Failures

We don’t like to mention it.  As a matter of fact, I don’t believe I’ve heard this word in conversation in a few years.  Who even wants to utter the word?  It’s like the terrible, awful.  It’s like a nasty, despicable, horrible word.  When my kids were younger and they said something unkind I would tell them, ‘it looks like there are frogs and roaches and snakes coming out of your mouth.’  I think that’s how we think of failure.  It’s a very bad word.  It’s an unmentionable word.  Who wants to say, ‘I failed?’  Who likes to say, ‘oh yeah, I tried and failed at….’  It feels cruel and harsh and heartless; even if we say it of ourselves.­­­

But failure can be enlightening.  When we fail, and we inevitably look back, we can see so many things that we never could have had we not taken that road.  It can bring tremendous opportunities for evaluation and self-correction.  It can also give us a deep personal insight.  If we fail at whatever, won’t we at least have the chance to try again if we want to?  Won’t we be able to choose different next time?  If we don’t fail, how could we ever know what’s right?  What’s better?  What’s more convenient? What works?  What makes sense for us? We truly learn from our mistakes. 

­­And what about the byproducts of failure?  The consequences?  As a woman and a mother, I have failed plenty.  I thought of my divorce as a failure.  I think most people do.  Not because of what I did or didn’t do as sometimes we aren’t given a choice in the matter.  But because the result was the end of the marriage.  Something I never wanted.  I ached at the thought of my shattered dream of an intact family; a broken future.  I grieved over my children going back and forth between homes.  The images of becoming a dysfunctional family tormented me for months.  But even though the ex and I didn’t make it as a married couple, I still have a little family.  I have two children who are the biggest blessings in my life.  In this case, I would never think of doing something different.  I would do it all over again.  Every single solitary step taken to walk down the aisle with that man because the failed marriage yielded my forever family. 

Today I give thanks for all the failures.  Not because so I’m proud of them, but because I know many of them were openings for my personal growth and blessings to me and others­­. They brought me to where I am now.  They taught me be thankful and to do better.  To be a more productive individual.  To be a healthier mother, daughter, sister, friend, and human being. 

Too Soon

I have heard people say ‘he died too soon.’  I’ve said it too.  I said it about my dad when he died at the age of 50.  I said it about my brother’s best friend; he died when he was in his early 20s. I bet we all have someone in our lives who we consider died too soon.

What I remember most about him is his big, broad, but shy smile.  He had the most beautiful smile.  He was one of those people who could light up a room.  Not because he was the friendliest, most boisterous or engaging.  It’s because he was so understatedly charming and special.  So mature and thoughful for a teenager.  He was not just handsome; he was striking, with gorgeous dark curly hair against his fair skin.  So sweet and polite.  He didn’t just say hello.  It was more than that.  It was a shy smile, a kiss and a hug.  He didn’t miss anyone; everyone got a special hello.  And so kind.  I’ve heard many stories of his taking the shirt of his back – literally.  He gave away his clothes, books, food, money.  Never kept anything back.  So many were drawn and attracted to him.  But I believe it was the others, his true friends, that saw the truth.  They saw the vulnerable little boy; the maturing but still timid young man.  They saw his kindness and intelligence, but also saw the true inner light and love that radiated from him. Those friends knew him, loved him, cared for him, and still care about him.  Still remember him. Still love him.  Still celebrate his life.

Seven years.  It seems like a week ago he was here.  Those of us who knew him thank God for his life.  But we all know he died too soon. 

It is better to give....

I love presents.  I love gifts.  I’m not one of those people who invites you to a birthday party and ensures that the invitation says ‘no gifts please; the pleasure of your company is all I need.’  Nope, that’s not me.  I enjoy getting gifts.  Big and small.  When someone gives me something, whatever it is, I want to open it right away.  I want to see what’s inside.  I love the element of surprise.  I want to see what the person thought to get for me.  Now, I have to admit that the majority of the gifts I’ve ever received, I could go buy myself.  I can march myself into a mall right now and pick up a couple of dozen things I would like.  But it’s so not about that.  It’s not about the money.  It’s really the thought that went into it.  It’s the fact that someone took the time to go pick out something special for you.  It’s not the cost of the gift.  I’ve received tons of small, inexpensive, but priceless gifts.  The thought that someone put in the wrapping or the card attached.  The fact that they remembered something you said 7 months ago when you were window shopping together.  A book they knew would just ‘speak’ to you.  Your favorite color or something for a collection.  Something small that you would not thing to buy for yourself, but still needed.  A homemade gift.  I love and appreciate getting all of these.

But as much as I adore being showered with gifts, there’s no greater feeling for me than when I give.  It’s not just the shopping, wrapping and giving.  It’s the anticipation of the mirror effect.  I give something and I see the joy in the person’s eyes and I’m sure they can see the joy in me.  Giving makes me happy.  But the greater gifts are the ones where you’re totally anonymous.  No one knows you gave.  No one is the wiser.  Only you know that you gave to a cause, to a person, to cover some need, or a special situation.  That kind of giving is more special because there is no immediate reward.  There is no one thanking you, eyes shining and wide smile.  There’s just the reward in your heart.  And as much as I’ve given throughout my life, I know I’ve been more than paid back in blessings and joy. 

Friendship

We had a fight.  Well, for us, it was a big fight.  We never raise our voices with one another.  We know and understand each other.  We are crazy different, but appreciate each other for what we are.  No mistakes there.   We have a very good relationship.  A long-term, dear friendship.  So this is a very rare situation for us.  I felt he yelled at me, talked over me and assumed my response before I said anything.  I was livid.  I felt disrespected.  What’s worse, when I tried to discuss the matter I got nothing.   Silence.  Not ‘we’ll discuss it later.’  Just nothing.  So I had a chance to stew over it a little.  Then as the days passed, I stewed over it some more.  Then, because I couldn’t stand it anymore, I made the call to fix it.  Turns out, he felt I shouted at him and interrupted him.  How can this be?  He felt disrespected.  I just didn’t get it.  Was he talking about the same conversation?  He was.  I insisted he was wrong and that he raised his voice and interrupted ME; treating me like a child and assuming he knew exactly what I would say.  I told him he should just accept when he’s wrong.  He should admit it.  Then he said ‘I’m sorry.’  It didn’t feel good.  I didn’t know what else to say.  I was looking for empathy and reconciliation and I got an ‘I’m sorry’ hurled at me.  I just said we’d talk later and hung up.

But then I thought a little more.  This time I didn’t stew.  I knew, immaterial of what was said by either of us, it wasn’t meant as it was received.  And it certainly wasn’t meant to hurt.  So this time when I connected with him I didn’t demand that he ‘get it’ or ‘admit it’ or ‘apologize.’ I told him I was really trying to clear the air because I didn't want this uncomfortable feeling hanging over us.  I wasn't looking for a simple and mechanical apology for the sake of getting one.  I was looking for understanding. So I said, ‘if we can't agree on what happened, let's just forget that it happened. You're my friend and I love you. That's more important.’ His response was swift.  He said he was sorry and meant it.  He said he may not always agree with me, but the fact that he made me feel a certain way is something he didn’t mean to do and felt really bad about.  He said a genuine ‘I’m sorry.’

Deep breath…and out.  What a relief.  So grateful for true friendships.

Don't Count Your Threes

I’ve heard that trouble or problems come in threes.  This is an old and superstitious position and it seems that we gravitate towards it when we have a problem; sort of ‘woe is me, I don’t just have one problem, I have three!!!’  We may have something legitimate going on and then we just lump a couple of other things on top of it to ensure we have our ‘three.’  I’ve seen my friends do this, ‘I have to have toe surgery and today I found out that my kitchen sink has a leak AND I’ve also gained 5 pounds!’  And I know many times I’ve said, ‘yes, you’re right, it usually goes like that, you don’t get one problem, you get several.’ 

But that’s life.  That’s reality.  This world is not perfect; life is not perfect, just as we are not perfect.  Life is not clean or tidy or without its problems.  And I find that sometimes you don’t just get three, you get four or five or more problems at a time. Life is only picture-perfect in movies and magazine covers.  I usually tell my kids ‘Hollywood is not real life!’  And sometimes I say it very loudly.  The beautiful homes with the beautiful people with beautiful perfectly behaved children with impeccable decorator touches and precise organization and they are all hugging and looking happy is not real!!!!  Let’s not even talk about digging up what’s underneath all that; puhleeze! 

So, let’s not count our threes.  Let’s count the fours, fives, sixes, nines.  Let’s count the dozens.  Let’s count the hundreds.  Let’s count all the blessings, all the great things we enjoy every day.  Let’s count that we are all in the land of the living.  Let’s count our freedom.  Let’s count that we have families and friends.  Let’s count jobs and school and homes.  Let’s count a pet that loves us unconditionally.  Let’s count a great meal with a colleague.  Let’s count learning a new sport.  Let’s count a challenge that stretches our thinking.  Let’s count the help we can give someone.  Let’s count the many, many blessings and joys we have every single day. 

Expanding The Mind

I have loved reading my whole life.  Well, ever since I can remember.  I started school at the age of 8.  Kind of late in most circles.  Children start school and their ABCs at the age of 4 in pre-k programs; and I have heard of others as young as the age of 3 in pre-k curriculums.  Although a very shy child who routinely clung to my mother’s skirt or hid behind her, by the time I was enrolled in school I was ready.  I went directly to first grade.  I knew basic arithmetic and how to read and write - my sister taught me at home by reading Archie comic books.  Betty was my favorite character.  She was so pretty with her blond ponytail.  I didn’t anyone back then who had blond hair.   She loved Archie and was always so nice to everyone, even the lame and lazy Jughead.  So went my introduction into reading.

Many years and books later, I can honestly say that I love reading and enjoy just about anything that I can get my hands on.  There are a few exceptions, auto-mechanics and extraterrestrial novels just don’t work for me.  I remember when I was young sitting for hours at the public library.  I started with the very short, basic books and then graduated to chapter books.  Then in my teens I found romance novels.  Wow!  I didn’t care that these had multiple chapters.  I devoured them nightly.  But I also found great reading in high school.  Books like The Pearl, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Catcher in the Rye were perfectly challenging in language and kept me reading. And The Good Earth, still much-loved to this day, “she smiled slowly then, the same slow smile that ended before it reached her eyes….”  Some things are never forgotten.  Later on in college I started reading Spanish works – this opened up a whole other world of authors and cultures for me.  Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter is still one of my all-time favorites and makes me smile every time I read it.  When I had my children, I read every book I could read about child-rearing – What to Expect when You’re Expecting.  Can’t miss that one.  And other books after that – I didn’t want to mess up my kids with my own pre-dispositions and predilections.  And now that they are teens, I’m learning from books about letting go; honestly, I should’ve learned this many years ago.  Even though I’m busy with two teenagers, my reading list is still long.  But I have to say that my favorite reading, the one that always gives me peace, the one that brings me back into focus, is my spiritual reading.  The bible is not only a great book to read, it’s also a tool for knowledge.  It never gets old; no matter how many times you've read it.  Although I have enjoyed and still derive great pleasure from all types of books, I can’t go very long without reading my bible.  Many times I read it as part of a bible study.  But many more times I’ve just reached for it to find solace and peace in times of trouble.  And I find comfort every time. 

What a privilege to have so many books, so many genres, and so many authors available to us anytime and anywhere.  Some days I wish I could devote more time to reading than anything else!

 

 

 

Simple Pleasures

There are days that are full of joy and remembrance.  Days such as weddings, the birth of a child, a baptism, or a graduation.  Those are the days we remember long after they happen.  For years.  Then there are the other days that aren’t a great occasion or commemoration, but are wonderful just the same.  A simple invitation to lunch sharing good food, adults catching up while kids play.  An afternoon spent with the family.  Some days just are perfect in their simplicity if they are spent with those you love.