Forever Young

Continuing with the age of innocence theme...I started thinking about a time in my life when I had no cares, no worries, no stress. Did I ever just take off, not worry about plans, tasks undone and responsibilities?

My memories of such a time in my life have been jolted in the last day or so. My dearest friend Niels has shown up on facebook and along with him are the memories of the best trip I have ever taken. Without him, my first trip to Africa would not have happened. I had no business, no rational reasoning to go there. I was 22, had no job, very little money, no concrete plans for the future, and now that I think about it...no home to even call my own. Yet, I took what little money I had, wrapped up my year of living in the Netherlands, packed a suitcase and headed out to Zimbabwe with him and another friend for a month of ridiculous abandonment, choices that would shock even the wild at heart, and enjoyed life in all its hilarity, love, and adventure.


At the beginning of the trip we stayed with Niels' parents who were living in Harare, Zimbabwe. Then we took off, backpacking our way through South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, returning to Zimbabwe. We began the journey on a train still emblazoned with its Rhodesian logos from the colonial days. There were no concrete plans, no reservations made, no tickets purchased. Therefore, the trip included walking, hitchhiking (yes, hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere), school bus-type transportation, a plane (Air Botswana) and the back of a pick-up truck for 7 hours. We mostly tent camped with a brief reprieve at some friends of Niels' parents. We ran out of local currency, yes, money. We opted to eat only a pack of mints in order to drink a Zambezi, saw elephants from 100 feet, got chased by monkeys, saw the "last Eden on earth," ate impala schnitzel, had some digestive issues, took outdoor showers, went to a few discos, held snakes, drove on the "wrong" side of the road, met a real mercenary, made a missing persons report to the police, saw one of the 7 wonders of the world, visited a country in the midst of enormous change and hope, got lost, laughed, cried (maybe that was just me) and LIVED.

It was during this part of the trip when my eyes were opened to how most of the world lives. It was during this part of the trip that I felt I was truly living, sucking every ounce of emotions and experiences from every day. It was during this trip that I felt the most confidence in my abilities to handle anything that came my way. I am forever indebted to Niels for inviting me to tag along on such a life-altering trip.

My heart sinks when I read about the calamity that has befallen Zimbabwe. A country of such promise in the early 90s, now racked with scandals, political destruction and the AIDS epidemic. I wonder what the slums of South Africa have become since the fall of apartheid, as we saw the hope in the eyes of the people of that country only 6 months after it was abolished. I don't know anyone who has ever been to Africa who wasn't deeply moved by the tension between beauty and despair. It is a continent that quickly creates passion and carves a lasting mark in the hearts of every visitor. A place that exists, defying the odds on so many levels. I know there is a little hole in my heart created by the piece I left in Africa over 14 years ago and made larger by a second trip 6 years ago.

My second trip was much different - a missions trip to Ghana. I loved every minute I was there and I long for more of it. I dream of once again holding the little orphan girl in Ghana in my arms while the harmonic sounds of the orphan choir sing praises. I never think about those places without believing one day I might return on a more lengthy basis. How, where and why, I do not know.

Until then, I will think about how life has propelled me to lose some of that spontaneity and become the uber responsible, somewhat fearful, worried, self-doubting mom and wife. I think it is time to reclaim that independent and adventurous girl from 1994. Today, it is never too late to be...Forever Young.

The Blue Hour

The term "blue hour" comes from a French expression l'heure bleue, which refers to twilight, the period each morning and evening where there is neither full daylight nor complete darkness. The time is considered special because of the quality of the light at this time of day and because this is often when the smell of the flowers is at their strongest. In literature, this term often symbolizes a period of innocence.

My vision of the blue hour is the very first light of the morning which creeps its way through the windows, the trees outlined starkly in contrast to the cool and yet, comforting blue hues in the sky. I saw the blue hour this morning as my youngest crawled into bed with me. It was a rare night of musical beds. Though everyone began in their own beds, in the morning I found myself in Sadie's bed, Sadie was on her trundle bed and Lily was in my bed, until she sought me out once again this time in Sadie's bed. I remember when the musical beds game was routine for us, over 2 years ago. That is one rite of passage I am glad is pretty much behind us.

As Lily crawled in behind me in Sadie's white sleigh bed, I gazed through the white wooden blinds. I thought about that "period of innocence" so perfectly on display by the azure sky this morning. My Lily will graduate in a couple of weeks from preschool, marking the end of one title I have held for 7 years, "Mom of a Preschooler." But, in the last couple of weeks she has met the world in all of its rudeness head on. Another child laughed at her, remarking that she has crisscrossed eyes, giggling at her glasses. Lily ran to me, crying at the hurt she just experienced. It was her first insight into being different. It was her first introduction that something might be wrong with her. It was her first experience that others can simply be mean. My heart rushed to comfort her. I was stunned at the cruelty of another child at such a young age. But, I remained fixed and focused on healing her hurts. As I wiped away the tears, I wanted to wipe this encounter away from her memory as well. The impact of this moment did not escape me. It was the dwindling of her innocence, the end of the blue hour.

The days go by slowly, but the years are flying by. More times this year than ever, I have had older mothers and grandmothers tell me to cherish these times, each and every day. Their advice is given at random in the grocery store, at the park, at school. Sometimes it seems I am scrambling, a day late in capturing and holding onto those moments. School work comes home in droves, showing the progression with the ages. Lily can now write several words and seems to amble around, paper and pen always toted along with her. Sadie is completely immersed in some serious chapter books, but still devotes energy to catch lizards along the driveway and crayfish in the creek. Ethan is plotting his 9th birthday party and prospective gifts. We spent time today putting together the Mouse Trap contraption in the game with the same name. He never fails to be appreciative of the undivided time I give to him.

Similar to the incident with Lily on the playground, I see the bits of innocence being chipped away from all three of my children. As they age, their exposure to the world increases, and their sense of security will inevitably decrease. I hope and pray that their hearts will remain full of optimism, courage, creativity, confidence, self-assurance; in the light of l'heure bleue.

Every Day

A family I am very loosely connected with has had the unthinkable happen...the loss of a child, age 7. To me this is cruelest of circumstances. My own feeble mind cannot wrap itself around this devastation. My own grief at the loss of my sister seems to pale in comparison to what it would be like to lose one of my own brood.

Life was pretty darn easy for me prior to Ansley's illness and passing. Then, very suddenly, everything was turned upside down and I found myself in self-preservation mode. I might add that I failed miserably living in that mode, too. We weren't created to self-preserve.

As a result, I have lived through extreme grief and continue to exist in a milder form of it. I believe that it will be my companion, albeit a little one, for the rest of my life. The ebbs and flows of grief are like the tides. Somewhat rhythmic and predictable like the calendar, yet are not even in their size or timing. Sometimes you feel as if you have just recovered from the last wave only to be blindsided by the next one. To know that this family is at the beginning of this new way of existing, this new family dynamic and to know what suffering is before them brings me to my knees. I am not yet to the point of being able to comfort someone freshly grieving as it is still too fresh in my own heart.

And yet, there is hope. Hope that is infinite and eternal. A hope that never changes, that never fades. In the perfect storm of pain, anguish, grief, evil, God is all we have to cling to. Nothing, I mean nothing in this world is more solid, reliable, comforting, and loving than our God.

I have mentioned in a previous post my dislike for the phrase, "God only gives us what we can handle." It is not biblical scripture and though I understand the intent, it is opposite of one of my favorite verses. "I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." My belief is that God does bring more to us than we, on our own, can handle because it is Him that gives us the strength to do it. His purpose at all times is to grow us in unbelievable places. It is to pull us and stretch our faith. It is to bring us to a point where they only solution is to turn to Him. It is at that point of complete surrender that we hear His loving words, His wooing us to Him. It is that gentle nudge that leads us to want more of Him and less of this world.

Life on this terra firma is brief, a blink of an eye in relationship to eternity, ending often without warning. Yet, even in times like these, where the worst fears of a parent are realized, I find comfort in knowing God is completely in control of it. He has a plan for each of us, a job if you will. That job is involves both our internal - our spiritual growth and our external - the impact we have on others. For some, that plan is complete in just a few short years. For others, it will continue until we are old and gray. Until that work is completed in us, we remain here as workers for Him.

For this family and their friends...life will go continue forward. It will be painful to watch the lives of others continue, appearing to be unaffected by the the loss they are experiencing. My heart wants to tell them...Don't ever discount your grief. Don't ever compare your grief to others. Don't begin to think that you are not normal in your grief cycle. God knows our sorrows, our tears, our pains, our hurts. He is big enough to carry those burdens and He is big enough to take our anger. Give it to Him. Every day.

Count your blessings...once again.

I have been very removed from the blog as shown by the lack of any posts in the previous 3 weeks. I have been writing, but it has been more for the project than the blog. In returning to my normal rhythm of life after market, it seems very appropriate that I begin again with what I should do more often than not - count my blessings! Here we go:

1. First Anniversary of the company! Exciting because a) we are still in business and b) we have employees, good employees and c) I have been able to step away from the company and focus my attention on the children, house and all the comes with it.

2. As I type this, I am sitting on my deck, in the warmth of the sun, with a breeze that is delightful. I can hear my littlest one giggling with a friend with not a care in the world. In 3 short months, she will enter kindergarten. My time is short, so I will soak up every minute with her.

3. My entire family will be together in two weeks. It has been over 2 years since this last occurred. Weddings tend to force these visits. I can't wait to meet my nephew for the first time.

4. The ability to cook meals again. We ate out a lot while living in the basement. Not only is it not healthy, it gets very old, very quickly. It is great to pour over my cookbooks, plan, calculate, and make lists of love for my family.

Home Sweet Home

This is a blog primarily to document and thus provide evidence for my claim that I reside in "Crazytown." Really, though, I know most of what I experience in life is no different that the rest of you. It is just life. Yet, there are times when I think surely this is not "normal." And so, begins another post...

We rent our house to a group of people who are attending the furniture market in our town. It is good, free money for 10 days, 2x a year, yet, I always wonder after it is all said and done if it is truly worth it. Sure, you are forced to get your house completely in order, totally clean. You are displaced for a short period of time and get a very nice check for your trouble. But for us, it is never that simple.

Currently, it is furniture market time which signals chaos in our house. Never have we had an "uneventful" market. Something always goes awry. There was the one year we decided to "camp" in our camper at the local campground. Lily found Jay's heart medication while I was tending to the others in the bathtub. That resulted in 3 days at Brenner's Children's Hospital. In the end, Lily was fine. Ok, so that probably deserves its own post. There is so much fodder in just those 4 sentences. Not all markets have been that potentially catastrophic, but I have come to the conclusion that if something is going to happen, it will usually occur during the two weeks of April and the two weeks in October during which this blessed event takes place.

This year, has been no exception. The two weeks prior to market, I had two sick children. Sadie was first with the stomach virus that lasted 5 days, missing 4 days of school. I had 3 days of reprieve before Ethan started up, lasting 4 days of which 3 were missed school days. Very insignificantly, but still a bump in the road, was the complete breakdown of my beloved mop, only a few short hours prior to my renters' arrival.

Learning the campground was not ideal for our family, we now reside in our basement for the 11 days the renters are here. This is extremely convenient. Quite happily, I can say this is the first maket during which the basement is complete, meaning there are no construction projects being completed while we are down here. One market we did a LOT of painting. Another, we put stone around the gas fireplace and finished the wood flooring. Last market, we installed the hanging ceiling, continuously sending a shower of white specks and dust over the entire area and our belongings.

Sadly, apart from market, we really don't utilize this space as much as we should. Therefore, market tends to justify its existence. However, space that is not used is inviting. Inviting for creatures and varmints. Within the first 24 hours we killed a little field mouse and a ...baby snake. By "we," I mean Jay. I simply stood there and screamed like I was going down with the Titanic. I deplore snakes. And, yes, I know that where there is one, there are others. I can only continue to reside in these living conditions with the idea that it slithered in here when the kids left the basement door open for a couple of hours. Slithered. I am shivering just writing that word.

But, so far the pièce de résistance of April Market 2009 can be summed up with two words - "sprinkler malfunction." I am not at liberty to go into details, so let's just leave it at that. And, there appears to be a silver lining to what could have been a terrible situation.

It is a bit of a déjà vu story for me. When I was very, very young, my father began a furniture company. I only learned of this fact in the last couple of years, which I find interesting. Anyway, he and his partner had multiple orders placed and manufacturing was running smoothly. It was the early stages of the business. The future was very bright. However, next door to their building, construction was occurring. There was some sort of heavy rain/flooding. A deluge of mud and water came crashing down an poorly graded embankment, tearing into the wall of their building and thus destroying the entire operation. In order to cut costs in their initial phase, they had not purchased insurance. They were over. Finished. My dad, realizing the catastrophic impact of losing everything, went back to work doing what he was educated to do - furniture design. He has had quite successful career, but I know he must have always wondered, "what if."
I think I could deal with market being over pretty soon. Enough is enough.

Question for the Day

I am knee-deep this week in market preparations for our renters. For those with no connections to my town that follow this blog, we rent our house for 10 days, twice a year to a group of people attending the very large trade show held here. I know it sounds a bit strange...complete strangers in your house, sleeping in your bed. But, we have done it for awhile and now those "stranger" are more like family. It is a fantastic way to force getting your house in order twice a year. It is always a bit stressful, yet this year seems to be eerily relaxed. I am sure I am forgetting some key element.

I haven't had much time to craft a decent post. I am working on some pieces, but haven't gotten them tweaked exactly where I want them to be. Instead of stressing about it, I am letting this rest for a bit.

The other "going-on" in my life is my recently acquired mp3 player. I am walking down memory lane, ala youtube. Fun stuff. But, what I want from you is your top 5 must-have downloads. Well, you can give me how many you want - new, old, secular, christian. Whatever! If you have particular songs for running, let me know. I am trying to get back into that zone. Comment away, dear readers, and help me fill this up!

I Dream a Dream with Susan Boyle

If you haven't seen her, maybe you have heard her. She is the latest viral video sensation on youtube thanks to the television show, "Britain's Got Talent." Last I checked videos of her had been viewed some 16 million times worldwide in less than some 3 days. That alone could make you curious to watch her, right? What is so special about this lady? Well, watch this and see: Susan Boyle. Seriously, if you don't watch the video you will not come close to understanding this post. Well, ok, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but I really want you to experience it all the way to the end as the judges comments are quite compelling.

You learn from the video that she lives alone with her cat, Peebles. She is unemployed, never been married, never been kissed and is 47. Yes, 47, and the quintessential frumpy, single, cat lady. The video does not begin to tell her whole story.

What you don't know, but I do, because of the magic of google, is that she found the courage to go on such a show because it was her dying mother's wish, whom she nursed until her death. She has a learning disability that made her the subject of cruel teasing and taunting as a child. This learning disability was caused by a lack of oxygen to her brain which occurred because of abuse she endured when she was young.

Yet, here she is. And, I love her. Why?

Yeah, ok, we all love the underdog. In economic times such as these we all need a little boost to our day, a little smile. But, I think it goes much deeper than this. At least it does for me.

I love her because she has beaten the odds. Yes, I know that defines her as an "underdog", but keep reading. She rose above the circumstances, the abuse, the bullying, and if I may go so far to say this...most likely loneliness, heartbreak, emotional turmoil that goes far beyond where I have been.

I relate to her because I have been on the nasty receiving end of taunting and teasing. And, no doubt, sadly and with much remorse, I doled out some verbal vomit and was dismissive to others. Watching Ms. Boyle created in me this ball of compassion and conviction that erupted into the such overflow of tears and exuberance that I nearly stood up and clapped and cheered for her while in my own study. My smile was large and wide and very uncontrollable. While watching her, it was like I was breaking free of some childhood pain and vowing to create a new legacy for my own children. My heart wants never to make a snap judgment of someone's worth, because every single person has worth, immeasurable worth. I know we often say that, but don't our actions often betray this sentiment?

Honestly, she is not an attractive woman, physically. Yet, she comes onto that stage with such confidence (note the swagger). She rolls her hips around with flair. She is real, albeit a bit raw. How does she do this? Because she is utterly who she is, without a doubt she knows who she is. And, she allows me to see who she is, not just the persona of who she strains to be. I want that for myself.

She has been singing since she was 12. Her dream is to be a professional singer, singing in front of a large audience and to be as successful as Elaine Page. Boyles' outlay of her aspirations made me think about my own dreams and goals. To equate her goal to something in my life means that my dream would be to have a NY Times best seller. I wouldn't dare think about anything like that. It has never even crossed my mind. Being on Oprah, well, that is another story, made long before writing ever entered the picture. But really, I would be happy just to see something in actual print. The question is...why don't I dream big? Why don't I allow myself to even think about such lofty ideas?

Most importantly, however, is this: Despite what has been a lifetime of rejection, Susan Boyle appears to be quite authentic and transparent. Her own life is an open book, not shuffled under the rug and or hidden behind the door, nor attempted to be anything it is not. How did she arrive to this point in her life? Well, she learned to sing in church and it is there that she practiced her amazing gift. I would imagine that her relationship with God is what is really on display here. It is only through Him that we can be comfortable, that we can be free to be who we really are.

Today's bottom line: It is world's most erroneous standard and we have bought into it. The lie is that only the beautiful, rich and fabulous have something to offer this world. The lesson of Susan Boyle is that every single being matters - who they are, what they are and how they dream. And, if she couldn't hold a tune, she should be loved just as much.