Gratitude Thursday

Well, I’m still living in Crazytown this week, but after the whiny tone of my last post about the G-homestead, I thought I’d try something different. I’ll take a page from Ms. Oprah and other wise souls and make my very own gratitude blog post.

Today I am grateful for:

One of my major writing and design projects for my job is done and in the mail. I have been blessed by some very nice complements from my co-workers on the piece and even though I see the parts that I’m not happy with and the places where I thought I could have done better, I’m trying to be truly thankful for their kind words and accept their kind words gracefully. It’s hard, my nature is to not believe people when they tell me they like what I’ve done. I don’t know why I’m so jaded – I think it’s the inner critic in me that says, “They’re just saying that because they feel sorry for you.” Or, “They’re just saying that because they don’t want you to feel bad.” Which, when I start walking down that path, does nothing but make me feel bad. Gah – I think I’m going to name my inner critic the White Witch, like the one from “The Chronicles of Narnia” and picture myself as Susan piercing her evil heart with an arrow shot from my magical bow. (OK – I know Peter kills her in the book and the movie, but I’m SO Susan in all my doubts and fears – so I’m going to be the one who shoots her when she starts criticizing me with her ice cold silvery daggers of doubts. My critic, my revenge.) Anyway – I’m thankful for all I learned doing the project and that it turned out presentable.

Mark – the bulk mail guy at the post office who patiently answered all my questions and then praised me for a job well done when my totals all matched up on our 1500 piece mailing. The guy is just a gem!

My darling husband. He’s fighting a nasty infection that has lodged itself in his foot and is making it almost impossible for him to walk. The poor guy feels horrible (physically) and keeps apologizing to me. I have a keeper here folks. Please pray that this will heal quickly as he’s really miserable.

My little lady. She had her first Middle School dance tonight. I can’t believe I just typed those words. I remember dancing with her in the living room to The Little Mermaid when she was about 2 and a half! Thankfully, when I picked her up today, there were no tears or frustrations about boys not asking her to dance, only a peeved young lady that one of the teachers broke up a perfectly good Conga line because there was too much “touching” going on somewhere in the line. (Thanks Mr. C.) We've had some great discussions lately about the issues that go along with growing up and I'm so grateful for her obedient heart and teachable spirit. Don't know how long this will last before the real rebellion kicks in but I'm grateful for this for now.

The boy. The young man is so creative and expressive and bright as the sun is hot. But sitting down and doing worksheets – definitely not his idea of a good time. The little guy has been stepping up the efforts on the homework though and has had a great attitude about it this week.

The schedule is easing up. I have actually been able to be home a few nights this week. Hooray! I cleaned a particularly nasty cupboard of arts and crafts supplies last night and started weeding through our books to get rid of some that just don’t make the cut for ones I want to read again, ones I might pass on to someone, or, ones that were so profound that they will never leave the walls of this house without me. It feels good to be in my nest. Speaking of nest . . .

Keeko the wonderbird. She is settling in and the loud fits of chirping and singing only seem to be happening about 2-3 times a day. The rest of the time, she seems quite content. Brad has been great about this little feathered one as he was not really crazy about the idea of expanding our family. I think if Keeko keeps on her good behavior, she’s secured her immunity for the time being.

Good TV – Studio 60, Gray’s Anatomy, The Office. Yay for new stories, great writing and the gift of laughter.

You! My blogging friends (and even the lurkers who aren't leeaving comments - you know who you are *wink*)! You all have been so encouraging in your comments and kind words. They are like a cool shower of blessings during the dry times when all there seems to be is duty and obligation. Thanks Michelle for the nice compliment on my flower pictures - I've actually thought about making some into cards. When I get a chance to work on them, I'll email you and find out where to send some!

Thanks for stopping by everyone! Please leave me a note in my comments of some of the things you are thankful for today. If you can't think of anything, let me know that too, and then I'll lift up prayers for you this week. I'd like to do that for you as I know that others have done that for me during the dry times in my life. Thanks again! Really . . . thanks!

Sunday Scribbling - Instructions

Inspired by Jenny who had a wonderful post about really short stories and Tara who had a wonderful little Scribble this week, here’s a mini-Scribble. It’s a bit “dark and twisty” for this mom from the burbs, but it’s the one that has wrestled itself to the top of the brainstorm heap and was the tough bully among them that said, “It’s my week this week”.

The gas can thumped against her leg as she walked back to the car.

With each thump she could feel her heart starting to slow down from the frantic pace of earlier in the night.

She wasn’t an evil person. She didn’t want to hurt him, even if he deserved it. But he did have to face the consequence of his actions.

She put the gas can in her trunk and traced her steps back from where she had come. When she saw the slick glimmer on the pavement in front of his driveway, she stopped.

God - why does he love that thing so much? she thought. It’s old and ugly and the seats have springs poking through the cushions. What is so important about that old truck? Why does he love something like that and he can’t love me?

The answer was in the palm of her hand. Not the answer to the question, but the answer to this pain she felt tonight.

In white letters on a red background, "Close cover before striking."

For more Sunday Scribblings go here.

Don't call the police . . .

Dear friends,
Yes, I am still alive. No need to contact the FBI, CSI or that cutie-pie on the new show "Kidnapped". I am in that special pergatory, h - e - double toothpics part of being a parent called "September". This past week had three back to school nights, five soccer practices, a heavy workload and the start back to my responsibilities as a small group leader for our weekly women's meeting at church. All that plus gobs of laundry, errands, feeding the rugrats, keeping them on track with their homework and shuffling through the mounds of paperwork sent home in backpacks has kept me out of the bloggosphere.

And I miss you all! I feel like I'm spiritually and creatively dragging for lack of my "fixes" from your incredible blogs. Please know that I'm hoping that this weekend I'll have a chance to catch up on your entries and hopefully put something thoughtful and insightful on this little 'ole blog.

But, because it's still September, don't anyone hold their breath too long.

Sunday Scribbling - Research

Well, there's nothing that will send you googling quicker than a orphan pet finding it's way into a household. So all the great ideas I had for doing research on North Africa, Breast Cancer, my favorite place in the world - Fountains Abbey, Organ Donation - these all took a back seat to my immediate need to know how to feed and care for one very lovely little Peach-faced Lovebird that moved in today.

About two weeks ago we lost our lovely neighbors across the street. Well, they're not really LOST, like freaky magnetic island in the middle of nowhere lost, but moved to another part of town, lost. We loved this family and had become good friends with them and enjoyed exploring the different cultural differences in our families. The mom had a hobby of raising birds and my daughter had spent many hours at her house watching her care for the many birds. She gave us this lovely gift today as she's expecting her 4th child and is trying to pare down her extensive bird collection so she can focus on her family.

So Keko (keeko) joined our family today. We are struggling most right now with what to call it. He? She? Did you know that the only way to definitively tell the sex of a lovebird is to have it's DNA tested? Okay, maybe it's just me, but that could really stink if you were a lovebird trying to make a love connection. Just how do THEY figure it out? Hmmm . . . write that one down to ask the Creator someday . . .

Mrs. N gave us a wonderful supply of bird food but tonight I learned that lovebirds also need a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables. Tonight Keko dined on birdseed, broccoli and banana (we're nothing if not fans of alliteration). I also learned that avocados, rhubarb leaves and apples seeds are poisonous to birds.

Lovebirds love their toys. They need to chew and toys made of leather, rawhide or natural substances work best. They don't necessarily like to be alone so tomorrow we're going to try to get a mirror so maybe we can convince he/she there's a buddy right next door. We let her/him out of her/his cage for a bit of a stroll around tonight and he/she seems content with her/his new surroundings.

The real unknown is the noise factor. That could immediately earn Keko a ticket on the next raft off the ark if he/she tries to start revelee too early in the morning. The research says that these can be noisy little birds if they don't get enough attention. We're hoping that the kid's fascination with little peach-faced Keko holds out and they can sufficiently tire out the little critter so it sleeps in until a descent hour each morning.

I'll try to post actual pictures of Keko in a few days, but for now the canned google image above lets you see how cute the little guy is. Or girl . . .

Bloggerfest PDX

About nine months ago, I stumbled across my first blog. I found it through a weekly email that highlights talented up-and-coming creative artists. Christine Miller (a.k.a. Swirly Girl) wrote the most amazing, rich, relevant and personal journal entries to go along with her beautiful art. And more than that, she demystified the art of creating. She let you in on her process, her thoughts, her insecurities and her triumphs. I was hooked.

Soon after I started reading her blog, she wrote about an upcoming retreat with her blogging friends in California. I quickly followed the links like a starving bird devouring fresh baked bread crumbs. For days I read the reports of their wonderful retreat and how it had nourished each one's creative spirit. How great, I thought. To share that kind of an experience with people who love doing the same things you do would be so fun.

Well, I had a little taste of that wonderful encouragement and inspiration last night when I got the chance to meet Laini (Grow Wings), Alexandra (Marvelous madness), Liz (be present, be here), Jennifer (Life's Snapshots) and Deirdre (Writing Anam Cara) for dinner in Portland last night. We were treated to a lovely sushi dinner by Deirdre's wonderfully generous partner, R. (I'm not sure how he feels about being "revealed" in blogs so I'll protect his identity, besides, he might not want to have all his friends knowing he has the habit of picking up tabs for tables full of people he's just met!) A surprise guest joined us for gellato after dinner - Laini's husband Jim (Jimbo Jabber).

What a wonderful time of getting to know these great women (and the fellows, too)! The conversations were rich with encouragement, creativity, and above all, acknowledgement of this wonderful device - blogging - that can bring perfect strangers together to find they have so much in common. I drove home feeling like I need hours more of time to ask each woman all the questions that were swirling in my head. I'm hoping that this was just the first of our get-togethers and that we'll have more opportunities to connect in the future.

(OK - my camera battery was dead so I didn't get any pictures, but go to Jennifer's site to see us posing pretty on the streets of Portland!)

Five years ago . . .

Five years ago, I was getting N. off to second grade and getting J. ready for his first day of pre-school. It was a morning of conflicting emotions. Saddness, joy; loss, pride; peace and fear. I remember asking myself, "Living on the other side of the country from where most of the devastation had occurred, how scared should I really be?" As the tragedy unfolded on the 24-hour news coverage, I realized the risk to me and my family was slight, but it was soon clear, things would forever change.

Things I remember from that day:
- N. walking into the kitchen just as I watched the first tower fall to the ground on our little 13 inch t.v. She asked, "Mommy, what happened to that building." Choking back tears, I explained, "There was a bad accident and it broke the building and it fell down." "Were there people still inside there?" she asked. I had to look away from her 8-year old face as the tears wouldn't stay back any longer. "I hope not," came out of my mouth. "I hope not," came out of my heart.

- We live near a fairly busy community airport. There are always helicopters and small planes flying in the area. After living here 14 years, I almost tune them out, but on September 11, 2001, the skies were eerily silent in our little suburb.

- Hearing the announcement that they closed our nearest shopping mall. In a rare moment of silliness that day, I remember thinking, "Things must be really bad if the mall is closing."

- The flags. The rush of patriotism in the days following. I wore my flag pin today that it took me weeks to find after 9/11. Buying N's soccer team red, white and blue ribbons for their hair for the game that week. Trying to buy an American flag for our house, not knowing why it was all of the sudden so important, but it just was.

- Taking J. to pre-school that day and huddling with some of the other moms in the corner trying to keep the joy of the special day but feeling the heaviness of knowing, however cliche it might have sounded or felt, the world had just changed and our children would live a different life than we ever did.

- Trying to reach my parents by phone in England to make sure they were OK and just to hear their voices.

- In the days following the tragedy, I forced myself to read the obituaries printed in the paper. I finally had to stop as the grief would just press on me like a dark, heavy blanket that I couldn't drop. I kept praying for the families, but for my sanity's sake, I just couldn't read about another family who had lost someone they loved so much.

I received this today from a weekly email service I subscribe to and I thought it might be a fitting way to mark the day. No matter how you express your personal faith, I hope this is one lesson we could all take hold of from that very sad day five years ago.

THE MONDAY MEMO

LET THEM KNOW

In the movie "Love Actually" Hugh Grant's character says in the introduction, "When the planes hit the twin towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge. They were all messages of love."

There's something about tragedy that gives us insight to what really matters. Today we'll be reminded of the terrible events that took place five years ago. We'll hear the stories and see the pictures and relive some of the heartbreak. Hopefully, we'll also capture fresh perspective on what we value most, as individuals and as a society.

Most of us have no trouble expressing our political opinions. Those around us know where we stand on the war, what we think of the President, and who we blame for each turn of events. But do our loved ones know how we feel about them? There are things in life more precious than politics -- even more precious than life itself. These are things over which you have greater influence. You can't, by yourself, change what governments do. But there are some big things you can do single-handedly: You can make sure the special persons in your life know who they are and what they mean to you.

Take some time today to send a message of love. If you don't know how to say it, maybe you can begin with Paul's words to his friends in Philippi, "I thank God every time I think of you." (Philippians 1:3)

--Steve May

A sad day

Today, I made my kids cry. They weren't in trouble. I wasn't pulling out a nasty splinter or ripping off a tough band-aid. I was actually doing something good for them but the response was tears, gasps and sadness that filled their faces and hearts.

I had to tell them the news that one of their childhood idols was gone. The Crocodile Hunter was one of the first shows we used to watch as a family. There was many a Saturday night that we would rush home from church, whip up a plate of nachos and sit down for an exciting night at the Australia Zoo with Steve, Terry and his friends. We went to see their movie on opening day - fans of the Animal Planet and their rising star from down under.

While my kids cried at the news of Steve Irwin's untimely and sad death, I used the opportunity to talk to my kids about following their passions. This man died doing what he absolutely loved to do. He died happy and fulfilled in many ways because he followed his passions while he was alive. I told my kids that I wanted them to always remember the love Steve Irwin had for his work and his family. I told them how I hoped and that I would be praying that they would find something in their lives that they would love just as much. I explained to them no one ever knows how much time they have on this earth, so it is important that we use the time well.

Kind of goes with my Sunday Scribbling post from yesterday. We're here to live a life. It's taken me a while to grasp this, but I don't want my kids to waste one day.

For those of you who pray, please remember my baby girl as she starts her first day of Middle School tomorrow. (Aaaccckk!) She's a bit nervous, but I know she's going to do great. J's taking it all in stride and is excited to see his teacher from last year as he's looping to the next grade with her. Me? I'll be the one heaving a big sigh of relief at about 8:30 am tomorrow when they all are on their way.

Sunday Scribbling - Fortune

Two fortune cookie slips hang on my fridge. Tucked in between the photos of the kids and their laminated Bible verses from Sunday School.

They hang there, trying to be promises, maybe pulling off a bit of motivation, but more recently, they stare accusingly from the freezer door as reminders that there are places in my life that feel empty and lacking.

“Unveil your ideas and be ready to act on them.”

“You will be successful in your career.”

Tonight, Brad and I went to see “Little Miss Sunshine”. There are very few movies that we both really love, but this was one of them. Within the first five minutes, I could feel the sting of un-cried tears behind my eyes. These were people like me. These people were fighting the most frightening of real life monsters – disappointment. They had no super powers, no burly stud muffin that would save them, no clever, intelligent, super-spy hero to save the day. They only had each other and a warped vision of success loaded with the world's expectations.

The older brother has a wonderful sequence of lines in the film. It comes after a heartwrenching realization that one of his goals might be unreachable. It went something like this, pardon my paraphrase, “Life is one beauty pageant after another. F*ck this. F*ck them. I don’t want to be judged by their standards. I say, do what you love and f*ck the rest. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly.” And by the end of the film, this family embraces this profound truth and it gives them something they hardly realized they were seeking. They slayed the beast. Disappointment was replaced by the sweetest of victories. They were united in their love, in their imperfections and boldly showed their messy selves. And the world did not end. And the next day was a new day. The problems would still be there, but they were ok. The beast of disappointment was banished from the kingdom of the yellow VW bus and never was there a more lovely chariot to carry off those heroes into the sunset.

I left the theater with red puffy eyes, a twinge of a jealous heart (that someone else wrote this gorgeous screenplay, and I didn’t) and a new resolve to be brave enough to dance to the way I want to in a room full of plastic, sequined beauty queens.

Translation: I’m not looking to win the Miss Sunshine contest of writing, blogging, mothering, wifing, daughtering, or anything else. I want to dance to the music I choose. I want to live the life I want. I want to serve my God the way WE decide – not the way I think would be acceptable, agreeable and logical to everyone else.

I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to scream. I want to dance. I want to live full and love deep. And most of all, I want to write. I am a good writer. It’s enough. I don’t need to publish. I don’t need to get paid for it. I don’t need to be the best ever but I DO need to STOP listening to the voices that tell me that I can’t be happy unless that happens.

Screw the fortune cookies. (Except the actual cookie part – I still like that part). The fortunes are coming of the fridge and going in the garbage tonight. I don’t need a slip of paper to tell me what I can or can’t do or pretend to know what’s ahead for me.

I need a little girl with goofy glasses a top hat and a dream. I need to remember, beauty queens eat ice cream. I need to practice my act and be ready to dance. I need to know and accept the journey is often the biggest part of the prize. I’m not going after a fortune, I’m going to live a life.

For more Sunday Scribblings, go here.

(And go see “Little Miss Sunshine”!)

Checkin' in

Who knew walking on the treadmill was so hip?

Check it out.

Yes, I'm still here. It's been a crazy week and I've felt a bit out of sorts. Not much to write share that felt positive, so I just kept it off the blog page - no use spreading the sour grapes!

I'm going to TRY VERY VERY HARD to write my Sunday Scribbling tonight. Or tomorrow . . . Or maybe Tuesday when the kids are back at school.

Oh Summer - *sniff*, why do ya have to leave me now??