My Blog: Thoughts, Observations & Life Lessons

      The rhythmic song of the waves had me breathing deeply, and thanking God for this special time of rest, relaxation and spending time with family.  There’s something about the seashore that allows me to totally unwind.  After basking in the sun, it was time to visit those beautiful waves in an attempt to get cool in the 94 degree weather.

      By the time I maneuvered through the beach towels, past the umbrellas and those who were reading books or listening to music, I was once again, in awe of the vast ocean before me.  I stood enjoying the young children who chased the waves, squealing with delight as their feet got wet and running as fast as they could as not to be enveloped by them.  I watched mothers trying desperately to guard their children against wading in too far and getting struck by a wave; and couldn’t help but smile as the fathers encouraged those same children to “get in there and dive in the wave because they certainly won't drown”. 

      I stood, enjoying the cool of the water as the waves weren’t rough and got caught up in the view.  It wasn’t until I saw a larger wave coming towards me that I recognized it would break exactly where I was standing.  I then realized my feet had not only been covered by sand, but were firmly planted; and the wave and I collided.  I quickly unearthed my feet, removed the sand with the next wave that wasn’t quite so up close and personal, and stood there for a moment wondering how I didn’t see it coming.  I was right there, I was aware of everyone around me; but I wasn’t aware of every thing around me. I had gotten used to the sound of the waves, I had gotten comfortable with the temperature of the water, and I was so wrapped up in what everyone was doing, I didn’t see the wall of water about to knock me over. 

      How often it is with life.  We get so caught up in the everyday happenings, the crazy schedules, the sports practices, the appointments.  We don’t realize some of those very things that we’ve gotten so used to, (I call it “controlled chaos”), may actually be gearing up to collide and we find ourselves standing there, wondering what just happened?    

      With that controlled chaos about to get a little more chaotic as school will be starting in a couple of weeks; I’ve decided I have to be more mindful and more intentional with how time is spent.  I need some more quiet time; and certainly more time for special moments, leisurely talks; and maybe, just maybe the wave won’t so easily catch me unaware - as there is sure to be another one, and it may not necessarily be at the beach.  

      “I don’t know what I want to do and I don’t know how to figure it out," he said with a sigh.

      After watching our waitress make some of the best guacamole we’ve ever had, my husband and two of our boys got into a discussion about careers.  Our last son is about to enter high school.  It’s hard to believe my “baby”, who is already taller than me, is four short years away from being an adult.  It’s harder to hear his confusion as to what path his life should take, especially when I’m just learning what my own “life purpose” is.  How much easier would it be if we could have our life experience before we have to decide what we want to do with our life?

      He expressed his thoughts, talked about what he likes and doesn’t like to do, and even realizes that what he enjoys doing is more of a hobby than something able to sustain him through life and possibly having a family.  He’s seen the struggle his parents have had and the limitations of not having college degrees and thankfully he understands the need to obtain one (not to mention that his parents have told him he absolutely NEEDS to get one.  – Sadly, it doesn’t matter what that degree is in, you need it to get your foot in the door almost anywhere nowadays).  He’s taken the personality tests and the class telling him his strengths and weaknesses and yet, he’s still at a loss.  We’ve joked that he should become a chiropractor or a mechanic, for selfish reasons of course, and we’ve shared in his frustration of being at a loss. 

      This isn’t a decision we can make for him.  Sure, we can guide him; but ultimately he has to choose or he won’t be fulfilled and happy and that’s all we want for him.  He's gotten the “You can choose any job but you absolutely must live “within the means” of that job lecture all the boys have heard – if you make $10.00 an hour then you have to be ok with having a $10/hr car and a $10/hr apartment/house because you’ll get in a lot of trouble and deal with a lot of stress if you’re making $10/hr and spending like you make $20.  We told him that if he’s a good person, if he’s helping others, if he’s living with God’s purpose for his life as the center, a $10/hr life is absolutely fine with us because ultimately, that’s all that will matter when this life is over and we pass on to the next….did we live our life having a positive effect on our world and those around us, did we show others God’s love by how we treated them, did we recognize it’s not about the paycheck it’s about the people?   

      We also told him to be realistic because things do cost money…a lot of money sometimes - but the money can’t be his motivation.  A full bank account and “stuff” won’t, in fact CAN’T, take the place of family and friends or the memories made with them. 

      So we left the restaurant believing we gave no real answer to his question.  We only told him that we suggest he do what we do in reference to his future…pray about it, a lot; because the sooner he figures out God’s purpose for his life, the sooner he’ll find peace with the decisions he makes and that's when I realized, that suggestion is the best answer we could have given. 

     Now, a fever?  Really?  Two days away from heading to “Adventure Camp” with our church youth group and my son wasn’t feeling well.  He, like his mother, has issues with dehydration and we’ve found it’s amazing what your body can do, (or should I say can’t do), when you don’t give it proper fluids.  Light headed and pale, I wondered if he would even be able to go.  I was certain the heat and his lack of taking me seriously when I say “Take a water bottle with you”, was probably the cause.  Strange thing though, when we discussed the possibility of him not being able to go, he almost seemed to feel a bit better.  I wasn’t sure if I should send him.  To make a long story short, he was a bit anxious about the caving and more anxious about white water rafting.  After discussing his physical symptoms, some encouraging words from the best Youth Group Leaders ever; and Tom & I assuring him that he was probably in better hands with them (An ER Doctor and an RN), we decided he would go.  With bags packed, hugs given and a reminder that his Momma would be “Praying like crazy” (especially when they were going rafting), he was off on his West Virginia adventure.

     It was nice to get the updates from the leaders via text message.  The quick evening phone calls telling us what fun they had were good to hear, but the real benefit from the trip was revealed when he got home.   

     After hearing about the high ropes course, the cave having a passageway only big enough to do an Army Crawl though, and the stories of one of the rafts flipping over, I asked him what his “take away” was.  He told us he’d learned that everyone struggles with something and we have to be careful not to think that someone else’s struggle is silly or foolish just because it’s not a struggle for us.  We need to learn to help each other through and not think we are better than them.  We’re not better, we just aren’t dealing with that issue – we have our own.   - All I could do was agree.

     He then said, “Mom, while we were rafting, three dragonflies came and landed on me – right ON me!”  (** side note:  I love dragonflies.  In fact, my logo is a dragonfly and someday I may just have to explain why in a post.)   I smiled and then he said, “I knew you must have been praying really hard right at that moment and God gave me a reminder with the dragonflies.  I just knew it had to be you praying and said “Yup, my Mom’s praying right now!”  He continued to tell me how he felt better and ended up being the only one in his boat who didn’t fall out at one time or another.  It took everything in me not to tear up.   

     Once again, we both learned some life lessons because of a trip he went on.  I learned its ok to encourage my children to do things they are fearful of in hopes that they recognize not to allow fear to paralyze them, keeping them from living life to its fullest; I learned my children are much more observant than I ever thought as I’ve never really talked to him about what a dragonfly represents for me; and I was reminded that God has an amazing way of giving us what we need, when we need it, to help us through. 

     God meets us right where we are – whether it’s in a dark cave, the white water rapids of West Virginia, a difficult job situation or a struggling relationship – He’s there, just waiting for us to see Him and rely on His strength to get us through.

     The silver bowl was beautifully polished, filled with ice, and various beverages were placed inside.  The hustle of the wait staff preparing the table caught my attention as they placed plates draped with linen onto a table.  Silver card holders were used to identify the assortment of food items and the individual jars of honey for hot tea were just darling.  The lunch buffet was quite pleasing to the eye.

     The hotel where I’m staying for work isn’t typical for me as this is “Luxury” and I’m used to more of the Holiday Inn kind.  My room is incredibly spacious and has a lovely chandelier hanging in the center.  The television screen is personalized with my name welcoming me and the assortment of fruit and chocolate was a nice touch.  Everything about this hotel is accommodating.  Really accommodating  –  ask for anything and you will have it in less than ten minutes.

     I spent the day in a room that had the most beautiful crown molding and ceiling engravings, candelabras lined the walls - the entire length of the room, and the antique door handles were beautiful.  The vintage wood floors have been finished with a high gloss but you can still see nicks and scratches which give it remarkable character; if these floors could talk, how interesting the conversation would be!  The hallway floors are exquisite marble, some of the furniture is clearly still original from the early 1900’s, and the time spent creating it is evident in the intricate wood carvings.  I could spend an entire day browsing the various areas, taking in the extraordinary architecture and don’t even get me started on the library! 

     At the conclusion of the meetings, and after dinner when our day is through, I go to my room where a butler has turned down my sheets, placed slippers next to my bed and given me a reminder of calling if I need anything.  It is luxury at its best and yet it’s silent and I’m sitting alone on a bed that has sheets which most likely have a higher thread count than all the sheets I own put together!  It is beautiful, it is more extravagant than any place I’ve ever stayed, and yet I find myself hoping the next twenty-hour hours go quickly.  I’m certainly thankful for the experience as I would never have the opportunity to stay in such a place on my own.  I am however reminded – all these little touches that create a luxurious atmosphere, all the attention from the staff willing to cater to my every need, just don’t compare to the genuine smiles of those I love greeting me after a long day of work, the amenities don’t provide comfort like the warm embrace of a family member, nor do the sheets cradle like the arms of my husband and suddenly, the chandelier doesn't shine quite as brightly.

There really is "no place like home."

     The concentration on her face was evident as she pondered her next move, she squinted at the squares that had been roughly drawn in yellow chalk, and she carefully maneuvered the course after passing the rock she had thrown.  Her “beat that” glance at her opponent, who was also about 6 or 7 years old, and the triumphant hand on her hip showed she was proud of her turn at the Hopscotch board.  I couldn’t continue watching because the traffic light beckoned me forward, but I can tell you this – I played a mean game of Hopscotch back in the day; and for the record, it wasn’t just squares stacked neatly on top of one another as you typically see today.  Our set up was one that included triangles, a rectangle and a half circle – I know you’re impressed.  I was also lucky enough to have something other than a rock as my place marker. (at least I thought it was lucky).  We lived close to a Cobbler (Shoe repair shop) and the owner gave us rubber heels to play with – they were the old ones he replaced with new on the shoes he repaired, and they worked perfectly for the game.  After practicing with the heel, I learned how to throw it to make it land the way I needed it to, being careful not to throw too hard or have it land too much to the side causing it to bounce - that certainly wasn’t good.  The object of the game is to have your marker land in the shape (going in numeric order) and then hop through all the other shapes to the end and back.  If you touched a line while hopping, hopped out of a shape or lost your balance and fell, you were out; your marker stayed where it was and your turn was over.  First one getting their marker through all the shapes, won. 

     For the life of me, I can't remember the name of the Cobbler but I remember the heel, and the joy I had tossing it like it was yesterday.  I can tell you over the years, every time I see a Hopscotch board, I've always wanted to hop through it.  Maybe to see if I could still do it or maybe to remind me of those summer days of playing outside with no worries; but I never have - maybe because as adults we are far too serious - far too often. 

     So, I've decided the next time I see a Hopscotch board, I'm jumping through those shapes.  I've also got some rubber heels on my "watch list" on eBay.  Thinking that this may just be a tradition I start with my grandkids some day.  I'm already thinking how to personalize them so they're ready when the time comes.  I'm also thinking the next picnic I help plan may just have a friendly game of Hopscotch on the list of things to do and you better believe I'm gonna ask to go first! 

          We’d been driving for almost five hours when we finally got off the highway and began the last leg of the trip on country roads.  I’m always amazed at the beauty of the landscape in upstate New York.  This time of year it’s full, green and absolutely gorgeous.  I’m equally amazed at the variety of housing.  You see quaint little houses, large working farms, beautiful multifamily homes, double wide mobile homes and single wide trailers that have a variety of makeshift additions, some of which include blue tarp roofs and just about any type of rusty car part or farm equipment you can imagine on the front lawn.  The roads are well maintained and the hills leading to my sister’s home are the biggest I’ve ever driven.  When we got to the top and pulled in her driveway, we were greeted by their sweet, ten year old dachshund named Cassie, who instantly wanted to be petted and of course, I obliged.  After the initial hugs and “How was your trip” questions, we unloaded our luggage and had the next week to enjoy; how thankful I am for my sister's invite to unplug and visit.  I learned quite a bit too, some of which includes:

          Nothing beats the animal chatter at 7am, on a deck overlooking a pond, surrounded by cattails.  I was fascinated with the many different birds, toads, bull frogs, turtles and even the two deer who visited.  It was nature at its best.  I really wanted to see a bear, but that didn’t happen – next time maybe.  Most enjoyable was the absence of cars, trucks, construction, lawn mowers, and every other thing that invades the tranquility of nature – it was relaxing to say the least.

          Hay or Straw?  This may be an easy question for some of you to answer but quite honestly – I thought Hay was in rectangular bales and you sit on it on fall festival rides, and straw was – well, I kind of thought it was the same thing – just called something different (like groundhog and woodchuck – really, it’s the same animal).  While spending some girl time with my sister, her daughter-in-law and some friends, this topic came up.  I was thrilled to learn that I was not the only one who believed hay was a crop Farmers planted and thought that if it was in rectangular bales – it was used for bedding, and if it was in round bales - it was eaten by animals.  This was highly entertaining to some of the ladies who had several questions about why we thought what we thought.  We were asked where we get our straw when we need it:  My answer of “The only time I need straw is for my porch in October and there’s always a farm that sells it,” was overshadowed by the best answer of the day….”I buy my straws at the grocery store and drink out of them.”  Oh Gail, we are connected on a deeper level for sure!  ;)

**WARNING**

          If you don’t have boys, live on a farm, or don’t live in the snow belt of New York – you may want to skip the next paragraph.

          There are several names for animal poop; cow pies – round flat cow waste;  cow chips – hard, dried cow waste; mouse scat; horse manure or road apples – just to name a few.  In frigid temperatures the manure still has to be scooped up and then put on the compost pile when weather permits.  The quote of the day was awarded to Sandy who exclaimed, “Oh, there’s nothing more fun than nailing someone with a frozen, horse poop ball.”  Yes, you read that correctly.  I asked her to repeat herself and just about died laughing.  She also received an honorable mention with informing us that she attended someone’s “showing”.  It took a few minutes for me to realize she meant “viewing.”  Oh how I love these girls!

*****

          The two-hour, 4th of July parade at Chautauqua Lake was entertaining in itself, but the best was when several little boys on a float spotted our niece, their fourth grade teacher.  Their screams of "Mrs.  Claypoole!  Mrs. Claypoole!" caused all around to not only laugh, but wonder who the celebrity was in our midst; and their attempt to shower her with candy (which landed about 20 feet away) was fun to watch.

          The laughs over the sentence, “No, THIS week is Shark Week”, won’t soon be forgotten,  the hours of watching my nephew interact with his 4 ½ month old son; and being able to hold that sweet little boy are memories that will make me smile many times over I’m sure.        

          It really is about the moments.  The everyday, silly, friend filled, tongue twisted, beautiful serene moments that make our lives worth living.  Take the time to cherish the moments; but more importantly, make sure you are IN the moment – Facebook posts and Instagram pictures can wait – our friends and family shouldn’t have to.

He peddled his bike and quickly looked around before he went into the neighbor’s garage.  He didn’t have permission, but he just had to go in.  I watched as his bike fell down, I watched as he ran up to a dog who’s tail was wagging in anticipation, and I watched as he gave that dog the biggest hug; and that was it.  His sole purpose of going into the unknown garage was to hug the dog.  The video went viral and I learned that he had lost his own dog some time before; he missed his dog terribly and wanted another but hadn’t yet gotten one.  He said the dog looked lonely and he just wanted to love on her.  He risked being reprimanded by the owners to do this, and his Mother said she wasn't happy that he went into a strangers garage but her heart melted when she saw why.  Thankfully the owner, having learned his identity, allows the boy to come over anytime he wants to play with Duchess, the black lab.

I can totally sympathize with the boy.  I know the pain of losing a beloved pet, as it’s been almost a year since we had to put our sweet Milly down; she was a little, off white Cockapoo and I miss her every single day.  It’s my hope we get another; just waiting for the right time….and the right dog.  Trust me - I’ve got my eyes open - I'll know when it's “the one.”  Tom’s eyes have gone from closed to peeking out of one eye when I talk about it – baby steps.  I’m leaning towards a Cavoodle (a mix between a King Charles Spaniel and a Mini Poodle).   If and when it happens, it’ll be a blog post, I’m sure.

I can’t help but wonder how different our world would be if we, like that little boy, would periodically reach out and give a hug because we thought it was needed.  For you non-huggers out there, a handshake, a fist-bump, a high-five, or any other positive gesture you can share with others to let them know they’re not alone.  Sadly, we’ve become a very connected, disconnected society.

What if we all, even if it was just once a day, made eye contact, smiled or started a conversation with a stranger?  Maybe, just maybe, we would begin the process of truly reconnecting – I’m trying, will you?

     While browsing antique shops with my husband, I was inadvertently following a little girl and her mother; she must have been about 7.  Her straggly, long brown hair reminded me of my own at that age.  At her mother’s request she was careful not to touch anything, and quite honestly, she didn’t look interested in anything enough to try; and everyone knew this was the last place she wanted to be.

     Her mom came upon something and exclaimed, “Oh!  I had this when I was little!” 

     Her daughter glanced over, wrinkled her nose and replied with a sarcastic, “Really?”

     A few shelves later her mother once again said, “Oh, this too” and then squealed, “Oh my!  Look - this doll was my favorite!” Her expression was that almost of a little girl as she picked it up, holding it for her daughter to see. 

     Without skipping a beat the little girl looked and very seriously asked, “Mom, did they only have old, dirty toys when you were little?”

     I couldn’t help but laugh as her mother shook her head and said, “Honey, they were new back then!” 

     I decided to head down another aisle and didn’t hear the response. It did however make me wonder... how many times have I experienced this?

     Perspective is a funny thing, it allows two people to see the exact same object or be involved in the same set of circumstances and yet, each have their own point of view and thus see things differently. 

     The mother at the antique shop looked at the items and saw treasured childhood memories; while her daughter just saw dirty old toys.  I certainly hope she was able to explain to her daughter the joy she had playing with those toys when they were new; and equally hope that her daughter was able to see past the dirt and share in her mom’s nostalgic moments.  It's all about being willing to see the other's view. 

     I pray, that every single time I’m not seeing eye to eye,  I'm able to recognize it doesn't mean we will never see things from the same angle, we just aren't at that moment.  I also pray I'm willing to change my perspective when needed to always choose joy, no matter what the circumstance.      

“I’m gonna die Mom.”

I can’t imagine being the mother of the young man who texted this sentence in the wee hours of the morning, from the club in Orlando being attacked; the helplessness she must have felt, how her heart must have been breaking.  I can’t imagine how he felt as he texted, nor can I begin to understand the depth of fear and dread he, along with every person there, must have suffered.  I don’t know specifics nor do I personally know anyone who was at the club.  What I do know is this…

It has to stop.  “It” being the hate, the violence, the “I’m better than you” attitudes, the “I don’t agree with you - so I’m your enemy”; the “God hates ______ people” (fill in the blank with every single word that you’ve heard over the years defining “groups” of people); and every other thing we are saying and doing to tear each other apart. 

God didn’t do this.  An evil, hate filled man did this.  This was an Islamic extremist and he (had he lived), along with every other person who makes the choice to perform such horrific acts, should be punished to the fullest extent of the law.  We can recognize - this time it was a club in the United States – this year alone it’s been France, Kazakhstan, Iraq, Bangladesh, Yemen, Belgium, Turkey, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Egypt, Libya and who knows how many more?  There’s no rhyme or reason and no-one is immune.  When and who they choose as their target of hate can’t be predicted because that’s what hate is….ugly, violent, unpredictable and destructive. 

I can’t help but wonder if each of us allowed God to be a part of our everyday, if we pray to Him before the attacks, before we begin our days, before the meetings where decisions are made in government, before we choose to spread the hatred of our differences, before we remove every trace of Him in our communities, before we allow our children to play hate promoting video games, before we complain about how horrible our lives are…..maybe then our government would be making wiser choices as to what to do to these extremists; maybe our communities would become stronger; maybe we would know who are neighbors are and want to reach out and help; maybe our children would begin playing outside again; maybe – just maybe, we could once again be truly “One Nation Under God” and our lives would be better; because how we’re doing it now – clearly isn’t working. 

I saw a picture of you today.  The freshly pressed uniform, the smile of achievement.  Having now graduated the Academy, you’re one step closer to your dream of becoming a police officer.  Quite the accomplishment having a family, working full time and attending classes.  You should be very proud. 

I’m amazed at how life continues to move forward and yet our lives, once so beautifully intertwined, remain so vastly independent; and I’m equally perplexed at the inability to know how to remedy the situation.  I used to wonder how family members could go years without speaking, and yet here I am going on four.

What if I told you once again, there isn’t a day that goes by you don’t come to mind and that if you’d just tell me how to fix this, I would?  I guess that’s the part I can’t wrap my head around, I’ve said those things many times and still, nothing.  You have my love,  something you’ve had from the moment I knew you existed; from the nine months of carrying you close to my heart - all the way through these almost 29 years.  You also have my devotion, as no matter how many years pass, my heart and arms will remain open waiting for the moment you realize you want to return. 

I used to say “I’d give anything to have you be a part of my life again,” but I realize it isn’t what I’m willing to give, it’s what you’re willing to receive; and I haven’t quite figured out what that is.  Do you even know?  If it were just you and I without outside influences could you tell me, or are you too at a loss? If that’s the case – let’s be at a loss together and find our way through.

Most days I know where to put the raw emotion of it all and no one would know.  Today however, is not one of those days.  So today I’m allowing myself to be sad, but recognize tomorrow I will, once again, find a place for it. 

I’ve never wished my children anything but peace and yet, it’s my prayer that the place you’ve found to tuck away the emotion, doesn’t ever become comfortable.  I pray it tugs at your heart and causes it to beat wildly now and then so maybe one day you realize, that heartbeat of yours - once beat in unison with mine - and they belong together.

     I used to think there was nothing worse than writer’s block.  You know, when you either have a deadline or are trying to come up with something new and your mind is blank.  I’ve decided there is something worse.  That something is when you have so many things you could write, but because you know yourself well, you recognize you are too emotional to write about them with any real clarity. 

     The question I pondered at the close of last week’s post, “If all my stuff was gone would I, (without my stuff), be enough?” seemed to be a lingering theme.  I must take a moment and thank those who called, commented, or emailed kind words telling me that “Yes, I was certainly enough” and the “Sometimes you’re a bit too much,” (said in love of course) made me laugh, and all warmed my heart.  This was a lingering theme because I found myself in conversations and I questioned a few things about myself; after re-evaluating I realized, I am absolutely enough.

     I’ve come to the conclusion that all I can do is be the person God wants me to be.  Not try and be someone else, not try to convince people I’m not who they define me as; but be, who I know in my heart I am.  The definition others have created won’t matter, it will be me and how I’ve acted and reacted, how I've loved and served others that will define my life; and I pray I live in such a way, that in the end I'll hear the words “Well done.”

     I couldn’t believe how closely a PT Cruiser was following a minivan on my commute to work, it was almost on the bumper!  Not until I got closer did I realize the Cruiser was being towed by the van.  Both vehicles were jam packed with boxes, bags, clothing and who knows what else.  I didn’t think anything of it until, as I continued on, I passed not just one but five cars being towed by old, beat up minivans.  Each car and van was filled to the top with stuff.  Strange, was that each van had a driver and no passengers; and the driver was wearing a white earpiece making it appear that the drivers were wired to talk to one another.  Stranger still was fact that the vehicles all had white papers with black sharpie lettering taped to the back of them (like temporary tags) instead of actual registered license plates.  It was odd. 

     Of course I found myself wondering where they were going and why were there only men and no women or children, and why the earpiece?  Ok, maybe I can totally understand the earpieces’ having been a part of a few road trips, that because it was back in the day of no cell phones or GPS’ - if the driver of car 1 had to tell the driver of car 2 something, they were forced to speed up and come directly beside driver of car 2.  Making sure that they maintained proper distance between vehicles, exact speed as car 2 and get past the smiles, laughs and “hey isn’t this great thumbs up” until driver of car 1 realizes you want to tell them something and aren’t just saying “hi”.  Then the game of car charades begins until you’re sure whatever it was you were trying to say was understood or if you weren’t able to get your point across; you had to speed past, pull in front of them and put your turn signal on to let them know they’d better follow because you have something really important to tell them.  It’s amazing how technology has eliminated so many “issues” and yet recalling some of those issues brings a smile because they were so ridiculous.

     Sorry - back to the packed vehicles. 

     Wondering what may be happening, I came up with a few scenarios.  Some of which are so ridiculous I won’t even share; but all scenarios began with, “They packed everything important to them and started to drive.”  It was then that I asked myself, “If I had to grab my most treasured things, what would they be?”  Of course, “My people,” – my family would be the only things I really need; but giving this question real thought, I realized the little value any “thing” really has.

     I enjoy my stuff; and I will be the first to admit I have far too much.  Too many bowls in my kitchen cabinets and yet I gravitate to them in stores.  I read a lot, so I have shelves of books and I won’t tell you how many pairs of shoes I own – I do however have to point out that I’ve been a size 8 ½ - 9 since high school and I’m going to be 50 in a couple of years- so that’s a lot of time to accumulate – just sayin’. 

     I probably put too much time into thinking about it as, except for the necessities like clothing and my eyeglasses so I can see, there wasn’t much I would say I really need.  I love pictures and have many of them.  I would be heartbroken if somehow they were gone; but I have the memories, so even those aren’t needed. 

     It’s a strange feeling realizing that typically “things” are the way the world judges our worth, things can be the reason for too much stress, and those same things can be taken in an instant by some tragedy; and if that’s the case, it could really be that the only thing left is Me; and this thought caused me to wonder….if all my things were gone, all the things that “define” me, am I enough?

   Every day I walk the 897 steps from my car, through the parking lot, and into the building to my desk.  I know it is 897 steps because one day I got to my desk and realized I still had my prescription sunglasses on and had to walk back to the van to get my regular glasses.  I figured since I was making two trips I should see how far it actually was.  It’s almost the equivalent of a half a mile.  I should really be happy I was able to walk about one and a half miles that morning but trust me, I was not. 

   This walk is interesting.  I am always amazed at the lengths people will go not to make eye contact with another human being.  I’m one of those annoying people that the moment my eyes open in the morning I can, and will if you allow it, have a full conversation - much to the dismay of some of my family members.   However, understanding that not everyone appreciates this, I’ve learned to approach with caution, at least until they’ve had their coffee.  I can’t help it. 

   So on my way into the office when I see people, I want to say “Good Morning” with a smile.  Harmless and non-threatening I can assure you however, a lot of people don’t like this; and I mean A LOT.

   I had the same schedule as a man who works in my building, as we typically ended up on the sidewalk at the same time each morning.  I mean, we were almost walking side by side on a daily basis and yet, every time I looked over in his direction, he was intently looking forward.  Not once did he even glance my way, so I really never felt like I should address him and this went on for weeks.  I would look over and realized his pace would quicken just a bit and I of course, felt the need to keep up.

   Finally one day while driving into work, I decided I was just going to do it, this was the day I was going to say hello.  It’s almost ridiculous and I still have to laugh (while shaking my head, of course) that I put so much thought into a simple “Good Morning”.  As I drove, I came up with a plan.  I decided walking five steps first would be good.  Why five?  Well, I certainly didn’t want to overwhelm him the moment we were side by side, but not wanting to wait too long that it would be odd, five seemed logical.  So there it was, the game plan.  I got out of my car with just a little extra pep and as anticipated, he was on the sidewalk at the same time as I.  Beginning to count and reaching five, I put on my best smile, looked, and leaned just a bit forward in and said a cheerful, “Good Morning”. 

   That’s when it happened, it was almost in slow motion….he stopped dead in his tracks, which caused me to do the same.  His eyes began to widen, his entire body tensed and he glanced my way looking at me in utter disbelief.  Seriously, I’m sure the hairs on his neck were standing up!  Then my eyes widened and instantly I was questioning if I had said something else?  Had I somehow gone against a rule I didn’t know existed?  Had my intended words come out as something foreign?  He gained his composure and like a dart being propelled out of one of the boys’ nerf guns – he was gone.  I just stood there watching as his feet moved so quickly he almost tripped.  Regaining my own composure, the next 892 steps I questioned what I had done and that’s when I realized – just because I’m a morning person and am not only willing, but comfortable making small talk with people, doesn’t mean everyone is; and just because I don’t like when people “ignore” me when they pass by, doesn’t mean others feel the same.  I have to be aware that maybe they are in thought about something bothering them, maybe they don’t like talking to strangers or maybe I just need to remember that we are different and one is not “more right” than the other.  I’ve also learned that no matter what my interaction with others I choose how I allow their reaction to effect me.   

   I still say “Good Morning” every chance I get, but I no longer wonder what’s "wrong” with the person who doesn’t make eye contact.  I will confess however, I still do everything I can to make them want to. 

     Nothing makes me laugh more than when our boys get together.  Seriously, you never know what to expect. I’ve spent countless moments laughing so hard I’m brought to tears.  A few days ago, I found myself once again curled up on the sofa flipping through a two inch thick, six inch square book that I was given as a gift several years ago.  This book is one of the most cherished gifts I’ve ever received.  It’s special because the giver is not only a wonderful woman who is dear to me, but special because she spent many hours creating it.  It’s made of various colors and designs of paper – including some envelopes so you’re able to tuck little treasures inside.  She also took the time to bind it by hand using thin cord and a really cool stitch; and extra special is the fact that I know it was bound with love. 

     It sits on the coffee table and I’ve chosen to use it to record the various quotes, stories and happenings of our family through the years.  Things that are said and done in the everyday of life but things that I just didn’t want to forget; some of which include:

• The time while sitting at a restaurant when Tom was on middle shift (which I absolutely HATED by the way)...Zachary & Noah were seated across from me in the booth, and Ben was by my side.  Ben was about nine years old.  Zach announced he slept in his underwear the night before, Noah said, “Yea, I slept naked”, and Ben proudly exclaimed, “Well, I slept naked - with my socks on!”  There was an elderly couple across the aisle from us who burst out laughing!   I just sat there, shaking my head, rolling my eyes and smiling.  I finally looked over and said, “I don’t know how they are able to make this stuff up so quickly!”  The woman smiled and said, “Just enjoy every minute” as the husband said, “We are.” 

• The time while cleaning the bedrooms I found a tin, crayon box filled to the top with chewed bubble gum pieces…I never did find out whether it belonged to Jake or Zach….something I’m sure I’ll never know.

•  While visiting my brother Art and his wife, Ben was complaining constantly about the fact that there was “nothing fun to do.”  Uncle Art told him to get the scissors from the desk.  Ben got them and when he tried handing them to Art - was instead handed a newspaper and told to cut out all of the “R”s…..Ben was not amused.

• (2009) Ben came running in the house from outside….“Mom, did you see that?”  “What?” I asked.  “On my way in, I kicked a bee!  I can’t go back outside!”  I asked him why.  “Because he’ll sting me!” he said.   I said, “Ben he won’t sting you – he won’t know it was you that kicked him.”  His response of “Yes MOM (insert eye roll here) he will….he looked right at my shoes!” kept me laughing for days.

• Tom:  “My back hurts”     Zach:  “What did you do?”     Tom:  “Sometimes I just move wrong.”      Noah:  “Sometimes I move like Shakira.”

     I could write pages and pages of moments like this.  Simple, ordinary moments and yet it’s those moments that have made the life I have with these boys, extraordinary.

     Mother’s Day is being celebrated in a few days and I’d thought I’d mix things up a bit – I’m going to celebrate the fact that I’m a Mom and I’m going to finally share the answer to a question that has been asked and debated for years in our home.  I’m going to tell you who my favorite child is.

     After much thought, thinking about each birth experience, reliving the hospital visits for broken bones, surgeries for hernias and ear tubes, physical therapy for ankle injuries, recalling the various things they’ve done to help around the house, the soccer tournaments in the pouring rain, the basketball games, the baseball games, the cross country meets.  I’ve finally come to a decision. 

     (Boys, I really hope you picked this week to read your Momma’s blog).

Here it is – in black and white and I’m actually giving you permission to tell your brothers, as many times as you like….

Jacob is my favorite because he was my first, he made me a Mom- something I always wanted to be and there is nothing I would rather be.

Zachary is my favorite because he has a beautiful way of knowing when someone is hurting and doing whatever he can to help.  He will listen for hours, is always ready to give a hug if needed and will go out of his way to help a friend.  He tells me to “be safe” when driving and reminds me often that he loves me.  He writes these great little morning notes to all of us periodically  – just reminding us that he loves us or to have a good day.  He’s kind and compassionate and is a tremendously talented photographer.  He’s a son a Mom can be proud of. 

Noah is my favorite because, although for many years he was quiet and reserved, he has always been my observer – silently, mentally recording everything and taking action when needed but never being overbearing; he more recently has come out of that shell and is funnier than I can even describe.  He is driven, he sets goals and does what he needs to do to meet those goals and he reminds his Momma often that he loves her.  He’s almost as patriotic as my Dad was, and has chosen a career path that makes his family proud.  #goarmy

Benjamin is my favorite, because he’s my baby – and no matter how old he gets, he will always hold that title.  He has a gentle spirit and is very compassionate.  He loves music and I enjoy every moment listening to him sing at the top of his lungs.  He is loyal to his friends, respectful and kind.  He’s following in both his brothers’ footsteps by being able to throw out “one-liners” that totally crack me up.  He’s a wonderful young man and can’t wait to see where life takes him – it’s sure to be an adventure.  

     So there you have it guys...It’s now public knowledge who the favorite is – I hope you (each) wear the title proudly as you have, and continue, to make me so thankful that God chose me to be your Mom.

Happy “You’re my favorite” Day boys, and know that your Momma will always be your biggest fan!

     The driver of the white box truck two cars ahead of me was clearly unhappy having to follow a little gray sedan that seemed to put their brakes on every twenty seconds.  He was not only impatient, but had begun to get very close to the car and then, leaving off the brake long enough to have enough room to speed up again, would get very close to the sedan’s bumper.  I can imagine the sedan was not very happy either as they turned off the road the first chance they had, and the two cars ahead of me pulled into a parking lot, so I was now directly behind the truck. 

     He was either late for his delivery or just having a bad day but one thing was certain – he was flying down the winding country road.  I watched as he approached a single-horse Amish buggy on his right.  My eyes widened when I realized he was passing the buggy going about 15 miles over the speed limit!  I instantly put my foot on the brake as I saw the buggy driver begin to stand as the horse bucked wildly trying to stand on its hind legs.  The truck had scared the poor thing to the point of being out of control.  I was amazed at how quickly the Amish man was able to get the situation under control and couldn’t help but smile as he pulled off the road to make sure the horse was ok.  What I wanted to do was floor it, catch up to the truck driver and give him a piece of my mind but instead carefully drove past the horse and buggy and continued on my way. 

     I couldn’t help but think of how scared that horse must have been.  I’m sorry, but I don’t look at them and think “work horse” or “it’s just a horse”.  I see a beautiful animal who typically has blinders on, is forced to share a once quiet country road with automobiles whose drivers only see them as a nuisance that slow up their commute,  and an animal that is totally at the mercy of its handler and those they share the road with. 

    Can you imagine, being blind to everything on each side and only able to see what’s directly in front of you?  That’s when it hit me.  I’ve been on a road that seemed peaceful and calm but it only appeared that way because I had blinders on.  I wasn’t really aware of what was going on around me, I was only looking forward, focused only on what was in front of me.  I never imagined that out of nowhere I would be almost thrown off course because of something I didn’t even realize had been on the road all along.  It wasn’t that no one saw it, it was that I didn’t see it. 

     How easy it is to be in the midst of a situation, feeling like there’s no way out or not even realizing you’re in a heap of trouble to begin with - until the blinders come off or something or someone has simply made you aware it exists?  How much better it would be if we could be aware of what is all around us, making sure it is good for us and If it isn’t, taking the necessary steps to get out of the way?  Maybe we need to be aware that we shouldn’t even be on that road in the first place and take a detour. 

     I think that’s one of the things I love about driving – I get to choose what road I take and once on that road, I choose how I handle the bumps, the traffic, and the other drivers.  Wisdom really does come with age as I’ve learned there are times that before I even get into the car I look around and think, is today a day I should even be driving in the first place?

     I watched as her little arms reached as far as they possibly could, almost begging him to pick her up, and then smiled as my husband bent down and swept her up in his arms.  We had nursery duty at church Sunday morning and as usual, the little girls had Mr. Tom wrapped around their little finger.  I was cuddling a sweet baby girl on the rocking chair who was missing her Momma something fierce, so it was easy to observe all that was going on.  Our youngest son was helping out having a great time holding a little boy who shares his name and is able to speak volumes without saying a word with those gorgeous eyes of his.  There’s another little boy who has the most luxurious eyelashes; they’re full, long and perfectly curved upward - almost touching his eyelids - he's a cutie and his entire face lights up when he smiles.  Two little girls were vying for Mr. Tom’s attention and there were many moments he had both of them on his lap.  If one got him to read a book to her, the other made sure she was sitting right next to him; and if the other had his full attention, he was made aware that his attention belonged elsewhere.  It was comical seeing how they, almost without saying a word, were able to control him for an entire hour by playing with toys and reading books.

     Later that day we attended a birthday party for a little boy who shares, and maybe even exceeds, my love of chocolate.  I’ve watched, on several occasions, as he carefully slips into his mother’s arms, looks her straight in the eye as his little hand caresses her cheek and says, “Momma, can I just have one piece of candy – just one?”  This is said in the absolute sweetest voice you’ve ever heard, and then after getting a piece  is back ten minutes later saying the exact same thing.  It’s a wonder he’s not a 70 lb. three year old as, not only is he sweet, but he’s about as cute as they come!   This birthday party had it all, a beautiful day, a huge yard, tons of food, games, and to the delight of the kids (and some adults), a craft project making marshmallow shooters.  I once again observed my husband spending quite a bit of time helping the little ones make their shooter and then laughing with them as the marshmallows went flying in the air. 

     He then, as he typically does, began cleaning up when the marshmallows were gone and the kids left the table.  He almost can’t help himself thinking that it would be horrible if those marshmallows ended up on the bottom of someone’s shoes making their way into the house only to be stuck to the floor.  He’s gotten much better as he’s gotten older.  There was a time he was a bit, I’ll use the word “passionate,” about dirt being tracked into our house.  Although he’s still aware, he certainly realizes dirt can be cleaned and there’s something special about allowing children to be children and recognizing that children can get dirty – sometimes REALLY dirty.  Why is it that we are often in mid-life before we see that we’ve stressed out over things that in the “big picture” don’t make any difference?   Thankfully, we’ve both learned several lessons since our kids were young; and I’m sure we’ll hear it from our boys when their children are able to do many things they were reprimanded for.

     My husband isn't perfect, but then again, neither am I.  What I've learned, is that we're perfect for each other.  We left the party and I couldn’t help but smile as we walked hand in hand up the driveway to our car.  This lazy afternoon of friends and socializing was just what I needed – a reminder to sit back, enjoy beautiful days, recognize that it's ok to get dirty doing something crazy once in a while, and remember that fun isn’t something only children should be having.   

     I had to stop for milk on my way home and of course, it’s located in the most distant corner of the store.  I walked past the jewelry, the greeting cards, and as I got to the clothing, I caught a glimpse of a little girl holding a princess nightgown and pleading with her Mom to buy it.  I smiled as she saw the longing in her daughter’s eyes so she put it in the shopping cart.  The girl jumped up and down, hardly able to contain her joy.  It was sweet.

     As I continued past the pet items, I recalled a shopping trip with my own mother.  I was probably eight or nine years old and we were school shopping.  Not having a lot of money meant that only a couple of items would be purchased for each of the five children in our family, so I wanted to be sure of what I picked.  I remember her pointing out a few things and wrinkling up my nose, not actually telling her I didn’t like them, but making it clear they were not good choices.  That’s when I saw it!  A light blue skirt with tiny flowers and a ruffle on the bottom.  I rushed over, grabbed it off the rack, held it to me, and instantly spun around in a circle.  I knew this would most definitely, be one of the things that would be coming home with me.  I was thrilled when she said yes, and remember being able to get the matching top too!  I wore it on picture day that year and quite honestly, any time I was allowed to.  I also know, had I not been told I couldn’t, I probably would have worn it every day.  It made happy, I felt pretty in that skirt and it was fun!  When I decided I just couldn’t contain myself I would twirl around in circles, it flowed freely and flared out into a perfect circle; it made me feel free.

     My boys have had similar experiences, not with a blue flowered skirt of course, but I can’t help but recall a certain pair of cowboy boots that would have been worn 24/7 had we allowed it.  That boy still has a way of making me smile when he puts his hands on his hips, sticks out his chest and smiles that, “You know you love me” smile.  Oh how I hope they all continue to allow themselves those few, proud, “I really am something special” moments….because they are.

     It makes me wonder, what makes some of us stop twirling?  Are we afraid of what others may think?  Do we believe the lie that as we age, we no longer are beautiful? Or is it that we’ve allowed our life experiences to take away our joy?  Having recently explored my life experiences, I’ve decided I want to have that feeling of a freely flowing skirt that flares out into a perfect circle.     

     I still wrinkle up my nose when I don’t like something; and am also known for buying dresses that twirl.  I can assure you, I’ll be twirling ‘till my body no longer allows it, because nothing quite compares to a really cute dress with a fabulous pair of shoes, twirling around in a circle.

     Twirl on my friends, twirl on.

     I spent almost 7 days laying on our loveseat or in bed as the girl who, “never gets the flu so she doesn’t bother getting the shot”, was diagnosed with the flu.  The first four days I basically slept and by day five I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever feel better.  Once I was able, I decided I would catch up on social media as lack of energy and my cough didn’t allow me to do much of anything else.   Although prior to checking it out I didn’t feel out of the loop, it only took a few minutes to realize I had missed quite a bit! 

     My spirits lifted as I saw the sweet pictures of our great-nephew and couldn’t believe how much he changed in just one week’s time and enjoyed seeing how evident it was that his Mom and Dad are already deeply in love with him; and I laughed as I saw some of my friend’s outings and was happy knowing I’m not the only person who doesn’t necessarily feel or “act” their age.

     I couldn’t wait to see the Eagles nest as I was certain the eggs would have hatched by that time.  As I scrolled down the page I saw a picture of an eaglet next to the second egg and smiled – how cute and fuzzy it was!  It only took another moment for me to see an update that not only did this little one not survive, but the second egg didn’t appear to be viable and most likely would not hatch; and it took just one moment more for me to burst into tears.  Whether my illness played a role in my outpouring of emotion or I just want to say that was the case so that you don’t think I’m ridiculous I’m not sure, but the fact is, it made me sad.  After regaining my composure I began reading to see what happened but unfortunately, there was no explanation to be found. 

     I just sat there and my mind began recalling the various events that have had an emotional effect on me but never actually were resolved or explained.  Like many people, I like things resolved.  I like knowing the “why” of everything and I like balance.  I’m the girl who while hanging things on a wall needs two things on the right of the main focal point if there are two things on the left.  I’ll ask you ten times “what’s wrong?” until you finally tell me and then almost force you to figure out how to make it right; and I have to eat two or four cookies because one isn’t enough and three – well, that’s just wrong.

     Yet, it’s been in the times when life doesn’t give me the “why” and it’s been in the unknown that I’ve found my deepest strength.  I’ve learned when I have to rely on faith to get me through, that’s when I’ve grown the most as a person. 

     I actually contemplated removing myself from the Eagle viewing group as the grief that was being expressed in the group members’ posts was upsetting.  You may be thinking, “Really Faye?  Its nature – this stuff happens all the time, they were eggs for goodness sake!”  To me, and many others, they were so much more; they represented so much more.  Those little eggs and watching how the Eagle parents faithfully cared for, rotated, and protected them represented seasons in our own lives and nothing compares to the joy of seeing that new life and watching as the parents care for and train their young and then the beauty of seeing the babies grow and move on. 

     Have you ever poured everything you have into someone only to come to the realization that they aren’t going to be a part of your life?  With countless hours of love, devotion and energy given and in the end you’re left without them?  Well, that’s what those eggs represented and that’s why we mourn the loss.   

     It can be your mother or father, a dear friend, or even your own child and the circumstances may be fresh in your mind or it may be so long that you don’t quite remember what tore you apart in the first place, but one thing is certain, there’s a hole in your heart that aches to be filled with their presence.

     I’ve been faced with this kind of loss and spent more time than I’d like to admit allowing it to consume me.  Looking back, there's nothing I would do differently as I believe my actions and reactions were with much thought and were done out of love.  My heart continues to be open to them returning and I pray that happens but I can also say that even though’ that’s the case – my heart still hurts.   

     There comes a time however, one must recognize that continuing to allow the situation and the past to consume you, is doing nothing but destroying you and those who DO want to be a part of your life.  I had to allow myself time to mourn the loss but recognize when it’s time to live again.  Most importantly, I learned that finding a place for that pain, isn’t giving up hope for joy in the future.

     I won’t be removing myself from the viewing group and I will look forward to the next time I can anxiously await a new fuzzy arrival.  Whether it's an Eagle Cam or a person in my life, if I close my heart and not take the risk of being hurt or disappointed, I’ll miss the many wonderful blessings and countless joy that come when you pour hours of love, devotion and energy into those around you and believe me when I tell you ... I don’t want to miss a thing.

     I never quite understood where the idea of an egg gifting rabbit came from but I must admit, as a child I couldn’t wait to see what was in my basket Easter morning.  It’s said the Easter Bunny was introduced to America by German immigrants in the 1700’s and going back even further, rabbits were the ancient symbol of fertility and new life.  Maybe that’s where it started, and like so many things that have been altered and skewed over the years, the “new life” part was lost and the bunny remained.  I’m not interested in debating the right and wrong of lying to our children about the fictitious characters that have been created, nor am I willing to condemn someone for giving children treats in a cute basket.  In fact, I have wonderful memories of watching my own children’s faces as they unpacked their treats over the years.  I will, however, stress the importance of understanding the “new life” part.  America was founded on the basic truth of, “In God We Trust”; and it’s in that trust, we find new life.

     If you’re reading this sentence it means you probably haven’t been offended, are not concerned that this post will be “too religious”, or you’re looking for ammunition to blast me within an email.  Regardless, I’m happy you’ve continued.  The new life given when one believes that the event creating “Easter” actually occurred isn’t a religious thing, it’s a relationship thing.  It’s having a listening ear when you feel there is no one to turn to; it’s learning that helping and loving others is what life is really about; and it’s finding peace when the world’s noise is deafening.  It’s knowing you’re loved and the love given is unconditional, it’s guidance when you can’t seem to find your way; and it’s a life spent having the Creator of all things part of your every day – helping you through the craziness of it all.    It’s having no fear in death, because eternity awaits.

     In a world where we are bombarded with negativity and death on a daily basis, I find it fascinating that so many are opposed to the new life that is found when one comes to recognize that Jesus is real and just waiting to be invited in.  Is it that humans want so badly to be in control that they are unwilling to acknowledge who gave that control in the first place; or is it the fear of relinquishing that control?  I’m convinced the reason evil people oppose true Christian living is because they realize the power one has in Christ, and that power is stronger than anything they’ve got; why else would the crusade against Christians continue; if God isn’t real why don’t they just let Christians alone with their delusion?  I also believe deep down people recognize the power of God, as churches are full and the media speaks of prayer when anything “really bad” happens.  Imagine if we lived every day with a prayerful, helping others attitude?  Maybe we wouldn’t be bombarded with negativity and death on a daily basis.

     It’s not rules and regulations or having to show up to a certain building on Sunday Morning.  It’s believing that Jesus was and is the Son of God.  That he died, was buried and rose again on the third day and asking Him to forgive and save you – to be with you through this life and accept you into the next.  It’s the new life in Him that makes this Sunday, and what it represents, something to celebrate.