She’s my Mom. She was my first best friend. She loved me.
My Mom was a spoiler of kids and grandkids. She loved them all. If you were fortunate enough to be related to her by blood or by “adoption”, she took great delight in loving on you and making your world a better place.
On the day that Elvis died, she and I were in a little park in Carlsbad, NM. They had a small lake with peddle boats on it. I had always wanted to ride on one, but Mom was little skeptical. Finally, I convinced her to ride it with me. We did. Then, we found a small coffee shop that looked out over the lake and we were eating ice cream when the radio announced that “the King” was dead. It’s such an arbitrary thing to remember about a day, but what I treasure about that day was Mom, being with her, convincing her to do something that she was uncomfortable with and having fun in the process.
I loved shopping with her. In Albuquerque, there was an old Penney’s store. It had those big old stairs in the center-back of the store that lead up to a section of the store. We were heading downstairs to pay for our purchases when her sandal caught on the trim strip at the edge of the stair and she tripped. She fell down the stairs, head first. I ran down to her, the manager rushed over as did many of the customers. I knew my Mom and knew she was going to be embarrassed. I helped her sit up and the manager wouldn’t let her leave until he “assessed” her condition. As a nurse, that made Mom start to giggle. Bruised, certainly. But her condition, was fine. So she giggled and giggled. She looked at me and I started laughing. We sat on those stairs and laughed for 10 minutes. The manager was so confused, at first he thought she was hysterical, but he finally understood that she must be fine. And she was. We laughed our way to the car and then went home. As we retold the story that night at dinner, my Aunt and my Mom both laughed and laughed until they were crying. That’s how she dealt with situations like that… she laughed.
Mom always said you had a choice, you could laugh or you could cry and she would always choose laughter. Believe me, she did. Her favorite quote was, “Two men looked out through prison bars. One saw mud; one say stars.” Then she’d look at me and say, “Look for the stars.”
I’m looking for stars.
She taught me about Jesus. She took me to church and helped me to find a foundation for living my life in a way that pleased Him and made her proud. Mom taught by example because she loved Jesus first.
As a single mom, she spoiled me more than she should have. As a grandmother, she was out of control — I often threatened to send her to her room. Around her, we always had a sense of belonging and safety, Mug Root Beer, Sundae Cones, cinnamon sugar toast, bread with butter and sugar, dark chocolate frosting on saltines, artichokes, pomegranates, Persian Roll donuts, dilly bars, French fries whenever her grandson said, “Fries!” An N-64 with a couple of games for Christmas. Dinner at their favorite restaurant for their birthday, singing around the piano, gallons of hot chocolate, the SOUND OF MUSIC at the drive in, drives in the mountains and in the desert… so many memories. So many hugs. So many gifts. So much laughter. So much love.
She had been slowing down for a few years, but her heart and spirit never changed.
She loved. She loved deeply. She loved richly and those of us who received her love are incredibly blessed.
I love you, Mom! I miss you. I’ll see you again and when I do, I’ll take one of your hugs.
Usually I remember bits and pieces… a snatch of a dream here, a peek there.
But recently, it was different. I woke up and remembered the dream — all of it. It was strange because I dreamed about my Dad. However, when I woke, I wasn’t sad. I felt warm, accepted, and loved.
As I thought about it, I realized that my dream was really a remembrance of an event. It was a dream, but I was remembering a specific event from my college days.
I graduated from high school when I was 17. I went to college in a far away place the next fall. I was young, but considered pretty mature for my age I guess. Even so, I really struggled with being so far away from home. Even more so, I struggled with the fact that I lived in Idaho and NEVER saw the sun. This Colorado/New Mexico girl was used to seeing the sun pretty much every day and to not see it for weeks, made me nuts.
At one point, my Dad and second mom were heading to the Northwest to see my Aunt and Uncle. On their way, they stopped and took me to breakfast. My dream was that event. It was Daddy talking to me and telling me that they would take me to breakfast the next morning. The dream continued to them stopping to pick me up on campus, taking me to the restaurant, the three of us eating, laughing, and talking together, taking me back to campus and giving me hugs good-bye. It is a precious memory and it was an amazing dream.
Somewhere in that story is a spiritual lesson.
Jesus came to a world that was hurting and lost — it was a world that was missing the Son. Jesus came to rescue those who had no options without His intervention. He came to be our Savior. His coming changed everything. Jesus came to us and met us where we are.
Jesus came to give us a meal, love us up, brush us off, and send us on our way to do the will of our Father.
Kind of like my Dad did when he stopped on campus and took me to breakfast. My Daddy came to me. He didn’t tell me come to him to get nourishment and encouragement and love. No, he came to me.
Jesus calls us to Himself and what we discover is that when we take one step toward Him, we find that He’s already closed the gap between us and He’s come to us. You see, that’s what Christmas is all about. It’s Jesus coming to us.
Okay, I’ll admit it…. I’m old. I’m older than I wish I were, but with age comes wisdom — hopefully. The last six months have had a few highs and unfortunately, it feels as though they have had a lot of lows. But then, that’s the way that life goes, isn’t it? As we look back and then look ahead, we realize the value of things that we’ve experienced and things that we’ve learned. So today, maybe with a dash of sarcasm and a bit of seriousness, I am thinking of things that are important, things that matter, things that should be remembered. Hopefully these ideas will remind you of things that you need to remember and stuff you should never forget.
*****
Things to remember…
Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8.)
SEE people, no I mean really SEE them. Listen more; speak less. Hugs are good medicine. If someone comes to mind, pray for them first, then touch base with them. Chances are you will be a lifeline and you’ll never know that you were. Send the card, the email, the text. Make the phone call. Invest in people. Enter into their hurt and love them through it.
Save more; spend less. Whatever you do, begin with the end in mind. Live generously.
Don’t plug your nose when you sneeze, your brains will blow out your ears. 🙂
Music is good for the soul, the spirit, and the heart. Play it, sing, dance, listen… enjoy it!
Laugh. Laugh more. Then, laugh again. Smiles are free — share them often. Share whatever you can. Meet the needs of others whenever possible.
Be kind ALWAYS.
Pets make life easier in many ways. They make it harder in others.
Live a positive life: “Two men looked out through prison bars. One saw mud; one saw stars.” Look for the stars.
Take pictures — lots of them! Share them, enjoy them. Remember those treasured moments and when days are hard, look back at the pictures to celebrate the life that you’ve been blessed to live and the people who’ve shared your days.
LET PEOPLE TAKE YOUR PICTURE!! Seriously. Let them. And if you’re holding the camera, REMEMBER — that embarrassing picture you thought was so funny, probably isn’t. Be kind. Take more pictures than you think you need. Then there will always be at least one that you will love and the subject won’t be embarrassed by. One more thing, I know — I don’t always like having my picture taken, but I don’t want the only memory of me being that there were pictures taken so I must have been there holding the camera. Take the camera and make sure everyone is represented in the memories.
Cry. Grieve. Mourn.
DREAM BIG!!
Remember, we must have both sunshine and rain to make the rainbow. Hard times and good times work together to make a complete life. Without one, we will not appreciate the other. And when they come together — we learn, we feel, and we grow.
Try new things… learn to paint, to sing, to play an instrument, a new sport, or a new hobby. (No. I won’t be trying tuna.) Become a runner, a weight lifter, a biker. Become a foodie — practice your chef skills or enjoy being a taste tester for a friend who is practicing their chef skills. Whatever you try — add something new to your skill set and enjoy the process of learning. You’re never too old to learn or to try something new.
Stuff to never forget…
Jesus loves me, this I know.
You don’t need to know what other people think of you. Forgive early. Forgive often. Move on. Don’t live in pain and hurt.
How to drive a stick shift. If you didn’t learn — you can’t learn any younger so start today.
“You can’t go back and begin again; you can start from here to make a brand new end.” It’s never too late to start something new; never too late to begin again.
Trust your gut.
Other people’s choices belong to them. Their choices may hurt us, but they aren’t ours. We pray, we love, we support and we allow others to live their own lives. And sometimes yes, we watch, support, and love them as they face the consequences of the choices that they made.
There are seasons to our lives. There are seasons in families, in friendships, in careers, in education, in health. Navigate through these seasons with help from the Lord.
Life isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey. Enjoy the journey.
Say what needs to be said. Say I’m sorry and tell special people that you love them. Make sure that when you lose someone there will be no regrets because you’ve said the important things.
Weigh your words. Weigh them again. Now, weigh them one more time then speak kindly, gently, and lovingly.
Treasure friends and family. Invest in them. Invest in the relationships.
Time is a treasure. Spend it wisely.
*****
So yeah. I think I could probably go on and on and on. I won’t though. I’ll let you think about and be annoyed by the things I’ve already shared. Smile. I hope that you laughed at least once or twice and I hope that like me, you’ve given thanks for people who’ve spent years teaching and investing in you. Hopefully, someday we’ll have some wisdom and we will actually put it into practice.
If a horse or a mule wasn’t following him, then a kid was. This is my Daddy.
I’m a Daddy’s girl. Truth be told, I’m one of three Daddy’s girls.
Yes, I’m old and I still call him Daddy — as do my sisters. It has been four days since we lost our Daddy and to be honest, my mind is racing. Memories are coming in flashes — things I’d not thought of for years keep showing up in my thoughts. They are precious, some are personal, and sometimes they’re funny. As I’ve remembered, I’ve been organizing them in my mind, organizing them into categories and subcategories. And, I am thankful.
DADDY TRUSTED ME…
When I was seven, he sat me on his tractor, put it in low gear, and told me to take it to the corral. He said that when I got there, I should stand on the brake and that he’d be there to meet me. I did; he was.
The SkiDoo was another place he trusted me. He had me sit in front of him on the seat and told me to take him for a ride. I did — and I froze with my hand on the throttle. He had to knock my hand off and turn it at the last minute to keep us from crashing. Years later, he took my boys and I snowmobiling and laughed as I picked the fastest machine (I am a mechanic’s daughter, after all) to race my son. I still remember Daddy’s smile as he watched me beat Nate.
When I was 18, he handed me the keys to his big old Dodge pickup and sent me to Somerset for a load of coal. The last thing he told me was to remember that I needed to keep it at the speed limit.
Every time I needed to go somewhere, he would make sure I had a set of keys.
Because he trusted me, I learned to trust myself.
DADDY BELIEVED IN ME…
I needed a car when I attended college and Daddy got me a ’68 Rambler Rebel — I loved that car! Of course, old cars have problems and I would call him when ever one arose. At one point, he had me buy a tire patch kit and he reminded me that I knew how to read directions so I could most definitely patch the tire. Later, the muffler developed a hole that was loud enough to wake the neighbors. Daddy told me what to buy and, on the phone, walked me through me how to use a muffler bandage to make the repair. Do they even make those anymore?
Then, there was the day when I drove that car onto base where I lived with a military family working as their nanny. I was told to park the car until it was fixed and stopped blowing smoke. I called Daddy. He diagnosed the problem, sent me the part, and on the phone, talked me through how to replace the transmission’s vacuum modulator. He kept telling me I could do this and he was right.
Because he believed in me, I learned to believe in myself.
DADDY SUPPORTED ME…
School occasionally had special events for students, I could always find him in the crowd — even in the middle of the day.
Music was something I dearly loved and I wanted a piano. I thought it would never happen, but I went to camp one summer and came home to find a piano in the den.
He had six mouths to feed and he worked hard to do it. That often meant that he missed daytime recitals or little league games. But later, he was at my piano recital after I started taking lessons again as an adult. And he was always at our boys recitals. Even though he never attended any of my sporting events when I was in school, when I was a middle school volley ball coach, he and Momma would often come to watch my team play. He would meet my girls and watch me as I did my job.
Because he supported me, I came to understand that my efforts were worthwhile and they had value.
DADDY HELPED ME AND TAUGHT ME…
In third grade, I was Mary in the church Christmas play. I had options for my costume, but I wanted to wear Daddy’s navy blue printed robe and he said I could. He helped me have the perfect costume.
School children often make Valentine boxes for their school parties. In fourth grade, I decided to make a covered wagon for mine. I began working on it and Daddy made a few suggestions. Then he offered to help me and I was smart enough to let him. I had the coolest Valentine Box — it had a horse in front with heavy thread used to make a harness and reins, wheels that actually turned, a seat for a driver and so much more. It was perfect, I loved it and I was so proud of it.
Junior High brought Science Fairs. One year I wanted to make a circuit board and Daddy taught me to solder so I could make a GOOD circuit board that actually worked.
In 9th grade Speech, we were performing demonstration speeches. Everyone was demonstrating things that were quite normal — cooking, building, sewing… boring. I asked Daddy to teach me something about cars so I could demonstrate that. He taught me how to use a tachometer and how to gap a spark plug. He loaned me a tachometer, a feeler gauge, and some spark plugs with which to demonstrate. I got an A+ because I learned something new and because it was the first time any student, let alone a girl, had ever done anything about cars.
He taught all of us how fry eggs.
I attended high school in New Mexico. I had had my ’69 Toyota Corolla for 12 hours and was on my way to school when my neighbor ran into my car. I got his information, went home and immediately called my Dad. He calmed me down, reminded me that he was over 300 miles away and told me to call my mom.
Because he helped me in so many ways and taught me so many things, I came to understand that I could do what needed to be done and I could face any situation, even the hard ones.
DADDY TOOK CARE OF ME…
Daddy had a doctor’s appointment in Denver. He got me up really early, told me to get in his pick-up and he and I went to Denver. He took me to my first eye doctor appointment and then to the Denver Zoo while we waited for his Doctor’s appointment. We came back home the same day. A day I’ll always treasure.
In fifth grade I had my tonsils out and he was sitting by my hospital bed when I woke up.
In Junior High, I would occasionally get really bad headaches. One day, I had a terrible one and on his lunch break, he brought me some medicine for my head. A few weeks later, I got the flu. I went to school on Monday morning, and the school nurse took me home about 10. When Daddy came home at noon I was sound asleep. He made sure I had lunch everyday for the rest of that week as I recovered.
If I needed a vehicle, he always helped me get one.
When John and I were in college, we were working hard. One day, Daddy and Momma arrived with a chest freezer filled with elk and venison. During the next five years as we prepared for ministry, our freezer was never empty. We always had meat to feed our boys.
Because he took care of me, I learned to take care of myself and to take care of others.
DADDY LOVED ME…
As I was preparing to sit down for breakfast on my fourteenth birthday, Daddy came up beside me, gave me a hug, and told me that teen years could be hard but that he’d always be there for me. And he was as good as his word.
He loved our boys and he supported them by teaching them, helping them, attending concerts and football games, and just being their grandpa. In doing this, he showed me how much he loved me as well.
I never doubted his love.
Because he loved me, I learned how to love and support my own family.
____________________
I believe that God chose my Daddy for me and I am incredibly thankful. No one could have been better. Was he perfect? No and he would have admitted that. However, he was the perfect Dad for me.
The heritage that I have gained from him is deep and wide. It has touched every aspect of my life and I am richly blessed. I miss him. I will always miss him.
Like most siblings, when I was a little girl, my big brother and I would play hide and seek. We usually played it outside and almost invariably, I would get found. However sometimes the game moved inside which meant there was one place I could hide where I was never found — inside Mom’s coat.
You see, my mom had this black dress coat that had little flecks of color all over it. I specifically remember the red and yellow flecks — they were the ones that caught my eye. The coat hung in Mom and Dad’s closet. The clothing bar was low enough that Mom’s coat almost touched the closet floor. The lining in that beautiful coat was heavy black satin. It was soft and almost fluid when it touched my face as I would hide inside the coat.
I loved that coat — the look of it, the texture and feel of it. I loved that as I stood wrapped in its warmth, I could smell my Mom’s perfume. It was almost like she was hugging me while I was quietly waiting for my brother to stop looking for me so that I could slip from the safety of the coat and rush to home base.
Memories.
My mom, her coat, her perfume, the warmth, safety, and sense of belonging that I felt as I stood within its folds. My brother, his tenacity, the fact that he actually thought I was fun to play with, especially since I sure thought that he was.
To be honest, those memories have been front and center in my heart and mind during the past few weeks. Partly because my brother has been gone for seven years this week and I miss him. They’ve also been on my mind because I am missing my mom — she lives a long, long way from here.
I guess I’ve been reliving that game with my brother and those hugs from Mom’s coat for quite awhile now. In the past year, I’ve gotten two sweaters with the same kinds of colorful flecks in them — one white one and one black. I love them. They remind me of carefree, happy days playing with my brother. They remind me of Mom’s coat. That’s all the reason I need to keep them in my closet.
I am coming to realize that those treasured memories can make a big difference on a cold, sad, hard day.
I believe that our memories are gifts from God. It doesn’t matter whether they are good or bad memories, they have meaning. The “bad” memories are the ones that help us to see the value of the “good” memories as we experience the contrasting emotions. For example, how can we know the value of hug unless we’ve also experienced loneliness? Is it possible to appreciate a sense of welcome without knowing rejection?
Maybe, just maybe, the reason I’ve been reliving all those hugs from Mom’s coat is because I’m supposed to help create a memory of welcome in the life of someone around me. Perhaps I’ve been remembering a game with my brother because someone in my world needs to feel as though they have been included.
Memories. We are treasure them, and we are blessed by them.
The question then becomes, how can I to be a part of making memories in another person’s life so that he or she can know what it’s like to belong, to be welcomed, and to be valued?
There is no other way to say it, sometimes Christmas is hard.
Sometimes… well, some years it’s hard to get into the Christmas spirit. It’s hard to get the decorations up — so I just skip some of them. Or, I just feel… lonely… maybe empty is a better word.
It’s not because I don’t want to celebrate — I do. I love Christmas. Maybe its because of stress or pressure or expectations or just a general sense of “flat” emotions. I don’t know how to explain it.
I don’t think I’m alone this year.
I’ve seen notes by others, and heard from friends, that they are have struggled to get into the Christmas spirit — just like me. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for them, for their families, and for those who are around me during this season.
My husband and I just watched CHRISTMAS WITH THE KRANKS, and I promise you, we were not trying to skip Christmas.
In fact, I’ll be very honest and tell you that we had a wonderful Christmas. We shared a Christmas Eve meal together yesterday with our kids and later, we opened our stockings. Today, we pitched in and between John, Ben, Emily, and I we prepared a delicious meal that the five of us inhaled. As the meat was cooking, we opened wonderful gifts — things that we wanted or needed, or both. Some of them were sweet surprises and since some of them had been requested they were an assurance that someone was listening and that what we said mattered.
But Christmas can still be hard, can’t it?
There are loved ones who could not join us because of distance — or loved ones we could not join because of distance. There are loved ones with whom we will never celebrate again — and they are missed immensely.
It’s hard to act the part, to act like we are excited and eager, when really we are tired. It’s hard to talk yourself into having Christmas cheer when that may be the last thing you want to do.
I’m not complaining… I’m not. It’s just been a hard year to get into the spirit of the season.
Even so, I’ve celebrated. In my heart, in my soul, and in my spirit.
It’s true, for even though I am tired and not feeling “Christmassy,” Jesus is real. This day isn’t about me and my feelings, it’s about Jesus — and He is here. He is real. He is not a memory, nor is He a myth. (Thank you for that reminder Nicole Nordeman! Take a minute and look up her song, “Real” on YouTube. You will be blessed!) He is real and He is here with me, just as He has been all season.
When Christmas is hard — it’s okay. Jesus is still real and He is still the reason that we decorate, give gifts, and celebrate His birth. He makes the hard times easier to bear.
As often as I think I will sit down and write, I seldom seem to get it done.
But that’s the way it goes sometimes, isn’t it. Intentions. Good, bad, or otherwise are just intentions until they are acted upon.
And so, the question becomes, why don’t we act on them? Or more specifically, why don’t I act on them?
I’ve spent a lot of time considering this and I’ve come to realize that one of the main reasons it is hard for me to follow through on my intentions – my desires – my wishes is because I am afraid of failing. Sometimes, okay, maybe more than sometimes, it’s easier to not try than to try and then fail.
It applies to so many things… art… weight loss… travel… testing to complete certification in specialty areas… pottery… photography… cooking… creative projects in general, and… writing.
Who would I be? What would I be doing? What could I have accomplished if I hadn’t let my fears hold me back?
Honestly, introspection isn’t my favorite thing, but I’m getting older and so, it’s time. In fact, it’s probably beyond time.
I have accomplished some things in my life. I married an amazing man – I am truly blessed that he chose me. As his wife, I’ve worked together with him to raise three sons and to grieve the loss of our fourth child. We’ve put food on the table, kissed boo boos, scolded for attitudes, and yes, yelled a few times because of behavior. We’ve attended and cheered at athletic, dramatic, and musical events. These young men are amazing, capable, and talented. They brighten the world with their abilities and charm. Two of them have married beautiful women – inside and out — who bring class to our family – along with their abilities and especially their patience.
I’ve taught school for 20 years. My former students are soldiers, Christian leaders, police officers, doctors, pilots, lawyers, caretakers, parents, teachers – and other things. They are incredible, gifted people who contribute to their world every day, simply by showing up and being who God has made them to be.
My husband and I have co-pastored in four different churches for the past 23 years. We’ve experience church growth, church stagnation, and church decline in those years. But most of all, we’ve watched and prayerfully, we’ve helped as people have drawn closer to God and as they’ve grown in their relationship with Him. We’ve been honored to marry couples, counsel people who were hurting, baptize believers, dedicate babies, and conduct funerals for people who were well-loved. We’ve served the poor when we were able. We’ve been blessed to simply be the hands and feet of Jesus. And, we’ve opened the Word of God, sharing what He wanted us to share – even when it was hard.
And I’ve been a friend to a lot of really great people — I’ve tried to be a good one.
Have I accomplished things? Yes, a few.
Still, there are more things to do – places to go – tasks to complete – skills to learn or improve — lives to touch.
I’m not writing this for anyone to say anything about what I’ve done or who I am – this is for me. It’s my time of looking inward, of self-assessing, of goal setting.
I think we all need to do this at different points in our life. I’ve watched as people get older and suddenly they have no more drive – I’m working to not let that be me.
My sisters are older than I am. (Sorry, girls.) I’ve watched them grow older – I’m in their shadow, right there, just behind them. But one thing I’ve noticed and appreciated is that both of them continue to grow and to learn and to become more.
I want to be like them when I grow up. I want to keep growing. I want to keep learning and I want to become a better person. I want to be more tomorrow than I am today. My goal is to continue to become who God is making me to be – I’m not there yet.
So, I’m going to go back to some of those skill areas I’ve always wanted to improve at but have allowed to be set on the back burner. Creativity – it’s going to be front and center. I can’t wait to see what God wants to accomplish as I give Him these interests again and see where He leads me.
It’ll be a journey – that’s for sure.
How about you? What do you need to pull out and work on again – or maybe for the first time? Let’s not give up or give in.
Let’s keep striving to become whoever God is calling us to be.
DISCLAIMER: Please don’t judge the blog by its title — read it all before you judge me. WARNING: Sarcasm may have been liberally applied by the writer. Please forgive me?
As a teacher for 19 years, I may have an attitude… er… um… an opinion about school supplies. Perhaps you do too. As a mom, I had one when I was buying them. As a kid — I definitely did. In fact, let’s do a little time traveling…
Meet 3rd grade me — pixie hair cut, brown eyes with poor vision. Mrs. Sines class. 25 students sitting with school supplies stacked on their desks. There I was in the first row second seat — behind Matt A., in front of Dwain C. with my Big Chief tablet (Was there any other kind?), my first Pee Chee folder, pencils, a red cigar box-style pencil box, an eraser, pencil sharpener, small bottle of glue, and box of 24 Crayons. As I looked around the class, I realized that my Mom had been a rule follower… again. I mean, she took that school supply list literally. How could she? There I was — I think I was the only one — with my small box of Crayons while all around me, students had boxes of 48 Crayons. And some of them, the lucky ones, had the Holy Grail of Crayola Boxes — the box of 64 with the built-in sharpener. But not me; I had the 24 box. Why couldn’t my Mom have broken the rules that ONE time? Why did she have to take the school supply list so… so… literally?
Four kids. Four lists. That’s why.
While as a third grader I may have been convinced that my mother didn’t love me as much as other kids were loved because I didn’t have the giant box of crayons, I know that isn’t true — I knew it then too. Our love for our children isn’t measured by the size of the crayon box we buy them for the first day of school — nor by the amount of glitter on the spiral cover, not by the Disney character plastic coating on their pencils, and definitely not by the designer backpack.
Classrooms are shared by many children and in that shared space, personal space is greatly limited. A small desk, a narrow locker, and an even smaller “cubby”. Teachers and school districts work to keep cost down for parents purchasing school supplies. They ask for some shared supplies — usually pencils, post its, and tissues — to name a few. And, they take into account the space available for student supplies. I remember my boys loved looking at the “cool” spirals and “awesome” pencils — most of which we didn’t buy.
I must confess that as a teacher, I have a profound addiction to purchasing school supplies. I love composition books, spiral notebooks, folders, fat tip and fine tip markers, post-its, pencils, purple pens, notepads, calendars, highlighters, stickers, blue or black gel pens, colored pencils, and bulletin board borders. Believe me, I understand that pull of those brightly colored, potential filled items. They can become so many things! Yes, I know, that’s weird.
In case you ever wondered… Fancy, brightly colored, patterned pencils are often covered by a plastic coating which destroys pencil sharpeners or gets peeled off and left all over the classroom floor. Composition notebooks and spirals with a plastic cover have now moved from being a biodegradable product to one in which a portion cannot be recycled with that portion taking over 400 years to decompose. By the way, stickers don’t stick to the plastic covers anyway. That fancy, expensive pencil box with the snap lock closure? Most of them are broken within six weeks of school starting. Some of those fancy markers have lids that are hard to close causing the markers to dry out quickly and be wasted. Finally, smelly ink pens can make a teacher nauseated when an entire paper is written in that smelly stuff — trust me I know — there really is too much of good thing.
So… when you are shopping for school supplies and your youngest begs you for the fancy whatever, just… no. They will survive — so will you. Follow the list. If you want to get something extra, ask your child’s teacher what he or she needs for their classroom. You may be surprised at the simple items that you could provide to make that classroom run easier. Your child’s teacher will thank you.
***By the way… I hope your school is a part of the Crayola Corporation Marker Recycling Program. If not, check it out! It’s free to the school and only requires a person to volunteer for a few small tasks associated with gathering and boxing up the markers. Google it! It’s a small step, but it can be an important one.
I am a lot like many women. I have a love / hate relationship with my bathroom scale.
Last summer, I made a decision. It was different than similar decisions I have made in the past. You see, I decided to work on losing weight. But honestly, it was more than just weight loss. It was about my health and enjoying life in the future. It was about future walks on many beaches with Mr. Gorgeous. It was about knowing that my body is the temple of God, and as such, it should be cared for. It was about knowing that I had failed in so many ways to take care of the body that God created and He was calling me to be a more faithful caretaker.
It was about the scales, yes.
But, really, it wasn’t.
It was about so much more. Even so, the scales and I are sometimes friends – finally. While I still have weight to lose, I’ve lost 30 pounds. It has taken nearly a year, but it has been a good year. A year of learning why I eat when I’m not hungry. Understanding the true caloric value of what I unconsciously stuffed into my face. Knowing that every bite – EVERY BITE – adds to my calorie count for the day. Knowing the truth about portion control. It was a year of discipline.
I made some decisions at the very beginning of this process…
I decided that this was the last time I would lose weight. In other words, I will NOT gain it all back again. I chose to lose weight slowly – on purpose. You see, I’ve done the fancy programs where you pay a fortune and lose weight crazy fast. Unfortunately, I never really learned or understood how to keep the weight off. I chose to do the old-fashioned calorie counting and I decided to use phone apps to help me do so. I was and remain determined to change my life for the better – and to do so permanently, with God’s help.
So… I bought a new set of scales, digital, battery operated scales. This morning though, they were NOT my friend. Yesterday was a stressful day and for the first time in a LONG time, I knowingly went over my calorie limit. Yes, I do that occasionally – not often. Then, this morning I got on the scales and my weight was up nearly 5 lbs. Five pounds? Are you kidding me? So, I got off the scale. I got back on while muttering threats to that hunk of electronic junk. It was worse. My weight was up another pound or pound and a half from the original five. Seriously? I didn’t know whether I should cry or I should scream. So, I stepped off again and watched as the scale flashed the little message that said it was calibrating. I started to breath again. When it had run its correction program, I stepped back on and found that I had gained, but I only gained about a ¼ of a pound. Much better.
Isn’t that the way life is? Sometimes we get news – good or bad, and we credit or we blame the news on the messenger. Is it because of their proximity? Or is it because we are embarrassed to take the credit for a job well done? Or, could it be because it’s easier than taking the blame for ourselves?
I was raised by humble parents. All three of them – Mom, Dad, and 2nd Mom – are people who have accomplished many things, but they are not boastful. Their humility is honest and genuine. I think that sometimes, I am reluctant to say when I have done well because I want to be like them. But, I also know that they had great successes, and I am reluctant to admit failure – again, because I want to be like them.
As I stood on the scale this morning, I was determined to slash my calorie intake to minimal amounts if I really had gained five pounds over night. I refuse to allow one small failure to be my defeat. Yes, my weight goes up and down and it makes me crazy, but that small box will not control my days.
So… the scale and I are sort of friends today – after it got its attitude in line this morning, anyway. Tomorrow? Who knows? What I do know is that this is a journey – a marathon, if you will. I am moving forward step by step, meal by meal, snack by snack, day by day. I’m not yet where I want to be, but I’ve made progress.
I am learning so much more than a healthier lifestyle. I am learning to act mindfully – not aimlessly. I am learning to live with intention – to make choices that matter and decisions that benefit me in the long run. And, I am learning to trust the process. The process is changing my attitude, my behavior, and my body. Best of all, I’m learning to lean on God and to trust Him to help me when I really want a cherry shake instead of a glass of water.
Two horrible, cruel, and relentless diseases that have claimed someone we love. I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I hate these diseases.
A few years ago, I wrote a blog about Alzheimer’s. I did so because my brother-in-law was diagnosed with this type of dementia. It was an early onset form of the disease, meaning that he was diagnosed at a younger-than-normal age. He lost his battle with the disease recently, and again, it was at a younger-than-normal age.
He was a husband, father, son, uncle, brother, cousin, and brother-in-law. He romanced my sister, raised strong, independent daughters, became a member of our clan, lived as an outdoors man, cooked like a chef, and worked diligently at his chosen profession.
He was a friend; he was family.
The disease first showed itself when he began to forget things. At one point, he lined up pictures on his dresser and every morning would go through the names of the ones in those pictures because he was determined to not forget the ones that he loved. He knew that something was wrong and as was his character, he set out to “fix” it. The diagnosis of Early Onset Alzheimer’s ended his career sooner than intended. Later, to add insult to injury, Parkinson’s was also diagnosed.
We have since learned that Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s are diseases that often occur simultaneously. To be honest, we’ve learned more about these two diseases than we ever wanted or cared to know — my sister and her girls especially.
This disease is a thief. To begin, it steals in small ways that are barely noticeable, it causes confusion, and frustration. For my brother-in-law, the consumate outsdoorsman, it stole his desire to fish, to hunt, and to hike. The memories that he had created and the opportunity to continue creating memories with his family while participating in these activities suddenly ended as well. As the disease continued to impact his mind, it stole his recent memory, familiar behaviors, loved personality traits, and his independence. In the later stages, it took other abilities, including the ability to speak and to be understood.
His disease ran its course quickly, too quickly.
Young couples dream of the day when they will get to enjoy freedom to travel or to stay home and engage in their hobbies. Alzheimer’s took away that dream in more ways than one. Dreams that seemed so simple, restful, and enjoyable were no longer feasible when the interest and ability to engage in them ceased. Then of course, the time to enjoy them was taken when we lost him. My heart hurts for my sister and my nieces. They have lost so much.
Goodbyes are hard. This is one we wouldn’t have chosen. Yet, we’ve been saying goodbye to so many little things each and every day for the last few years. That doesn’t make saying the final goodbye to him — or to anyone — any easier.
I’ve learned something through this process.
Pictures — memories — laughter — travel — hikes — sitting together and drinking coffee — hugs — “I love you’s” — say “YES” to all of them. Say “YES” often. Make opportunities for them and say “YES” every chance you get.
Just as when I lost my brother, I went looking for pictures of my brother-in-law in the numerous albums and boxes of pictures and I discovered that I had far too few.
Memories — I’ve got those. Numerous memories filled with laughter, rolled eyes, rivers, mountain trails, Cocker Spaniels, a Lab, cats, goats, dancing, delicious food, and good conversations.
Laughter? Yes, we shared a lot of it — probably not enough, but there was a bunch. Hugs and “I love you’s” were often present as well. Again, probably not enough, but we do have the memories of the ones we enjoyed.
Make memories — they are treasures that cannot be replaced.
One thing I greatly admired about my sister was the decision she made to create as many memories for her, her daughters, and her grandchildren as she possibly could that included their loved one. Those memories are jewels that they will treasure for the rest of their lives. The fact that he is gone cannot touch them. Those memories are truly a blessing and a gift.
We will all say our own goodbyes. Some may be protracted as this one was, but some may be quick and unexpected. We will feel prepared for some and others will take us off guard.
Live so that there will be no regrets.
Live at peace with one another. Make memories that will be treasures, not regrets. Spend time together. Say what needs to be said. Remember to be kind. Say “YES.”
Laughing - Loving - Praying 