A Novel?
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in that t-shirt and tight jeans she loved. The shirt matched the color of his eyes and hugged his muscles. He walked with such confidence. It was obvious he knew who he was and where he was going in life. And she was the lucky one. He was all hers.
Oh my gosh. Did I really just write that paragraph? Let's rewrite it to fit everyday life.
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in yesterday's t-shirt that had paint spatters all over the front. There was a big hole under the sleeve on the right side. His jeans were baggy and out of style. The shirt and his eyes were no where near the same color, and muscles? Actually, he did walk with confidence. However, it was obvious he had no clue where he had been or where he was going. Sometimes he walked into a room and forgot why he was there. She understood because she did that, too. Yes, he was all hers. And she was happy about that.
As you can tell, I could never write a novel. But, it is fun to think about it. Writing fiction must be so much fun. The writer can make the characters do and say whatever they want. They can mimic real life or live totally in a fantasy world. What a great gift to be able to write stories.
That is not my style. In fact, I have been wondering exactly what my style is. Sometimes people ask me what my books are about. My usual answer is they are about life experiences. I observe life happening and then share what I have seen and heard. Or I give my impression of what I have seen and heard. Does that describe it? I am not sure.
What I do know is life is full to overflowing with color and beauty. Each experience I observe teaches me new lessons. I store those lessons in my memory and use them to make life richer for others. Works of fiction have the ability to teach, also. When I was still in the classroom, I would tell my students that there were lessons to be learned in short stories. We simply had to dig into the story to find the meaning that could be applied to everyday life. They would often roll their eyes and grumble about having to read such stupid stories. But, we did read them, and we did talk about them.
Each life is a story. Each life has its own cast of characters, settings, conflicts, resolutions. Each has colors--bright and dark. The journey through life presents challenges that force us to reach deep within. That is the beauty of it all. We never cease to grow and learn. We are constantly in motion either physically or emotionally. Our story unfolds in bits and pieces. Sometimes we like the way it is moving. Other times we do not.
While we live in the real world, the world of fiction and fantasy allows us to escape for just a bit. We can imagine that good-looking guy staring at us from across the room. We can imagine being swept off our feet and onto the dance floor. We can almost feel the excitement of having every eye in the room glued to "us" as we dance across the floor. Yes, it is good to live in that world for awhile.
And then we return to the real world. We see that partner who holds our heart so carefully and lovingly. We smile at the person who loves us even when we are so darn unlovable. We have shared memories with that person. We have made a life with that human. No author can write about the love we know. Words are not adequate.
Fiction is fun. Real is better.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
What is the Greatest Gift?
What is the Greatest Gift?
Ask that question to a five year old child, and the answer would probably be that new toy they saw advertised on television. Marketing companies know exactly when to have those commercials available for viewing for this particuar audience.
A child of ten might say a phone would be the greatest gift. A phone gives them instant communication with their friends. They can text, instant message, send pictures and do other functions I simply don't understand. It is a mark of their freedom from parents. They can escape into their own world by simply pushing a few buttons.
That sixteen year old who has an eye on a vehicle would more than likely respond with "wheels." This makes perfect sense. That license to drive with the picture on it is worth more than gold. It is such a precious gift. For the young person it is further proof of maturity. For the adults--perhaps not so much! With that little piece of plastic comes the added worry of a young person behind a wheel. But, we have all been there. Maybe that is the reason we are so fearful when our person leaves with the car for the first time.
Being accepted into the college/university of choice could be seen as the greatest gift. After years and years of school, studying at the school of choice is certainly a wonderful experience. Four or more years to gain knowledge, grow as a human person, make decisions about life's work. Those years are the middle years between high school and work. They provide time to mature. They broaden our horizons. They are such an important time in the life of a young person.
After graduation from college, the greatest gift could very easily be a job. All at once the future is in our face. We have to make so many new decisions. Where will we live? How will we pay the bils? What do we really want to do? Money is seen in a new way at this point. That job gives us freedom, but it comes with a high cost.
And so it goes. As we grow older, our ideas of the greatest gift shift. Or maybe we have always known what the greatest gift really is. Maybe life simply got in the way of our vision. Somewhere in all of life's passages, we come to see the real truth about the greatest gift.
It isn't cars or bikes or jobs. It can't be bought. The only way to claim it is to give it away. What a paradox. You know what that greatest gift is, don't you?
Yes, it is love. It is the knowledge that someone cares for us above all else. It is the knowledge that no matter what life brings, someone will walk that walk with us. We are loved unconditionally. Even with all our warts. Someone sees the good and beautiful in us. What a wonderful gift. It is perfect.
It is possible to withhold love for many reasons. I would ask you to think about why we withhold our love. Maybe we want to get even. Maybe we are scared we won't be loved in return. Perhaps we are keeping score. Whatever the reasons we humans use for not loving, the truth is this. We are the ones who are hurt the most by our refusal to extend ourselves in love.
I know this is a trickly slope. Love as portrayed in movies and tv is fiction. We live in the real world where loving is often difficult. We are hurt by another's actions or words, and we pull away. We are afraid of that person or situation. We wrap our emotions in love proof shields. No one will ever get to us like that again. You know what? I completely understand this. But, the truth is we often go years and years with a heart protected from anything lovely that might happen our way. That is a great saddness. A great saddness indeed.
I do know this--I love spending time with each of you! Whatever your circumstances, it is my sincere hope that love surrounds you. Each and every day.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
The Birthing Process--A New Twist
The Birthing Process--A New Twist
Have been experiencing "labor pains" lately. Yes, it is true. There will be no more human children coming forth from this woman. But, there are other types of labor pains, and they can be almost as painful as childbirth.
The labor pains I am experiencing are of my own making. They appear almost every time I sit down at my computer and attempt to birth a new idea. Or birth a new twist to an old idea. They usually begin with my fingers poised and ready to deliver words to the keyboard. The keyboard is waiting..waiting. I am forever grateful to those who invented the computer and that wonderful delete key. Mine is almost worn out. Birthing ideas and putting them into coherent sentences is difficut and time consuming.
My mind explodes with thoughts and ideas. However, often those ideas and thoughts do not appear in paragraph form. They are single thoughts. It is my responsibility to give birth to them. This process can take hours or days. The struggle is to make the thoughts and ideas easy for the reader to follow. Agony is a constant companion during these times. It is painful when the thought is within sight but just outside my reach.
However, I am pleased as punch to share with you that my second book is almost ready for the printer. I have labored long and hard to put together essays that make the reader smile, think, remember. I am happy and relieved to share with you that there are only a few items remaining for me to decide.
One very important thing I must birth is the title of this second book. Once that decision is finalized, I will have direction in the design of the front and back cover. It sounds so easy. In fact, it is difficult. Another decision facing me is the selection of photographs for the essays. Adding photographs to the book is quite costly. However, I think they greatly enhance the text. Soon my camera and I will spend time examining the world around us.
Then it is off to the printer. This part of the process is time consuming. They will make a copy of the book and send it to me. It is my task to proof it. Once I have completed that, I sign off on the book, and it is printed. But, before that final step, there will be many emails and phone conversations. The printing company wants to make sure they have it exactly as the writer wishes.
I am hoping to have it available for purchase by the first of May. If you are interested in a copy, email or message me on facebook. That will help me make the decision about how many copies to print. I will not know the cost until the order for copies is submitted.
Labor is a tricky process. Sometimes it happens quickly. What a blessed relief. Sometimes it requires time and stress. But, when the process is complete, what joy!
My labor is coming to an end. I am ready!
Have been experiencing "labor pains" lately. Yes, it is true. There will be no more human children coming forth from this woman. But, there are other types of labor pains, and they can be almost as painful as childbirth.
The labor pains I am experiencing are of my own making. They appear almost every time I sit down at my computer and attempt to birth a new idea. Or birth a new twist to an old idea. They usually begin with my fingers poised and ready to deliver words to the keyboard. The keyboard is waiting..waiting. I am forever grateful to those who invented the computer and that wonderful delete key. Mine is almost worn out. Birthing ideas and putting them into coherent sentences is difficut and time consuming.
My mind explodes with thoughts and ideas. However, often those ideas and thoughts do not appear in paragraph form. They are single thoughts. It is my responsibility to give birth to them. This process can take hours or days. The struggle is to make the thoughts and ideas easy for the reader to follow. Agony is a constant companion during these times. It is painful when the thought is within sight but just outside my reach.
However, I am pleased as punch to share with you that my second book is almost ready for the printer. I have labored long and hard to put together essays that make the reader smile, think, remember. I am happy and relieved to share with you that there are only a few items remaining for me to decide.
One very important thing I must birth is the title of this second book. Once that decision is finalized, I will have direction in the design of the front and back cover. It sounds so easy. In fact, it is difficult. Another decision facing me is the selection of photographs for the essays. Adding photographs to the book is quite costly. However, I think they greatly enhance the text. Soon my camera and I will spend time examining the world around us.
Then it is off to the printer. This part of the process is time consuming. They will make a copy of the book and send it to me. It is my task to proof it. Once I have completed that, I sign off on the book, and it is printed. But, before that final step, there will be many emails and phone conversations. The printing company wants to make sure they have it exactly as the writer wishes.
I am hoping to have it available for purchase by the first of May. If you are interested in a copy, email or message me on facebook. That will help me make the decision about how many copies to print. I will not know the cost until the order for copies is submitted.
Labor is a tricky process. Sometimes it happens quickly. What a blessed relief. Sometimes it requires time and stress. But, when the process is complete, what joy!
My labor is coming to an end. I am ready!
Monday, February 17, 2014
Glitz, Glitter and Grace--
Glitz, Glitter and Grace--
The drive north was difficult. Rain came down in buckets. Semi trucks sent oceans of water onto our windshield leaving us with zero visibility. Our windshield wipers worked overtime trying to help us see the lines on the road. We were so grateful for the four new tires we purchased one day prior to our trip. They not only gave us a smooth ride, but they also gripped the road.
As night fell, we knew it would be impossible to see those beloved painted lines on the road. It was time to begin the search for a place to stay the night. We needed to rest our weary eyes, backs and nerves.
We found a place that satisfied both of us. They had a room. After taking care of the business end of a night's stay, we returned to our car. We unloaded our suitcases and other treasures and walked back into the lobby. We looked pretty exhausted. Dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and sweat shirts, we made our way to the elevators. We didn't really want anyone to notice us.
As we approached the elevators, a few women swished in beside us. Now these women were dressed to the nines. I was keenly aware of the fact that I had not "done" my hair that morning nor had I applied make-up. It was one of those moments that make women cringe. There was no place to hide so I did the next best thing.
I asked why they were so dressed up. When I say they were dressed-up, I don't mean in suits. No, I mean in evening wear. Glittery long dresses, smart shoes, beautiful jewelry, evening bags, perfect make-up, not one hair out of place, nails manicured and polished. Some had long dresses that looked like something from Gone With the Wind. One woman had to have the elevator to herself because her dress was just huge.
Those who entered the elevator with us explained that they were all there for a DAR convention. DAR is Daughters of the American Revolution. They said they had just come from a dinner meeting and were on their way to the next part of the evening. Others in the elevator added more information. They were delightful and so gracious.
After we threw our luggage into our room, we headed back down to the lobby. Once again we shared an elevator with more beautifully dressed women. This time I asked where they were meeting. When we finished our business, I made my way down corridors to the room where they were gathering.
Large double doors opened in a room full of happy women. In the front of the room was a stage. A podium stood on the left hand side of the stage. Green ferns lined the stage giving a soft look to the hard edges of the wood. Rows of padded seats formed lines on the right and left sides of the room. A wide center aisle provided the walkway for all those women sitting and waiting just outside the double doors. Evidently those women were the leadership of the group.
Dressed in my wrinkled jeans, sweat shirt and tennis shoes, I asked it I might slip into the room before the doors were closed. Yes, I could. The only thing asked of me was that I not leave the room during a prayer. That was certainly an acceptable request. So, after the procession had filed into the room, I took my place against the back wall. A few women gave me a little "look." I totally understood. But, no one approached me and asked me to leave.
Once everyone was in their places, the group recited the Pledge--to our country and to their state. Then we all sang The Star Spangle Banner. There were a few more group recitations from memory. At that point exhaustion began to seep into my bones so I quietly opened the door and left.
What a wonderful experience. One woman told me she is the webmaster for the group. She invited me to go to the site and read about DAR and their state group. I will do that. She also took the time to explain each pin she was wearing on her shoulder sash. She was very proud of her association with such a special group.
Thinking back, I had a choice that evening. I could have smiled and gone to our room. Brushed my teeth, put on pj's, turned on the Olympics, fluffed my pillows and rested. But, I made another choice. I decided to learn about the women so elegantly dressed. Not one of them made me feel uncomfortable even though it was quite evident I had been traveling for many hours. They were just as fine as the clothes they wore.
It turned out to be a most special ending to a long and tiring day in the car. A thought--When you are given an opportunity to learn, what choice will you make?
(My husband has traced his lineage to the American Revolution. He can be a Son of the American Revolution! Pretty special)
The drive north was difficult. Rain came down in buckets. Semi trucks sent oceans of water onto our windshield leaving us with zero visibility. Our windshield wipers worked overtime trying to help us see the lines on the road. We were so grateful for the four new tires we purchased one day prior to our trip. They not only gave us a smooth ride, but they also gripped the road.
As night fell, we knew it would be impossible to see those beloved painted lines on the road. It was time to begin the search for a place to stay the night. We needed to rest our weary eyes, backs and nerves.
We found a place that satisfied both of us. They had a room. After taking care of the business end of a night's stay, we returned to our car. We unloaded our suitcases and other treasures and walked back into the lobby. We looked pretty exhausted. Dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and sweat shirts, we made our way to the elevators. We didn't really want anyone to notice us.
As we approached the elevators, a few women swished in beside us. Now these women were dressed to the nines. I was keenly aware of the fact that I had not "done" my hair that morning nor had I applied make-up. It was one of those moments that make women cringe. There was no place to hide so I did the next best thing.
I asked why they were so dressed up. When I say they were dressed-up, I don't mean in suits. No, I mean in evening wear. Glittery long dresses, smart shoes, beautiful jewelry, evening bags, perfect make-up, not one hair out of place, nails manicured and polished. Some had long dresses that looked like something from Gone With the Wind. One woman had to have the elevator to herself because her dress was just huge.
Those who entered the elevator with us explained that they were all there for a DAR convention. DAR is Daughters of the American Revolution. They said they had just come from a dinner meeting and were on their way to the next part of the evening. Others in the elevator added more information. They were delightful and so gracious.
After we threw our luggage into our room, we headed back down to the lobby. Once again we shared an elevator with more beautifully dressed women. This time I asked where they were meeting. When we finished our business, I made my way down corridors to the room where they were gathering.
Large double doors opened in a room full of happy women. In the front of the room was a stage. A podium stood on the left hand side of the stage. Green ferns lined the stage giving a soft look to the hard edges of the wood. Rows of padded seats formed lines on the right and left sides of the room. A wide center aisle provided the walkway for all those women sitting and waiting just outside the double doors. Evidently those women were the leadership of the group.
Dressed in my wrinkled jeans, sweat shirt and tennis shoes, I asked it I might slip into the room before the doors were closed. Yes, I could. The only thing asked of me was that I not leave the room during a prayer. That was certainly an acceptable request. So, after the procession had filed into the room, I took my place against the back wall. A few women gave me a little "look." I totally understood. But, no one approached me and asked me to leave.
Once everyone was in their places, the group recited the Pledge--to our country and to their state. Then we all sang The Star Spangle Banner. There were a few more group recitations from memory. At that point exhaustion began to seep into my bones so I quietly opened the door and left.
What a wonderful experience. One woman told me she is the webmaster for the group. She invited me to go to the site and read about DAR and their state group. I will do that. She also took the time to explain each pin she was wearing on her shoulder sash. She was very proud of her association with such a special group.
Thinking back, I had a choice that evening. I could have smiled and gone to our room. Brushed my teeth, put on pj's, turned on the Olympics, fluffed my pillows and rested. But, I made another choice. I decided to learn about the women so elegantly dressed. Not one of them made me feel uncomfortable even though it was quite evident I had been traveling for many hours. They were just as fine as the clothes they wore.
It turned out to be a most special ending to a long and tiring day in the car. A thought--When you are given an opportunity to learn, what choice will you make?
(My husband has traced his lineage to the American Revolution. He can be a Son of the American Revolution! Pretty special)
Sunday, February 16, 2014
A Son--
A Son--
Wandering down memory lane today. I have no idea why certain thoughts appear at unexpected times, but they do. Today is one of those days. Hey! I am grateful that I can still wander down that lane and actually find my way back.
We were about five years into our marriage when having children seemed like a good idea. All of our friends were having their families. It looked like fun. We always enjoyed being around little ones. Besides, we had had several years to ourselves. We thought we were ready to embark on a new adventure.
Making the decision to have a child and actually producing one are two different things. We were sure nature would cooperate with us. It seemed so simple. It proved to be anything but simple.
After a year of working toward that goal, we decided that maybe we needed a little help. Off to the doctors we went. Each of us had a few issues that had to be addressed. That came as a bit of a surprise. Eventually the tests were over, and we were told there was only one thing available to us. No one wanted us to take that avenue so we went home and enjoyed life. That year I decided to take a year off from teaching. So, when school began that fall, I stayed home.
About a month before school began, I realized that I was feeling a bit icky. My stomach was upset almost every day. You would think I would have known what was happening, but I did not. I don't remember the day when it dawned on me that maybe there was a baby who was making me miserable. A test--yes, we were going to be parents.
How wonderful that I had the year off to enjoy being pregnant. I loved it. That fall we took a trip to Hawaii to celebrate a dream that would soon be a reality. During those nine months we decorated the room for the little person who would soon be a permanent fixture in our lives. We selected a name for a boy and a girl. We made plans.
Mid April was my due date. He decided to join us on the 19th. Our life was never the same. Seven years after we married, Matthew arrived.
When you wait so long for something so special, it is almost more than the heart can stand when that little bundle is handed to you. So warm and pink. A mass of dark hair. And he is ours. He is perfect. All the right amount of fingers and toes. A strong cry when he wants attention. A snuggle bug.
The years that followed were full. Learning to walk and talk. Experiencing his world. Wondering at fireflies and butterflys. Dragging Mr. Bear around with him. Sharing his blanket with me. Working puzzles and reading books. Playing ball with Dad. School and sports. Music lessons. Sunday school. Friends. Family. Those years were so joyful, and they passed much too quickly.
Almost before we could blink, he was graduating from high school. This handsome young man with dreams and ambitions of his own. This new portion of his life would remove him from us just a bit, but that is the way of life. We knew he was prepared to meet the new challenges he would face. We had helped him build a solid foundation for his life. We sent him to college knowing he would shine.
Eventually, a young woman appeared on the scene. We were delighted that they found one another. Add law school and medical school into the mix, and you have two young people with high ambitions and dreams. Throw in a marriage and children, and the picture is complete.
Just like every parent, we have watched him move through childhood into adulthood. We have cherished each moment we have shared. We have made precious memories to last a lifetime. We have been blessed. We surrounded him with love and watched him soar. What more could a parent ask?
Wandering down memory lane today. I have no idea why certain thoughts appear at unexpected times, but they do. Today is one of those days. Hey! I am grateful that I can still wander down that lane and actually find my way back.
We were about five years into our marriage when having children seemed like a good idea. All of our friends were having their families. It looked like fun. We always enjoyed being around little ones. Besides, we had had several years to ourselves. We thought we were ready to embark on a new adventure.
Making the decision to have a child and actually producing one are two different things. We were sure nature would cooperate with us. It seemed so simple. It proved to be anything but simple.
After a year of working toward that goal, we decided that maybe we needed a little help. Off to the doctors we went. Each of us had a few issues that had to be addressed. That came as a bit of a surprise. Eventually the tests were over, and we were told there was only one thing available to us. No one wanted us to take that avenue so we went home and enjoyed life. That year I decided to take a year off from teaching. So, when school began that fall, I stayed home.
About a month before school began, I realized that I was feeling a bit icky. My stomach was upset almost every day. You would think I would have known what was happening, but I did not. I don't remember the day when it dawned on me that maybe there was a baby who was making me miserable. A test--yes, we were going to be parents.
How wonderful that I had the year off to enjoy being pregnant. I loved it. That fall we took a trip to Hawaii to celebrate a dream that would soon be a reality. During those nine months we decorated the room for the little person who would soon be a permanent fixture in our lives. We selected a name for a boy and a girl. We made plans.
Mid April was my due date. He decided to join us on the 19th. Our life was never the same. Seven years after we married, Matthew arrived.
When you wait so long for something so special, it is almost more than the heart can stand when that little bundle is handed to you. So warm and pink. A mass of dark hair. And he is ours. He is perfect. All the right amount of fingers and toes. A strong cry when he wants attention. A snuggle bug.
The years that followed were full. Learning to walk and talk. Experiencing his world. Wondering at fireflies and butterflys. Dragging Mr. Bear around with him. Sharing his blanket with me. Working puzzles and reading books. Playing ball with Dad. School and sports. Music lessons. Sunday school. Friends. Family. Those years were so joyful, and they passed much too quickly.
Almost before we could blink, he was graduating from high school. This handsome young man with dreams and ambitions of his own. This new portion of his life would remove him from us just a bit, but that is the way of life. We knew he was prepared to meet the new challenges he would face. We had helped him build a solid foundation for his life. We sent him to college knowing he would shine.
Eventually, a young woman appeared on the scene. We were delighted that they found one another. Add law school and medical school into the mix, and you have two young people with high ambitions and dreams. Throw in a marriage and children, and the picture is complete.
Just like every parent, we have watched him move through childhood into adulthood. We have cherished each moment we have shared. We have made precious memories to last a lifetime. We have been blessed. We surrounded him with love and watched him soar. What more could a parent ask?
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Roadside Trash--Why?
Roadside Trash--Why?
Years ago roadsides were so clean. Nature had full reign over shoulders and ditches that ran along the pavement. Wildflowers, grasses, weeds all grew in perfect harmony. The colors ranged from beautiful sky blues to rich greens. A few browns were thrown into the mix. Textures were everywhere. Any drive provided such a delightful sight.
My, how times have changed. Now mixed in with the natural vegetation are bottles, cans, wrappers, sacks. What was once so clean and beautiful is often littered with the garbage of people. What happened to the pride we once had in our country? In ourselves? What does this new practice say about us as a nation?
It is not unusual to see signs along roadways with the name of an organization responsible for cleaning up trash thrown out of car windows. Adults cleaning up after adults. Something seems so wrong with this picture. We know we need to clean up after small children. And we work to teach them to clean up after themselves. So, what happened?
How difficult would it be to place a small bag inside a vehicle for the express purpose of providing a place for garbage? Once the trip ended, it would be a simple task to take the bag and dispose of it in a proper place. Maybe the garbage can in the garage? Or if that is too difficult, in a garbage receptacle provided by many fast food chains.
Now, this maybe stretching it a bit, but do you suppose we see ourselves as no more significant than the garbage that is casually pitched out the car window? I am trying desperately to understand why this happens. No doubt there are simple reasons. I suppose one would be the food is eaten. Pitch the paper out. But, that makes no sense to me. Maybe it is a generational thing. Do you suppose?
Whatever the reason, it is a terrible practice. We live in the country. Years ago when we moved out here, the ditches were clean. Nothing but nature graced the roadside. Now, it is a different story. We take garbage bags and clean up along our section of the road. And everytime I pick up someone's litter, I think black thoughts. I want to know their names so I can take it all to their house and dump it on their lawn. Well, maybe I really wouldn't do that, but I would give it serious thought.
Certainly not all people in vehicles litter. The majority of citizens respect our planet. They dispose of their garbage properly. However, it only takes a few to leave a mess. Several years ago as I was entering the interstate, someone in the car in front of me opened the windows and threw out a heap of garbage. I was so upset that I made a decision. I made my way to the back of the car and wrote down the license number. Then I phoned the state police. The person on the phone asked me many questions which I could answer. He assured me that they would be watchful for this particular vehicle. The reason I called-- much of the garbage flying out the windows was beer cans. It frightened me that those inside had the potential to injure others or themselves. I don't know if they were stopped, but I do trust that the police were on the look-out for that car.
Do I believe this practice will stop? No, I don't.
But, what I do believe is that those of us who value our earth will continue to take good care of her. We will do all we can to keep her clean and beautiful. Yes, we will.
Years ago roadsides were so clean. Nature had full reign over shoulders and ditches that ran along the pavement. Wildflowers, grasses, weeds all grew in perfect harmony. The colors ranged from beautiful sky blues to rich greens. A few browns were thrown into the mix. Textures were everywhere. Any drive provided such a delightful sight.
My, how times have changed. Now mixed in with the natural vegetation are bottles, cans, wrappers, sacks. What was once so clean and beautiful is often littered with the garbage of people. What happened to the pride we once had in our country? In ourselves? What does this new practice say about us as a nation?
It is not unusual to see signs along roadways with the name of an organization responsible for cleaning up trash thrown out of car windows. Adults cleaning up after adults. Something seems so wrong with this picture. We know we need to clean up after small children. And we work to teach them to clean up after themselves. So, what happened?
How difficult would it be to place a small bag inside a vehicle for the express purpose of providing a place for garbage? Once the trip ended, it would be a simple task to take the bag and dispose of it in a proper place. Maybe the garbage can in the garage? Or if that is too difficult, in a garbage receptacle provided by many fast food chains.
Now, this maybe stretching it a bit, but do you suppose we see ourselves as no more significant than the garbage that is casually pitched out the car window? I am trying desperately to understand why this happens. No doubt there are simple reasons. I suppose one would be the food is eaten. Pitch the paper out. But, that makes no sense to me. Maybe it is a generational thing. Do you suppose?
Whatever the reason, it is a terrible practice. We live in the country. Years ago when we moved out here, the ditches were clean. Nothing but nature graced the roadside. Now, it is a different story. We take garbage bags and clean up along our section of the road. And everytime I pick up someone's litter, I think black thoughts. I want to know their names so I can take it all to their house and dump it on their lawn. Well, maybe I really wouldn't do that, but I would give it serious thought.
Certainly not all people in vehicles litter. The majority of citizens respect our planet. They dispose of their garbage properly. However, it only takes a few to leave a mess. Several years ago as I was entering the interstate, someone in the car in front of me opened the windows and threw out a heap of garbage. I was so upset that I made a decision. I made my way to the back of the car and wrote down the license number. Then I phoned the state police. The person on the phone asked me many questions which I could answer. He assured me that they would be watchful for this particular vehicle. The reason I called-- much of the garbage flying out the windows was beer cans. It frightened me that those inside had the potential to injure others or themselves. I don't know if they were stopped, but I do trust that the police were on the look-out for that car.
Do I believe this practice will stop? No, I don't.
But, what I do believe is that those of us who value our earth will continue to take good care of her. We will do all we can to keep her clean and beautiful. Yes, we will.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Volunteering at the 2002 Winter Olympics
Volunteering at the 2002 Olympics--
What an amazing sight. I am watching the men race down the hill at speeds of more than 83 mph. Makes me nervous to watch. I am so afraid for them. A fall could mean serious injuries. When they make it to the finish line, I finally relax.
What makes me more nervous is skating. Everytime a skater begins a jump, I hold my breath. If they fall, so many points are take away. I want them all to do well. Years of hard work come down to a few minutes on the ice with judges watching every move. I know they have been judged many times before. But, this is different. This is the Olympics.
There is one event I can watch and enjoy without any tense moments. That would be curling. I think I might be able to learn that sport. Give me a broom and let me try!
All of the events in the Olympics are great fun to watch. Each requires so much preparation and hard work. What a rush the athletes much experience when they finally get to show their stuff.
I was a volunteer at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah. What a wonderful experience. It was a tense time for America as 9/11 was a fresh memory. There was fear that another attack might happen. So, the security was tight.
The first thing volunteers had to do was check in and pick up uniforms. We were given ski pants, ski jackets, gloves, turtle necks, backpacks, hats and a few other things. We would wear them everyday. Then we were given our assignments. I was assigned to Park City and Deer Valley. There were four of us on the same team. People could purchase a different colored ticket each day so they could watch closed circuit tv of all the venues as they happened. We were to be by the doors and check those tickets to be sure they had the colored ticket of the day. If they did, they could enter the room and watch the events.
People would try to walk past me on their way upstairs to watch the tv's, and I would have to stop them and ask to see their ticket. They wore them around their necks. If the right one wasn't present, I would have to explain that they couldn't enter. I would also tell them they could purchase a ticket. But, they were very expensive. Most people were very understanding. Only a few showed their displeasure.
I learned that there were sharp shooters all around the mountains ready to protect. There were tons of plain clothes policemen walking around in snow clothes watching and listening. I never felt unsafe.
Collecting Olympic pins is almost a sport in itself. Sponsors of the Olympics mass produced pins that people collected. Swapping was a big deal. People would put the pins on their jackets or hats and if you saw one that you did not have, you asked if they would be willing to trade. Often people would. I collected quite a few really neat pins from the games.
Being part of something so huge was wonderful. I met such talented people. I visited with athletes and had my picture taken with Dorothy Hamill. She was the speaker at a luncheon at Park City. What a lovely person she was.
One guy tried to go upstairs in Park City. I asked to see his tickets. He didn't have the right color for the day. Kindly, I explained that he couldn't pass. He asked if a particular person was working upstairs. Yes, she was. He asked if I would go upstairs and ask her to come downstairs. Maybe we could work this out. So, I went upstairs to get her. I was explaining the situation to her as we walked back downstairs. When she could see the man, she broke out in the biggest laugh. Then she told me why she was laughing. He owned the building! I had stopped him from going upstairs in his own building. He told me that he was so glad I was the one assigned to his building! He asked for my address and sent me a gift when I returned home. That is only one of the cool things that happened during my two weeks as a volunteer.
As I watch the athletes from the comfort and warmth of my home, I remember how great it was to be a small part of such a big event. Here's a thought for you. If there is something you would like to do, go for it. My brother lived in Salt Lake and was the one who encouraged me to apply for a volunteer position. Without him I would never have had that opportunity.
I am always waiting and watching for another chance to move outside my comfort zone. How about you?
What an amazing sight. I am watching the men race down the hill at speeds of more than 83 mph. Makes me nervous to watch. I am so afraid for them. A fall could mean serious injuries. When they make it to the finish line, I finally relax.
What makes me more nervous is skating. Everytime a skater begins a jump, I hold my breath. If they fall, so many points are take away. I want them all to do well. Years of hard work come down to a few minutes on the ice with judges watching every move. I know they have been judged many times before. But, this is different. This is the Olympics.
There is one event I can watch and enjoy without any tense moments. That would be curling. I think I might be able to learn that sport. Give me a broom and let me try!
All of the events in the Olympics are great fun to watch. Each requires so much preparation and hard work. What a rush the athletes much experience when they finally get to show their stuff.
I was a volunteer at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah. What a wonderful experience. It was a tense time for America as 9/11 was a fresh memory. There was fear that another attack might happen. So, the security was tight.
The first thing volunteers had to do was check in and pick up uniforms. We were given ski pants, ski jackets, gloves, turtle necks, backpacks, hats and a few other things. We would wear them everyday. Then we were given our assignments. I was assigned to Park City and Deer Valley. There were four of us on the same team. People could purchase a different colored ticket each day so they could watch closed circuit tv of all the venues as they happened. We were to be by the doors and check those tickets to be sure they had the colored ticket of the day. If they did, they could enter the room and watch the events.
People would try to walk past me on their way upstairs to watch the tv's, and I would have to stop them and ask to see their ticket. They wore them around their necks. If the right one wasn't present, I would have to explain that they couldn't enter. I would also tell them they could purchase a ticket. But, they were very expensive. Most people were very understanding. Only a few showed their displeasure.
I learned that there were sharp shooters all around the mountains ready to protect. There were tons of plain clothes policemen walking around in snow clothes watching and listening. I never felt unsafe.
Collecting Olympic pins is almost a sport in itself. Sponsors of the Olympics mass produced pins that people collected. Swapping was a big deal. People would put the pins on their jackets or hats and if you saw one that you did not have, you asked if they would be willing to trade. Often people would. I collected quite a few really neat pins from the games.
Being part of something so huge was wonderful. I met such talented people. I visited with athletes and had my picture taken with Dorothy Hamill. She was the speaker at a luncheon at Park City. What a lovely person she was.
One guy tried to go upstairs in Park City. I asked to see his tickets. He didn't have the right color for the day. Kindly, I explained that he couldn't pass. He asked if a particular person was working upstairs. Yes, she was. He asked if I would go upstairs and ask her to come downstairs. Maybe we could work this out. So, I went upstairs to get her. I was explaining the situation to her as we walked back downstairs. When she could see the man, she broke out in the biggest laugh. Then she told me why she was laughing. He owned the building! I had stopped him from going upstairs in his own building. He told me that he was so glad I was the one assigned to his building! He asked for my address and sent me a gift when I returned home. That is only one of the cool things that happened during my two weeks as a volunteer.
As I watch the athletes from the comfort and warmth of my home, I remember how great it was to be a small part of such a big event. Here's a thought for you. If there is something you would like to do, go for it. My brother lived in Salt Lake and was the one who encouraged me to apply for a volunteer position. Without him I would never have had that opportunity.
I am always waiting and watching for another chance to move outside my comfort zone. How about you?
Friday, February 7, 2014
Struggling to Stay Positive
Struggling to Stay Positive--
A positive person lives at this address. That would be me. I have the ability to see good in most situations in life. Not the horrid ones, of course. But the everyday ones. However, this positive, sunny person is sinking fast into a slight depression.
Getting out of bed has become a major accomplishment. Throwing back the warm covers and standing upright in a house that is a little too cold is not my idea of a good way to start any day. Staying warm and snug under mounds of warmth is so much more appealing.
Changing from pajamas into regular clothes has become a challenge, too. What is the point? The pj's are comfortable. They cover me. Besides, I am not going anywhere so what difference does it make what I wear for a 24 hour period?
I am a "let's go" girl. Well, this let's go girl has not gone anywhere in way too long. There are reasons for that. We will talk about those in just a bit.
Make-up? Are you serious? Why?
My stress levels are at an all time high. ( Not really. It just sounds good!) Where did it all go so wrong? Where can I find the sunny outlook again?
I will tell you where it went so wrong. It started snowing, snowing, snowing, snowing. At first it was beautiful. Falling softly and quietly. Blanketing the earth, the house, all cars and trees, any living thing that happened to have no shelter, the roads. As it continued to fall, I saw less and less beauty. I began to see entrapment. Yes, the knowledge that I was going to be trapped inside this house brought me to my knees. NO! This cannot be happening. Again and again and again.
Add to that the temperatures that will freeze ears right off the head if one stays out past a minute, and there is the perfect picture of stage one depression. I have winter clothes. However, to stay warm and safe outdoors would require me to wear all of them at once. If I decide to do this, I hope someone finds me in the spring. I can hear people remarking about the lovely sculpture in our yard. That would be me.
Did I mention the wind? Ah yes, the wind. Everyone's best friend. Could it whip around any harder and faster than it has this winter? It is invisible. I hate that. I wish I could see what it looks like. Does it have a smurk on its face as it blows anything not nailed down into the next state? It sneaks up on us and ruins our hair. It blows that white stuff around and causes white-outs. It pushes against us as we try to navigate. It causes the temperature to drop to numbers I won't say.
Taking baby steps was somthing I thought I had left far, far behind me. You know how small children put their feet down very carefully. They test the surface before they commit. Well, I look like an infant as I try to move from point A to point B. Be careful where that foot lands. The surface maybe slippery. In fact, it is slippery. With head down I move forward inch by inch. And all the time I am slowly moving forward, I am hoping to remain upright. Yes, depression is lurking just under my skin.
Maybe I am being a little too harsh. Maybe something good is happening in spite of this unbearable cold. I have thought long and hard about this. I have looked at it from every angle. No, can't think of a thing.
I am spending much time with my room-mate. Too much time! Now, while I love him, too much is simply too much. He is everywhere. I bump into him walking through the house. At night when I grab a blanket and socks and settle in to watch mindless tv, he comes and snuggles. Really? Yes, I know that is a good thing. And I am grateful. But, the need for space-my space-is growing stronger and stronger. I think someone said a little distance is a good thing. How about 2,000 miles?
Did they plow the roads? Of course they plowed the main ones. However, we live on a country road. It has been snow and ice packed for--I don't remember when it wasn't. A tunnel of snow greets me everytime I drive out or into the lane to my house. Cars in the ditches remind me to drive very carefully and slowly. One winter I slid past my own driveway three times before finally making the turn. I called my husband and told him to watch for me and come get me when I landed in a ditch. I did see him at the top of our driveway, but I slid right past.
Well, writing this all down has given me a lift. I can almost feel a smile crossing my face. The sun is shinning today. The snow is glistening. Maybe it is time to get dressed, put a little make-up on and hit the road--carefully. Maybe it isn't all bad. Ok. I am not ready to go that far. I am quite fed up with all the cold. But, it is what it is. There is much to be thankful for in this life of mine. I have a warm house, plenty of food, a companion. I can read, write, think, clean, rearrange the house, make lists of places to go when I am no longer trapped. Yes, there are things I could be doing.
Won't it be wonderful when winter is gone? We will all talk about this winter for years to come. We will compare it to other challenging times in our lives-weatherwise. It has given us memories, and sore backs from shoveling, and frightening moments on highways, and no milk left at the grocery store. Yes, memories.
It can't last forever. That is what I am hanging onto. It can't, can it?
A positive person lives at this address. That would be me. I have the ability to see good in most situations in life. Not the horrid ones, of course. But the everyday ones. However, this positive, sunny person is sinking fast into a slight depression.
Getting out of bed has become a major accomplishment. Throwing back the warm covers and standing upright in a house that is a little too cold is not my idea of a good way to start any day. Staying warm and snug under mounds of warmth is so much more appealing.
Changing from pajamas into regular clothes has become a challenge, too. What is the point? The pj's are comfortable. They cover me. Besides, I am not going anywhere so what difference does it make what I wear for a 24 hour period?
I am a "let's go" girl. Well, this let's go girl has not gone anywhere in way too long. There are reasons for that. We will talk about those in just a bit.
Make-up? Are you serious? Why?
My stress levels are at an all time high. ( Not really. It just sounds good!) Where did it all go so wrong? Where can I find the sunny outlook again?
I will tell you where it went so wrong. It started snowing, snowing, snowing, snowing. At first it was beautiful. Falling softly and quietly. Blanketing the earth, the house, all cars and trees, any living thing that happened to have no shelter, the roads. As it continued to fall, I saw less and less beauty. I began to see entrapment. Yes, the knowledge that I was going to be trapped inside this house brought me to my knees. NO! This cannot be happening. Again and again and again.
Add to that the temperatures that will freeze ears right off the head if one stays out past a minute, and there is the perfect picture of stage one depression. I have winter clothes. However, to stay warm and safe outdoors would require me to wear all of them at once. If I decide to do this, I hope someone finds me in the spring. I can hear people remarking about the lovely sculpture in our yard. That would be me.
Did I mention the wind? Ah yes, the wind. Everyone's best friend. Could it whip around any harder and faster than it has this winter? It is invisible. I hate that. I wish I could see what it looks like. Does it have a smurk on its face as it blows anything not nailed down into the next state? It sneaks up on us and ruins our hair. It blows that white stuff around and causes white-outs. It pushes against us as we try to navigate. It causes the temperature to drop to numbers I won't say.
Taking baby steps was somthing I thought I had left far, far behind me. You know how small children put their feet down very carefully. They test the surface before they commit. Well, I look like an infant as I try to move from point A to point B. Be careful where that foot lands. The surface maybe slippery. In fact, it is slippery. With head down I move forward inch by inch. And all the time I am slowly moving forward, I am hoping to remain upright. Yes, depression is lurking just under my skin.
Maybe I am being a little too harsh. Maybe something good is happening in spite of this unbearable cold. I have thought long and hard about this. I have looked at it from every angle. No, can't think of a thing.
I am spending much time with my room-mate. Too much time! Now, while I love him, too much is simply too much. He is everywhere. I bump into him walking through the house. At night when I grab a blanket and socks and settle in to watch mindless tv, he comes and snuggles. Really? Yes, I know that is a good thing. And I am grateful. But, the need for space-my space-is growing stronger and stronger. I think someone said a little distance is a good thing. How about 2,000 miles?
Did they plow the roads? Of course they plowed the main ones. However, we live on a country road. It has been snow and ice packed for--I don't remember when it wasn't. A tunnel of snow greets me everytime I drive out or into the lane to my house. Cars in the ditches remind me to drive very carefully and slowly. One winter I slid past my own driveway three times before finally making the turn. I called my husband and told him to watch for me and come get me when I landed in a ditch. I did see him at the top of our driveway, but I slid right past.
Well, writing this all down has given me a lift. I can almost feel a smile crossing my face. The sun is shinning today. The snow is glistening. Maybe it is time to get dressed, put a little make-up on and hit the road--carefully. Maybe it isn't all bad. Ok. I am not ready to go that far. I am quite fed up with all the cold. But, it is what it is. There is much to be thankful for in this life of mine. I have a warm house, plenty of food, a companion. I can read, write, think, clean, rearrange the house, make lists of places to go when I am no longer trapped. Yes, there are things I could be doing.
Won't it be wonderful when winter is gone? We will all talk about this winter for years to come. We will compare it to other challenging times in our lives-weatherwise. It has given us memories, and sore backs from shoveling, and frightening moments on highways, and no milk left at the grocery store. Yes, memories.
It can't last forever. That is what I am hanging onto. It can't, can it?
Thursday, February 6, 2014
A Grateful Spirit--
A Grateful Spirit--
I am so grateful for all the people who have touched my life. Each one is unique. Each one brings something I need and gives it to me as a wonderful gift. I am blessed beyond belief.
Years ago I bought a fake fur coat. It is black and quite fuzzy. My grandchildren call it my gorilla coat. It is light but oh, so warm. I had it on tonight at my grandson's sectional basketball game. They came in second, by the way. A dad of one of the players on his team told me how much he likes my coat. I took it off and helped him into it. It was hilarous. People were snapping pictures with their phones as he posed like Joe Namath at the Super Bowl. As he took it off, he told me he would like to have it when I am done with it. What a hoot. A happy moment. I will wrap it in a pretty box with a big bow.
Our mail carrier is a good friend. She left a message on my phone this week asking me to call her. I did call her several times. Even left messages. No reply. I became a little nervous that something was wrong. Maybe she was sick. Or had had a wreck delivering the mail in this horrid weather. The next day she called. I told her I was a little worried since I had not been able to connect with her. She laughed. Seems that she had delivered our mail to the house and left it inside our entry. As she turned to leave, she noticed that the trim was down and the entry was a mess. She called to see what in the world I was doing with that room. We spent quite a few minutes talking about what would look good. She brightens my day.
A couple of weeks ago we had a couple out for dinner. After dinner we sat in front of the fire enjoying the warm glow it cast on the room. Everything looks better in candle light or fire light. If you want your house and yourself to look warm and inviting, simply light those candles. We drank a bottle of wine and visited. Had many laughs. It was a lovely evening with dear friends.
We took a couple to dinner recently. It was his birthday. Everyone deserves to be treated in a special way on their birthday. We talked sports and the cold and just life. It was fun. You make memories when you sit around a table and share stories. Each person's story adds new depth to the conversation and to understanding. We loved having the opportunity to share that time with them.
Lunch today with a friend was great. Part of the conversation was light and funny. Part was a bit more serious. I like that. Life is always a journey of many parts. It is a joy to spend time with a person you truly enjoy. She brings new insights to me. I need that. We all do. I hope I add something to her life as well. Times shared are memory makers.
I usually visit with my son several times a week. We text quite a bit. Texting is such a fast way to communicate. However, when I have something more important to visit with him about, I call. He does the same. I am so blessed to have him as my son. He is funny, smart, handsome, affectionate. He was such a joy when he was home with us. Now that he has his own family, we love him even more. He is a great dad. He and his wife are doing a wonderful job of raising three children. We are truly blessed that he is our son. Love him so much. And I love his wife dearly. I feel very fortunate that she is in my life. Don't get me started on the grandchildren!
My best friend for many years knows me inside out. For that I am grateful. Can't fool her at all.
There are so many folks who have entered my life at different times and brought such joy. To be truthful, there have also been a few who have brought a bit of pain. But, it is all good. From each person who has touched my life, I have learned. Because of them I know that I am a better person. Some always bring laughter. Some ask for my thoughts about life challenges. Some visit about faith. Some talk education. Some are like me--they love decorating. We talk about how to put rooms together. Some let all the frustration and worry out as we sit together and visit. All bring love. Each and everyone. The wonderful part about all of this is I know I can call them when I need to vent. And don't we all need to vent once in awhile!
So, I say thank you to all of you who have touched my life. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. Thank you for laughing with me. Thank you for reaching out to me when my world was a bit off kilter--did I spell that right??
Now, take the time to thank all those who were there when you needed them. And vow to be there for them.
Loving this life!!
I am so grateful for all the people who have touched my life. Each one is unique. Each one brings something I need and gives it to me as a wonderful gift. I am blessed beyond belief.
Years ago I bought a fake fur coat. It is black and quite fuzzy. My grandchildren call it my gorilla coat. It is light but oh, so warm. I had it on tonight at my grandson's sectional basketball game. They came in second, by the way. A dad of one of the players on his team told me how much he likes my coat. I took it off and helped him into it. It was hilarous. People were snapping pictures with their phones as he posed like Joe Namath at the Super Bowl. As he took it off, he told me he would like to have it when I am done with it. What a hoot. A happy moment. I will wrap it in a pretty box with a big bow.
Our mail carrier is a good friend. She left a message on my phone this week asking me to call her. I did call her several times. Even left messages. No reply. I became a little nervous that something was wrong. Maybe she was sick. Or had had a wreck delivering the mail in this horrid weather. The next day she called. I told her I was a little worried since I had not been able to connect with her. She laughed. Seems that she had delivered our mail to the house and left it inside our entry. As she turned to leave, she noticed that the trim was down and the entry was a mess. She called to see what in the world I was doing with that room. We spent quite a few minutes talking about what would look good. She brightens my day.
A couple of weeks ago we had a couple out for dinner. After dinner we sat in front of the fire enjoying the warm glow it cast on the room. Everything looks better in candle light or fire light. If you want your house and yourself to look warm and inviting, simply light those candles. We drank a bottle of wine and visited. Had many laughs. It was a lovely evening with dear friends.
We took a couple to dinner recently. It was his birthday. Everyone deserves to be treated in a special way on their birthday. We talked sports and the cold and just life. It was fun. You make memories when you sit around a table and share stories. Each person's story adds new depth to the conversation and to understanding. We loved having the opportunity to share that time with them.
Lunch today with a friend was great. Part of the conversation was light and funny. Part was a bit more serious. I like that. Life is always a journey of many parts. It is a joy to spend time with a person you truly enjoy. She brings new insights to me. I need that. We all do. I hope I add something to her life as well. Times shared are memory makers.
I usually visit with my son several times a week. We text quite a bit. Texting is such a fast way to communicate. However, when I have something more important to visit with him about, I call. He does the same. I am so blessed to have him as my son. He is funny, smart, handsome, affectionate. He was such a joy when he was home with us. Now that he has his own family, we love him even more. He is a great dad. He and his wife are doing a wonderful job of raising three children. We are truly blessed that he is our son. Love him so much. And I love his wife dearly. I feel very fortunate that she is in my life. Don't get me started on the grandchildren!
My best friend for many years knows me inside out. For that I am grateful. Can't fool her at all.
There are so many folks who have entered my life at different times and brought such joy. To be truthful, there have also been a few who have brought a bit of pain. But, it is all good. From each person who has touched my life, I have learned. Because of them I know that I am a better person. Some always bring laughter. Some ask for my thoughts about life challenges. Some visit about faith. Some talk education. Some are like me--they love decorating. We talk about how to put rooms together. Some let all the frustration and worry out as we sit together and visit. All bring love. Each and everyone. The wonderful part about all of this is I know I can call them when I need to vent. And don't we all need to vent once in awhile!
So, I say thank you to all of you who have touched my life. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. Thank you for laughing with me. Thank you for reaching out to me when my world was a bit off kilter--did I spell that right??
Now, take the time to thank all those who were there when you needed them. And vow to be there for them.
Loving this life!!
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Homes--
Homes--
Winter is a terrible time at our house. We are forced to be inside. Being inside means we see all the things about our house that need to be fixed or repaired. When there is nothing to look at but the walls, the door facings, the floors, the ceilings, the paint chipping, it is easy to become discouraged. Our house is an older house so naturally things go wrong--almost on a daily basis.
Recently we visited with friends who had purchased a big, new home. The rooms were large. The paint was perfect. The kitchen was beautiful. The master bedroom was huge, and the master bath was enormous. It was amazing. They are loving all the space and the new. I am happy for them. But a little sad for me. Yes, I was on the brink of a very large pity party.
Now, isn't that sad? A pity party? Winter had gotten to me, that's for sure. All I could think about was the differences in our homes. One big-one small. One new-one old. This list could continue, but at some point I began to see the silly in me. Here is what I decided.
A home is a refuge. It does not matter the size of the rooms or the age of the house. What matters is the feeling one gets from being inside those walls. Chipped door facings give character to the home. Scratches on wood floors mean pets have run and jumped. Some dings are memory makers. All of the imperfections are a result of daily living. Memories flood the rooms. They float through the air. They settle on our souls. We feel at peace within the walls of this beloved home. We talk about the four colors of paint on the wall above the mantle. We laugh about all the times the furniture has been moved. We remember the too tall Christmas trees. And as we remember, we see our home with different eyes.
I love new homes. They smell good. They smell clean. I love the modern touches designers select for new homes. I also enjoy visiting open houses. Yet, there is something comforting about returning to the cozy of my home. It feels right. It welcomes me. It asks me to get comfortable. To enjoy my stay.
Our home has a mixture of old and newer furnishings. One piece of furniture that has special meaning is the table that sets in front of our family room sofa. Years ago we were on a mission to find a coffee table. We searched in many furniture stores but found nothing we liked. One day we decided to visit a second hand store. And there it was. A wooden table with a drawer. It was painted a lovely blue color. With a little work that table would be perfect. So, we bought it for $20 and took it home. We removed all that lovely blue paint. Then he sawed off the legs to just the right height. I would guess that was fifteen or so years ago.
The grandchildren have eaten on it, colored on it, painted on it, played games on it. Toys have been piled on it. Puzzles have been put together on it. The drawer is full of art supplies.
Eventually, we purchased new furniture. When the grandchildren heard we were changing the room, they informed us that we could not get rid of the table. To this day they insist that we keep that table. You see, it represents memories. It represents all the times they have visited with us and used that table. They cannot imagine our room without it. A $20 table with sawed off legs.
Yes, there are times when I would love a new home. There are times when I would love to put a "For Sale" sign in my yard. But the truth is I love this place with all its limitations. Each room represents part of our family. However, the real reason I probably won't put that sign out is--I am too lazy to keep it clean for all those open houses! Plus, I would have to clean the basement and throw away all that stuff that has accumulated over the years. It is simply too much work to move. Even to a new shiny house.
So, I suppose we will repair a few dings, touch up some chipping paint, remove some scratches before winter finally comes to an end. When spring arrives, we will take our creative selves outside into the yard and garden. The inside of the house will be old news--until the next winter rolls around. And the cycle will begin again.
I celebrate the new house with my friends. I celebrate the old house that cares for us.
Be well.
Winter is a terrible time at our house. We are forced to be inside. Being inside means we see all the things about our house that need to be fixed or repaired. When there is nothing to look at but the walls, the door facings, the floors, the ceilings, the paint chipping, it is easy to become discouraged. Our house is an older house so naturally things go wrong--almost on a daily basis.
Recently we visited with friends who had purchased a big, new home. The rooms were large. The paint was perfect. The kitchen was beautiful. The master bedroom was huge, and the master bath was enormous. It was amazing. They are loving all the space and the new. I am happy for them. But a little sad for me. Yes, I was on the brink of a very large pity party.
Now, isn't that sad? A pity party? Winter had gotten to me, that's for sure. All I could think about was the differences in our homes. One big-one small. One new-one old. This list could continue, but at some point I began to see the silly in me. Here is what I decided.
A home is a refuge. It does not matter the size of the rooms or the age of the house. What matters is the feeling one gets from being inside those walls. Chipped door facings give character to the home. Scratches on wood floors mean pets have run and jumped. Some dings are memory makers. All of the imperfections are a result of daily living. Memories flood the rooms. They float through the air. They settle on our souls. We feel at peace within the walls of this beloved home. We talk about the four colors of paint on the wall above the mantle. We laugh about all the times the furniture has been moved. We remember the too tall Christmas trees. And as we remember, we see our home with different eyes.
I love new homes. They smell good. They smell clean. I love the modern touches designers select for new homes. I also enjoy visiting open houses. Yet, there is something comforting about returning to the cozy of my home. It feels right. It welcomes me. It asks me to get comfortable. To enjoy my stay.
Our home has a mixture of old and newer furnishings. One piece of furniture that has special meaning is the table that sets in front of our family room sofa. Years ago we were on a mission to find a coffee table. We searched in many furniture stores but found nothing we liked. One day we decided to visit a second hand store. And there it was. A wooden table with a drawer. It was painted a lovely blue color. With a little work that table would be perfect. So, we bought it for $20 and took it home. We removed all that lovely blue paint. Then he sawed off the legs to just the right height. I would guess that was fifteen or so years ago.
The grandchildren have eaten on it, colored on it, painted on it, played games on it. Toys have been piled on it. Puzzles have been put together on it. The drawer is full of art supplies.
Eventually, we purchased new furniture. When the grandchildren heard we were changing the room, they informed us that we could not get rid of the table. To this day they insist that we keep that table. You see, it represents memories. It represents all the times they have visited with us and used that table. They cannot imagine our room without it. A $20 table with sawed off legs.
Yes, there are times when I would love a new home. There are times when I would love to put a "For Sale" sign in my yard. But the truth is I love this place with all its limitations. Each room represents part of our family. However, the real reason I probably won't put that sign out is--I am too lazy to keep it clean for all those open houses! Plus, I would have to clean the basement and throw away all that stuff that has accumulated over the years. It is simply too much work to move. Even to a new shiny house.
So, I suppose we will repair a few dings, touch up some chipping paint, remove some scratches before winter finally comes to an end. When spring arrives, we will take our creative selves outside into the yard and garden. The inside of the house will be old news--until the next winter rolls around. And the cycle will begin again.
I celebrate the new house with my friends. I celebrate the old house that cares for us.
Be well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)