate to play, so off we went for three rounds in a gym that doesn't have too many hiding spots for his sake. Tami and I always hide together and then, once we're caught, never try to get off base, but at least we give it a go the first time. And we refuse to be "it". Of course, they never even ask us to be "it" so I guess it's a given, and that's perfectly fine. It must come with the territory of being token players. Anyway, so as we're playing Jace would run and hide and then as the "it" person is going around the gym searching for people, he would scream and yell, giving himself away. And he's eleven. Then once he was found and was on base, he would constantly run and try to hide again, louder than a rhinoceros, giving himself away every time--even though he didn't have a signal. "Jace!" I finally said, exasperated. "You can't run without a signal! And stop screaming all the time!" 

"Leave him alone," my sister said quietly. "We're here for him anyway. Let him play however he wants to play." She's kind of like that--she just wants the kids to have a good time. So Tami? She chose service. Me? Not so much.

And of course, Jace continued to scream and run and get out and get found...but no matter. He had fun. And he never played by the rules.

And though he drove me a little crazy, I'm glad he had fun.

So today? I want to remember to breathe a little easier. I want to remember to let go. The house doesn't always have to be picked up. Smudges on the window aren't that important (honestly, that apparently isn't too big of a deal in my house as there are smudges on my window more often than not); I want to choose random acts of kindness and not worry so much about the rules.

Today I will choose to improve the world.

Just a Little Longer

It's blustery outside. Everywhere is white and stark trees. Cold.

Inside I hear the ticking of the clock and the wind blowing and that is all. Quiet. My house is filled with my three kids and two nieces and a nephew and a husband and a brother-in-law and my mom. Yet it is quiet.

Beautiful.

But soon it will be filled with cries of I'm hungry and laughter and talking all at once and dishes clanging and cats meowing and cards shuffling and doors banging and that will be beautiful too.

I love Thanksgiving and the promise of everyone coming together for the holidays. We have so much fun when we all get together. (Of course, a piece of us is missing--my sister Lori and her two boys, Nicholas and Trevor. It's never quite the same without them here.) We've had quite the times together over the years.

I am the youngest of three girls: Lori is almost eights years older than me; Tami is five years older. I was the first married 26 years ago. However, shortly after I married, my sisters married and then we all had kids at the same time. Strangely enough, the kids were all born in rounds. Nicholas, Caleb and Savana were the first round--all born in 1991 and 1992; Trevor, Darian and Jared were the second round--all born in 1993 and 1994. The twins came along in 1997 and then tagalong Jace came along in 2002. So for awhile it was babies and babies and more babies. Lots of crying and fussing and fighting when we got together but gosh it was fun. Actually, it 's kind of a haze in my memory.

We have seemed to gather wherever we--as in Roy and I--lived as we've always lived on a boarding school campus in a dorm, so housing was easy. We could put everybody up in guest rooms for extended periods of time. It has made for great memories over the years. It's a bit unorthodox, I suppose. I mean--really--who gets to do that?? But at least once and often twice a year my kids have had the privilege of having their cousins come over for about a week and they've played "PiggyWants a Signal" by the hour and ran in the gym and ran in the dorm (when Roy wasn't looking) and laughed and stayed up til all hours of the night and had all kinds of fun.

We've gathered at my parents' homes in Oklahoma as well where they've invented banking games that involved an upstairs attic and tins filled with Grandma Donna's buttons or dared adventures for who can stand out in the snow the longest in bared feet; climbing adventures on bales of hay or riding Grandpa's four wheelers out in the field and sneaking Grandpa's candy and eating Grandma Jo's cooking.

My sisters and I have pretty much centered our world around the kids and that's okay because really that's just what we moms do. But we've had our own sort of fun as well--talking and talking and, well, talking. And we've thrown in some cooking for this big crew. My sister Lori is the main cook of the crew as everything she touches is magical in the cooking arena whereas Tami and I are more "just get 'er done" types of cooks. But we love our time together and it flies by so fast that before we know it...it's over.

So you can imagine how sad it was for me when I found out that Lori couldn't be here this time. She decided to spend Thanksgiving with my dad--long story. And then, another long story, Tami couldn't come until this evening. She is flying in tonight actually, so our time together is compromised. But I am looking forward to picking her up at the airport this evening. Then this big crew is going out to eat together at a restaurant that is as of yet undecided. I am sure it will so much fun--filled with lots of silliness and chatting and laughter.

Our time is waning. The kids are growing so quickly. The twins are now almost 17. The oldest ones are 21 and have some of them have serious dating prospects. Darian and Jared joke that they just might marry each other as they recognize the changing tide in our times together. It's a stark reminder that nothing lasts forever. Life is constantly changing--that ebb and flow that gently keeps things moving forward...moving forward...moving forward....

But oh how I wish I could just stop the hands of time and keep things just the way they are.

When everyone piled in Sunday night, Jace was sleeping and unaware of their arrival. But he realized it as soon as he got up Monday morning and saw Jared sleeping the couch. So there Jace stood in the living room, his eyes barely open, and he said, "Mom, how long until they leave?" I said, "They're leaving Saturday after church." And then he cried, "That's not nearly long enough! That's not even a week! Can't they stay longer, Mom? Please? Just a little longer?"

Fresh Eyes

I teach two sections of Freshman English in the afternoon. The first class has always been chattier than the second, a little sillier. When it comes time to get to work, I can depend on the second section to make it happen much faster. But yesterday I showed a video that brought up some deep ideas--things like we have so much to be grateful for and we really have nothing to complain about. The first section dove into the conversation, listening to one another and sharing together. It was insightful and inspiring and joyous to hear these 15 year olds think and discuss and listen.

But then I shared the exact same video to my second section--the one that is always on their game. As soon as the video started, one of the students in my class said, "Oh--I don't like her" and started looking around, refusing to acknowledge that possibly the things this person had to share went beyond her personality. A couple more students decided to draw and, though I'm sure they were listening, they weren't engaged. So when the video was over and it was it was time to share, the class had absolutely nothing to say.

A little bit later--still in the second section--I divided them into pairs and had them complete an activity over a story we read earlier in the week. Two girls in the back of the room busily slung their hair into each other's faces, giggling and giggling and giggling. "Are you two finished?" I asked. "Yep!" they confidently stated. I checked their paper.

They had barely started.

I sighed.

Some days are like that. Even in Australia.

But the thing is, when I think about these two sections, I always consider the second section the easy one, the compliant one. They are the section that lets me breathe a little easier, where I can let my guard down.

And all of that changed in an instant.

Sometimes life is like that. We meet people and we don't like them so much...and then we hear their story.

We really love certain foods...and then we hear how bad they are for us, and we never eat them again. (Okay...maybe this one doesn't work so much. But it was a good idea.)

We hear a new fact and it changes our opinion.

We see a picture of a hungry child and it spurs us into action.

We have a paradigm shift and see life through new eyes.

Life is all about perspective -- perspective that shifts and grows and stretches every day. Sometimes it's easy to become immersed in my own perspective, seeing life through these eyes that are 46 years old and a bit jaded. I have strong opinions (maybe everybody does??) and more often than not, believe in them wholeheartedly. Sometimes I voice them loudly; other times, I cling to them quietly, protectively--though nobody knows--while I simply nod and smile.

But the thing is, I want to be open minded. I want to see life through fresh eyes that are wide open to those around me so that, rather than instantly categorizing people or situations or beliefs, I take a moment to stop. I take a moment to think and see from their perspective, their eyes.

I used to be of the opinion that there was just one way to live life. I no longer believe that. And this new way of thinking? It has changed everything. It has opened my eyes to a whole new world--a world that is beautiful and fresh and alive.

And so on Monday when my first section walks through the door of the classroom...I will have new eyes: eyes that are open to their capabilities, to their depth, to their possibilities.

Today I want my life to reflect a welcoming presence--ready to accept those around me for who they are...to learn from them and grow with them.

Today I want my perspective to be wide open.

Family

I was listening to something this morning that asked the question, "What do you really want?" At first, I thought of so many material things: I want my own house; I want to go on a cruise; I want a new wardrobe; I want a fat bank account; I want a full-time job, for pity's sake; I want ... I want ... I want ...

But then the speaker asked that we go a little deeper and think about how the possessions that we want reflect a deeper desire. And so I did. And here is what I came up with:

I want a house that is large enough for a growing brood. I want it to be able to contain my kids and their spouses and my grandchildren comfortably within its walls. I want it to be on a little acreage so there is room for children to run and yell and chase and do children things. I want it to have a shop for Roy so that he has a place to tinker and fix and dream.

I want to go on a cruise with my kids because my time is waning. My girls are skirting the edges of adulthood and soon will embark on their own lives that are separate from mine. I want a week of pure relaxation and talking and joy that is completely our own, filled with pampering and "Did you see that?" and laughter and amazing food that I didn't have to cook and exploring and all things incredible. We've always been on a tight budget and never had the luxury of vacationing for a week with pure abandon. (I know that's selfish; seriously--so many many many in this world don't have enough to eat, much less have a vacation. But we're dreaming here so...) So before the girls are married and gone, I would love one last week of just us.

I want a full-time job so that I can alleviate some stress from my children's financial lives. And...so I can fulfill some of my own dreams.

And when I went a little deeper, I realized that the common denominator in my "wants" is, for the most part, family. I am so blessed to have the family that I have--both immediate and extended. I raised in a family where family was important; it was everything. I had the privilege of growing up with my grandparents living close by. My children had the blessing of growing up with aunts and uncles and cousins visiting on a regular basis. The Oklahoma countryside is a common denominator for all of us, and I am just so thankful for that.

This morning I watched a video that Savana posted on Facebook where Angelina Jole talked about how fortunate she is to have the blessings that she does when so many don't have food. She talked about the love and importance of family. Her words resonated deeply within my heart as this woman who is most likely a billionaire--whose face is familiar to probably most everyone  on this planet--talked about that thread of life that knits us all together and makes us not that different afterall.

So this little venture of exploring my wants? It made me realize how very blessed I am. I don't have all the material possessions that I want, I suppose--though I certainly have more than enough. But I am surrounded by people that I love. My family? We are our own brand of quirky and devoted and dysfunctional and funny. Sometimes we fight and annoy each other; sometimes we are filled to the brim with love and adulation; sometimes we just exist. But each of them--from my nephews and nieces and parents and sisters and brother-in-law and children and husband--is my own. And I wouldn't trade a single one. Not for the world.

Well, most of the time.

My Thankful November

It is almost Thanksgiving--that time of the year when we are given opportunity to stop and reflect on the fact that we have so much to be grateful for. So here's my 31 days of thankfulness list:

I am thankful for....
my family who brings me so many good, good things: Roy with his wit; Savana with her exuberance; Darian with her kind, accepting manner; Jace with his deep thoughts about life
crisp apples with caramel
a future that beckons
crackling fires
my iPad that I use way more than I should
such amazing friends that bring laughter and joy and empathy into my life: Dee who knows me like the back of her hand and Tammy who helps me solve all of life's problems and Raylene who is just so tender and precious and Estee Marie who has such depth and kindness and so many, many more--
the Internet
the upcoming holiday season which includes the Lewis fam and my mom travelling here in a week (can't wait)
my dad my dad my dad my dad my dad
Skype
my sisters whom I love so so so dearly: Lori who has such leadership and depth; Tami who is always game for a social event and has this way of just accepting anybody. If I was stranded on a deserted island with either of them, I would be content.
Barnes and Noble
my pets that live in the moment and enjoy life with no expectation
chai tea every morning
the mountains of North Carolina that leave me breathless
long motorcycle rides clinging to the Husband
Dr. Pepper every day--with a marachino cherry on top
deep soulful conversations that leave me aching for more about who God is
early morning or late night talks with Roy where we reach deep and are just so thankful we have each other
my oh-so-adorable mother who loves her her kids so much
my fish tank
teenagers--all of them--because they bring laughter and exasperation, sometimes at the same time, yet they never fail to remind me of what sheer potential looks like
Facebook which has given me the gift of staying in touch with so many, many people whom I have had the blessing of getting to know in my lifetime
comfort foods such as cheesy, saucy lasagna and enchiladas and mac & cheese and chips & salsa...Oh my goodness. This list could go forever.
early morning hours when it is just me
bubble baths on Friday nights when an entire weekend looms before me, brighter than the sun
family dinners around the table, filled with laughter and conversation
a good book that I wish would never end
that perfect pair of jeans and worn tshirt that I could wear every single day

life -- and the knowledge that it's whatever I choose to make it.

Media Alert

A couple of days ago, Jace asked me if it was true that media caused him to lose brain cells. I said--Absolutely!--as this was the perfect moment to manipulate him into realizing that he needs more creativity in his life. I giggled to myself as he spent the rest of the evening playing. He chased Piper; he danced and jumped; he read and drew, creating cartoons that involve violence and smashing (but they are genuinely clever). He steered clear of the computer.

The next day (yesterday) Jace came home from school and informed me that both he and Josh (his good buddy) are worried about how many brain cells they have destroyed from all of their media expeditions. These two boys spend hours on the computer together. They put each other on speaker phone and then play an online game--yelling and laughing and taunting and all kinds of boy stuff. It's hysterical--and sometimes annoying as Jace can be so loud that I can't hear myself think.

So when Jace told me his lack of brain cell concerns, I shrugged and said, "Yeah, that's a legitimate concern. You may want to try to build some brain cells by doing activities that involve creativity." And so I watched him spend the evening trying to balance media with other things.

I wonder how long I can keep this gig going. (You can thank me later, Erin.)

Media Alert (cell phone exercise app + music): Yesterday I took a walk down Holcombe Cove Road for the first time in far too long. My lack of exercise recently was evidenced by the embarrassingly slow pace I "maintained" up that hill, listening to Taylor Swift bemoan her latest lost love. The air was crisp and I felt so alive...until a lady about my age passed me up, jogging with determination and purpose. And then I didn't feel so alive. I cursed her in my head for being so fit and having legs of a 20 year old. But of course--that's a different story.

Media Alert: I also skyped with Dee for at least an hour. Dee has been my friend for forever and when we talk, it's like comin' home. She knows me well and I am so thankful that no matter the crisis or joy, she is there with a listening ear and just the right words.

Media Alert: I perused facebook some though I didn't post. It drives me a little crazy honestly--sometimes I wish I had the discipline to completely delete it from my life. But evidently I would miss those Candy Crush invitations and teenage woes and "selfies" that seem to "blow up" my newsfeed as I still check it multiple times each day.

Media Alert: Once dinner was complete and dishes done, I nestled down for some time with my iPad. I played a really ridiculous game for a bit; I did some online research on what happened to Jan from The Brady Bunch (she and "Marcia" are engaged in a very long feud that was instigated from an allusion to a lesbian affair in a book "Marcia" wrote years ago and they haven't spoken since; in fact, this feud gets in the way of any Brady Brunch reunions. It's amazing the things one can learn online).

So basically while Jace fervently drew his cartoons and I snickered, I am wondering how many braincells I lost today.

Well done, Vonda. Well done.

Night Sky

Last night Jace flung open the door, looked up at the night sky and exclaimed, "Mom! Come look!" And so I did. It was pitch black outside but as I peered up into the darkness I noticed swirling white clouds with brilliant stars glimmering. It was stunning.

Sometimes my day to day thoughts and experiences and conversations and struggles cause me forget that this world is so much bigger than me. It's so easy to focus on myself and forget that, ultimately, I'm just a little person in a big big place. I have hopes and irritations and dreams and failures and worries and joy and regrets and ... well, so many many things. Just like everyone else.

But when I stop loading the dishwasher or worrying about the future or hustling everyone out the door or ... whatever it is I am doing...when I really stop, look up at the sky that reflects the fingerprint of God, I am jolted back to that place of knowing that, in the end, everything is going to be okay.

Cards

Cards were a huge part of my family growing up. I remember my grandparents sitting around their table playing cards with other adults on long evenings, laughing and dealing and having such a grand time. Rook was a favorite game and even still when we all go home for Christmas, we are often gathering around a table to play a raucous game of Rook.

When I was seven years old, I sat at the feet of my grandma as she tried to teach me to play solitaire. I remember her patience as she struggled to get me to comprehend the concept of black on red, red on black. Finally, she became exasperated (I was only seven) and said, "You're too young still, Vonda. I'll teach you in a couple more years." But I was persistent, shaking my head, and saying, "No, Grandma. I want to learn now." And so she tried again...and again...until finally I understood how to play the game.

When I was about ten years old, I played solitaire by the hour at my father's feet. But at this time in my life, my hands were small and fingers weren't quite nimble enough to shuffle. And so I would play a game, hand the deck to Dad, he would shuffle, hand it back to me, and I would deal the cards once more. By this time, I had learned several different games of Solitaire so I would rotate through them one by one: the clock game, the pyramid game, the color game (I'm not sure of the technical names--those were my inventions). Round and round it would go.

My parents fought a lot during those early childhood years and so when the fighting began, I'd grab a deck of cards and find solace somewhere in a corner of the house, playing and playing and playing. When Dad wasn't there to shuffle, I would sort the cards with my own shuffle invention by simply creating three piles that I randomly divided cards into so that they were no longer in any specific order.

By the time I was twelve years old, my grandpa started joking that my parents better keep me away from Vegas or I'd stay there as a dealer. I had a deck of cards with me everywhere I went. By now I'd learned single hand solitaire--a game you can play by just holding the deck in your hands--and so I could play effortlessly wherever I happened to be. I became a one-handed solitaire whiz actually--whipping through a deck of cards in practically seconds and keeping track of of random facts: how many cards left at the end of the game, how many 4-card-releases per hand, etc. Cards were my 1980's version of today's cell phone: they provided a beautiful way of escape.

When I became personally acquainted with Adventist kids as a teenager, I was baffled by the fact that most of them had no clue how a deck of cards came together. They didn't understand that an Ace can be either high or low, that there are four suits with specific names ie clubs rather than puppy dog feet; that J means Jack. These cards, in their minds, were of the devil and steer clear at all cost. I laughed at their silly perceptions and dealt out 7 piles, black on red, red on black.

Recently I have been thinking about how cards have played such a huge part in my--and my family's--life. My dad is aging--turning 79 this month. His health is not what it used to be. He came to visit this summer and we went to the Biltmore house. I pushed my dad--my tall, handsome, strong father--in a wheelchair as it hurts him to walk long distances now. He had hip surgery recently as a hip injury in his twenties haunts him now. And then this past week my stepmom had to rush Dad to the emergency room twice because his blood pressure skyrocketed and he wasn't able to even stand. When they told me this story, I said, "Dad, what's wrong??" He replied, "I'm gettin' old."

It breaks my heart.

I recognize that losing one's parents is part of the cycle of life--one of those facts that you can't resist nor change. And once your parents are gone, you're next in line.  And with my dad's recent health issues, this fact of life is looming closer each day. I find myself recoiling, crying, fighting...inside.

I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to this man whom I adore, whom I admire, whom I treasure with every cell of my body.

And of course, I may have time left. We may (hopefully) still have a few Christmases together or visits where evenings stretch long before us as he watches basketball on television and I read a book on the couch; where the gas fireplace spills heat into the living room as we quietly talk about mundane things; where he sleeps in his chair, feet propped up, while I quietly talk to Jo as she knits nearby.

Life is a deck of cards. We are dealt a hand that we have absolutely no control over. With that hand, we have choices that dictate how the hand plays out. If you play black on red, red on black, maybe those cards will be kind to you and, in the end, you'll win. But if you make a different choice, say you slip up and play black on black, or try to peak under the pile to figure out which card you should move next to give you a "leg-up", well...sometimes that hand may not go so well. Sometimes you lose. And frankly, regardless of how well you play, you just never know how it's all going to play out.

Frankly, I'm sad for how the game has been played where my dad is concerned. I feel like I lost in far too many respects--for over thirty years. I'm not willing to lose anymore. I'm not willing to have any more regrets or lost opportunity. And yet...I have no choice.

All that I can do is accept.

But regardless, I am clinging to this last hand. I am hoping and praying and clenching, hoping that this hand is good to me, this hand wins.