Prayer has been on my mind a lot lately. I'm not entirely sure where I'm headed with this, but I've had lots to think about.
I'm on a prayer chain at my old church. I get lots of prayer request by friends and coworkers. I see them on Facebook all the time. We've prayed for our ill friends, family and friends of those who have died, blessings for new additions to families, for soldiers serving around the world. I've asked for prayers as well.
But it has caused me to think about some things. I have no problem praying. It doesn't matter if I know the person. But I started thinking about WHY we pray.
On the one hand, we're taught in church that God has a big Master Plan for every person on Earth. He and only He knows how many days we will all spend in this life. We also are taught the God doesn't make mistakes.
So what are really praying for? What is the purpose? For God to change his mind? We aren't praying for him to make a correction.
One of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn dealt with prayer. I was in a Bible study and the leader told us that God answers our prayers 100% of the time.
100%
I had a real problem with this at the time. I'd been praying very hard about something and I couldn't see anything happening that I'd been asking for. If anything, the situation was worsening.
The leader of the group told us that God answers every prayer because he has three answers - yes, no, and not right now.
It was tough to accept that God was actually telling me no, not just ignoring me. I think at first I wanted to just believe I wasn't being heard because to accept that I was being denied something I really wanted was almost unacceptable.
But that is what any good parent does, isn't it? Our parents know that touching a hot stove is painful and tells us no if we try to touch it. A good parent keeps us from harming ourselves - both physically and emotionally. Our parents protect us, often from ourselves.
The hard part is the understanding. When you're going through something and you're all caught up in the middle of it, it is very difficult to step back and see the bigger picture. To see why we're being told no, or not right now.
It's never easy to understand why a child gets sick with cancer, or a young person dies in car accident, or why bad things happen to good people.
So, I come back to my original question. Why do we pray? I think we pray for understanding. We pray for comfort. We pray for acceptance of the situation. Because I'm pretty sure we're not going to change the Master Plan - although I'm a firm believer of "it never hurts to ask".
I mean what's the worst thing that can happen - we get told no?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
A Daddy's Girl
I'm pretty sure I never stood a chance of being anything but a daddy's girl. From the stories I've been told and the pictures I've seen of my early years, Daddy and I were always pretty tight.
From the moment I fit into the palm of his hand.
And, as the gods would have it, I have to say I'm a lot like him. While I favor that side of the family, I'm not the clone of Daddy that my sister is of my mother. (That one is just scary - total strangers will walk up to her just about anywhere and identify her as being our mother's daughter. She could NEVER get away with anything.) But I picked up a lot of his mannerisms and overall stuff. And when we were named, I carried my dad's initials and my sister carried my mother's. Worked out perfectly.
Was my daddy perfect? Oh no. And some days he was less perfect than others. I wouldn't try to tell you otherwise. And my memories may be veiled with a daughter's blinders. But today, on what would have been his 68th birthday, I want to remember the good stuff.
Daddy was hysterically funny, articulate, intelligent, well read (read the newspapers cover to cover every morning and you all know the old joke about checking the obituaries to make sure he wasn't in them), fiercely loyal to those he loved (nearly took out the guy at the car wash once for not believing my mother when she said it was eating her quarters), and a really terrific dad.
Mom was a school teacher so the first day of school duties fell to Daddy. Meeting the teachers wasn't a problem but buying the school supplies would stress him out. And he was a by-the-booker. If the supply list said I needed a box of 16 crayons then there was no point in asking for the box of 24. Wasn't happening. College-ruled paper? Nope. Anything other than those giant husky pencils? Not if that was what the list called for. And if, heaven forbid, the list wasn't specific enough, then Mom would have to pick it up the next day at school. (Back then there was a little room in most of the schools where you could buy supplies if you ran out. Probably don't have those any more.)
He had the same problem just going to the grocery store. I remember one time he was gone forever and came home with only about 3 things off the list. It wasn't specific enough. Mom would write "Tide" on the list but when he would get there - powder or liquid, what size, what scent? The choices were overwhelming! This was pre-cell phone days so he would just give up.
But, when I started 7th grade I had to ride the bus to school. Including the first day. And Daddy cried. Not where I could see it, but I heard about it. I was growing up a little. That caused him some trouble as well.
Daddy was a traveling salesman and I used to get to go with him sometimes during the summers. To a kid, it's like a vacation. Staying in hotels and going swimming in hotel pools. But I loved riding in the car and going places with him. I was a pretty good kid so I could be left alone in the lobbies while he made his sales calls. Like him, I'm never without reading material so I could occupy myself. And he had a routine at every hotel - work or pleasure. He always scoped out the newspaper box and the ice machine. Once he had located those two things, everything was fine.
He loved to be outside - not the camping, hiking or fishing kind of outside, just outside. Give him a lawn chair and the sun and he was happy. A beach - even better! I'm working on a whole series of blogs of our summers in Florida. Yes, there is that much material. One year, just because he wanted to and wanted to be able to say that he did it, he slept on the beach. Note to self, just because it is 95 degrees at high noon it probably won't be twelve hours later. I remember him walking back up to the house at sun up. Shaking and freezing! It was cold coming off that water all night and all he'd taken with him was a towel to cover up in. He never did it again, but he could say that he did it.
He was kind, but didn't make a big deal out of his acts of kindness. I remember hearing a story about my sister's after-prom breakfast. The parents had organized it at a park close to the river (basically the middle of the night but they wanted the students to have something safe to do after the prom) and someone noticed my dad was not standing there as he had been a few minutes before. They spotted him taking a plate of food to a homeless man. He'd not said anything about it or made it known, he just did it.
No, he wasn't perfect. There were times that he disappointed us, same as we disappointed him. But, overall, he was a good man and gave us (that's the collective family "us" which includes his friends) 55 years of memories and lessons and a role to model. I remarked not long ago that I knew I got some of the bad stuff (asthma, allergies, temper, hard head) but I hoped I'd gotten some of the good stuff, too. There was a lot there for the taking.
He could have been and done anything but I think he made choices based, at least somewhat, on his family. His job allowed him some flexibility and sometimes he was the only daddy in attendance at school functions - an 8th grade home economics fashion show comes to mind - but his girls were important to him. I learned much later that his girls were really everything to him. He had a hard time when we married and moved away. Left a big hole that he had trouble filling.
His heart was big, as were his hands. They cradled me when I was tiny and they held me when I was 21 and thought my world was coming to an end after a bad break up. They trembled when he walked me down aisle to the other man in my life.
But Daddy was always my first love. I still miss him every single day. There is a song that I like and a line at the end talks about someone coming to the singer and saying "I hope to meet your dad someday." The singer, who has talked about seeing his father in the mirror and tried to be like his father, says " I hope you already did."
I hope people will say that about me - that they see my father in me. It may be the good, the bad and the really not so good, but its a package deal. We don't get to pick our parents, and we don't get to pick the traits we inherit. We may manage them differently but its all a part of the bigger picture.
I was blessed two really wonderful parents. They both contributed to the person I am today. I think if anyone sees either parent in me or my sister, then we've done well.
From the moment I fit into the palm of his hand.
And, as the gods would have it, I have to say I'm a lot like him. While I favor that side of the family, I'm not the clone of Daddy that my sister is of my mother. (That one is just scary - total strangers will walk up to her just about anywhere and identify her as being our mother's daughter. She could NEVER get away with anything.) But I picked up a lot of his mannerisms and overall stuff. And when we were named, I carried my dad's initials and my sister carried my mother's. Worked out perfectly.
Was my daddy perfect? Oh no. And some days he was less perfect than others. I wouldn't try to tell you otherwise. And my memories may be veiled with a daughter's blinders. But today, on what would have been his 68th birthday, I want to remember the good stuff.
Daddy was hysterically funny, articulate, intelligent, well read (read the newspapers cover to cover every morning and you all know the old joke about checking the obituaries to make sure he wasn't in them), fiercely loyal to those he loved (nearly took out the guy at the car wash once for not believing my mother when she said it was eating her quarters), and a really terrific dad.
Mom was a school teacher so the first day of school duties fell to Daddy. Meeting the teachers wasn't a problem but buying the school supplies would stress him out. And he was a by-the-booker. If the supply list said I needed a box of 16 crayons then there was no point in asking for the box of 24. Wasn't happening. College-ruled paper? Nope. Anything other than those giant husky pencils? Not if that was what the list called for. And if, heaven forbid, the list wasn't specific enough, then Mom would have to pick it up the next day at school. (Back then there was a little room in most of the schools where you could buy supplies if you ran out. Probably don't have those any more.)
He had the same problem just going to the grocery store. I remember one time he was gone forever and came home with only about 3 things off the list. It wasn't specific enough. Mom would write "Tide" on the list but when he would get there - powder or liquid, what size, what scent? The choices were overwhelming! This was pre-cell phone days so he would just give up.
But, when I started 7th grade I had to ride the bus to school. Including the first day. And Daddy cried. Not where I could see it, but I heard about it. I was growing up a little. That caused him some trouble as well.
Daddy was a traveling salesman and I used to get to go with him sometimes during the summers. To a kid, it's like a vacation. Staying in hotels and going swimming in hotel pools. But I loved riding in the car and going places with him. I was a pretty good kid so I could be left alone in the lobbies while he made his sales calls. Like him, I'm never without reading material so I could occupy myself. And he had a routine at every hotel - work or pleasure. He always scoped out the newspaper box and the ice machine. Once he had located those two things, everything was fine.
He loved to be outside - not the camping, hiking or fishing kind of outside, just outside. Give him a lawn chair and the sun and he was happy. A beach - even better! I'm working on a whole series of blogs of our summers in Florida. Yes, there is that much material. One year, just because he wanted to and wanted to be able to say that he did it, he slept on the beach. Note to self, just because it is 95 degrees at high noon it probably won't be twelve hours later. I remember him walking back up to the house at sun up. Shaking and freezing! It was cold coming off that water all night and all he'd taken with him was a towel to cover up in. He never did it again, but he could say that he did it.
He was kind, but didn't make a big deal out of his acts of kindness. I remember hearing a story about my sister's after-prom breakfast. The parents had organized it at a park close to the river (basically the middle of the night but they wanted the students to have something safe to do after the prom) and someone noticed my dad was not standing there as he had been a few minutes before. They spotted him taking a plate of food to a homeless man. He'd not said anything about it or made it known, he just did it.
No, he wasn't perfect. There were times that he disappointed us, same as we disappointed him. But, overall, he was a good man and gave us (that's the collective family "us" which includes his friends) 55 years of memories and lessons and a role to model. I remarked not long ago that I knew I got some of the bad stuff (asthma, allergies, temper, hard head) but I hoped I'd gotten some of the good stuff, too. There was a lot there for the taking.
He could have been and done anything but I think he made choices based, at least somewhat, on his family. His job allowed him some flexibility and sometimes he was the only daddy in attendance at school functions - an 8th grade home economics fashion show comes to mind - but his girls were important to him. I learned much later that his girls were really everything to him. He had a hard time when we married and moved away. Left a big hole that he had trouble filling.
His heart was big, as were his hands. They cradled me when I was tiny and they held me when I was 21 and thought my world was coming to an end after a bad break up. They trembled when he walked me down aisle to the other man in my life.
But Daddy was always my first love. I still miss him every single day. There is a song that I like and a line at the end talks about someone coming to the singer and saying "I hope to meet your dad someday." The singer, who has talked about seeing his father in the mirror and tried to be like his father, says " I hope you already did."
I hope people will say that about me - that they see my father in me. It may be the good, the bad and the really not so good, but its a package deal. We don't get to pick our parents, and we don't get to pick the traits we inherit. We may manage them differently but its all a part of the bigger picture.
I was blessed two really wonderful parents. They both contributed to the person I am today. I think if anyone sees either parent in me or my sister, then we've done well.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Unions and Lobbies and Bailouts Oh My!
Fox News reported last night that GM paid lobbyists $2.8 million since the first of 2009.
This is the same General Motors that has received BILLONS of bailout dollars. Those dollars were supposed to help the automaker stay in business. Help them make payrolls and pay the light bills. Instead, it seems a fairly good chunk of it went to ensure there would be more coming their way.
It leaves no wonder that they got into this shape in the first place.
This is just me, personally, but using "free money" in this manner doesn't seem like the basis for sound business decisions. And on the surface, publicly, they want to fuss about all the strings attached to government aid. But they had no problem spending it.
There are lots of factors involved in this story, as there are in any story. One facet of all of this is the United Auto Workers Union. I feel certain that when unions were first being formed decades ago they did serve a very valid purpose. They kept business owners from taking advantage of immigrant work forces and ensured the workers had safe, fair working conditions.
I'm not entirely convinced they serve the same purpose now. Seems to me they are intent on almost the opposite now. Several industries closed up around here just before we moved into town. The impetus, from what I heard, was that the unions were just making so many unreasonable demands that the corporate offices just shut down the plants.
Maybe I'm wrong, but wouldn't having a less than perfect job beat having no job?
So, we've got the UAW making demands on GM to ensure the workers futures (although just having a job does not seem to be adequate) and GM paying lobbyists to make sure they get more money but preferably without a lot of strings - especially since those strings won't cover what the UAW wants. And the lobbyist I'm guessing are having a heyday at spending the government's money to get more of government's money.
Meanwhile, the rest of the country is trying to figure out how they are going to eat next week without a job since they don't have a car that runs or money to put gas in it. $2.8 million dollars in those people's pockets might actually go somewhere productive. I think I could make better business decisions than some of the current "experts" running that show.
No, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore, and you should definitely ignore the man behind the curtain (no, that was not a slap at the President - I mean all the people behind this current fiasco in the auto industry).
I know that the power of the people is in the hands of the purchaser. I can choose to not buy a GM car. I can choose to not buy American. I have the power to determine where my money is spent. And it is through that power that I can make my voice heard.
Hey Detroit - Can you hear me now?
This is the same General Motors that has received BILLONS of bailout dollars. Those dollars were supposed to help the automaker stay in business. Help them make payrolls and pay the light bills. Instead, it seems a fairly good chunk of it went to ensure there would be more coming their way.
It leaves no wonder that they got into this shape in the first place.
This is just me, personally, but using "free money" in this manner doesn't seem like the basis for sound business decisions. And on the surface, publicly, they want to fuss about all the strings attached to government aid. But they had no problem spending it.
There are lots of factors involved in this story, as there are in any story. One facet of all of this is the United Auto Workers Union. I feel certain that when unions were first being formed decades ago they did serve a very valid purpose. They kept business owners from taking advantage of immigrant work forces and ensured the workers had safe, fair working conditions.
I'm not entirely convinced they serve the same purpose now. Seems to me they are intent on almost the opposite now. Several industries closed up around here just before we moved into town. The impetus, from what I heard, was that the unions were just making so many unreasonable demands that the corporate offices just shut down the plants.
Maybe I'm wrong, but wouldn't having a less than perfect job beat having no job?
So, we've got the UAW making demands on GM to ensure the workers futures (although just having a job does not seem to be adequate) and GM paying lobbyists to make sure they get more money but preferably without a lot of strings - especially since those strings won't cover what the UAW wants. And the lobbyist I'm guessing are having a heyday at spending the government's money to get more of government's money.
Meanwhile, the rest of the country is trying to figure out how they are going to eat next week without a job since they don't have a car that runs or money to put gas in it. $2.8 million dollars in those people's pockets might actually go somewhere productive. I think I could make better business decisions than some of the current "experts" running that show.
No, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore, and you should definitely ignore the man behind the curtain (no, that was not a slap at the President - I mean all the people behind this current fiasco in the auto industry).
I know that the power of the people is in the hands of the purchaser. I can choose to not buy a GM car. I can choose to not buy American. I have the power to determine where my money is spent. And it is through that power that I can make my voice heard.
Hey Detroit - Can you hear me now?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I Dreamed a Dream
By now, most everyone has seen the video of Susan Boyle and "Britain's Got Talent". So many people are focusing on one of the two lessons her story presents.
The obvious lesson is "don't judge a book by its cover". Everyone in the audience, and the judges, were rolling their eyes at this woman and expecting less than zero. Simon Cowell even asked her why her pursuit of becoming a professional singer had not materialized by now, obviously not ready for what was about to be heard. Her answer, "I haven't really had the opportunity. Here's hoping that will change."
And change it did! When her voice came out so beautifully everyone there was astonished, and ashamed of themselves. She had been written off based on the outside shell. Her hair was a little wild, eyebrows were bushy, little makeup. She was more than being judged. She was completely being written off as a no-talent based on nothing more than her appearance.
So, the obvious lesson was not to judge a book by its cover. We've heard it since childhood but rarely has so perfect an example been presented.
I say the other lesson is this: Follow your dreams!
Here is a woman that is almost 48 years old. Participating in a talent show. Following her dream of becoming a professional singer. How many other folks would have given up by now? Just accepted life in a small village and singing in church and weekly karaoke.
Or my friend that I told you just became a mom. After being married for over 15 years and countless disappointments before finally having an adoption completed. Her Facebook status the other day said this: "....too tired to tremble, but I cry every time I sing to him." By the time lots of women reach 42 or 43 they are no longer thinking of becoming a first time mom. They've accepted their fate and are living their life without children.
So, while we should always be reminded that prejudging a person is rarely a good thing, a lesson in the pursuit of happiness is not bad either. Pull those dreams out of the closet and dust them off!
Maybe you want to open a bakery, or teach children, or live in a big city. Maybe you're an accountant who prefers words to numbers. Maybe you're middle-aged but still have things you want to do in this world while there is still time to do them.
Go for it! You don't necessarily have to quit your day job or make major changes in your life. It could be that you need to keep your eyes open for opportunities and not be afraid to take those baby steps. A love of acting could be played out on a community theatre stage rather than on Broadway, but an audience is an audience. The applause sounds as sweet when you're taking your bow.
You never know who might be watching, or reading. You never know when a child will need a family. You'll never know when a dream might come true.
But one thing is for certain, you'll never know if you quit looking, and dreaming.
The obvious lesson is "don't judge a book by its cover". Everyone in the audience, and the judges, were rolling their eyes at this woman and expecting less than zero. Simon Cowell even asked her why her pursuit of becoming a professional singer had not materialized by now, obviously not ready for what was about to be heard. Her answer, "I haven't really had the opportunity. Here's hoping that will change."
And change it did! When her voice came out so beautifully everyone there was astonished, and ashamed of themselves. She had been written off based on the outside shell. Her hair was a little wild, eyebrows were bushy, little makeup. She was more than being judged. She was completely being written off as a no-talent based on nothing more than her appearance.
So, the obvious lesson was not to judge a book by its cover. We've heard it since childhood but rarely has so perfect an example been presented.
I say the other lesson is this: Follow your dreams!
Here is a woman that is almost 48 years old. Participating in a talent show. Following her dream of becoming a professional singer. How many other folks would have given up by now? Just accepted life in a small village and singing in church and weekly karaoke.
Or my friend that I told you just became a mom. After being married for over 15 years and countless disappointments before finally having an adoption completed. Her Facebook status the other day said this: "....too tired to tremble, but I cry every time I sing to him." By the time lots of women reach 42 or 43 they are no longer thinking of becoming a first time mom. They've accepted their fate and are living their life without children.
So, while we should always be reminded that prejudging a person is rarely a good thing, a lesson in the pursuit of happiness is not bad either. Pull those dreams out of the closet and dust them off!
Maybe you want to open a bakery, or teach children, or live in a big city. Maybe you're an accountant who prefers words to numbers. Maybe you're middle-aged but still have things you want to do in this world while there is still time to do them.
Go for it! You don't necessarily have to quit your day job or make major changes in your life. It could be that you need to keep your eyes open for opportunities and not be afraid to take those baby steps. A love of acting could be played out on a community theatre stage rather than on Broadway, but an audience is an audience. The applause sounds as sweet when you're taking your bow.
You never know who might be watching, or reading. You never know when a child will need a family. You'll never know when a dream might come true.
But one thing is for certain, you'll never know if you quit looking, and dreaming.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
i miss u!
I opened my Facebook page one night last week - either Friday or Saturday, I can't remember. Almost instantly the chat box popped up and it said "i miss u!"
Now, here is your "awwwww" moment for the week. It was from my almost 16 year old nephew.
Go ahead, awwwwww. I don't think he reads the blog so he won't know I told anyone.
My first thought was that he didn't mean to send it to me. But he did and we chatted for a few minutes. Then he was offline just as suddenly as on. No bye, see you later, or anything. Just gone. I'm guessing someone walked in the room on his side and he didn't want them to know.
I checked with my sister the next day to make sure nothing was going on in his world. Yes, it is OK for a 16 year old boy to be sweet to his aunt but it doesn't happen all that often so I was still a little skeptical. Everything was A-OK.
On Monday morning, though, she called to share a story. A teen-age drama that she wanted to tell. (still had nothing to do with him being sweet to me, but it put a few things together). My nephew had kind of goofed up the week before and had to suffer the consequences for it. What he did isn't important. Hardly breaking news kind of stuff, but he still made a mistake. And at first he asked her to cover for him.
To her great credit, she said no.
My heart soared at this point.
She told him he would have to 'fess up and face the music.
And to his great credit, he did.
We talked a little more about it and her comment to me was this: "I'm glad he has you to be his friend because I have to be his parent." That is the one thing she and I heard all of our lives growing up - I'm not your friend, you have plenty of those. I'm your parent.
Hey, tough job, but someone has to do it.
And, as her sister, I told her how incredibly proud of her I was at that moment for taking that stand. I hear, almost daily, stories of parents going and talking to principals, or coaches, or other authority figures and trying to get their child out of some situation. Instead of using it for the life lesson that it is. I lose a lot of respect for those moms and dads. I have to think that the primary goal of being a parent is to prepare your child to be an adult. That takes a whole host of skills that have to be taught. Life lessons need to be learned.
We all make mistakes. Many, many times a day. But we have to own those bad decisions as well as the good ones. Decisions come with consequences. They bring personal responsibility. I'm not sure how people get through life if someone is always fixing their mistakes for them. Not very well, I'd think.
I like that I can be the friend. That I can support the parents and love the child and get to do all the stuff that parents don't always get to. (It does get me in trouble on occassion. I no longer give the kids scrambled eggs for breakfast when I go to keep them. That is not on my sister's list of regular schoolday breakfast foods. I got a phone call one morning after everyone had been dropped off that corrected my misconception.)
But it is cool that I get to be included in the process of helping these wonderful children turn in to incredible adults, at least I hope that is what they'll become!
And I like that my nephew misses me, and tells me so. Maybe he has learned some valuable life lessons already.
Now, here is your "awwwww" moment for the week. It was from my almost 16 year old nephew.
Go ahead, awwwwww. I don't think he reads the blog so he won't know I told anyone.
My first thought was that he didn't mean to send it to me. But he did and we chatted for a few minutes. Then he was offline just as suddenly as on. No bye, see you later, or anything. Just gone. I'm guessing someone walked in the room on his side and he didn't want them to know.
I checked with my sister the next day to make sure nothing was going on in his world. Yes, it is OK for a 16 year old boy to be sweet to his aunt but it doesn't happen all that often so I was still a little skeptical. Everything was A-OK.
On Monday morning, though, she called to share a story. A teen-age drama that she wanted to tell. (still had nothing to do with him being sweet to me, but it put a few things together). My nephew had kind of goofed up the week before and had to suffer the consequences for it. What he did isn't important. Hardly breaking news kind of stuff, but he still made a mistake. And at first he asked her to cover for him.
To her great credit, she said no.
My heart soared at this point.
She told him he would have to 'fess up and face the music.
And to his great credit, he did.
We talked a little more about it and her comment to me was this: "I'm glad he has you to be his friend because I have to be his parent." That is the one thing she and I heard all of our lives growing up - I'm not your friend, you have plenty of those. I'm your parent.
Hey, tough job, but someone has to do it.
And, as her sister, I told her how incredibly proud of her I was at that moment for taking that stand. I hear, almost daily, stories of parents going and talking to principals, or coaches, or other authority figures and trying to get their child out of some situation. Instead of using it for the life lesson that it is. I lose a lot of respect for those moms and dads. I have to think that the primary goal of being a parent is to prepare your child to be an adult. That takes a whole host of skills that have to be taught. Life lessons need to be learned.
We all make mistakes. Many, many times a day. But we have to own those bad decisions as well as the good ones. Decisions come with consequences. They bring personal responsibility. I'm not sure how people get through life if someone is always fixing their mistakes for them. Not very well, I'd think.
I like that I can be the friend. That I can support the parents and love the child and get to do all the stuff that parents don't always get to. (It does get me in trouble on occassion. I no longer give the kids scrambled eggs for breakfast when I go to keep them. That is not on my sister's list of regular schoolday breakfast foods. I got a phone call one morning after everyone had been dropped off that corrected my misconception.)
But it is cool that I get to be included in the process of helping these wonderful children turn in to incredible adults, at least I hope that is what they'll become!
And I like that my nephew misses me, and tells me so. Maybe he has learned some valuable life lessons already.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Funerals are Funny Things
"Laughter through tears is one of my favorite emotions", so says the character Truvy in Steel Magnolias. I agree.
I come from a very funny family. And that is not just me talking, that comes from a lifetime of watching other people laughing whenever my dad, his brother or his sister ever got cranked up. Individually, they are hysterically funny. Collectively, Katy bar the door. "Outsiders" don't stand a chance. You will laugh until your sides ache and you can't take it anymore.
For my generation, a lot of that got passed on. In some cases, we just recycled the same material but had a new audience. The first generation recycled a lot of the same stuff too and most of us could give you the punch line before the joke was over because we'd heard them so much. But you'd still laugh.
I had the great honor of speaking at my dad's funeral. Tough, yes, but an experience that I'm glad I had. You see, I made people laugh. Instead of dwelling on the fact that my 55 year old daddy was gone, we laughed. I had them crying happy tears. Laughing through the tears.
I attended my cousin's funeral yesterday. He was 54. He carried my dad's name as his middle name and I remarked yesterday to my uncle that he was aptly named. He was very much like my daddy and the stories that people told about him could have been almost interchangeable. It was obvious by the attendance and the stories told that he was loved by many and will be missed by everyone.
The service and the time that I was able to spend with my family was truly spent celebrating his life.
I've written about this branch of my family tree. This was my oldest cousin - the first of us 14 grandkids and part of the group that moved to Texas when I was still very young. So my memories are scattered. But I have them and we shared a lot, in true family fashion. We laughed.
It occurred to me while I was listening yesterday that I think we're also celebrating the new life on the family tree that sometimes grows when we lose a branch.
You see, he was one of the 5 that I've talked about reconnecting with. He sent emails that were pages and pages long and I have an hour plus phone call where we talked like we'd just seen each other the week before instead of 12 years ago at my dad's funeral. But the reason that really prompted me to get in touch with all of them was because we'd lost another cousin on that side - my 43 year old cousin who was #6 in the lineup. I didn't want to lose anyone else without at least making the effort.
And I'm so glad I did. It meant a lot to sit there with my family and share stories and just be together. I got some of the best bear hugs from these wonderful grown men that probably carried me piggyback at one time, or laid on the floor and watched cartoons with me. They are fathers, and grandfathers, but were still the same wonderful cousins, just a little taller.
You find in your garden that certain plants have to be cut back or divided periodically to help them grow and flourish. While I certainly would much rather have my dad and my cousins back here in the flesh, that isn't the way the world works (and no, I'm not comparing my deceased relatives to dead tree limbs). But it often takes losing someone to help something else grow in its place. The hole left from the loss is a place for the new seeds to fall in and take hold. I think we'll all stay in better touch now. I met relatives for the first time that I hope to stay connected with. I think our family tree got a little stronger.
And no, it isn't fair. Parents should not bury their children and no one should get sick in their 40s and 50s. But, to quote a line from the funeral:
"Fair is where you go to buy a foot long hot dog".
But while you're there, enjoy the rides. See the shows. And make the most of it while its in town.
I come from a very funny family. And that is not just me talking, that comes from a lifetime of watching other people laughing whenever my dad, his brother or his sister ever got cranked up. Individually, they are hysterically funny. Collectively, Katy bar the door. "Outsiders" don't stand a chance. You will laugh until your sides ache and you can't take it anymore.
For my generation, a lot of that got passed on. In some cases, we just recycled the same material but had a new audience. The first generation recycled a lot of the same stuff too and most of us could give you the punch line before the joke was over because we'd heard them so much. But you'd still laugh.
I had the great honor of speaking at my dad's funeral. Tough, yes, but an experience that I'm glad I had. You see, I made people laugh. Instead of dwelling on the fact that my 55 year old daddy was gone, we laughed. I had them crying happy tears. Laughing through the tears.
I attended my cousin's funeral yesterday. He was 54. He carried my dad's name as his middle name and I remarked yesterday to my uncle that he was aptly named. He was very much like my daddy and the stories that people told about him could have been almost interchangeable. It was obvious by the attendance and the stories told that he was loved by many and will be missed by everyone.
The service and the time that I was able to spend with my family was truly spent celebrating his life.
I've written about this branch of my family tree. This was my oldest cousin - the first of us 14 grandkids and part of the group that moved to Texas when I was still very young. So my memories are scattered. But I have them and we shared a lot, in true family fashion. We laughed.
It occurred to me while I was listening yesterday that I think we're also celebrating the new life on the family tree that sometimes grows when we lose a branch.
You see, he was one of the 5 that I've talked about reconnecting with. He sent emails that were pages and pages long and I have an hour plus phone call where we talked like we'd just seen each other the week before instead of 12 years ago at my dad's funeral. But the reason that really prompted me to get in touch with all of them was because we'd lost another cousin on that side - my 43 year old cousin who was #6 in the lineup. I didn't want to lose anyone else without at least making the effort.
And I'm so glad I did. It meant a lot to sit there with my family and share stories and just be together. I got some of the best bear hugs from these wonderful grown men that probably carried me piggyback at one time, or laid on the floor and watched cartoons with me. They are fathers, and grandfathers, but were still the same wonderful cousins, just a little taller.
You find in your garden that certain plants have to be cut back or divided periodically to help them grow and flourish. While I certainly would much rather have my dad and my cousins back here in the flesh, that isn't the way the world works (and no, I'm not comparing my deceased relatives to dead tree limbs). But it often takes losing someone to help something else grow in its place. The hole left from the loss is a place for the new seeds to fall in and take hold. I think we'll all stay in better touch now. I met relatives for the first time that I hope to stay connected with. I think our family tree got a little stronger.
And no, it isn't fair. Parents should not bury their children and no one should get sick in their 40s and 50s. But, to quote a line from the funeral:
"Fair is where you go to buy a foot long hot dog".
But while you're there, enjoy the rides. See the shows. And make the most of it while its in town.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Mom, Divided
Last Friday night was one of the few nights that I ever wished for a more traditional family. It was a bad night for Seizure Dog and I was alone. My husband works out of state the first week of each month. So, I was trying to take care of Seizure Dog, keep the other 6 from getting into the mix (very unsuccessful at that I must say), and take mental notes of times and details to share with the doctor the next morning. It got so bad that I finally broke down and gave him Valium to stop the seizures.
Problem was, he was downstairs. We sleep upstairs. He was in no condition to navigate the stairs and he's too big for me to carry. He finally, after coming out of the seizure, ended up in the dining room, lay down and fell asleep. By now I had run the rest of the pack upstairs and shut them up in the bedroom. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and ran back down to him. I curled up in this giant chair my mother gave us for Christmas but I wasn't going to be sleeping. Despite the fact that I'd been up since before 4 that morning and it was now pushing midnight. Sleep was not an option at this point. For two reasons, one is obvious. I was so worried that the Valium wouldn't take and he'd start seizing again. The second was that the rest of the group was not happy at being left alone and kept barking and running around. You can hear everything on those hardwood floors!
So I lay in the chair and thought how I wished that the bunch upstairs were "real" kids so I could explain to them that their brother needed me and they would be helping me out if they would just lay down and be quiet. But I couldn't. So I laid there, divided and torn between being there for the one who needed me but didn't know it, and being with the ones who didn't really need me but thought they did.
Well, situations work as they should. The barking woke Seizure Dog who jumped up, completely lucid, looked at me like "since when do we sleep down here?", trotted up the stairs and into his bed. Never heard another peep out of any one of them the rest of the night.
But I still didn't really sleep.
I thought about how really incredibly lucky I am that this was my biggest crisis. There are lots of moms who are divided with far bigger issues. Moms who have to balance being with a terminally ill child against being with her healthy children. Moms who work multiple jobs and wish they were at home with their families. Moms who have to decide if there will be lights or food the next week because the paycheck isn't stretching. Moms who are divided about staying in a bad marriage to protect their children or getting out and starting over. Divided between the known and the unknown.
A friend of mine from high school became a mom last week. First time. Fifteen years of waiting on an adoption - home visits, applications, disappointments. She shared with us some of the experiences they were going through in those last weeks. The indecision of the 16 year old with what has to be the biggest decision of her young life and her mother wanting her to do the right thing but knowing she'd have to support whatever decision her child made. Two mothers divided by one situation.
My life is a snap compared to what a lot of women go through. I'm blessed, and I know it.
Problem was, he was downstairs. We sleep upstairs. He was in no condition to navigate the stairs and he's too big for me to carry. He finally, after coming out of the seizure, ended up in the dining room, lay down and fell asleep. By now I had run the rest of the pack upstairs and shut them up in the bedroom. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and ran back down to him. I curled up in this giant chair my mother gave us for Christmas but I wasn't going to be sleeping. Despite the fact that I'd been up since before 4 that morning and it was now pushing midnight. Sleep was not an option at this point. For two reasons, one is obvious. I was so worried that the Valium wouldn't take and he'd start seizing again. The second was that the rest of the group was not happy at being left alone and kept barking and running around. You can hear everything on those hardwood floors!
So I lay in the chair and thought how I wished that the bunch upstairs were "real" kids so I could explain to them that their brother needed me and they would be helping me out if they would just lay down and be quiet. But I couldn't. So I laid there, divided and torn between being there for the one who needed me but didn't know it, and being with the ones who didn't really need me but thought they did.
Well, situations work as they should. The barking woke Seizure Dog who jumped up, completely lucid, looked at me like "since when do we sleep down here?", trotted up the stairs and into his bed. Never heard another peep out of any one of them the rest of the night.
But I still didn't really sleep.
I thought about how really incredibly lucky I am that this was my biggest crisis. There are lots of moms who are divided with far bigger issues. Moms who have to balance being with a terminally ill child against being with her healthy children. Moms who work multiple jobs and wish they were at home with their families. Moms who have to decide if there will be lights or food the next week because the paycheck isn't stretching. Moms who are divided about staying in a bad marriage to protect their children or getting out and starting over. Divided between the known and the unknown.
A friend of mine from high school became a mom last week. First time. Fifteen years of waiting on an adoption - home visits, applications, disappointments. She shared with us some of the experiences they were going through in those last weeks. The indecision of the 16 year old with what has to be the biggest decision of her young life and her mother wanting her to do the right thing but knowing she'd have to support whatever decision her child made. Two mothers divided by one situation.
My life is a snap compared to what a lot of women go through. I'm blessed, and I know it.
My husband says moms are special. They are. He treats his mom like a queen which bodes well for me. (All parents are special and I have the utmost respect for all of them, especially single parents, but this post is for the moms out there). They are very often the glue in the family - the doctor, the chef, the driver, the shopper, the financial planner.
The expert mathematician dividing her time and energies.
Much of our time is spent being divided. Trying to decide between two things that we either want to do or feel we need to/should do. Life is all about choices. Sometimes we make the wrong ones. The important thing is that we try. Sometimes even making the wrong choice is better than doing nothing.
And to remember that no matter how bad we think things are at any particular moment, chances are someone else's life is a little bit worse.
So be grateful. And try to remember when you see people during the day to be kind. You have no idea what math problems they may be trying to solve.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Update
There are many more posts in the works, but life has been a little hectic lately. But I'm still working on them, have no fear!
I am very psyched right now. You may have noticed a link on the blog site. A link to Serious Life Magazine. This is a free online magazine with a lot of neat stuff. The articles are primarily faith-based and cover children, family life, adoption, marriage, living with illness and a host of other things.
It also has a blog directory and each month publishes a few blogs. Well, the April edition has one of my blogs - The Big Picture - and I'm just tickled to be included. It's on page 127 if you're interested. And I hope you will be.
Check it out.
And stay tuned. I think you'll like the next post.
I am very psyched right now. You may have noticed a link on the blog site. A link to Serious Life Magazine. This is a free online magazine with a lot of neat stuff. The articles are primarily faith-based and cover children, family life, adoption, marriage, living with illness and a host of other things.
It also has a blog directory and each month publishes a few blogs. Well, the April edition has one of my blogs - The Big Picture - and I'm just tickled to be included. It's on page 127 if you're interested. And I hope you will be.
Check it out.
And stay tuned. I think you'll like the next post.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Naunie's Roses
A few weeks ago I was asked by my garden club to participate in the annual flower show. This is the second time I have been asked.
Let's just say my first foray into the flower show competition was interesting. I was so completely out of my league it wasn't even funny. I worked really hard on my entry, took it to the venue only to be sent home (temporarily) to find something live to cover the apparatus holding the flowers. Thankfully I have TONS of ivy growing in my yard.
I was given Honorable Mention. 4th place out of 4 in my category.
Hey, everyone's a winner that participates, right?
Anyway, I got the call this year. Now, I truly have a problem saying no to people. Its a fault. I know and I'm trying to get better. It is usually easier for me to say no when my husband is sitting there staring at me.
I got this call at work.
I also have to round up volunteers for other organizations so I truly sympathize when these ladies call. I could hear in her voice that this had been a struggle so I agreed. At least this year the flower show would be after busy season. That was a plus already. So she gave me the theme -- Victorian Weddings -- and told me that the lady hosting the show would be having an open house for the participants so that we could go and scout the location and decide where our arrangement would look best.
At this point I cracked up laughing. She hesitated. I apologize for laughing in her ear and told her that I just had a visual of me walking into anyone's home and saying "YES! This is where my arrangement should go!" I told her anything I could put together would simply be taking up space. You could actually her the relief in her voice and she started chuckling. "I need space fillers" she said.
Well, she is getting one. I will, of course, give it my best effort but my skills are limited.
I received a reminder voice mail about the open house this Sunday and jotted the details down on the scratch pad beside the phone. I saw them yesterday when I was home for lunch and my first thought was "Boy I wish Naunie was closer."
You see, Naunie, my 95 year old grandmother, always grew the prettiest roses and could arrange them. She always had little bud vases on the table and it was not unusual to be sent to get something from the outdoor refrigerator (in the store room, not literally outdoors) only to find coffee cans full of flowers from other people's yards. I asked her about it once, since I never actually saw anybody leave the flowers, and she responded that people just knew she needed them for whatever function she was attending that day -- church lunch, bridge club, whatever. She would do the flowers. (Side note - I do remember getting in trouble a couple of times for playing with the floral foam. I didn't know that once you squished it you really couldn't use it anymore. I got the message).
Apparently it is not genetic.
It is one of those things that I wish I had taken the time to learn from her while she could still teach it. Too often we think there will be time for something and we let other stuff take precedence and put it off. Even though my grandmother is still living, she can't see like she used to and doesn't really remember stuff like she should so, truly, the moment has passed.
Much like her skill with flowers.
I love to grow roses in my yard and I cut them and bring them into the house. It always makes me feel connected with Naunie. Something we share. I just wish I'd recognized what else she had to offer.
Maybe I'll dedicate this year's entry to her.
She'll be tickled with whatever we get. Fourth place will be just fine with her.
Let's just say my first foray into the flower show competition was interesting. I was so completely out of my league it wasn't even funny. I worked really hard on my entry, took it to the venue only to be sent home (temporarily) to find something live to cover the apparatus holding the flowers. Thankfully I have TONS of ivy growing in my yard.
I was given Honorable Mention. 4th place out of 4 in my category.
Hey, everyone's a winner that participates, right?
Anyway, I got the call this year. Now, I truly have a problem saying no to people. Its a fault. I know and I'm trying to get better. It is usually easier for me to say no when my husband is sitting there staring at me.
I got this call at work.
I also have to round up volunteers for other organizations so I truly sympathize when these ladies call. I could hear in her voice that this had been a struggle so I agreed. At least this year the flower show would be after busy season. That was a plus already. So she gave me the theme -- Victorian Weddings -- and told me that the lady hosting the show would be having an open house for the participants so that we could go and scout the location and decide where our arrangement would look best.
At this point I cracked up laughing. She hesitated. I apologize for laughing in her ear and told her that I just had a visual of me walking into anyone's home and saying "YES! This is where my arrangement should go!" I told her anything I could put together would simply be taking up space. You could actually her the relief in her voice and she started chuckling. "I need space fillers" she said.
Well, she is getting one. I will, of course, give it my best effort but my skills are limited.
I received a reminder voice mail about the open house this Sunday and jotted the details down on the scratch pad beside the phone. I saw them yesterday when I was home for lunch and my first thought was "Boy I wish Naunie was closer."
You see, Naunie, my 95 year old grandmother, always grew the prettiest roses and could arrange them. She always had little bud vases on the table and it was not unusual to be sent to get something from the outdoor refrigerator (in the store room, not literally outdoors) only to find coffee cans full of flowers from other people's yards. I asked her about it once, since I never actually saw anybody leave the flowers, and she responded that people just knew she needed them for whatever function she was attending that day -- church lunch, bridge club, whatever. She would do the flowers. (Side note - I do remember getting in trouble a couple of times for playing with the floral foam. I didn't know that once you squished it you really couldn't use it anymore. I got the message).
Apparently it is not genetic.
It is one of those things that I wish I had taken the time to learn from her while she could still teach it. Too often we think there will be time for something and we let other stuff take precedence and put it off. Even though my grandmother is still living, she can't see like she used to and doesn't really remember stuff like she should so, truly, the moment has passed.
Much like her skill with flowers.
I love to grow roses in my yard and I cut them and bring them into the house. It always makes me feel connected with Naunie. Something we share. I just wish I'd recognized what else she had to offer.
Maybe I'll dedicate this year's entry to her.
She'll be tickled with whatever we get. Fourth place will be just fine with her.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
We're Paying for This?
My husband and I watch a lot of C-SPAN. Sad, but true. Especially when there are big topics being discussed. I want to know what the people that are supposed to be representing me are saying and doing and how they vote so if they stop representing how I feel I can work to replace them.
I was forwarded a video recently. A video where Representative Brown from Florida was congratulating her Gators on a BCS Bowl victory.
I know I was forwarded the video because in it she stumbles through reading her prepared statement and she mispronounces several very basic words and doesn't always use proper grammar. However, I am in no place to judge that. I have gotten on stage and forgotten my lines, butchered words to no end and, even here, don't always type in complete sentences. So I won't fault her for that. I'm a firm believer in Bad Karma so I'm not poking any fun at her.
No, what I couldn't believe is that she was doing this doing working hours. All I could think was "We're paying for this." I'm all about team spirit and love college football, but really, is the floor of the House of Representatives the proper venue? I couldn't see who else was in the Chamber but I kept thinking that surely someone had some legitimate business to discuss and was having to wait for her to finish. Thankfully she didn't use the entire 5 minutes she'd been granted and yielded the balance of her time.
Maybe I'm wrong, or just cranky from a lack of sleep. I've seen enough C-SPAN to know there are lots of times where people are just milling around and don't appear to be doing much of anything. And they are getting paid for it. I just worked 276 hours in the month of March. One month. I worked hard. And I'm willing to bet I don't make as much as the members of Congress.
So, am I in the wrong business? Or am I wrong to expect just a little more from the people that I give a job to? Technically, I am their employer and as such I have expectations.
Great Expectations.
(Now, before anyone reminds me that I don't live in Florida and didn't elect Gentlewoman Brown and therefore did not give her a job let me just say that she is probably not the only one. I just haven't caught anyone else - yet.)
I was forwarded a video recently. A video where Representative Brown from Florida was congratulating her Gators on a BCS Bowl victory.
I know I was forwarded the video because in it she stumbles through reading her prepared statement and she mispronounces several very basic words and doesn't always use proper grammar. However, I am in no place to judge that. I have gotten on stage and forgotten my lines, butchered words to no end and, even here, don't always type in complete sentences. So I won't fault her for that. I'm a firm believer in Bad Karma so I'm not poking any fun at her.
No, what I couldn't believe is that she was doing this doing working hours. All I could think was "We're paying for this." I'm all about team spirit and love college football, but really, is the floor of the House of Representatives the proper venue? I couldn't see who else was in the Chamber but I kept thinking that surely someone had some legitimate business to discuss and was having to wait for her to finish. Thankfully she didn't use the entire 5 minutes she'd been granted and yielded the balance of her time.
Maybe I'm wrong, or just cranky from a lack of sleep. I've seen enough C-SPAN to know there are lots of times where people are just milling around and don't appear to be doing much of anything. And they are getting paid for it. I just worked 276 hours in the month of March. One month. I worked hard. And I'm willing to bet I don't make as much as the members of Congress.
So, am I in the wrong business? Or am I wrong to expect just a little more from the people that I give a job to? Technically, I am their employer and as such I have expectations.
Great Expectations.
(Now, before anyone reminds me that I don't live in Florida and didn't elect Gentlewoman Brown and therefore did not give her a job let me just say that she is probably not the only one. I just haven't caught anyone else - yet.)
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