Anticipation

One of my very dearest, most loyal friends--Sue--was supposed to be here at my home with me as of last night. But instead she's stuck in Atlanta in an airport that is on gridlock because of a winter storm that blasted the city, leaving thousands stranded in their cars on highways with jackknifed semis and freezing temperatures.

She's flying home today as soon as she can find a plane that is heading north. Poor girl.

Poor me.

I was so looking forward to nonstop talking and pedicures and some amazing meals as Sue is simply a divine cook. But alas...I will have to wait another year.

Good friends make the world go 'round. I met Sue our very first year in Wisconsin back in '95. We were moving into our home and she pulled into our driveway. Hey! You're new here! Looks like we could be friends and we really need friends right now! And so began a friendship that has lasted almost 19 years now. She has come to visit twice since we've moved to North Carolina, whisking in with stories and a listening ear and barrels of fun. I am always sad to see her go...and always excited to see her come back.

That's one of life's most precious gifts: anticipation for good times to come.

I was thinking about that this morning actually--how much I am looking forward to events happening in the spring: Roy's homeshow (a yearly fave), Savana's graduation from Southern, and then blessed summer with all of its bounty. The promise of good times ahead give us so much to be thankful for and look forward to and help us stay focused on the positive.

I know there are so many people struggling in my own neighborhood right now. I was talking to one of them this morning and she told me that she is so stressed she is having difficulty eating and sleeping.

Poor thing. That is a whole lot of miserable.

And I've been there. We all have at some point because...well, that's life...and sometimes life is cruel.

So we talked about taking hot baths and reading good books that whisk you away to another land and drinking chai tea with a cozy blanket and spending time with dear friends who get you. Because sometimes life is filled with potholes that we have to crawl out of, our nails filled with grime and grit, and our faces smeared with tar. Those times are never fun, never easy. Those times leave us destitute.

But time passes and has a way of healing all wounds. And if we persevere, we will discover that we are laughing on Super Bowl Sunday; we are making plans again for dinner out with a loved one; we are looking forward.

Sue's being stranded in Atlanta hasn't left me flat on my back of course; but it does make me sad. But I have much to be grateful for today. It's break here at the academy with its promise of lazy mornings and a couple of long days that stretch before us to be filled with our own sort of bounty. Savana is coming home and I am going to continue knitting my scarf. I am in the midst of a great book and I'm sure Roy and I will find time to squeeze in one meal out, just the two of us.

And hopefully, one of these days, Sue will return, bringing new recipes to try and her laughter and all of those affirmations she always gives. So until then, I will keep looking forward, keep trudging along, filled with anticipation for good times that are just around the corner.

Snow Day

It's a white world outside. We got blasted with a snowstorm yesterday--endless white falling down. Only an inch was predicted but it just kept falling and falling and falling. The roads were slick and snow-covered, yet we had to traverse it a few times. Yesterday was my first day at my new part-time job, of course, so I braved the roads to work and back. And then Roy dropped Piper off at the vet's earlier and so we had to make the dangerous trek back to get him.

Just as we were pulling out of campus onto the main road, Roy's cell rang; it was Jason, our maintenance director here at the academy: I'm not sure where you're going but the roads are terrible! If at all possible, you should stay home!

But of course...it wasn't possible, so off we went, the three of us braving icy roads and North Carolina drivers. Frankly, I'm not sure what's worse. We did just fine until we got to the road that leads to the vet's. The road has a sharp curve followed by a steep incline. Roy stopped at the bottom, all of us looking up skeptically, as there was no traffic at that moment. And then? We were off, Roy determinedly looking straight ahead, both hands gripping the steering wheel. We got about halfway up...and then our tires began to spin and...down down down we slid, anxiously looking behind us to make sure no cars were coming our direction.

"Why don't you and Jace just walk up the hill and get Piper?" Roy said. And so we did--me walking gingerly up the steep incline, wary of slipping and breaking a hip or hitting my head and knocking myself unconscious while Jace zigzagged and skipped and ran and threw snowballs at me. I love the snow, Mom! This is awesome! Do you think school will be cancelled? Ohh...I hope so! I love snow days! Don't you, Mom? Don't you love this?

"Be careful, Jace. You're going to knock me down!"

We finally made it. Piper was so excited to see us, every part of his body wiggling--one part going north while the other part went south. And of course Jace was just as excited to see Piper, petting him and talking to him as though they'd been parted for weeks rather than just a few hours. Say hi to Piper, Mom! Don't be rude to him! Look how excited he is to see you! Come on, Mom! Say hi!! (He is saying this as I'm talking to the technician about how Piper needs a dental cleaning. I kept waving my hand at him...you know...STOP IT!!!!...as the technician explained the dire hazards of plaque on a dog's teeth.

Okay, so...Can I just say that we had dogs growing and not once did we take them in for dental hygiene? Call us irresponsible dog owners...but I can't remember a single dog getting a tooth absess that resulted in surgery and such due to irresponsible dental care. Who knew dogs got plaque on their teeth? Who knew dogs need their teeth cleaned??

So you need to bring Piper in as soon as possible to get that plaque cleaned off his teeth.

And how much is that going to be?

It's an estimated cost of $220. But you are eligible for a $10 discount since he just had a physical!

I'm thinking Piper is going to take his chances. He'd better start eating some bark or gnawing on rocks--or something that will get that plaque off those teeth. Evidently he needs to be a little more proactive where his dental hygiene is concerned.

Meanwhile, as we're discussing Piper's plaque, I glance out the window and notice that Roy is once again braving the hill. I stop her mid-sentence: That's my husband...And everyone in the room stops whatever they were doing to look out the window and watch, bated breath, as Roy slowly inches upward and then, tires spinning frantically...stops.

Is he going to slide back down???

And then he started again; I could see Roy's utmost concentration as the car began moving up, moving up, slowly...and finally, thankfully,  he pulled into a parking lot  across from the vet's.

Whew.

We all gave a collective sigh as we watched him drive the car to safety.

So would you like to make an appointment to get Piper's teeth cleaned?

"Let me get back with you on that!" I replied, smiling appreciatively. And then I paid the vet bill that was more than I spend on myself medically in a year (not even kidding) without getting Piper's teeth cleaned, and Jace and I headed out the door with Piper in tow.

We made it home without killing anybody or smashing our car to smithereens. Piper bounded inside, thankful to be back home where life is good and the couch is comfortable. We all settled into life on the homefront, everybody doing their own thing. And so the evening passed and the snow fell and now, when I look outside, all that remains of our dangerous trek is a snow-covered world that leaves me gazing in awe at a world of pristine wonder.

Marching On

Roy and I discovered a new green smoothie last night: peanut butter green smoothie. That sounds disgusting but...it was delicious. It tasted just like a peanut butter shake. Mmmm....

Yesterday was a crazy busy day. I start my new part-time job today and it has catapulted my life into overdrive at the school. Trying to get everything done in one day that normally takes me two is just a wee bit of impossible. I'm not sure how I'm going to pull this off. And now I have to pack a lunch two days each week. What am I going to take? A bowl of soup? A sandwich? Is there ice over there in the office?

And I just realized a minute ago that I forgot to grade for Sycamore last night. Sycamore Academy is an online homeschool program that my sisters own and I am the English/History teacher. Since the school is up for accreditation this spring, my sisters have all of these writing jobs they want me to do for them...and so I need to complete at least one task each evening.

Oops.

I am behind. And I haven't even started yet.

I should be stressed off the charts. I should be biting my nails and sweating things a bit. But I'm really not. I've had four years of fairly stress free living so I'm ready for busy. I'm ready for juggling and to-do lists and schedules that burst. I am the most productive when I am swamped.

So other than a few frustrations regarding my school job...I'm good to go. Of course, after a week of this I just might be biting my nails and sweating things a LOT.

If I stop posting? You'll know why.

When we lived at Sunnydale I taught 9-12 English. I was the sole English teacher: 100 students every single day. And Jace was young and so I felt it was important that I was home by 3:30 when he got home from school so that I could have the evening with him. So my time in the office? It was a whole lot of productive. I didn't waste a second: planning and organizing and entering grades and grading and teaching and home for a quick lunch then off to do it again that afternoon. And then when I got home, we played house parents to 40 dorm boys. We had them in our living room at least once a week, and I would cook for them: celebrating birthdays or celebrating the end of the week or just celebrating. My living room was so small but we would all scrunch in there together--kids everywhere.

I loved every second of it. I probably could have been a dean's wife forever. So fun.

And so when we moved here, my life went from a whirlwind of crazy to ... a standstill. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. Rather than being in the midst of a dorm with kids everywhere, we now lived in a house up on a hill that was isolated from teenagehood. Before, I would look out my window to center campus and see 100 kids milling about. If I decided to sit out on my porch, inevitably kids would join me, laughing and filling me in on the details of their lives. But once we moved? Nobody knew me. It was just me at the front door, waving goodbye as Darian and Jace and Roy hustled out to meet their responsibilities, leaving me alone in a silent living room that echoed.

I struggled, desperate to be part and yet...

Of course, it's been four years now and I have adjusted just fine. I have zero desire to live in a dorm again. Those were great days and I am thankful for the memories and the friendships I gained over those fourteen years of deaning. But I'm done now. It's someone else's turn. I've adjusted to Friday nights of just us and quiet evenings that don't involve someone frantically knocking on our door. I'm quite content to live a quiet life in a house up on a hill that is set apart of the bustle of a campus.

But I am ready to be involved in something. I am ready to balance and accomplish. I love that feeling of job well done. I love productivity.

So though I am already behind the 8-ball, that's okay. I'll figure it out. I'll strategize my game plan and do whatever I need to do to get on top of things and stay there. At least for awhile...

And then in a week or two, I'll  say...

Give me my life back! I want quiet days on the couch watching Parenthood and eating popcorn! I want walls that echo and mornings that stretch before me like an endless highway! 

I want yesterday!...as time marches on towards tomorrow.

Dreaming

Recently I was talking to a friend of mine who is my age. She lamented that she feels so old--everything hurts. When I look at her life, I see so many good things; I see so much opportunity. And yet I know she struggles with depression--as so many people do.

And that makes me so sad.

This morning I read a quote that said this: Do you see the Universe as friendly? Or do you see the Universe as hostile?

And that quote made me stop and think: how do I see the world in which I live? Because the way we see it changes everything. It's a paradigm shift actually: we either view life as filled with sadness and difficulty and struggle...or we view life as a time for opportunity and laughter and giving. Of course, life is both--no doubt about it. And there are times in life when we all struggle, when we are flat on our backs.

But the question is, what do we do when we've had the wind knocked out of us. Do we roll over in despair? or do we struggle to get back up and chase our dreams? How much are we really willing to sacrifice when it comes to living the life we want?

For the first time in my life I have vision for my future. I have goals I want to attain, mountains I want to climb. But getting there? It's going to be a piece of work. And honestly...I'm scared. Sometimes my fear keeps me up at night, staring at a ceiling I can't see. Other times, I am filled with anticipation. It's a mixed bag of emotions, and at times, I am tempted to quit. It's just too hard; I like my comfortable life.

But I know in the deepest part of me that I will plow through, one step at a time...because this vision that I have? It is powerful.

And I want it.

I used to believe that God has this ultimate will for my life and that it's up to me to discover it. I don't believe that anymore. I do believe that God gives us dreams and then we are empowered to live those dreams. Life aligns in powerful ways sometimes, leaving us shaking our heads and telling others about the remarkable events that have transpired, letting us know that we are on the right path. But at other times?  It isn't that simple. Sometimes vision requires hard work and setbacks and determination and sacrifice.

I believe we live in a friendly universe. I believe we are all born to laugh and watch the sun rise as awe bursts within our chests. Regardless of whether I live in a third-world country or a country filled with technological advances, people are people are people. Everybody smiles; everybody craves love. And really--that's what life is about. It isn't about how much money I have or my social status. It's about finding satisfaction and contentment in the simple things of life that require neither.

I am sad for my friend who feels old and yet...she isn't. Life is far too short to stop dreaming, no matter your age. And if you find that you no longer have dreams? Well, that means that it's time to do whatever it takes to discover them. I heard not long ago that when we feel discouraged and a lack of motivation, it is time to ask ourselves questions to discover what we want out of life. Dreams are important. They bring passion and fulfillment in their wake. They give rise to purpose, power. And so...here I am, one step in front of the other, focused straight ahead...

dreaming.

Welcoming the Laughter

I am all the ages I've ever been. -Anne Lamott

Once in awhile I stumble upon a quote that makes me stop, cock my head a bit, and mull it over. I have written so many times about how, no matter the age, I still feel like me. But I think this quote nails it: it defines the wisdom that we gain through the years; it incapsulates our experiences and pains and joys and life-lessons all together into a solitary sentence.

I like Anne Lamott. I don't know much about her really--only that she is often featured on Oprah and shares experiences and thoughts that I appreciate. She's a cool lady.

Last night I was up in the mancave when suddenly the wind decided to roar. It was a whole lot of crazy outside. It picked up the the awning that we have staked down, covering the golfcart, and whipped it into the air, somersaulting it a time or two until it landed upside down by the side of the house. Jace came running upstairs from the living room: Mom! What's going on?!!

A bit later, the wind nabbed it again. I could hear it banging against the toolshed we have by the side of the garage, but it was so pitch black outside that I couldn't quite grasp what was going on. But when things came to a halt, I went outside to look. There lay the awning, peacefully on its top, legs sticking up like a beached spider. About the same time, Roy was closing up shop in the gym, so together we folded up the awning and lay it by the side of the house until we can put it back in its rightful place.

Once we came back inside where it is warm and cozy, I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the time we spent Christmas in California with my sister Lori. I don't remember if Tami and her family were there that particular year. The kids were little--I don't think I had Jace yet. It was chilly outside as it was, of course, December, so a fire blazed in the fireplace. Gary, my brother-in-law at the time, emptied the ashes from the fireplace into a trashcan, stuffed all of the Christmas wrapping on top, then shoved the lid down over the whole concoction. Then he hauled the trashcan outside by their boat and suburban. That night, pitch black outside, the kids were playing in the den when suddenly Trevor, my nephew, pointed outside and said, "Look at the fire!" to Roy. The problem, however, was that Trevor had a speech impediment at the time so it sounded more like Look at the fy-oo! So if my memory serves me correctly, Roy ignored it.

But it wasn't long before the fire that was now blazing outside from ashes that ignited wrapping paper and spread to the boat got everyone's attention. The guys rushed out in a panic and Roy quickly moved the Suburban as the fire was roaring dangerously close to the gas tank. The fire department was called and it was contained fairly quickly, though the boat was destroyed in the process.

That story has become one of the stories that I've heard Roy tell countless times: So the moral of the story is, don't put your Christmas wrappings in a trashcan with hot ashes from the fireplace and then shove the lid on top!

Of course, on a catastrophic scale our canopy experience doesn't compare to the blazing fire that we experienced that cold Christmas night. It just reminded me of how one moment we are relaxing, enjoying, lazing--minding our own business and living our lives...and the very next second we are in a panic as the unknown beckons and we scramble to preserve life as we know it.

Our lives are comprised of moments that turn into hours that turn into days and then weeks and months and years. And before we know it, we wake up and realize that a lifetime has gone by and we forgot to enjoy it. We've been so busy living that we forgot to live. We get caught up in the day to day monotony, not recognizing that this monotony is what makes life beautiful.

And yet, when the monotony is threatened, when we get a glimpse of what life could be like if our monotony was stripped away, we are suddenly spurred into action, desperate to preserve our normal.

I am all the ages I've ever been.

When I look back over my life, I can easily be overcome with regret: regret for choices I made, regret that I didn't enjoy my children more when they were little, regret that I didn't save more money, regret that I frittered away the years...

And yet...those same times in my life taught me so much. Those years gave me depth and understanding; they gave me friendships and memories that bring laughter...and sometimes tears. They gave me wisdom that I can now share with my own daughters who are welcoming adulthood with open arms.

And I am grateful for all of that.

Sometimes I feel like, in some respects, my life is just beginning. I can focus on what I want as my kids are practically grown. Granted, Jace is only eleven, but his teenage years will fly. And so for the first time in my life I get to think about what I want to do with the rest of my life. That sounds exciting, filled with opportunity and possibility. I am no longer fearful of the future as I was in my early twenties.

The other day, one of my freshmen asked me what I want to be when I grow up. And though the other kids laughed at her question, I didn't find it funny. I answered her seriously: I'm not really sure yet, Janet. I'm thinking seriously about that!

I am grateful that life brings second chances, new beginnings, opportunity for a new normal. And this next phase of my life? I want to seize the day. I want to conquer dreams and live with no regrets. I want to embrace all the years I've ever been while welcoming the future, one day at a time, handling those moments of panic with grace and confidence; embracing the good times and welcoming the laughter.

Choosing Trust

This morning at 6:30 as I sat down to blog, my phone rang. It was Savana.

I talk to Savana every day, but yesterday? It was a crazy day and we didn't manage to touch base. Savana spent a great part of the afternoon holed up in the laundry room of the Southern apartment complex where she lives because there was a bomb threat on campus. A real live bomb threat. Squad cars, a SWAT team, and the FBI swarmed like bees on a hive. The suspect was assumably in the boys' dorm. Doors were busted down; boys thrown to the ground and handcuffed with guns pointed at their heads.

They were all innocent.

When I got the news, I was in my office entering names in a database so that I could print receipts. Savana sent me a text: Mom, there's a bomb threat on campus! They think he's in the boys' dorm!

Shortly after my dearest friend Tammy came in and I watched her go from happy to panic in 1.2 seconds as she realized that her baby was in the boys' dorm with a gunman. Hide in your closet! she told him.

Mom, I'm scared.

It was surreal. We watch these things on the news far too often. But when it happens on the campus where your child lives? That's a whole lot of crazy. That's a whole lot of This could happen to me...and it is.

Thankfully everyone is okay. Thankfully they have two suspects in custody and nobody was hurt. But yesterday was a reality check. It brings into focus how much we trust that those terrifying realities won't happen to us...and yet...

It almost did.

I am grateful this morning for the cold air outside and the heat in my home. I am grateful that my three kids are happy and well. I am grateful for sisters and nieces and parents and nephews and a brother-in-law who all have my heart. I am grateful for crisp fruit and highways that lead to home. I am grateful for books that take me away and technological advances that bring opportunity. I am grateful for my friend Tammy who huddled with me in an office when life came crashing down.

It's so easy to take life for granted--to forget how genuinely blessed we are to live in a free country that offers so many good things. But freedom means everyone is free...which means we have to trust that all those everyones will handle their freedom with respect to others. And sometimes? Well, sometimes they don't. And their lack of respect for themselves causes a whole lot of chaos for others. It's so utterly tragic.

Life is fragile.

So this morning when the phone rang? I was so thankful to hear my daughter's voice on the other end. I am thankful she is coming home today so that she is safe in our home and I don't have to wonder. It's a scary world out there. But regardless we have to choose to live our lives, to chase our dreams, to take it one day at a time...

We have to choose to trust.

Looking Up

This is my last Thursday for a few months of waking up with leisure on my hands.

I got a temporary job working 15 hours a week, so I can work around my Pisgah job. Perfection. It came at just the right moment--fulfills a need we have to pad the bank account a bit. So though I am a bit sad to give up my leisurely Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am excited about new opportunity, getting out of the house, and joining the work force of America in a place that isn't an academy campus.

We'll see how it goes.

Yesterday was a good day. I went to supper in the caf and spent some time talking to those Anderson people. It was fun and it was nice to touch base with them as it's been awhile. And then I came home and did a whole lot of nothing spectacular. My favorite kind of evening.

Earlier in the day, a friend of mine and I were talking. My friend told me a story of how she'd received a letter of criticism and it hurt her deeply.  I won't go into detail as this it isn't my story to tell...but I had her story on my mind all evening.

Recently we had an altercation on our campus that resulted in kids getting innocently involved and a divisive staff--all about an issue that really didn't need to be that big of a deal.

On Sunday we had our SA banquet. The gym was transformed due to hours of dedication and work by a crew who gave selflessly of their time and energy. And though most everyone oohhed and aaahhhed appropriately, there were a few naysayers who made it their mission to criticize and let everyone know how they felt.

So I am just wondering...

Do these people feel they have the right to openly criticize and tear down? Is there some innate need to bring discouragement and pain to others' hearts in such a brazen way? This past week I've spent a lot of time shaking my head in exasperation at the thoughtlessness of others who apparently deem themselves the guardians of the only way.

And then I wonder...

Do these same people ever look at the stars?

Sometimes I get really frustrated with life. And sometimes I have a very strong need to tear down and write letters of disapproval and frustration. Sometimes I want to berate someone for an action that I deem unfair or thoughtless. I tend to think that's human nature. We all see from our own perspective, and we don't take the time, nor have the time honestly, to figure out everyone else's perspective. And so in those moments when I am just ready to burst, I call Tammy--my go-to friend.

And then? I go outside and look at the stars.

Because when I step outside my house and look up, I am amazed at my own insignificance. Suddenly everything goes back into perspective as I recognize how truly small I am. My opinions are simply that: opinions. I am not the final word on the right way.

Nobody is.

We live in a world where everyone has to figure out what is right for them. And what is right for one, may not be right for another. And when we think we have the right to tell someone that their way is wrong, or that the way they are choosing to live their lives goes against our own moral principles--well...

We need to take a moment, step outside, and look up.