My Blog: Thoughts, Observations & Life Lessons

     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.

I’ve driven a minivan for over twenty years - different makes, various colors, but a minivan nonetheless.  I’ve hauled countless groceries, boys to soccer, boys to basketball, flea market treasures, boys to baseball, boys to cross country, home improvement materials, boys to art school, boys to college, boys to ….. ok - you get the idea.  I’ve loved every trip, every mile spent making memories with those boys, but when our latest van needed repairs that would cost more than what it was actually worth, we decided it was time to get something else. (By "we" I mean "I" and then a bit of time was spent convincing my husband, since I'm the one driving it most of the time, to get a car instead of a van.)          

      Last Saturday we drove off the Dealer’s lot with an Alien Green Kia Soul.  For those of you wondering, “No, it was not a leftover that nobody wanted; I actually chose the color” and, I named him Gus.  Not the mule Gus, from the 1970’s Disney movie that my oldest brother asked me about, but it's named after the sweet little mouse from "Cinderella".  (If you recall, Gus wore a little green shirt.  I still wonder now and then why those mice never wore pants.) (I also wondered if my brother wasn’t hinting at my “stubborn streak” when he questioned about the mule ...thus the reason I used the word "oldest" brother instead of "older" because that's what he is...old(est).  Sorry, I got off track there for a minute.   :)

      Anyway...This car was chosen for several reasons: its fuel economy, the ability to put the seats down and still haul things when needed, and the audio system.  For those of you who don’t know, I like music – I mean, REALLY LIKE music.  I sing at the top of my lungs sometimes and alone in a vehicle is the best way to do that without having people stare at me.  Gus has six speakers, including two dash-mounted tweeters.  I’m still trying to figure out what a “tweeter” is, but I can tell you that the music sounds great and I’ve realized the need to turn it down prior to entering a populated area.

      From the dealership, we drove to a store and upon returning with our purchases, noticed that the driver’s side back bumper had either been hit with a shopping cart or scraped by another vehicle.  I stood there, staring but saying nothing.  This car had less than 12 miles on it, we owned it for maybe an hour and a half, and someone had already caused paint loss down to the metal.  I looked at my husband and just shook my head.  His, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” said it all.  At that moment I had a choice - Did I allow my disbelief to turn into anger and escalate into a full-blown temper tantrum or did I recognize that there was nothing I could do about it and make plans to call about getting it fixed?  I chose the latter.  I made that choice for two reasons… One - my anger would not only get me all out of sorts, but would cause those with me to become angry also, and Two - anger would not miraculously fix the damage; when I was done being angry, I would still have to get it fixed.  Over the years it seems our family has some kind of invisible “target” on it – if it’s going to happen to someone, it will probably be one of us.  You know the “get into the shortest line in the grocery store only to realize the person in front of you has tried three different credit cards and none work, so they begin writing a check.”  The, “go through the drive-thru and get home to find that the burger your husband ordered has the bun and the fixin’s, but not the actual hamburger meat in the paper wrapping.”  The, “order new furniture while pregnant and having to wait about 17 weeks instead of 3, and when it finally arrives it’s a beautiful off white instead of the brown color you paid for, and then you have to use full-size, blue blow-up furniture that your husband bought as a gag gift because you’re too big and can’t get up off the floor anymore when you sit down, while you wait for the correct color to arrive because you're having your fourth boy and there is no way you can keep off white.”  Or the “You’re sitting at a stoplight and the person driving a motorcycle coming towards you decides to pop a wheelie only to lose control, fall off, and you watch as the bike skids down the road hitting the side of your van.”  Oh, my friend, I could go on and on!  When any of these things happened, for the most part, our family has thankfully learned to take it in stride, just as we have with this most recent event.  Gus has a couple of nicks but he runs, and he still has a great audio system. 

      Life happens.  Each one of us has the choice to either throw the temper tantrum or realize there’s nothing we can do but sing our way through it.  Whether it’s a heartbreaking tear-filled song, a favorite tune that warms your soul every time you hear it, or a “gotta sing this one at the top of your lungs” jam; I encourage you to sing; and should you ever pull up next to an alien green Kia Soul and the music's so loud you hear it even tho' the windows are closed, you can shake your head or you can sing along - but trust me when I tell you, it's so much better to sing along!

Lately I’ve had several, “You’re Getting Old When Moments”.  You know the things when you were younger and you heard someone say and you thought to yourself, “Seriously, they are old!”    Trust me when I tell you, at least three of the exact things I used to question, I now believe wholeheartedly. 

#1 – Birds are amazingly beautiful and can teach us a great deal. 

     I used to wonder why my Grandmother loved watching birds and why my Mother loved Hummingbirds – they are now one of my favorites, along with the Goldfinch.  My dear neighbor Elaine, who has been like a Grandmother to our boys, has several bird feeders in her yard and faithfully feeds them all year long.  A few years ago we began purchasing bird houses.  We have a few surrounding our home and, one in particular I am able to see perfectly from my favorite spot on the couch in our “blue room”, as we call it; an addition we built that has many windows and a fireplace.  This birdhouse has three levels and several sections per level.  I actually call it “the apartment building,” and lovingly refer to its occupants as our “tenants”.  Countless moments have been spent watching the activities that go on through the various seasons.  I’ve watched in amazement as Momma and Papa birds have inspected and taken much time in choosing which apartment they would like to make their home.   I’ve often wondered what makes them choose one over another.  I mean really, they’re all the same size and as a bird, having wings they don’t have to worry about the third floor being too difficult to get to.  I’ve watched as they’ve removed the last tenants “debris” and have been fascinated with the types of things we’ve found on the sidewalk; anything from yarn to dryer lint to Easter grass in December!   The care that is taken to enter when the eggs have been laid is amazing.  Prior to entering the apartment, they actually look from side to side several times.  It’s as if they’re making sure predators aren’t watching where their sweet babies are, even though the entrance circle is too tiny for most animals to get in.  I’ve also become a member of a Facebook Group whose name this year is, “Pennsylvania Bald Eagle Family 2016.”  I’ve been a member for a few years and every year I watch in anticipation of when the Eagles decide if they will return and allow us the privilege of viewing (via webcam) the activities of the nest.   My dear family has been very kind in allowing me to share my amusement and fascination.  Everything from the anticipation of seeing the first egg (this year there are two again!), showing them a video of a tiny mouse exploring the nest (which is about 75 feet high), and everything up to the delight of seeing the sweet little Eagles finally hatching.  It’s an exciting almost 40 days I can assure you! (Go ahead, I know someone is dying to say “Seriously, you find this fun?”)  And if you aren’t saying that, I encourage you to check it out!

#2 - I’m comfortably in my jammies at the exact same time I used to leave the house to begin a fun evening with friends; and I’m totally fine with it.

     I was placing my tea on the end table, grabbing the afghan, and settling in on the loveseat when my son came down the stairs, winter jacket in hand, saying “Ok, see ya…tomorrow I guess.  I’m heading out to meet so-and-so.”  I smiled, told him to have a good time, and after he left, looked over to Tom saying something to the effect of, “Funny – it’s almost our bedtime and he’s just heading out.”  We shared a laugh and I had to smile thinking, “Yup, you’re officially old Faye.”  This fact is solidified when my dear sister-in-law called at 9:30 pm asking, “Did I wake you?” before continuing to speak.  I’m totally ok with all of this and hope our children realize that we are perfectly content being at home and this will surely make us wonderful babysitters for our grandchildren when they need a night out! 

#3 - I watch the 20 and 30-something Mommas in my life and long for them to realize how quickly time passes, praying that they slow down and enjoy this time with their sweet little ones.

     This is an entire blog post in itself which I’m sure I’ll share sometime in the future; but trust me when I tell you, it is truer than anyone realizes when in the midst of the craziness.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Some of what I've learned:    

      I used to think life happened and I had to deal with it; I now know life happens but I choose how I will let it affect me.

     I used to think that my mistakes defined me; I now know it’s what I’ve learned from those mistakes and how I change my behavior moving forward that does.

     I used to think it was important to have a lot of friends; I now know a few true friends is all I really need.

     I used to think God was in Heaven watching my life unfold; I now know He’s actually with me, helping me through.

     Something about it caught my eye and I decided to click the start button.  As the video began, I was squinting at the screen trying to make out exactly what I was watching.  After a moment, I realized two swans had gotten themselves tangled together.  They were floating helplessly in the water, as either there was nothing more they could do, or they were too tired to keep trying, maybe both.  I watched as they continued to float aimlessly until they spotted some people walking nearby.  It was interesting to see that they began working together, pushing themselves closer to the edge, so that they could position themselves directly at the feet of a man who bravely decided to help.  This man assessed the situation for a few moments and then got to work.  Gently lifting a fragile wing, he moved one of the necks over to the opposite side.  Amazingly, not once did either one of the swans try to fight this guy.  It was if they recognized they knew fighting is what caused them to get into this mess in the first place and they needed to be still and allow their helper to do his thing. Realizing another wing was twisted, he again assessed the situation.  He had to extend an intertwined wing, causing a bit of discomfort to the swan, but with a few more deliberate movements, he was able to free them!   Swan A, (let’s call him Chuck), quickly ran away from view and Swan B, (Fred) needed to take some time, as his wings had been ruffled a bit out of shape.  He stretched them as far as they could go and flapped them several times before he began running, apparently trying to get back into the water; but he was going in the opposite direction and heading into some high brush where he clearly would have had some trouble navigating.  The hero of the video followed Fred, picked him up, walked back to where the ordeal began, and placed him gently in the water.  Fred instantly began swimming away, hopefully staying out of trouble and able to enjoy his restored freedom.

     I couldn’t help but think of how those Swans reminded me of various seasons in my life.  More often than I’d like to admit, I’ve found myself in the midst of some sort of dilemma; sometimes involving others and sometimes it’s just me, but a dilemma nonetheless; and sometimes my feathers were ruffled and I really didn’t know what to do to fix them.  It’s so easy to be in the midst of the chaos and thrash about trying to find a solution but not able to fully grasp the fact that, while thrashing, it’s just getting worse. 

     What if, instead of the typical responses of, “Oh, it’s not a big deal and it’s not my fault,” “I can handle this on my own,” or “I’m not going to let anyone know and it will just go away,” we decided to instantly stop and take a good hard look at what’s really going on; allowing ourselves the time to evaluate the situation and take the steps needed to correct the real problem instead of either doing “just enough” to make it go away for a while, or ignoring it all together until it can no longer be ignored? 

     I used to be a procrastinator when it came to dealing with things, especially things that caused me to go outside of my comfort zone or things that caused me to deal with painful issues.  Procrastination in itself can be exhausting – especially emotionally if you’re trying to avoid confrontation or are worried about what others might think.   I have however, learned the best way to deal with anything is head on – putting the entire mess out on the table and taking it “feather by feather” until it’s finally all sorted out.  This means sometimes having to go to others and say “You know, I can’t handle this on my own” or, “Hey, I’m sorry I said/did that – can we talk?” or most recently, tackling the bully within to stop being the one who’s holding myself back. 

     Who are you in your own “Swan story”?  Chuck, who just wants to get out of the heat of it and runs away?  Fred, who really needs help to get back on track? Or are you the “hero”, who steps back, assesses the situation, and then does what’s needed to clear it up?  I’ve been both Chuck and Fred at any given time but I’m thankful that I have a “Hero” who I can go to at any given moment who helps me sort it out.  I’ve learned that I’m in control of how long it takes for a situation to go from burden to blessing and it’s basically the amount of time it takes me to give that burden to God and let Him help me sort it out. Hoping that whether you’re Chuck or Fred, you realize He’s there to help you too.

Realizing I had just enough time to run downstairs, switch the laundry and actually fold it, you can imagine my disappointment when I opened the washer lid to find the cycle had not actually run.  Lifting the lid and allowing it to slam shut started the cycle again and I moved on to the dryer to start folding; only to find it was still damp.  We have had a love/hate relationship for some time – my laundry appliances and I.  Heading back upstairs to inform everyone that there was a malfunction, I was once again asked why we “just don’t buy a new set”. 

“Well, it’s not that it’s totally broken – I just forgot to slam the lid; and the dryer, well, it needs an extra twenty minutes or so.  They still work,” I said.

The boys reply, “It’s ridiculous – we should just get new ones.”  “Yea, really.”

“When the heater is paid off,” was my reply.  We budgeted to replace the roof but hadn’t planned on needing a new furnace two months later.  I could deal with a faulty washer lid and extra drying time until we were able to pay for new ones. 

Fast forward a few days.

While sitting at dinner, I was handed a pamphlet depicting a front load washer and dryer.  “Really guys, we just can’t buy new ones right now.” 

“We know, that’s why we bought them for you.”

Insert confused look.  “What?”

“Yea, the three of us, we chipped in and bought a new washer and dryer.”

“Um, WHAT?! You did not!”

Smiling proudly, each one shaking his head in agreement that they did in fact, purchase a washer and dryer for us. I should clarify that they really purchased it for me, as my dear husband has not done a single load of laundry in his entire life.  I have however, taught each of the boys how to operate the machines as someday, they will either live on their own and need to know, or, I will have daughters-in-law who may be happy that I made them learn this life skill. 

After a few tears, group and individual hugs, I retreated to the basement to check the dryer.  The laundry was now dry and I couldn’t help but smile that this would be one of the last loads I would have to dry twice.

Fast forward another few days.

Time for the installation.  With a blizzard wreaking havoc outside, Tom and I (mostly Tom) set out to accomplish this.  All went surprisingly well – until we started the washer.  A few moments later, water began pouring out of the bottom.  We hit the stop button, checked the troubleshooting guide - which didn’t address the issue, and thought “Great, here we go”.  After the shop vac was used to clean up the mess, Tom found a small black compartment on the bottom, left-side front that he discovered wasn’t closed tightly – with a few turns we were back in business.  I must tell you, this was a “You know you’re getting old when” moment.  There we sat on the basement floor, Tom leaning up against the old washer, me - tucked in front leaning against him, watching the washer go through its first cycle.  I could see our reflection in the front glass and had to smile.  Had anyone told me twenty years ago that one day I would be completely content sitting on a basement floor, watching a washer go round and round, I would have told them they were crazy.  Yet, there I was and there’s no place I would have rather been.   Our children saw a need and without any prompting, made a significant purchase; we had relatively no issue installing it, and I will no longer have to take extra time to do the laundry.  I must also tell you that every time I use that washer and dryer I am thankful.  Thankful especially for the amazing boys I’ve been blessed with. 

Thank you Zachary, thank you Noah and thank you Benjamin.

I may or may not admit if I know which one of the boys checked out where the “lost socks” go – you know, the washers bottom, left-side, front compartment.  ;)

 Taking the little ticket from the red roll and seeing four people ahead of me, I realized it would be some time, so I stood towards the back waiting my turn.  The deli counter of the grocery store is an interesting place.  You see the woman who insists on making the young man behind the counter show her thicknesses of each of the five selections she is purchasing - prior to slicing them, only to tell him when she appears satisfied with the fourth try,  “Oh, just go with your original thickness”,  the young mom assuring her little one that she will get a slice of cheese as soon as it’s her turn, and the gentleman desperately trying to locate the “no salt, no nitrate, oven baked ham” and when told they don’t have it, asks the girl behind the counter what he should purchase because that was the only choice his wife had written down.  Her suggestion to, “Just pick something you like” was accepted with a chuckle and the admission of, “what I like and what my wife allows me to eat are two different things.”   All interesting enough by themselves but then the not more than 4ft, 9 in elderly woman who, accompanied by her husband, stopping abruptly at the end of the glass display, caught my eye. 

   I have a fondness of the elderly.  So much we can learn from them if we just take the time to listen, so much they have to offer yet they frequently feel forgotten in our “fast paced, instant everything” world.     

   I watched as her husband now about three steps ahead of her, stopped, turned around and seeing where she was said, “Oh no, we have turkey AND you didn’t eat it yet.”     She then pointed into the case.    

   “No dear, we have turkey.”    

   With as much strength as she could, her frail little leg was lifted about three inches off the floor and she stomped that foot while continuing to point at the case.    

  I watched as his chest rose and fell heavily into a sigh as he walked the three steps back to be by her side.  He put his arm gently around her shoulders only to have her quickly turn her head and move ever so slightly away from him.  He half smiled while saying, “Oh, is THAT how it’s going to be?  Ok then, show me.”    

   She walked closer to the glass and pointed.  He once again, and in a very gentle voice said, “We have turkey.”    

   She shook her head from side to side as adamantly as she could and took his hand, guided it to the glass, and held it towards the bottom.    

   In the sweetest, most gentle voice he said “Oh my dear, I see it, I’m so sorry.  Of course.  Of course, we can get that.”  His smile penetrated her feistiness and she lifted both hands, placed one on each side of his face, pulled it to hers and gave him a kiss.  His, “That’s more like it” comment made everyone watching laugh as he took a number, looked around and announced, “Sun Dried Tomato turkey is her favorite, I get my girl her favorite.”  It was a precious, precious moment.     

   Clearly something had taken her voice.  He could have hurried her along, he could have gotten frustrated at her inability to tell him what she wanted, and he could have insisted that she continue on, but he didn’t.  He took the time to hear her and in the end they both won - she got the turkey and he got a kiss.  I can tell you that those of us who watched that tender moment, got so much more.  We witnessed love.  The stick together through thick and thin love, the - you don’t throw it away because it’s broken love, the - ‘till death do us part” love.    

    I think we can all benefit from understanding the patience of that husband to his dear wife.  How many times are we in a hurry and “shush, oh come on, hurry up” someone in our lives?   He realized she had something she wanted to tell him and he took the time needed to understand.  I wonder if he recognizes that someday he may not be forced to stop at the deli counter, she may not be with him to make requests like this, and maybe he too realizes, that each moment he’s given is a gift. 

   It is my prayer that I recognize when people have something to say to me, allow them to say it while taking the time to understand, and as the years pass, that Tommy and I have a “sun-dried tomato turkey” kind of love, no matter what lies ahead.

“When I think about it, my heart literally hurts.”  Words spoken by a friend who recently lost a loved one.  My heart was aching as I listened to the enormous weight being carried – the loss, the responsibility felt for those left behind, the grief.  Having lost my father within the year, the tremendous feeling of sorrow was all too real and if I could have given a hug over the phone, I certainly would have.   

A memorial service I attended over the weekend caused my thoughts, once again, to be drawn to this idea of comforting those who are hurting.  How do we give support when nothing verbally expressed could possibly take away the pain?  

We all accept and respond to comfort individually.  I’m a hugger. The all-encompassing, you feel the hug to your core, kind of hugger; I have a friend who, if given the choice, would probably rather bungee jump off a bridge than be embraced in one of those hugs and yet, she is an extremely emotional and caring person.  I know someone else who is shy, almost to the point of appearing aloof; yet she craves interaction, but few realize it.  Then there are those who have tragic things happen in their lives and being unsure of how to respond, we don’t; they are left alone with the burden of their sorrow.

I’ve come to the realization that it’s ok not to know what to do, but it’s not ok to do nothing.  In an age of having questions answered with the click of a button and being able to respond to every event occurring in someone’s life with a comment on a “post”, have we forgotten how wonderful it feels to receive a phone call from someone just telling us that they were thinking about us?  The feeling you get when you open an actual USPS, need a stamp, letter from a friend.  The warmth you receive passing the shelf that you’ve displayed the birthday cards you’ve gotten or the sentiment of someone saying they share in your loss.  Those are things unable to be obtained from a computer and those are the things we should do.

There are times when schedules align and I finally get to sit face to face and talk with my friend and we discover that it’s been months since we’ve actually seen one another.  I saw the post that her son picked a college and that her daughter looks adorable in Eeyore pajamas (no matter how old she is).  I read about her trip to NYC and saw a few pictures, but it doesn’t compare to the look on her face when she says how glad she is that her son enjoys his new job or how proud she is of her daughter’s commitment to college classes.  It’s the looks, the almost choking on your iced tea because she said something that makes you want to burst out laughing, and the “I can’t tell you how much I needed to talk” comments.  Those are things you can only get when you take the time – when you make the time to get together, to be together.  Face to face, real life conversations - that is what we can do.  That is what I will do.