Different Better

My world has not been the same lately.  Well, to be honest, it hasn’t been the same in the last couple of years.  A difficult situation went south and grew more challenging and turned grueling as time passed. Stress and tension were with me and around me.  Pain and suffering took on a different meaning.  Nothing to do with the physical, although the effects were many times corporal and felt in many unusual ways that I could not begin to describe.  I don’t want to exaggerate it nor make it something it wasn’t.  No one died.  No one is very ill.  We are all here; but there’s still a sting there.  It was a protracted situation that has, for now, met its end.  An end that has a changed beginning for me.  I wish I could say that things are good now. I want to be positive and encouraging, but the fact is that things are just different better.   Things have improved and I feel healthier overall.  When people talk about a ‘new normal,’ I get it now.  The phrase new normal is meant to describe something that was abnormal before and is now accepted as normal; or the state in which one is after a crisis – both of which I’m sure no one necessarily wanted.  During this time friends and family told me that things would get better.  My result is a different better. Not the better I expected or wanted, just a different kind of better.  But still better. 

Generosity

We do not have to give lavish gifts in order to be generous.  We do not have to make grandiose gestures to show our kindness.  Today I was given the opportunity to experience kindness, generosity, patience and good humor from a business partner.  Nothing to be gained for them; all for our benefit.  Nothing they were getting from us; it was just to show us a better way.  When people and businesses decide that there is more to life than profits and their bottom line, than themselves, everyone wins.  I know from experience that giving is better than getting.  The satisfaction that one has when providing or sharing something, when teaching or enlightening someone is not to be compared with the attainment of a gift or thing.  Things are things; they’re just stuff and they don’t last.  When we share of our time, resources, expertise, for the benefit of others, everyone can succeed.   Teaching or helping someone to attain a skill is like teaching someone to fish….

Numbers

She was 79 years old.  She came to this country 40 years ago.  Had seven children, 28 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren.  She was in the hospital for 22 days before she passed.  In the end, her biography seemed to be about numbers; but her life, a life well-lived, was not about numbers at all.  It was about the people.  It was about the people she loved and those who loved her.  It was about the hard work it took for her, a single mother with seven children, at a time when it wasn’t common or highly accepted to be a single mother.  Hard work and more hard work to make a living and bring her children to the land of opportunity.  Her existence was about rough work, difficult situations and lots of children with tough responsibilities all around her.  She never had a break.  She raised her children and a few grandchildren.  But then again, she was so proud when she talked about any one of them.  She saw them go to school and get married and enjoy lives filled with opportunities.  Opportunities she never had, but that she was more than willing to sacrifice to give to those she loved. 

The conclusion to her life was not a mere set of facts and numbers.  It was a grand finale.  It was the culmination of many dreams she had for her family.  In the end, she glowed. 

The Network

There are five of us.  We are not well-known.  We are not special; other than to our families and loved ones. We are as different as night and day.  Our families, our lives, our stage in life, our hobbies and habits – all different.  But oh so much alike.  We love each other and those around us.  We help each other and those around us.  We cry and pray; we all have problems.  But many times we are praying and crying for each other, and for other’s pain.  Not in weakness, for we are strong.  Stronger than 200 or 300.  We are the network.  We can make things happen.  We MAKE things happen.  And then we celebrate; the tiny wins and the huge victories.

Many times we are asked why?  What makes us different?  What makes us unique?  What makes us love each other and others as we do?  I have only one answer.  God.  It is only because of His love in us that we want and can do what we do.  As I said, we are not special, but together we have been able to do great things, for us, for each other, and for others.  I cannot even list the many people who have been served, and served well because of the network.  Not to our detriment or expense, but to our pleasure and joy.

While I was going through a divorce and caring for two babies, two of the single brave ones in the network actually left their home in the big city to move to my funky suburb - to the same block where I lived.  The reasoning was ‘she’s going to need help.’  Now THAT is the network at work!

Meems

The little gray girl came to us several years ago.  She needed a place to stay for the weekend while her relatives were being relocated.  Helpless and needy.  Tiny and shy.  Skinny to the point of possibly malnourished.  But oh so adorable!!  The truth is that we weren’t looking for her.  Weren’t interested in adopting a little girl.  Didn’t even cross our minds.  The kids fell in love with her and years later she’s part of our clan.  For our family this was huge.  It was moving completely to the other side – the feline side.  Historically we had been ‘dog’ people.  It was unheard of.  It was like an abomination.  But it took only two days for us to see the light; to be converted.  To buckle under her spell and to plan a life with the little lass. 

She’s precious.  When the kids were younger, she was a not just a pet.  She was like a little sibling to them.  Many made up bed time stories were about her.  Every night she sleeps with one of the kids; and when they’re not home, she has to sleep with me.  She’s not aloof; she’s loving and sweet and never met anyone she didn’t like – as long as they scratch her head.  She’s a perfect pet.  Out most of the day, but inside when I get home.  She’s a great companion.  On long stretches without the kids, she’s a little being to come home to.  Someone to say hi to, feed and take care of – even if that chore is so small.  It’s the fact that she’s there.  She gifts me with her cries and purrs next to me.  There is never a lonely day with her.

Oh we’ve had our moments.  Like the time the house became infested with fleas and we were eaten alive by the parasites.  It took bombs, sprays, baths, and a lot of praying.  We just didn’t know what to do.  Or the time when she took up biting.  Of course, not having any history or point of reference, we just didn’t know that we were there to please her.  Scratching her head for a few seconds didn’t work for her, so she took to biting.  Silly humans!  But no matter what she brings, Meems is still the perfect little girl!

Quiet

Peace.  Tranquility.  Joy.  Steadfastness.  Contentment.  Relaxation.  Renewal.  Refreshment.  Quiet means different things to many people.  I know some individuals who do not like quiet.  They are uncomfortable with it.  They have to turn on the TV or radio or iPod.  Some folks go window shopping, go visit friends, go out to eat or the movies, anywhere so they won’t be home in the quiet.  I don’t claim to know what’s best for everyone.  I’m sure if I asked I would get a ton of answers why some don’t like quiet.  But I don’t get the need for noise.  To me there’s perfection in being still in the quiet.  Absolutely tranquil and in thought.  It’s exactly as the expression that says ‘I can hear myself think.’  I have an opportunity to really think, really analyze, and truly delve into a thought.  It’s an opportunity to relax and examine yourself.  Contemplate and dig into your beliefs.  Not trying to get all Zen; just real.  How would we assess a critical issue if not by giving it complete value and time?   Anything that is worth doing, anything that requires our attention, whatever we must work on or re solve should have our full and undivided attention.  For me that’s quiet. 

Now, we all know there’s no perfect quiet.  I can be at home in silent mode, but it’s never completely noiseless or soundless.  I hear birds once in a while.  I may hear the air conditioning going on or off; or the fan rattling just a tiny bit.  My cat’s stealthily walking through the kitty door; and dare I say it, the texts!  But on a good quiet day, even those noises become background and not the point. 

Day's End

Thankful for a very productive week.  I'm sure like many people out there - not easy; a lot of work, a lot of issues, things to take care of, things to resolve.  But it was a good week.  And now the end of the day with the usual grogginess and fatigue.  Thankful I have a break and can rest from it all.

Compliments

I’m no stranger to compliments.  Not to sound too puffed up, but I get them regularly.  You know, ‘you look great today,’ ‘you’re so nice to ….,’ ‘you did a great job with….’  But most of us do, don’t we?  I also pay compliments.  Regularly and genuinely.  A word of true praise, an admiring comment can be like cool aloe vera on freshly sunburned skin.  A thoughtful, sincere and timely compliment can make someone’s day.  Who couldn’t use a kind word said in earnest?  Who wouldn’t appreciate a word of heartfelt esteem?  Even the most crotchety person can soften upon hearing unaffected respect and approval.   

After a very trying day that required multiple calls and rescheduling and maneuvering of overall craziness, a friend  flattered me with a first-rate expression: ‘what meds are you on?’ Translation: ‘why are you not upset about what happened?  You’re very calm under the circumstances.’  Praise indeed. 

Freebies

I don't know anyone that doesn't like free stuff. Marketers are experts at this. They know that free stuff - cups, pens, fans, pins, earbuds, or whatever cheap trinket they're giving away will entice people to at least listen, participate, buy, etc.

Free screening of a cool and exciting movie plus food plus drinks plus sisters and niece = great time. Of all the freebies I've received lately, this is one of the best. My day is complete!  

Rescued X 3

I went over some shrapnel.  I had no choice.  There was no other way.  Drivers were going 70 mph on both sides and I had no option but to go right over it.  It didn’t feel awful.  It sort of felt like cellophane or some kind of crinkle paper; like the one used to wrap those fancy baskets of fruit or chocolate.  The beautiful baskets you see everywhere at Christmastime.  But I digress.  I was on a heavily transited freeway with nowhere to go but forward; so I did.  Hmmm, that’s a strange noise coming from that 18-wheeler next to me.  I wonder what type of cargo he’s hauling….oh no, it’s me!  Seems the shrapnel just shredded my tire.  I tried my best to slow down and move to the shoulder but it wasn’t easy when cars and trucks were whizzing by me, honking and who knows what else. 

I admit it was a little scary sitting on the shoulder.  Thankfully, roadside assistance guy arrived after only two hours AND my car idled for the entire time with the air conditioning full blast.  While the car was being towed, I called the office and asked a colleague who she thought might be kind enough to come give me a ride.  She immediately said David from Accounting and transferred me to him.  He said ‘I’m coming right now.’   When I thanked him he said ‘glad I could help.’  I then texted my sister who works close to my office and she said, ‘I’ll cancel my plans to see Byron.’  At the end of the day she picked me up from work to take me to the tire place.  Seriously, who wouldn’t be thankful with so much kind help?

 

Chips

Before moving to Dallas I didn’t know what Mexican food was.  I didn’t know what chips were.  Not potato chips, but tortilla chips.  You know the ones that are served in Mexican and Tex-Mex restaurants.  The ones that come in baskets with salsa on the side.  The ones they keep bringing you as long as you keep asking.  The ones that are free.  I remember having tried these in New York at some whatever sort-of Mexican restaurant, but don’t recall even liking them.  But Dallas has, as of last count, 591 Mexican restaurants.  I have done no research and cannot attest to the authenticity of these restaurants, or whether they’re made up of Mexican, Tex-Mex or taco joints.  But that’s an awful lot of restaurants serving free chips and salsa.  In Dallas alone.  Way too much temptation!

We relocated in the spring and the weather was nice.  We went out a lot and tried several Mexican restaurants.  Fell in love with the chips.  Then summer arrived and I was just not used to the Texas 100 degree summers so mostly stayed indoors during the day; eating chips and salsa.  I didn’t just eat them, I devoured them.  That was the summer I developed a deep and abiding love affair with chips and salsa – and it showed.  I went up a few sizes in a couple of months and my family started to make jokes about filling the pool with hot sauce, getting me a job at a Mexican restaurant to save money, and lastly, breaking my jaw.  But I didn’t care.  My devotion for the chips knew no bounds. 

Happily I got my bearings and put the brakes on.  But to this day I cannot go to a Mexican restaurant and abstain or just eat a few.  Chips and salsa are comfort food.  And the more comfort the better. 

Little Kisses

We have an interesting habit in our family.  Well, if you ask me, it’s a good habit; but some people make remarks about it, so….I don’t care.  I think it’s a great habit.  You see, we kiss our babies and little nieces and nephews on the lips.  I know other people don’t, but we do.  End of it.  And if anyone has ever gotten a little peck from a little one, a loved one, well, let’s be honest.  No matter how slimy, or sweaty, or greasy, every single time it’s fabulous.  Wonderful.  Sweet and tender. 

Eighties

Not writing about the decade of the 80s; rather 80 degree weather in the middle of July in Texas.  Just beautiful last few days of much needed rain and great weather.  Who wouldn’t be thankful?

Tears

I love kids.  They cry often and without shame.  As little ones, I recall my children ‘having to cry’ sometimes.  It seemed as if it was almost ‘time to cry.’  If they hadn’t cried in a while because of sleepiness, a bump in the head or a toy they wanted, then it was just time to cry.  Almost invariably, they would instantly settle down or go to sleep.  Why can’t we do that as adults?  We almost always hold it in.  We don’t want people to see us crying.  Not our families, our friends.  Sometimes not even our spouses.  And God forbid anyone cry at work – it’s the kiss of death, much like being assigned to ‘special projects.’  You’re doomed.

Sometimes I cry in silence, with barely an audible whimper.   Other times I’ve cried out of frustration and pounded my fists on my pillow.  I’ve heard that people say it’s helpful to have a ‘good cry.’  What on earth is a good cry??!!!  Does it make you feel good after you’re done?  What makes it good?  I think crying overall is good.  It’s oddly quenching.  I don’t do it all the time, and I am like other people - I don’t want anyone to see me while I’m doing it.  I don’t want anyone to worry.  I don’t want the questions.  But it is good if it serves a purpose.  I think it releases stress and tension.  It may not solve the problem or issue, but it does help to let it out.  It’s sort of like releasing a pressure valve.  Like deep breaths when you need to clear your head or move on to the next task. 

While experiencing a particularly difficult time, a dear friend told me to go ahead and cry because ‘tears cleanse the soul.’  If that’s true, then my soul is pristine these days.  And that’s a good thing.

Hot Water

It was 5:00AM and the alarm went off.  I wanted a few more minutes but this morning I had to give my sister a ride to work, so I got out of bed and went for my shower.  And ... no hot water.  No need to go into why, but there was no hot water.  The last time I took a cold shower was in my teen years, when I was dumb and foolish.  It was in Upstate New York during a winter church trip.  We stayed at a dilapidated hotel.  In the morning we went for our showers and there was no hot water.  Most of the kids passed; but I was too vain to let my guy friends see me with bed hair.  The water was frigid and I screamed and squealed the entire seven minutes I was under the showerhead.  Afterwards I felt sick and stayed in bed trying to get warm and missed the service.

I like warm water in the morning.  Who doesn’t?!!!  And here I was, no time to waste, nowhere to run, I had to take my shower.  I took a deep breath and went in but stayed out of the harm’s way. My feet were getting wet but that was still okay.  Then I put my hand in, and then my forearm.  Then I tried to sprinkle some water on my head.  Sheesh!  I was really trying to do this slowly.  But if you have ever taken a cold shower, you know there’s no way to phase it in.  You just have to do it.

I take for granted so many things.  I don’t remember reflecting about hot water until this morning.  When I stop to think about it, I live a privileged life; a life of utter luxury. 

Library

I was in the 5^th grade and I didn’t speak English; but I loved to learn and read and so I took all my reading and writing assignments very seriously.  The public library was next door.  The entrance was a small and dark wooden door and one would never guess it was a library but for the tiny sign.  It was three stories high, with a basement, ground and second floor.  The musty smell was always present, but I didn’t care.  I would check out books I couldn’t read and sit in the child-size tables and chairs in the basement for hours.  The first couple of times my mother came looking for me; but once she knew that’s all I was doing, she was fine with me spending my time there.  I didn’t speak the language, was shy, and didn’t have many friends.  The library became a very constant and private refuge for me. 

Once I had my children, we frequently visited the brand new public library often for story time, crafts and all the books their little minds could absorb.  I remember clearly when the library became my personal safe haven again.  I was going through a divorce and the most painful times where when the kids, toddlers still, would leave for weekend visits with their father.  It became an unchanging routine for me.  The bag got packed with their clothes, diapers, medicine, and a couple of toys and books so they wouldn’t get home sick.  We prayed at the door; for safety and for them to remember Mama was here waiting for them.  Sometimes they cried while I held back tears.  Then they were off and so was I; on my way to the library.

 

India the Colorful

It was a business trip over 10 years ago.  It started with a 30+ hour flight and a stop, overnight in a tiny and hot airport with no sitting area.  I bought a bottle of water and sat on my luggage for six hours.  The sleeping pills didn’t work; so I was more than exhausted.  I was not interested or excited.  Just tired.  Thankfully my driver was waiting for me when I arrived.  The first thing I noticed when I finally got in the car and we took off was the noise.  Then the smells.  And the colors.  Although I was drained, I couldn’t help it.  I was now more than excited.  We had a lot of work to do in 2 ½ weeks, but at that moment all I could think of was that I was in India. I was in I-N-D-I-A!  My driver kept talking and I remember nodding and thanking him but I was enthralled with everything around us.  On the same street we were traveling were other cars, buses and taxis; but also motortaxis, bikes,  people, animals; all types of animals. And the colors!  There were colors everywhere. Although the men seemed to be dressed in very neutral browns and grays, the women all wore the most beautiful bright colored clothing I had ever seen.  Growing up in New York, I’m accustomed to wearing a LOT of black and gray.  Here, all the women wore the most fantastic hues of blues, greens, pinks, corals, aquas, yellows, reds, and so many decorated with the most intricate beads and sparkling effects.  I was in heaven. 

We went to work and things got as busy as they could with the team working very long hours and very little time to tour the city and look around.  Then came Sunday and our driver was nice enough to take us to look around ‘from the car’ so we could be safe.  Then we were given a wonderful gift – the Festival of Holi.  It’s a springtime festival that’s called the festival of color or the festival of love.  Droves of youth littered the streets throwing colorful powder at each other.  I saw so many children and adults running and laughing.  Others driving through on bikes were ‘lucky’ too and got the colored powder thrown at them.  People all around us looked just beautiful and colorful.  I wished that I was out there playing with everyone. 

The project went great and the team headed back home. I was grateful to have been part of this.  Part of India for just a few days.  And I left with a longing for more color in my life. 

A house, a home

The house was on a street lined with tall, mature trees.  It was what most appealed to me about the neighborhood.  It seemed so pretty and quaint.  My own yard had three huge oak trees, a tall pine tree, and a flowering ‘fruit’ tree.  The backyard was big enough for young kids to play in. When I first moved into my house, it seemed just perfect.  Moving from an apartment to a house will give you that feeling.  So much room!  Finally two bathrooms!  Two living areas!  An enormous kitchen with more counter space than I knew what to do with!  I couldn’t contain my excitement.  Perfect. 

Cut to 16 years later, foundation repairs and many remodels and redecorating.  It’s an old house; now 41 years old.  It’s still my house but sometimes it just feels like my old house.  A house that needs repairs and updates and more care than I want to give it. But every day when I walk into my house, it’s my home.  There’s pride and dignity there.  It’s a home that has seen a lot of hard work; and a home where every nook and cranny has been truly lived in.  It’s a home where children have been loved and nurtured.  It has seen a lot of physical, emotional and spiritual growth.  It’s a home that has seen tears; but a great deal much more joy than can be conceived. 

Two years ago I thought I saw some cherries on the fruit tree.  Alas, they were not.  I still don’t know what that fruit tree is.  But it’s perfect, just like my house.

The World Cup

I am pretty sure that there is nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already in this past month of the World Cup.  But what a month it was!  Everyone was a futbol fan; and if they weren’t, they at least feigned some sort of interest.  The real fans were discussing the World Cup long before it started.  They planned their schedules around the matches and relished in all the variables and stats of the teams in each group.  Enthusiasts traveled near and far to find the largest screens in bars, restaurants, homes and even work locations.  There were ‘watching’ parties everywhere.  Discussions of the day’s matches and the players were heard in just about every venue by fans of all ages.  Yet there were those who kept asking, ‘why are they still nil nil?’, ‘who’s Messi?’, ‘what is extra time?’, and ‘what is flopping?’   Unnerving to some of us, but at least they were asking the questions.  They were interested.  So we were compelled to educate them about the players, the jerseys, the two halves, the extra time and the penalties.  And here we are at the end of this thrilling World Cup full of early surprising defeats, underdogs advancing against all odds, a tough and humiliating knockout to the hosting Brazilians, and a more than deserving champion in Germany.  I couldn’t have asked for more. 

Del

I love to see him walk into class.  He is a handsome man.  He dresses as I like to see men dress - full suit, shirt and tie, and proper shoes with a spit shine.  But he is obviously much more than his appearance.  His looks and clothes dress an unmistakably singular individual.  The way he carries himself is dignified; he walks with a sure step, head held high, a faint smile almost always creases his face.  When he says good morning, he makes it a point to touch each one.  Not a general good morning to the class; but an individual salutation to each one.  Del always gifts you with his smile and a firm handshake, a pat on the back, or a gentle caress on a child’s shoulder or cheek.

Whatever the topic is that day, his remarks are always on point; evidence that he has studied the lesson and prepared to contribute.  Sitting next to him I can see where he has taken the care to underline and highlight some sentences.  He is in no way boastful; but rather gently comments on a question or ponderable.  At the end, he never forgets to thank our teacher for the day’s lesson. 

I have had several conversations with Del after class.  We have even had lunch on a couple of occasions; but I have never asked him his age; there's no reason to.  It is evident that he is in his middle 80s if not more.  I have thought that maybe it’s all those years of living and experiencing that make Del the type of person he is, but I don’t think so.  Simply existing doesn’t make a person extraordinary.  And he is. 

Family Lunch

For many years my family has celebrated birthdays, baptisms, graduations, engagements, and other assorted milestones and holidays by getting together for potluck lunch after church services on Saturday.  The majority of our family attends church and we all have to eat lunch; so it makes it easy.  Our family matriarch, my mom, her 6 children, grandchildren, and several great-grandchildren.  And, let’s not forget the ‘adopted’ children; the friends who have, through time and the sharing of good and bad, become part of our clan.  Consequently, our family lunch is truly a great, big party, always accompanied by a lot of people and a lot of food.  Simple and domestic.  Simple and delightful.  What may appear to others as a simple occasion to share sometimes unremarkable food, is truly an opportunity, much thought out and welcomed.  We all look forward to family lunch.  An opportunity for the family to get together, without pretense, dress ups, or hidden agendas.  We are all who are and we are all there because we love and honor each other.  I can’t think of a better way to share in life’s events than with the people I love most in this world during family lunch. 

Typing

I have an iPhone.  I'm used to using my thumbs to send texts, emails, do my banking, search the net, purchase items, read books, play games, take pictures, etc. etc.  But I have to tell you that on mad, crazy, wild days like today, I'm very, very thankful for my big, full size, fat finger and thumb-accommodating keyboard.  I can use ALL fingers and thumbs and go at the speed of lightning.  I really like the sound of hitting every key, plat, plat, plat; slapping the backspace, with my middle finger, and smacking the space bar.  Feels soooooo good! 


        

Serving

Several years ago I found myself in a newly opened small, ethnic restaurant in North Dallas.  It was a Friday afternoon and the restaurant had had a review in the city’s paper that morning; almost guaranteeing that they would be bombarded with customers the entire weekend.  But I was smart, I arrived with my mother and sister, off-peak, in the early afternoon, ready to sample some of the dishes mentioned in the review.  The place looked neat and new, and there was just one other person sitting in a table in the back.  Hurrah for me!!  And then it happened; the barrage of people eager to try out the restaurant.  The restaurant owner was not expecting it.   They had one; just one, yes, just one server, who had to run from table to table to kitchen to table to table to kitchen.  You could see him doing his best, frantic and  smiling as he dashed from one customer to the next, trying to explain the ingredients of each dish as quickly as he could - smiling, huffing and puffing, sweating and smiling, all the time smiling!  And the steady stream of people pouring in, lining up at the tiny entrance, and out the door.  Poof!  There went all my illusions for a great meal.  Poof!  Went my intentions for relaxing and leisurely chatting with my mom.  Poof!  Went the best part of eating out for me – nursing my tea for at least 20 minutes at the end of dinner!  I tried to be irritated, but I couldn’t.  One look at our desperate waiter and any displeasure I might have had turned into pity, and then compassion.  I got up and asked him if I could help.  He looked frazzled.  He laughed, very nervously, and he said no; he couldn’t ask me to do that.  No. But I insisted.  I told him I had been a waitress before and that I would help him serve.  Then he laughed again, this time he didn’t seem so tense, and asked if I was sure.  I was.  I could see immense relief in his face.  He started quickly for the kitchen and told the cook that I was helping.  I took a pad and pen while my mom and sister just smiled and shook their heads. 

This was not the finest or most altruistic moment of my life; but I am grateful that on that day I had an opportunity to serve and serve. 

Not Knowing

When I was pregnant with my son I remember telling the doctor, ‘I want to know everything about this baby so I can prepare.’  Sounds very organized.  After all, if we know the sex of the baby we can prepare the baby’s room, register for the appropriate gifts in the right color, and… lessen the surprise factor.  Everything is nice and tidy.  Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with my choice of knowing everything I could.  But is that true of life in general?  Do we want to know everything about everything so we can further plan for it?  Do we want to know the outcome to all?  When I think about the countless times, situations, events, and my life in general, I’d rather not know.  If we had known what we know now or how things were going to turn out, would we have done what we did?  Would we have made the same choices?  Would we have attended that school or chosen that location for our vacation?  If we had known how that date was going to turn out, would we have gone out with that person?  If I had known how my weekend was going to turn out, would I have planned it as I did?  Even when things don’t turn out as we planned or wanted, there’s still great learning AND growth in it.  It seems to me that’s the best part of life; the unexpected that throws a wrench in our tidy plans and takes us in a whole new direction.  If I go out on a date and it doesn’t turn out as wonderful as I thought it would, is it a total loss?  Could it just be an opportunity to get to know someone a little better?  Or perhaps get outside of my comfort zone?  It’s not a total loss.  I believe we delude ourselves into thinking that if things don’t turn out as we thought, then they didn’t turn out right.  But did they?  What is right and what is wrong?  In life, is right equivalent to happy and predictable?  Is wrong unhappy and unwanted?  Surely we all plan and have many plans; but how many times have great people and chances come your way as a result of something that didn’t turn out as you assumed it would?  How often have you marveled or thanked God for something that wasn’t even on your horizon?   I'd rather not know how everything will turn out.  Life is not a sequence of planned, joyful events; and I’m thankful for that. 

Routine

Boring.  That’s the first word that comes to mind when we think of the word ‘routine.’  We might mention it in the context of young children needing a routine in order to be well adjusted.  We might say if we have a good routine at work we will be organized and on track.  But we would never say ‘hey, what a cool routine I have,’ or ‘man, am I ready for my routine today!’  Routines are just something we all need in our day to go from one thing to the next; a formula for getting our jobs done and to take care of our families and our homes.  The daily habits done in the same way and many times at the same time.  Does that sound like fun????!!!  But let me tell you why I’m thankful for routine.  Even on a bad or sad day, there’s always the comfort of routine.  There’s a great ease and even security that comes from the predictability of it.  When we perform these everyday mundane chores, we already know the outcome.  I know that when I do the laundry I have to wash, I have to dry, then hang, then fold, then put away.  There’s no thought put into it.  Doing routine tasks that require little effort and no imagination is soothing and relaxing.  Most of the time we don’t even have to think about doing it.  We just do it.  There’s no stress or distress in the monotonous tasks; and that in itself brings satisfaction.  Just a finished product; sometimes even a great finished product!  And there’s contentment in a habitual and methodical job well done; but it’s a great deal more than that.  Even the ordinary and unremarkable is necessary.  Think … where would be without these daily chores, tasks, duties, jobs?  Where would we be without our routines? 

My Will

My gift from heaven.  I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the waves of intense emotions, the incredible sensation of something so great, so powerful and at the same time so humbling, quite unlike anything I had ever felt before - instant, total, complete and overwhelming love and attachment.  I remember thinking that I wanted to celebrate, I wanted to party and didn’t know how from my hospital bed.  I also remember the bond and the almost-immediate worry and thinking in that very moment that I would kill or die for him.

He was born with a perfect little reddish mohawk and the softest pink lips which I kissed over and over.  I stared at him for hours on end.  I examined every inch of his little body marveling at the beauty of a flawless creation.  I loved kissing his toes and fingers and holding him so close to me as if to never let go.  From that moment on, it stopped being about me.  Completely.  And I was happy to oblige in exchange for the joy that this little being brought into my life. 

My little gift from heaven is now an intelligent, strong, energetic and handsome 15 year old.  His hair is dark and has seen a mohawk on a couple of occasions.  He’s way taller than me now and has been for many years; no more cuddling.  On rare and good days I get a hug and sometimes a little peck on the cheek.  He enjoys showing me muscle over muscle as he stares in the mirror.   Yes, he is a teenager with ALL that comes with it, but he’s still and will always be my special gift from heaven. 

 

Sabbath

Those who know me know that I'm a sabbath observer. The sabbath is a wonderful opportunity (not always taken or enjoyed) to be one with Our Creator and to enjoy the fellowship of our like-minded brothers and sisters. No matter what has happened during the week; no matter how crazy or even painful, the sabbath is a rest from it all. To many of us, a rest from the stress and the tension and the many concerns or worries we have for work, family issues, health, finances, etc.  A time to let go of every burden and rejoice and give thanks to our Heavenly Father that we have a special day and a special bond with Him. Thank you Father for providing what You knew we all would desperately need. Thank you for the Sabbath. 

The Great 4th

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the US and to the republic ...today I give thanks that I live in this wonderful country - the land of the free and the land of opportunity. I was the first one in my family to get a college degree and then had the luxury of getting a master's degree. Since then there have been several family members who have attended and graduated from college. My kids now know that an education is not optional. I really don't know if that would've happened had I not lived here. So many open doors and great challenges. Thank you USA!  

Two guys, a girl and a pizza place

More like two men, a woman and Macaroni Grill.  I was supposed to meet my good friend André for our ‘senior dinner’ at 5PM sharp.  This has been our way of catching up and still allowing us to get home at a decent time for family obligations.  Andre’s been a good friend for several years.  We met at work and immediately connected.  He’s the sort of intelligent, mature, respectful and thoughtful friend anyone would be fortunate to have.  He’s a great sounding board, gives great advice, especially about men, and is extremely generous.  I don’t think I’ve paid for a meal in years – I’m really not cheap; he just won’t let me.  Then he had to cancel…almost at the very minute that my old friend Roberto was texting me to see if I was free after work!  Tadaaa!  I love it when this happens!  Roberto is from Brazil and was my little brother’s first roommate.  We also went to church together.  I have great memories of hilarious conversations in Portañol (Portuguese and Español), fun trips and outings wherever we could think of after church on Saturday nights.  Since then we’ve shared other not so fabulous things like simultaneous divorces, kid and dating issues, etc.  Roberto is just one of those people who loves life, isn’t afraid of anything, and exudes confidence – in everything he does.  Today I give thanks for my two good friends.  It doesn’t matter how much time goes by between our dinners, I know they’re in my heart constantly and they are lovely to me. 

First Day

Yep, so much to give thanks for, but where to start?  Obviously, at the beginning.  Nothing I can think of, nothing I can do, cannot even BE, without God.  Thank you God.  Thank you for letting me be.  Thank you that you are not only my Creator, but my Savior, my Father, my Daddy, my Go-To, my Expert at Everything That I Need.  Thank you for showing me your love in countless and beautiful ways every single day; every single time I need it.  Thank you for letting me be a freak and kick and scream and throw a tantrum, and then fall in your arms.  Thank you for knowing me wholly, fully, completely, and loving me anyway with an eternal love that I cannot even begin to comprehend.   Thank you for considering me your baby, your little princess, your special jewel.  Thank you Father, thank you daddy.  Love you always.