Fun Facts at the end of 2013.

I went jean shopping yesterday.  It took hours:-).  I tried on at least 15 pairs of jeans.  Finally I got excited about about a pair of jean trousers.  I came home, laid them out on the bed and showed my husband.  The first words out of his mouth were, "They look just like my Navy dungarees."  (He was in the Navy for 9 years.)  I thought, man, those Navy folks are quite fashionable:-).

My father went on a cruise over Christmas.  He is 60 years old.  This was his first time ever on a cruise.  I emailed him to welcome him back home.  His emailed response, verbatim, "Got home safe and sound and the cruise was the best time ever."  What an incredible thrill to see that life, 60 years in, one is so delighted in experience that one can say, "best time ever."  This is why I like growing up.  Much more to fun to experience!!!!

My father-in-law, for Christmas gave me a gift card to Barnes and Noble.  I bought the DVD Because of Winn Dixie.  One of my favorite movies growing up was Pollyanna with Hayley Mills.  Because of Winn Dixie reminds me of that movie, except better soundtrack.  (Both movies were created from books.)  BWD is cast with quirky, misunderstood characters played such as Cicely Tyson, Dave Matthews, one furry dog, and AnnaSophia Robb.  I love this movie's tenderness and spunk and grace.  I could say more, but I'll leave it there for now.  I literally laugh out loud while watching it.  I love the writing.  Okay, now, I'm done.  There is this one scene where Cicely's character shows Robb a tree whose branches are tied with swinging glass bottles, etched into my memories sight always.  Everyone has a story.  Okay, done.

I am reading Joseph Cambell's The Power of Myth.  One of my favorite quotes, so far, because there are many, is "...some people have a very hard time loving God, because there's no imperfection there.  You can be in awe, but that would not be real love.  It's Christ on the cross that becomes lovable...[because Christ was human and experienced] suffering, suffering is imperfection."  Jesus makes God a little easier to come close to.  Such a lovely and powerful truth.  Oh, and Campbell also says this, "People say what we're seeking is a meaning for life.  I don't think that's what we're really seeking.  I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive."  I get that entirely.

Sight, sound, touch, smell, taste, and acknowledging and caring for the truth that we are not just natural beings, but spiritual ones.  Those five senses can connect us to our spirits.  It's all interwoven.  To 2014.

Qoute of the Yesterday

The 81 year old woman I work for as she was watching a female chef on a TV cooking show,

 "Bless her heart, she was standing in the same line I was in when they were handing out boobs."

And as any good Southerner knows, anything that begins with Bless Her Heart, is not a good thing:-).

In this day...

Thinking about Nelson Mandela and a conversation I had with a friend last night about facing reality without feeling incredibly disappointed.  Joy does not always happen to us, we choose joy.  We choose forgiveness.  We choose to make life better.  And like I have said to many people many times, including to myself, because of the above things, we have more power than we even dare realize.  We must use it.

So sweet!!!

Ess Gee told me about the super cutest Christmas decoration he had growing up.

His family did not have a real fireplace for stockings to be hung from, BUT his mama did have a life size, freestanding, cardboard fireplace with mantle printed with red brick that she busted out and hung their stockings from every Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My heart heard this and I was so burst with joy.  Now, I am on the lookout!!!!!
 Ess Gee, when he was little, had the most impish face with little smiley moon eyes, I could picture him so happy to see that mantle:-), because it meant stockings and stuffers!!!  Christmas can be pretty great:-)!

A tiny bit of Scrooge, a little bit early.

This is going to sound incredibly sacrilegious of me, but Thanksgiving Day food, I really could exchange for something else.  I do not get wrapped up in turkey and stuffing (dressing in the South), cranberry anything's, fresh made rolls (even adding "fresh made" doesn't make me think they are the cat's meow), pumpkin pie... nada...um, yeh, I know.  I feel majorly rude against our traditions as an eating American.
 But I wanna make up for that, because I said to my husband after I made the above announcement, that if I had a favorite holiday meal, it would be on the Fourth of July.  Ha Ha, super American on that one, huh!!
Give me a good burger, some potato salad, corn on the cob, watermelon and I'm in!!!
And my favorite dessert on any given holiday (?)...that would be my birthday:-).  It's not a national holiday, but a little independent one (and any one who knows me knows that I care about little independent things), and that would be a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.
I'm sure some of this food-preference is my Mid-Westerner coming out in my taste buds...it is the stuff I grew up on, but also give me Lamb Vindaloo and Naan or Sushi with tons of wasabi and call it Thanksgiving and we are good to go!!!

Just a little something...

I have heard that God is a gentleman.  I have heard that he is a still, small voice.  I think God is who he needs to be to the person he is with-that is why he has given us his so many names.  I do think he is present, even when you think he is not. He calls himself Emmanuel: the God with us.  And if I pay attention, I catch him being God.

  On a drive up to Boston, the car in front of me, their license plate:  ELSHADAI.  A name God calls himself meaning God Almighty.

  While walking through Salem Massachusetts, tons of people all around, streets almost too crowded to walk through, "Amazing Grace" sings through the air by only a few voices.

  At the post office, over the counter, stuck on a cubicle wall, with many notes, in the middle of "Is there anything liquid, fragile, or perishable?"  I read, Be still and know that I am God.

  One car's bumper sticker, one word, Jesus.

Another license plate: 6:8MICAH, translates to "He has shown you what is good:  And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?"

It's really very sweet and I really kinda like it.

Hmmm...

I am not sure where Outside Magazine gets their information, but in its October 2013 edition it states in an article addressing 0 to 20 year old people "most of the habits we establish before age 19 we carry with us through life".
  I thought this was super interesting.  It made me think of belief systems we may have established before 19,  habits of thoughts about ourselves, God, our families, or habits we formed with exercise or eating or with friendships or pressing on the gas in our mom's minivan.
  Let's see--I habitually exercised then, be it running for track in 9th grade or playing volleyball sophomore and junior year in high school, or jumping on our huge trampoline in the backyard or swimming in our pool or skiing and hiking...I still exercise now.  I wrote a lot in my journal (since 6th grade and maybe earlier, I just didn't save the journals before then), I still write now.
 I'm sure I could think on this some more and most likely will, but I'd thought I'd throw it out there.  It might bring some clarity as to why you may think and/or do the things you do--it coulda been a habitual thought/word/deed when you were somewhere between 0 to 19:-).

Turning the soil...and good-bye summer.

This day marks the last day of my staycation.  Some plans fell through and closer to last minute I wound up with five days mostly to myself...no work to go to, no out-of-town family to attend, and Ess Gee has had a  lot of school and work, so I have had a lot of time alone.
  I listened to sermons on-line and took notes, I bought music and listened to music, I wrote, I read, I walked the dog, I worked on the yard, I watched shows on competitive tattooing:-), I even prayed, like a real deep prayer once or twice, where I felt like I touched down on holy ground maybe just a little.
  And I am a little ashamed to say the stuff I uncovered about myself has not been pretty and it has not been flattering.  I was surprised at the kind of life I live under.  There's far too much caring about what other people think, there's far too many excuses for areas I need not even excuse.  I'd explain that here, but then I am afraid it would look like I am doing exactly what I do not want to be doing.  Basically, I really am okay with the material things I have in my life (or lack thereof) and I am okay with the choices I make in re: to my life, but because it looks very, very different than some other folks, I squirm a little in their presence, and I overexplain in their presence, when I need not worry about any this.  I worry about getting the right kind of hazelnut creamer for my sister-in-law when she visits and/or will my life resume look like I've done enough with all my free time?  Ya' know, that kind of stuff.  Will I be judged (?) kind of stuff.  So there's that:-).  It feels like scales, big, gnarly scales that just need to fall off, so I can live free and okay without the perfectionism in there that lies to me and says it all needs to be set, explained, taken care of=like there's nothing in process, it's all fine and done, and there's no need for grace because we're all good here.  I pride myself on living honestly. I do.  But when things like this come to the surface, I become the antithesis of my hopes.  It's pretty ugly.
  And then there's the trying thing.  I realize I don't put myself out there for a few reasons, 1.)  I don't want to look lame if I don't get that job or make that team or come out on top, and 2.) If I try things and people do say "yes" to me, then what if I overcommit myself?  Will I have the energy to keep this up?  Will I have the strength to keep going?  I have a sense of humor about many things, but I don't grant this for myself.  I think I have become far too serious.  Perfectionism leaves little to no room for being a student.  It doesn't leave room for God to work and maybe even surprise me with more energy than I thought I'd have or more downtime than I'd thought I'd have.  I am a fool who has it all figured out and this is so debilitating.
  Lastly, I have also caught myself not speaking up.  I have been in the presence of some covert and not so covert racism.  Originally, I think it's because I was so surprised by it my tongue was a little tied, but now that I am realizing it's there and doesn't seem to be going anywhere, I need to question it, question the persons, the situations, but not after the situation, during.  Sara Bareilles sings a song called Brave http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4.  You can watch it on Youtube.  I have.  About 12 times.  I super am in love with her hair, but her words are good, too.
  I'm closing shop on summer.  I am ready to. I make up all kinds of excuses for my reasons why I am slow to things, but I am ready to give those up.  I think I need a good shove out the plane.  I think I need to be brave.

Anonymous

"I believe in God, but I also believe in music.  And while I do pray, more often than not, I simply turn up the radio."

"Humility" in the words of Frederick Buechner

An excerpt from his book Wishful Thinking.

  Humility is often confused with the gentlemanly self-deprecation of saying you're not much of a bridge player when you know perfectly well you are.  Conscious or otherwise, this kind of humility is a form of gamesmanship.
  If you really aren't much of a bridge player, you're apt to be rather proud of yourself for admitting it so humbly.  This kind of humility is a form of low comedy.
  True humility doesn't consist of thinking ill of yourself but of not thinking of yourself much differently from the way you'd be apt to think of anybody else.  It is the capacity for being no more or no less pleased when you play your hand well than when your opponents do.

I repeat...and I repeat.

I have said for many, many years now that one of the top ten things I love about God is that he repeats himself.  I'm slow, hard of hearing, and I need the reiteration:-).  I'll read something in scripture and then hear it in a hear a sermon or read it in a book or a friend brings it up or I see it on a billboard or listen to it on the radio....  However it gets repeated, it does, and I know that it's something God wants me to know, hear, attend to, embrace, pray about, something.  A writer named Margeret Feinburg calls it the Sacred Echo.  She says a lot of times in Christianity they say we should listen for God's still, small voice, because that's how God spoke to Moses, but she goes on to say what we should really listen for are the things that echo in our lives that tell us about God and tell us about ourselves.

  We went to church on Sunday and in the pamphlet that they give you to follow along--the order of worship, if you will, there on page 5 was a quote taken from St. Patrick's Breastplate.

And we read this out loud together as a church:

Christ with us and Christ before us
Christ behind us and Christ in us
Christ beneath us and Christ above us
Christ to our right and Christ to our left
Christ when we lie down and Christ when we rise
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of us
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of us
Christ in every eye that sees us
Christ in every ear that hears us
We arise today through a mighty strength, the invocation and the Trinity, through the belief of the Threeness, through a confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation.

I had recently written this quote in the birthday cards of two different friends and then I read it in Sunday's bulletin.

Just as a side note: I do not look at this quote as an "us" vs. "them", because I really do believe God is in all of us, whether some acknowledge this or not.
   I do not know if I have the interpretation right (I love the image of it all the same) but I have heard in the cultures where you bow in your greetings to one another, this is a way of greeting the God in each one us.  It's a way of being reverent to each other as human beings.  I think this quote taken from St. Patrick's breastplate is this message in a broad, powerful way...a way of living in Christ and honoring Christ in each one of us.

And to God, I say, I hear ya'.  I hear ya'.
 

Something beautiful.

Whenever I crave something written with a whole lot of beauty, insightful-ness, and something to still me, my go to read is anything by Frederick Buechner.
  I have a book of his of daily meditations called Listening to Your Life.
This excerpt, found in his book of daily meditations, was taken from his novel The Final Beast--

  "Once in the rain.  She lays her hands on your head, and the prayer is really just her talking about you to him.  She could be talking to anybody, nothing fancy.  Once she even laughed because he already seemed to be doing what she was asking him to do, not a creepy laugh, but the way if a child does something especially clever.  She said it was amazing what God could do on his own sometimes.  What she asked for him to do for me was to walk back through my memory, as though it was a long hall.  She asked him to open all the closed doors, and to bless whatever he found inside."

It's a pretty fearless way to live/pray/be.  Trusting God to open those doors and bless whatever he finds inside.

Coffee Shop Talk

I was standing in line at a coffee shop, two ladies were in front of me ordering their drinks.  There were a lot of questions exchanged between the barista and the ladies..."Skim milk?  Whipped Cream? You said you wanted the large?"  It took a little while, but I was in no rush.  One of the women comes back to where I am standing.  She says, "Because you have been waiting so long for us to say our order, may I tell you a joke?"  I'm always down for situations such as these because they are random, funny, sometimes awkwardly funny.  I say, "Sure."  She then says,
  "What is the cheapest kind of meat you can buy?"
I say, I don't know.
  She say, "Deer balls, because they are under a buck."

I said I will be sure to use that one:-).  Here you go.  For free.

A little idea...

Whenever my husband and I drive around and I see an empty storefront I usually claim it to be a good place to have my bakery.  Today, while he and I were driving around, I see a vacant spot and I say, "There's where I can have my bakery!" without really looking around at the exact location, just simply seeing what I could make of the storefront.  Ess Gee says to me, "You might have to sell a couple of Forties with those cookies."  Apparently he thought the area might be a little less conducive to chocolate cakes and little more conducive to Colt 45's.  I was like, "You might be on to something there!!"  I had a vision of my patrons biting into Mocha Blossom cookies while sluggin' back a giant can of malt liquor.  I'm not kidding, I really think that could work:-)!!

Shauna Niequist kicking my butt.

This post I copied off of Donald Miller's Blog www.donaldmillerwords.com, and the writer of this post is Shauna Niequist.  It slammed me.  I had to include it in this space, because I think these words are so, so important.  I have noticed I have become a half listener...half typing while acting like I hear what my husband says, half "yes'ing" while on the cellphone and in the grocery store aisle.  I don't like it when someone else does it to me, why would I want to do that to someone else?  I am shouting to myself, "PUT IT DOWN!!!!"  "TAKE A SEAT!!!"  "LISTEN!!!"  So put it down, take a seat, listen. (I am not sure if there are some copyright laws in place for me placing these words on my blog, and if there are and I'm arrested, I'm sure it will be worth it;-).)

I introduce Shauna Niequist--

"I realized recently that I had a refrain of jealousy that was cropping up when I spent time with friends who had what I perceived to be a relatively large amount of leisure or rest time. People who took the time to, say, take care of themselves or work out or rest when they were tired. People who asked for help and took time for themselves. I had a nasty, withering “must be nice!” little twitch that became so common I had to admit it was about me and not about anyone else.

Our jealousy teaches us so much, if we let it. I wasn’t envious of anyone else’s marriage or home or car or even their writing success or speaking opportunities. What I wanted was other people’s ability to care for themselves. I wanted their space and freedom and rest. And so my envy guided me to my own deep need to slow down and care for myself well, instead of pushing so hard and constantly getting frustrated with the people around me who had the audacity to care for themselves instead of wringing themselves out like I had been doing for so long.

And regret is another great teacher. When I look back over the last couple years at the things I missed, there are very few things that I actually missed — didn’t attend, didn’t do, didn’t taste. But there were too many trips and meals and conversations and experiences that I was too busy and too overwhelmed to really experience and appreciate. That’s what I regret: the days when I was there but not fully there, the conversations with people I love during which I gave them half my mind and a sliver of my heart because I’d spent it all already, because I was empty and fragmented from the sheer amount of things I was trying to experience.

There was a particularly intense season from May to November of last year, and when I click through my memories of that time, I don’t like the person I was. I loved the experiences—time with the boys, time with friends, trips and adventures. But I don’t like the person I brought to those moments: self-absorbed, erratic, impatient, greedy, a person without margin, a person who wasn’t present in meaningful ways, a person who lost track of the bigger picture.

Things that were supposed to be fun weren’t fun. I was at the end of my rope, as they say, too quickly and too often. My ability to weather things was shot, and I was on my last nerve all the time.

As I’ve made difficult but important changes, I’ve found that the slower I go, the richer life feels. The more often I admit I need help, the calmer I feel. When I rest, when I say no, when I let the house stay messy while I play with the kids, I feel better about the life I’m choosing than I did last year.

It’s not without bumps, certainly. I’m finding I’m more sensitive — I feel more when I slow down. Obviously, that’s why I keep myself so busy so often, so that I don’t have to feel things that scare me or worry me. I’m a lot more indecisive these days, and more tender. I think about my kids more – maybe I even worry more about them, one of the consequences of feeling more of everything.

At the same time, though, I feel less afraid about the future, because I feel very sure that this way of living will instruct me along the way toward that future. I plan in rest time and margin time, and instead of looking for how to cram more of everything into every moment — can I get another load of laundry done? Can I stop at one more store? — I’m asking the opposite questions: can I stay home tonight and go to the store tomorrow? Can I let that go, say no to that, find a simpler way to get that done?

I’m making these changes so imperfectly, with so much fumbling and relearning, but this is what I know: this is changing my life."

My apologies to those who teach English.

So I was at Harris Teeter, our local grocery store here in the South, and I was at the check out.  I had my hands full, plus I was carrying a basket.  The cashier, a young man of in his early 20's, says, "Here let me help you" and he grabs a few things out of my hands.  I respond with a "Thank you very much."  About a minute into our customer/employee interaction of checking out, he says to me, "Are you an English teacher?" And then he kinda quietly begins to say, "Because you know, it's kinda of fun to figure out what people do for a living by the way they speak and look..." and he trails off.  I smile, tell him I am not, but I have lots of respect for those that are.  In my head, I am thinking, "I don't have make up on, I am wearing my glasses,  I haven't brushed my hair, I am wearing all black."  Eghads!!  God help the English teachers this kid has had!  I think our exchange is over, but about 30 seconds after I respond, he says, "Well, I just gotta know...what is it that you do?"  I laugh (boy, this is getting strange:-)) and tell him I work as a home health aide to those who are disabled.  He's blushing, and says, "That is kinda similar to an English teacher."  And he trails off again saying something about teaching/instructing students is like teaching and instructing those with disabilities.  And again, I think, "Now, this is funny...he's equating disabled people with students and vise-versa:-)."  I'm sure there are some English teachers or teachers in general who have felt the same way at times.

Ownership?

I pulled into my neighborhood today after grocery shopping and I noticed that I was driving in the center of the road and I heard in my memory one of my parents say rather snippedly, "Get over!  You don't own the road" because that's what they'd always say when someone was too close to the line, or over it:-).
    I don't own the road.  That made me think, "What do I really own anyway?"

    My husband and I have purchased a few items lately, pretty big items for us.  A truck.  A TV stand.  A chair.  All of these items are used.  All of them with some marks of usage.  None of it, by any means, perfect.  Sometimes I get frustrated because nothing we have purchased in a good long while has come directly out of the box.  We do not get to tear open the plastic and remove the styrofoam:-).  Most times, I'm okay with not doing that, but sometimes the smell of NEW taunts me.  As I was getting out of our truck today, I made note of the small stains left from the previous owner on the drivers seat, and then I thought of this story...I think Madeleine L'Engle tells it...about how she knows a family (or perhaps it was her own family) that whenever they purchased a new car, they would bring it home, get a hammer, and put a ding in the bumper, because they knew it was going to happen anyway and it was going to be okay:-).
   Our TV stand--a few pieces of chipped wood.  The chair--fabric worn.  The truck--tiny bruises.  It's going to be okay.

   I can't say I always operate with this in mind, but I do like to (as often as I can remember) shove my thoughts on over to the idea that I do not. own. a thing.  And it's not so I can shirk responsibility (although at one time that might have suit me fine).  Nope, instead I pull down from the shelf a good old-fashioned "stewardship".  I supervise, I am responsible for, I act in administration, I attend, I look after. I am the "charge" of my life.  It's not the, "Well, it's my life and I'll do with it what I please."  It's the "Not even this is really mine.  It is a gift I have for such little time, so how am I treating it?  What does it look like to you, Lord?"  This goes for my marriage, my work, my friendships, my jewelry, my jackets, my home, my heart, and maybe even my writing:-).
  I do want to take good care of the things we have-shiny or thread-bare, abstract or literal, new or used and everything in between.  But I also hold  these gifts with a light hand, because it is in their nature (our nature) to get bumped around and/or create our own damage--minor dings or totaled. 
It might best be called a temporary, but honorable, stewardship mixed with a whole lotta grace kind of life:-).
 

Stranger Danger.

So, Ess Gee gets a wild hair and says he and I should go check out the campus of Dorothea Dix to see if it could potentially be a good place to clock some miles running (or in my case, walking).  Dorothea Dix is a state operated health care facility with tons and tons of rolling acres, literally called at one time in 1851, "Insane Hospital of North Carolina".  It has come a long way from those days with changes in law and language, but in the dark, with the campus winding roads, huge old oak trees, brick-made stately two story buildings and old homes, one's imagination could get the best of you.  [And I might add that this area is directly across from Raleigh's Central Prison.]  We get in the truck around 8:45 pm and head on over.  As we are driving onto the grounds, we see off into the distance of a dirt parking lot and a soccer field, someone's car parked facing the road with their brake lights glowing.  As we slowly drive by, the car's brake lights stop glowing and it becomes complete black.  No street light, no light of the moon, nothing.  I tell Ess Gee that it's probably some teenagers up to something and we should go check it out.  So we pull into the dirt parking lot, Ess Gee is driving slow as a snail, and we are inching our way into the area.  His truck lights finally get close enough for us to see the reflection of the car's front lights, we are about the distance of two cars lengths away and all of a sudden, the BRIGHTEST LIGHT IN THE UNIVERSE pierces us from the parked car.  It's so bright that Ess Gee is having a hard time driving.  Seriously like Armaggedon light:-).  It just keeps GLARING at us, creating such a force that it feels like we are living in slow motion.  Ess Gee gets the truck cranked around, and by this time my insides are shaking.  This person MOST DEFINITIVELY DID NOT WANT US to be there.  Freaky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We both drive away positively stunned.  Me, more than Ess Gee...he still wants to find out how many miles we could get out of the area for a workout:-).
  We do wind up calling the police for the suspicious-looking activity.  Turns out, the 911 operator thought that is might have been a cop (which Ess Gee thought, too) who just wanted a little privacy.  Ess Gee thought the cop just wanted to be a punk.  And me, I just wanted out of there.  The moral of the story:  only go to Dorothea Dix in the daylight.  Aaaaaah:-).

The end of a decade(plus) in his life...and mine.

This Sunday was a bittersweet day for Ess Gee and I.
He said good-bye to the Army Reserve unit he has been apart of for the past 12 years.  He has been promoted and has to transfer to another unit because the current one did not have an opening for his new rank.  This weekend he received his Congratulations and Best of Everythings and See ya's Later.  He has experienced three deployments under their regiment.  He has seen Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan with them.  Ess Gee and I were reflecting this morning about the crazy stories he has lived through with these soldiers.  Unfortunately none can be told here:-).

   With this unit I learned what is it is to be the spouse of a deployed soldier (TWICE).  I have so much respect for spouses who have to be without their partners while raising their kids.  I have learned the language of the military and even the culture.  When we were first married and Ess Gee was deployed 8 months into our marriage, I was not a fan of the military.  I walked around our one bedroom apartment saying outloud on many, many occasions, "I GOT MARRIED SO I COULD BE WITH MY HUSBAND!!"  On the second deployment, I found some really sweet friendship's with fellow soldier's wives. I seemed to keep them an arm's length away on the first round.  It was the space my head was in at that time, but this time, we got together in each other's homes, went out for dinners, even took a weekend trip away simply for fun.
 
   I learned more and more about my husband and the kind of man he is as a soldier in this unit.  As a soldier in leadership he's dependable, well-informed, full of wisdom, a bit of a quiet Pied Piper (has a following of soldier's who may not even be in his platoon, but call on him for help), a grace giver--he won't rat a lower-enlisted soldier out...he'll take that soldier aside, have a good talkin' to 'em, give them a chance to get squared away and then watch to see if further consequences should be pursued.  He's fair minded and a bit old-school, which makes him grumpy when the Army tries to do it differently then what he remembers:-).

If I write about my husband/soldier when he was deployed I will start to cry.  Let's just say, I can count on only one hand how many days I wasn't able to speak with him when he was away.  He was gone a year each time.  That's soooo big a thing to give a wife.  The ability to communicate with your spouse, to hear his voice, almost everyday.  L-u-m-p in my throat.

Yep, lots to be reflected on with the leaving of one thing to move on to another.  We have another three more years to go.  Ess Gee will have 24 years in the military by then.  That's almost 2/3 of my lifetime:-).  We'll, I don't really know if that's true, I'm too lazy to do the math, but it sounds funny.

Maybe a little bit too much like us:-).

Something that struck me as funny today is that dogs yawn and stretch.  Animals do this.  Isn't that strange?  The international sign for waking up or I'm sleepy is a yawn and/or stretch and I think God has the funniest sense of humor that animals (a lot of the furry kind) even bother with these actions.  I watched this dog with his head outside a passenger side window this morning while I was driving.  We all were stopped at a light.  The dog yawned a huge yawn and I was like, "I totally get how you feel, Buddy."
  This makes me wonder if whales yawn.  Ya' know what I mean?:-)  Things like that.  So weird and awesome to think about:-)!!

Alike. A tribute to my mother.

Yesterday when I was driving to work, I had gospel music going--real loud with the windows rolled down and it was 50 degrees outside, but sunny.  I was playing a song called "Lily in the Valley".  It's super old-school in it's arrangement, like you are sitting in a hot, humid church in the South in the 60's, waving a fan, while the congregants and the choir, all African American, sing like they just learned how or like they've been singing it since they've been born--with gusto, earnestness, honesty and a smile.  The harmonies repeat "There's a lily in the valley, bright as the morning star...there is a lily in the valley, bright as the morning star, there is a lily in the valley, bright as the morning star. Amen.  Amen. Amen."  And the author of the song has many people finding beautiful things in this valley...they find love, joy and peace, and they find it repeatedly.  There's even a solo from "grandpa"--They call him up to the mic, "Let Grandpa say his peace."  His voice is shaky, but when he says, "Somebody found love in the valley bright as the morning star" there's the authority of a life behind those words that tell you they cannot be contradicted.
  With the music playing and I'm singing just as loud as the volume, my voice catches involuntarily.  These words matter deeply, that love in the valley matters deeply.  And I think of my mother.  I remember growing up, singing next to her in church or singing next to her in the car, and her voice catching.  The words couldn't come even if she tried, because something was so stirred up in her that caused her not to be able to say them...even if it was just for a few seconds, I heard it.  Here I am now, a woman of 37, and this thing that moved my mother moves me.  And I respond in the same way she does.  Isn't it funny what gets inherited, even involuntarily?  I think I began listening to gospel music because of her.  I was introduced to prayer because of her.  I sometimes preach too many a sermon to people who may tire of a sermon...just like she preached to me:-).
  My husband and I got to spend some time with my mom and the rest of the fam around Christmas time.  Of course, we took tons of pictures, and as my mother was looking through a few of them, she said as she was looking at a picture of me, "This looks just like me.  I thought that was a picture of me."  I heard the in credulousness in her voice.  Like she couldn't believe it.  It really is a wonder.

The Lady's Suggestions

The post subject sounds like a title of a covert/not-so-covert romance novel written in the 50's:-).  Not to worry, it's nothing close.

The woman I am now working with is a bright, creative, funny one.  I will call her Maggie.

Here are a few suggestions Maggie has offered to me in the past couple of days:

It goes like this--

She says, "Do you like waffles?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you have a waffle maker?  Did you get a waffle maker for your wedding?"
"I do not and I did not."
"Well, for Valentine's Day you should get a heart-shaped waffle maker for you and your husband."
"Not a bad idea:-)."

Or it goes like this--

She says, "What do you have on your walls?"
I say, "Only art, no family pictures."
She says, "Well, you should get a blank canvas, two fern fronds, and three different colors of paint.  Paint the canvas one color and dip the fern fronds into the two remaining colors of paint.  Press the ferns onto the canvas, leaving their print, and then you have a nice piece of art."
"Not a bad idea:-)."

Or like this--

(Her husband worked for a major airline before he retired.)
She says, "Take this section of the newspaper home after I am done reading it:-) and let your husband see this job opportunity.  It's a paid training position for an airline mechanic."  (She knows my husband is a Maintenance Manager of an apartment complex.  I'm sure that position could translate.)
I say, "Not a bad idea:-)."

It's nearly everyday I work that I get a Maggie Suggestion.  It's almost like a desk calender:-).

First Day Jitters

I start a new job today.  I haven't started a new job in quite awhile.  I feel a little rusty.  I'll be working with an 80-year-old woman three days a week.  She lives on her own, has a prosthetic leg and some forgetfulness, and is a widow as of September.  Her daughter wants her to get up and get about, and I get the feeling her daughter wants her mother back to the way she once was.  She wants her mother to want to garden, to read, to wake up at 8:30am, to go out front and greet the neighbors.  I think this will be an interesting time, for all three of us.  I've always liked mediation and consultation and I just may be using those muscles more than I know.
  I listened to www.pray-as-you-go.com this morning, sorta to set the clock right in me.  The speaker opened up with pointing us to a God of truth.  He then arranged the seating to allow us to sit before God in our full and total selves.  The self that is known by God, the self that is seen by God, the self that is with God...be it good, bad or indifferent in our spirits.  I admitted to myself while sitting before God that I am worried about today.  I tend to go quiet when I am in worry.  It's like I am conserving my energy for whatever lies ahead.  (Oddly, maybe even sometimes conserving my energy to admit that I am worried:-).)
   To get my head on straight, I have to think, "I'm not going to know everything, nor should I.  These people are all new to me and I am new to them.  And I just wish to let this woman and her daughter know that they are not alone and they are loved.  I don't have to answer everything for them.  I can more often than not, just listen to what is being said, and sometimes that is enough.  And sometimes I can listen through what is being said, and help interpret it into something helpful and full of breath.  By the grace of God."  Amen.
   

A Facelift and Confession

I come from the angle in life that if you're not going to do something well and often, then you might as well just give it up.  That's the perfectionist in me speaking.  She's noisy lately.  And really debilitating.
  I've come back to this blog sheepishly, like the prodigal's daughter.  Should I go back?  I've been away so long.  But I want to write.  Is is okay if no one on earth reads this?
  I knelt in our bedroom this morning, praying.  My grandmother called last week and said her brother passed away.  I wept with her on the phone.  She is the last child of a brood of 9 that remains.  She said she stood at her kitchen sink, washing dishes, and that thought really hit her.  She has had to live through all of their deaths.  Then she said, "Just. Keep. Washing. Dishes."  She said her sister-in-law died on the same day her brother did.  What a heavy. Load.
  My sister-in-law called two days ago and said her husband's father died suddenly.  Her husband dealt with his mother's death early last year.  Both of his parent's are gone.  That's what I thought about when I was kneeling on the floor.  He must feel very lost.  Parent's are such strong navigational pulls, whether or not you are close in distance or in relationship, the fact that they live on this earth matters instinctively.
  It was while I was praying, that I thought about writing this...and I thought about praying this and maybe there's a lot in me that believes they are the both in the same and that is why I need to not neglect one for the other, but let them live intrinsically together.  Even in the form of blogging.
  Ess Gee and I wrote a card to my sister-in-law and her husband.  I told them that it probably wasn't good etiquette to say, I am tired of people dying, but it was honest.  Then I wrote that their whole family and many others get to take a piece of that man with them wherever they go.  That doesn't change.  That remains.

Praying. Writing. Life. Death.  It's an odd thing to be thankful for, but I am grateful that I am alive enough to know that those four words bring me to my knees.