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.

Rhythm of Life

I had the most amazing weekend--and I never left my house. The girls came home Friday evening and we ventured to the grocery store as, of course, they each had their favorite dishes in mind that we needed to prepare over the two days they were home. And once we were traversing the aisles, I remembered that I should never bring the girls to the grocery store because they throw lots of things in the basket that aren't on the list.

Oh well.

So we cooked and laughed and watched Parenthood and the Acro performance at Acrofest and talked for hours and played Rumikub and before I knew it, they were waving goodbye as they headed out the door. It was sheer fabulous and time with these cute things always leaves me feeling a wee bit empty inside but so grateful that my girls have grown into my very best friends as they fill my life with so much joy.

And then at midnight Roy got home. I have missed this man of mine so much. The days seemed eternal as we spend a lot of time together and it was just Jace and me for several days. So once he walked in the door, we stayed up much later than we should have gabbing it up as he filled me in on his six days away from home. He and three boys stayed with my sister Tami and fam in Keene, and Tami and Chas were so generous with their food and car and home and time. He appreciated their hospitality and I do too. But of course, that's just the way they are, that Lewis fam. They are a whole lot of wonderful.

So now it is Tuesday morning and an entire week stretches before me. I have big plans to accomplish this week: I have to get my office cleaned and updated. The calendar that hangs on my wall still reflects May, 2013. I shouldn't admit that but...it's true. And it just seems to be filled with clutter and I really really hate that. So today? My office is getting a makeover.

But what I am most excited about today is reading this new book I recently downloaded on my Nook.  I can't remember its title but it's Rob Bell's latest publication. I happen to be a big fan of Rob Bell as I appreciate his view on God. He has no judgment for anyone and believes in letting others live their lives. He doesn't live by looking forward to heaven and streets of gold but rather chooses to live purposefully today, making each day count and finding meaning in each moment. He believes in a God that supports our daily lives and loves us supremely rather than making us search diligently for ...what IS God's will for my life?? That is the question that haunted me for far too long until I finally had a paradigm shift that has made all the difference.

So today I am looking forward to quiet reflection and purposeful living. I am going to take a long walk down Holcombe Cove Road today and appreciate fall weather and barren trees. The stirrings of change are brewing in my life and lately I've been recoiling a bit on the inside. I hate that feeling--the gnaw of panic that is just brimming below the surface. And so today I want to let go. I want to cast my fears to the wind and embrace the ever-changing rhythm of life.

Life is like dancing. If we have a big floor, many people will dance. Some will get angry when the rhythm changes. But life is changing all the time.  -Miguel Angel Ruiz

The Unknown

Yesterday Jace asked me if I am ever scared that someone will break into the house during the night while we are sleeping. I told him I really don't worry about that so much as we live in a really safe place--it isn't traversed by many criminals, as far as I know. And then he sighed and said,...

"I just have way too many fears."

Recently I read an article by Dr. Phil where he stated that the four letter F word that cripples far too many people is FEAR. I've thought about that all week.

We have three too many cats. Two of them are males--Bax and Sparti--and one is a female: Bella. Bella is the strangest thing I've ever known. She freaks out if you move too quickly; she hides if you're too loud; she runs if she sees Bax or Sparti; she cries and cries when she is stuck on the roof (which is almost daily) but runs away when I try to get her down. She is dominated by fear. And as a result, Sparti and Bax love to torment her. They chase her, attack her, bully her--at every opportune moment. All of the time I am thinking she brings all of this drama on herself because she asks for it with her constant fearful reactions.

And she's just a cat.

So it has made me question what I fear in my own life.

My life is so comfortable really. Most of my married life has been spent on a boarding school campus that creates a natural haven. Everyone here goes to the same church, works at the same school, teaches the same kids, has the same types of responsibilities, lives the same basic lifestyle. It's safe; comfortable. It's world that calms fears and lulls one into a quiet sense of complacency.

And so this week I have dug deep to discover what do I really fear? And here is my list:

I fear rejection.
I fear a future that beckons me away from what is so familiar.
I fear my children experiencing gut-wrenching heartache that, really, is inevitable simply because we live in a world where gut-wrenching things happen.
I fear creating so much pain for loved ones. (I recognize that's vague.)
I fear the unknown.

But I am thankful, really, that I am not rendered immobile by these fears. They don't haunt me on black nights nor stalk me as a shadow as I go about my day. It is more like, in quiet moments when I am surrounded by too much time on my hands--or in the middle of the night when I just can't sleep, they make their presence known.

But here's the thing. I'm sure we all have fears as we are all human. It's part of life. But we also have so many things to be grateful for. We are surrounded by beauty and kindness and the promise of a brand new day with each rising sun. When we learn to be grateful for the small things--grateful for changing seasons and shoes on our feet and technology and for the blessing of living in a free country and so so much more--we can change our focus from fear to gratitude.

I have goals for my future--goals that bring a lot of fear my way as these goals involve the unknown. I don't want to lose sight of them; I don't want fear to rob me of hope.

And so I am taking one step at a time, embracing the small things, eyes straight ahead...

...shaking fear off my feet and leaving it in the dust.

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”
― Nelson Mandela

Normal Days

I forgot to plug my iPad in last night. I sabotaged myself: it is at a whopping 18%.

It seems I am always forgetting things. And I would be happy to share the many things I forget on a daily basis, but?? I can't presently remember any of them.

Typical.

Roy is heading out this evening with 13 other Pisgah people for Acrofest in Texas. I am jealous as he is staying with my sister Tami. My sister Lori is going there from Arkansas where she lives and Dad, Jo, and my aunt are all going there too. So it's like a big family reunion--without me.

I watched an interview last night with Adam Levine and his girlfriend at the time, Anne--a famous model. I only watched part of it as the interviewer was Howard Stern and so, as you can imagine, it wasn't exactly classy. Anyway, they were talking about how they met at a party and were both tipsy, if not drunk. Adam was enthralled with Anne so he followed her around. They spent the first night in the motel together but "nothing happened." Howard Stern was totally flabbergasted by this and demanded to know when they had their first sexual encounter. They both said they waited a really long time:

Here's the kicker.

They waited about a week.

Call me old fashioned but...that didn't sound like a really long time to me.

So it got me thinking about my day. It was a fairly uneventful day actually--one of those run-of-the-mill type days that included teaching my freshmen and spending time chatting it up with the husband and cooking something for Jace and talking to a good friend and pretty much nothing out of the ordinary.

It certainly didn't involve alcohol or chance encounters with rock stars or high-end models. It didn't involve lavish parties or illicit conversations with radio talk show hosts where I spill the beans on the most intimate parts of my life.

Sometimes Hollywood lives are fascinating, glamorous. I see pictures of their beautiful faces on the red carpet and wonder what it be would like to have millions clamoring for your attention. But truthfully I don't envy them. Not at all.

I am content to stay anonymous, living my life in a quiet community where I can go about my day in the usual manner--teaching and grading and reading and cooking (sometimes) and running errands and living life in an unspectacular manner.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

Time Change

Yesterday seemed eternal. I wish we could have a "fall back" time change every Sunday. How beautiful would that be! An already lazy day just one hour lazier. Ahhh....bliss. It was pitch black outside and I thought, It must be time to go to bed! But it was only 7:00.

I had so many phone conversations that it seemed the phone was permanently attached to my ear: Mom, my sisters, Chas--my brother-in-law, Dad & Jo... All good conversations that made me feel warm inside.

I've gotten to the place where I call my dad every Sunday now. It's a relatively new tradition as it wasn't too long ago I was lucky to talk to Dad once a month. And even then, the conversation was stilted, difficult. Neither of us knew what to say or what to talk about so I would have a mental list of conversation pieces before I called.

My dad and I have had a tenuous relationship, built on hurt feelings and misunderstandings. It started when I was just 14 years old and traded him in on an Adventist school model that left him feeling betrayed and alone. He quickly married Jo who had a daughter just my age and she became his "new" partner in crime, leaving me feeling baffled and rejected. And so began years of pain and loss and heartache that I managed to stuff inside and pretend didn't exist for 51 out of 52 weeks. But when we would go home for Christmas, all of that anguish would rear its ugly head.

My parents live a whopping ten miles apart from each other. In fact, my dad goes to church directly across the street from my mom's house. And so we have juggled our visits, tinged with tiptoeing and stomping and never really knowing what anybody wanted in terms of balancing things just so. Unless you're a child of divorce, you can never fully understand the dance. Add to it the complication of religion and it becomes a tango of bitterness and pain.

And so that is how we have played this game, my dad and I, for the past 32 years. I've missed out on so much...and so has he. But until recently, I've never really seen his pain. I've only seen my own. It's been an "us vs them" game I've played--we've all played--for far too long.

Lack of communication and misunderstandings have built a mountain unsurpassed.

But Dad and Jo came to visit this past summer; they stayed 4 days which is unheard of for them. Typically you're lucky to get 24 hours, no matter the distance they've travelled. And in my 26 years of marriage, I can count their visits on one hand. So this 4 days? It was pretty spectacular! It was filled with conversations on the swing over coffee and rides on the golfcart and touring the mountains. It was filled laughter and honest conversations and barriers broken down.

And when Dad and Jo pulled out to head back to Oklahoma early Thursday morning, I waved goodbye, and I didn't even try to contain the tears that streamed down my face.

My dad is something special. I know he's my father and we all love our dads, so I'm fully aware of that when I say this; but my dad is wisdom and wit and amazing. I respect him more than anyone else on this planet.

When I was 17 years old, I had never heard my dad tell me that he loved me. Not once. He wasn't a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. I mean, of course I knew he loved me but...he just wasn't one to share his feelings verbally. One of my teachers knew this fact--Mr. Reidenbaugh. And every time I spent the night with dad, Mr. Reidenbaugh would encourage me to tell him that I loved him. When I would come back from a visit, Mr. Reidenbaugh would say, "So, did you tell your dad you love him?" And I would shake my head no.

But he kept after me until finally, one day, I dropped Dad off at the state department of education building there in Oklahoma City where he worked. As he got out of the car, I said, "Hey, Dad?" He stopped, stooped down and looked in at me sitting in the driver's seat.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He kind of laughed one of those laughs that spoke volumes. And then he said...

"Yeah."

Since this summer, I've called my dad every week. Our conversations have become easy. We talk about silly things and serious things. I tell him about my kids and things that I dream for my future. I tell him about the weather and what we had for dinner.

And last night, just before we hung up, without any initiation on my part,  Dad said, "Love you."

The Joys of Community

Today is the time change. So here I am in the mancave, drinking chai, while Roy watches Married with Children, and the leaves fall off the tree in my front yard. I'm watching them lazily drift to the earth out the window, making great big piles once again. You wouldn't know that we just bagged six huge bags of leaves on Friday by the looks of things out there. It's light outside--not the typical dark I am used to at this 7:00 hour. But I am so happy that an entire day stretches in front of me, filled with opportunity and living.

Yesterday, Jace said, "I am so excited that it's November! November means Thanksgiving and then Christmas and this is my favorite time of year. But when Christmas is over, I'm going to be so sad."

And then later I skyped with Jacque--this friend I've had since I was in high school. She was both of my sisters' friend first, and she knew Roy well, too--so when Roy and I moved to California pre-kid days, she was there. We instantly connected, spending weekends together and talking every morning on the phone while she got ready for work and I rocked Ciara. Our friendship grew by leaps and bounds so that when we eventually left California, she became a regular visitor in our home. And now we are on the other side of the states from her but we still talk regularly. If I were to name the three people who have made the biggest difference in my life, Jacque would be one of them. She is that amazing.

But anyway, Jacque told me that she and her new man Jaime are coming to visit in March over spring break or some time this summer--so much to look forward to.

Last night was annual hot dog roast where the church members and academy students all gather together at the community center, complete with hayrides and hotdogs and talking and bumping into people as we circle round the table filling our plates with more food than we have room for. But here's the thing. When everything was cleaned up, a group of 8-10 college students from the DC area who happen to be staying in the gym while they work with underpriveleged children in the community barreled in, hungry and unaware that they were so late. So Tammy, in her typical hostess-way, quickly heated up more hotdogs and everyone got busy getting more food together while they patiently waited. And then they formed a group and sang us a song from another language--so beautiful and thoughtful-- letting us know by their smiles and warm hugs afterwards how grateful they were for our willingness to accomodate them.

And so, Jace--yes December 26 will arrive. Absolutely. But no worries. Life is filled with so many good moments to look forward to...the comfort of seasons, the laughter of friends, the song of another, surprise visits, and the joys of community.

“Many of the most deeply spiritual moments of my life haven't happened just in my mind or in my soul. They happened while holding my son in the middle of the night, or watching the water break along the shore, or around my table, watching the people I love feel nourished in all sorts of ways.” 
― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way

Fall Leaves

I honestly think Fridays are my favorite day of the week. There is just something so spectacular about them. It seems everyone is a tad happier, knowing the weekend is right around the corner. And yesterday--Friday--was no exception.

As Roy, Jace and I were pulling out of the driveway to go out for dinner, we decided on a whim to call our principal, Rick, and see if he wanted to tag along. And he did. We picked him up as we passed the ad building as he was standing along the side of the road, hiking up his pants and showing off his leg to "entice" us to stop. He is such a silly man sometimes. And then we talked the whole way there, the whole time  at the restaurant, and the whole way back. And the beautiful thing is, we never once talked about school. Not really anyway. On the way home, the sun was just beginning to go down and the trees were glowing their soft shades or orange and red. I sat in the back with Jace, looking out my window, and just thought to myself I really like my life.

And then after we were home and I'd talked to both of the girls, I decided, on a whim, to visit Tammy. And so I did. Bob wasn't home yet so it was just the two of us in her living room, chatting it up. We both had a million stories to share as we haven't talked in a couple of weeks. We've walked 3 miles together every day since May or June--well, most every day--so I've missed her. I've missed telling her the little things and the big things and hearing her little things and big things. And then Bob came home and was hungry, and Luke came in from Vespers, excited about his music adventure, and the Vaughan fam came alive--everybody talking and laughing and eating. I stayed awhile--probably too long--but it was just so much fun. And they're so friendly and have this way of making people feel welcome and loved. So my time with Vaughan's? A little slice of perfect.

One last thing to share about my Friday. When class was over, one of my students came up to tell me that she's leaving. Now I'm not convinced that she really is as she's cried wolf before. But she told me that nobody likes her here, she's doesn't really feel like she fits in. And looking into her eyes, I saw the pain of a 15 year old girl who longs for acceptance, just like the rest of us. She's had a difficult road in life--torn between parents as so many kids are these days. She's an edgy girl--rides life on the fringes, skirting trouble and then diving headlong into it. But beneath it all is a tender heart who dreams of big things. I wish, when I tell her that she accomplish whatever she wants because she is beautiful and intelligent and capable, she would believe me. I wish she could see what I see.

But I'm afraid life may not deal her a kind hand. And I'm sorry for that.

Sometimes life can be so messy and painful and gritty. 

But for now, it is the weekend. I have 48 hours ahead of me. I have big plans for this weekend. I have joined a "Write a Novel in a Month" club. It's one of my dreams--writing a novel. I have no intention of trying to publish it as I'm rough around those edges for sure. But I'd like to give it a go so...I think I will. And I'm going to take some long walks down Holcombe Cove Road. It winds upwards, covered with trees, and I pass fields of cows and sheep along the way. Then as I am walking home, I can see the mountains in the distance, so majestic and rising to the sky. It's beautiful and it makes me think of so many things beyond myself. 

I am going to go outside and play ball with Jace--surrounded by laughter and piles of fall leaves. 

What Counts

I am thankful for yesterdays.

Yesterday was a great day overall. I spent some time in Beth's office with Roy, just chatting it up. I vacuumed   the house--used the hose and moved furniture--a true blue vacuuming party. I made a delicious curry soup that is low-cal meaning I can eat 17 bowls instead of just two for the same "price". I talked to the girls and did yoga for the very first time. It was pretty fabulous--not even kidding. A little weird but...it sure felt good. And then? I read myself to sleep listening to the blustery wind outside. Perfect.

When I was in second grade or so, I remember hearing that they way they made cartoons was they drew a character on a page and then on the next page, they drew the same character in a slightly different position, and so on and so on...until they had pages and pages of this character. So when you shuffled the pages and watched the character, it appeared that the character was moving. I don't know if this is really true as it is my 8 year old perspective, but I remember them telling me that this is the way they made cartoons such as Bugs Bunny and such--so you can only imagine the hours and hours it would take to make a thirty minute show. That little tidbit of knowledge stuck with me through the years as I found it so baffling. Who would have the patience to draw that many pictures??

So last night as I lay in bed, I was thinking about that little tidbit and how it is so much like our lives. Our lives are made up of days--so similar in their "skeletons" and yet each day is "tweaked" with different experiences. We live in the same houses with the same people; work in the same offices in the same cities. And yet each day is filled with thoughts and conversations and experiences that make the day its own. And then, when you scroll those days together, they create a life--a life of thoughts and conversations and experiences.

So I am thankful for the yesterday kinds of days. But the thing is, give it a week and I won't have a clue what I did yesterday. (Honestly, it won't take a whole week for me to forget.) It will all become a blur, completely forgotten in the business of another day.

Sometimes I get caught up in the future. It is easy for me to worry about circumstances that I really can't control at the moment. It causes undue stress, causes me to forget the luxury of now. Because, rally, that's all I have--the now.

And so today I want to focus on living each moment to the fullness--not caught up in the memory of yesterday or the dreams of tomorrow. I want to make today count. I am excited about today actually--lots of good things planned.

I am going to get completely caught up in my office with grading and alumni stuff; I am going to sweep and mop the floors; I am going to call my mom. But what I am looking the most forward to is that we are going out to eat in our celebratory It's Friday ritual. I love that ritual--because it means the weekend is here and life is a bit more relaxed and everyone is happy and chatty.

Today I am going to create a day filled with laughter and good conversation and warmth. Ultimately, this day will probably be a distant memory, blurry and out of focus. But for now, it's all I have. And I'm going to live it with purpose, with joy, with gratitude.

And in the end...that's what counts.                              

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."  Mark Twain