Don't Look Back

It’s funny how we remember certain things that people say. It could be days, weeks, years, or even decades later, but sometimes people say things you never forget. It can be good or bad (and unfortunately it’s hard to forget the bad things), but either way it’s likely that something someone once said will stick with you forever.

For example, when I was about 5 or 6, I was eating lunch with my sister and some cousins at my [very German] grandma’s house. Someone there didn’t like onions (I honestly don’t remember who), and my grandma told him that “you should eat your onions; it’ll put hair on your chest.” And even though I was quite fond of onions, I remember looking down at the onion-filled soup I was eating, suddenly afraid to eat them because of the chest hair that would inevitably follow. 20 years later, I still think about it when I’ve got onions on my plate.

Another example: I was at a track meet in grade school and someone mentioned to me that a runner will lose 3 seconds every time he or she looks back while running. I don’t know if there are facts to back that up, but I still think about it every time I’m out for a run. Even if I’m running in a dream, that statistic will cross my mind and I will remember not to look back. It's burned into my mind.Don’t look back.
It’s so easy to look back, though, isn’t it? Sometimes during the workday, I find myself in an odd state. It's like I'm physically “frozen.” I’ve stopped working, I’ve essentially stopped moving, and though I’m staring at my computer screen, I’m thinking back over things I’ve done, people I’ve known, good days, bad days, and so on. Lately I have a nasty habit of thinking back over the past year and wondering what I could’ve done differently. Where could I have improved? Where did I do the right thing? Where did I really screw up? How could I have reacted differently to Scenario A? What would have been a better response to Jane Doe’s rude question?

It’s so tempting to look back when you should really be focusing your time and energy on what lies ahead. It’s likely that you’re working toward something, no matter how insignificant it may seem. You probably have a goal in mind, and you’re making progress toward it whether you realize it or not. Maybe you’re trying to pay off credit card debt. Maybe you’re trying to lose 20 pounds. Maybe (bless your heart) you’re trying to GAIN 20 pounds. Maybe you’re trying to finish a book, or maybe you’re just trying to finish the day. Maybe you’re trying to believe in something. Maybe you’re just trying to be happy.

Wherever your destination lies, make an earnest effort to maintain progress along the way. It does absolutely no good to dwell on the past; looking back does indeed slow you down. In my very humble opinion, nothing is just “coincidence.” As cliché as it sounds, everything happens for a reason. Don’t let your “20/20” hindsight fool you. Hindsight is very sly. It will make you believe that your life today would be easier if you hadn’t taken Job X, or if you had never met Mr. Y. Every moment of every day has its purpose. It’s all part of a grand plan. Find joy in something pleasant each day and remove the word “doubt” from your vocabulary. Keep your eyes on the prize. Run like hell and never look back. And for goodness’ sake, eat your flippin' onions.

Lifeline

"It opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes,

and softens down the temper.  So cry away." -- Charles Dickens

Here's one of those "it's a small world" stories.  My pastor recommended that I contact a young lady he knows whose name is Emily.  He said we would probably have a lot in common and that he could see us being good friends.  As it turns out, Emily and I do have a lot in common.  We're the same age.  Neither of us is native to Kalamazoo.  We both grew up near Saginaw.  Funny, huh?  Not done yet.  Emily happens to live in an apartment directly across the parking lot from me.  Small world?  Yep.  It gets even smaller.  This past summer, there was a fire across the parking lot.  Thankfully, the fire was not in Emily's apartment, but she did have some damage as a result.  While they were fixing up her apartment, they set her up in the apartment DIRECTLY next to mine.  Yes, Emily and I lived directly next to each other for a few months this summer and had no idea.  And now we're friends!

During a recent conversation, Emily and I discussed how little we know about our neighbors.  I rarely see any of mine, and she hardly ever sees any of hers.  There's no real "community" feeling around here.  Doesn't really bother me.  I'm perfectly fine not knowing.

While Emily lived in my building, she had an apartment with a balcony that overlooked the parking lot.  She said it was very interesting to watch people come and go every so often (in a very non-creepy way, I promise).  She then mentioned that there were a few weeks in particular this summer when she had seen one young woman who was always crying - no matter whether she was coming or going, getting her mail or sitting out in her car, this young woman was crying. 

Emily did not know her.  She didn't know why she was crying.  But Emily felt awful for this young lady every time she saw her sadness.  She wasn't sure how to approach her, or whether it was even appropriate to do so.  Before long, Emily had made up her mind that she was not going to approach her directly, but was going to write her a card of encouragement and leave it on her windshield (she knew her vehicle because she had seen her crying in it multiple times).  So Emily got the card, wrote it out, and intended to leave it on this young lady's windshield the next time she saw it in the parking lot.  I'm sad to say that Emily never saw the woman again, and therefore was never able to give her the card.

When Emily told me this story, my heart broke for the anonymous woman.  I know how it feels to be overwhelmed by a situation, to feel terrified, alone, and helpless, and to have no outlet for your sadness aside from tears.  I feel terrible that this woman was my own neighbor and I never noticed that she was living in such misery.  Something in her life was clearly going very poorly, and from the sounds of it she was very alone.  Unfortunately for Miss Anonymous, Emily never got to tell her that she had noticed her sadness, that she was thinking of her and praying for her, and that things would eventually get better. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: we're often oblivious to the troubles of those around us... especially the ones who are silent in their struggles.  It seems obvious that we were created to pay attention to our surroundings.  Man was created with two eyes and two ears, but only one mouth.  So often, we spend too much time talking and not enough time looking/ listening to the world around us.  Keep your eyes and ears open for someone around you who may be going through a difficult time.  The next time someone like "Miss Anonymous" is living down the hall from me, I hope I'll be more apt to notice his/her struggle and offer some support, even if it seems small and insignificant.  As someone who knows what it's like to feel alone, scared, and hopeless, I know how great a small gesture of support can feel like, even when it's unsolicited.

You have two eyes and two ears.  Use them!  Pay close attention to your world and to those around you.  It's possible that someone you know (or even someone you don't know) could use some sympathy, encouragement, or even just a little support.  You never know... even the tiniest shred of encouragement could be the very lifeline someone desperately needs.

A Day of Thanks

I spent Thanksgiving day with my family. Today my heart is very full. And though I really try to live each day with a gracious heart (and some days it's teeth-grindingly difficult), today I made sure to take special note of all the things that make my life so wonderful.

No, I didn't win the lottery this year. But I am able to pay my bills while living a moderately fabulous life. And no, I didn't meet the man of my dreams (dry humor... ha. ha. ha.), but I have an even more focused image of what Mr. Perfect will look like (or, perhaps more importantly, what he WON'T look like). And even though I spend most days grumbling about my totally whacked-up workplace, I do have a permanent full time job, and it came at an amazingly opportune time.

A lot has happened since last Thanksgiving... Some good, some bad, happy, sad, normal, strange, and downright ridiculous. It's certainly been a crazy ride, and some days I wasn't sure how my sanity was going to last until the next day. But I have the most amazing family and friends, and each special person in my life has helped to pull me through some especially difficult days. I made sure to be thankful for something every day, even if the only thing I could find to be thankful for was that the day was over.

Gratitude can totally change your outlook on life. It will pull you through less-than-perfect days and give you hope for a brighter tomorrow. Gratitude will help you truly appreciate what you have. It will help you distinguish your "wants" from your "needs." It will keep your feet on the ground and keep you humble. Gratitude is absolutely vital for living a simple, happy life. Be happy and give thanks for the really wonderful things in your life, the things you know you can't live without.

I'm very thankful today. Thankful for what I had, thankful for what I currently have, and thankful for what I will have. Thankful for peace, for family and friends, and thankful for hope and faith. Without these things, where would I be?

And as always, I'm thankful for each of you. If you're reading this, chances are you hold a special place in my heart. Here's to a happy Thanksgiving for you and yours :)

Just Be

Ah, to be human.  Being human means knowing ups and downs.  It means experiencing those "bad spells."  You know the ones.  When nothing seems to be going your way.

Maybe you've made a mistake in the past that you're trying to learn to live with, and it doesn't seem to be getting any easier.  Maybe you harbor some anger against someone who's wronged you, and those angry feelings seem to be totally consuming you.  Maybe you show up to work every day, smiling and polite, and the only thing your coworkers have bothered to ask you is whether you're on welfare.  Maybe you were turned down for your dream job because of some ridiculous red tape.  Maybe you're just plain unhappy with life in general.

Most of us have experienced mornings when it seems like it takes every milligram of energy we have to get out of bed and face the thankless cycle of the day ahead of us.  It seems pointless to have days like these.  O great universe, how does that contribute to a positive world?  So often, you'll meet those clowns who tell you that the only way to enjoy the good in life is to experience the bad in life.  And it's easy to think that they're only telling you that because THEY'RE enjoying one of the coveted "good spells."

And what if they're right?  What if the only reason we're able to distinguish the good times from the bad is because we've seen both?  So if we find ourselves caught in a bad spell, what's the next step?

We're conditioned to be strong in whatever we do.  We're wired to be brave and courageous, and to exhibit that strength, bravery, and courage by stepping up and making a necessary change.  "You control your destiny!" "Be the change you wish to see!" (blah blah blah...)

What if that "bold move" isn't our only option?  Some things are totally and completely beyond our control.  Sometimes making a change isn't possible.  Sure, there are people who have risen from whatever dire situation they were in and made a better life for themselves, and we glorify them.  We see those people as heroes.  We want to be just like them. 

What about the silent heroes?  Sometimes the best choice is just to persevere, to be patient and wait for the right opportunity to jump back into the "good life."  For whatever reason, maybe now is not the right time to be changing your life.  Look at those around you.  Look at the challenges each one faces.  Look for that silent, patient warrior, the one who seems to be using perseverance as their only means of coping.  It's possible that those silent warriors are fighting just as tough a battle as the outwardly courageous ones.  It's just a little harder to spot.

Sometimes patience is indeed the highest virtue.  Maybe we don't find the most intense strength in actively changing our lives, but in waiting for the right time to make the change.  Maybe in order to be strong and brave, you just have to BE.

May Peace Abound

I came across an email the other day that asked, "What if you woke up tomorrow and all you had were the things you thanked God for today?"  Can you imagine?  What would you wake up with tomorrow?  Sure, sometimes we get busy and forget to stop and express our gratitude for all the good things in our lives.  Does it really have to be that hard?

Lately, I can't seem to fall asleep (or stay asleep, for that matter).  I turn my fan on (white noise) before going to bed, I open my window... I even slapped a featherbed on my mattress.  Nothing seems to help.  I know they say to count sheep, but come on-- who actually does that?  I tried it once--ONCE-- and I felt ridiculous. 

So I tried something else.  I started to list the things I'm thankful for.  It's really seemed to make a difference.  Especially the last few weeks.  There are actually days where I feel (very wrongly, might I add) like I don't have much to be thankful for. 

It's so easy to throw yourself a pity-party, isn't it?  Perhaps you're unhappy with your job or love life.  Perhaps you come home every day to another bill in the mail.  Maybe you got a run in your nylons 10 minutes after arriving to work.  Maybe your dog or child JUST WON'T CALM DOWN.  It's easy to become overwhelmed by little things like these. They can pile up and before you know it, these burdens become all you can think about.  You lose sleep, you lose your days and nights, and you begin to lose yourself. 

So I've started praying and listing all the things I'm thankful for every night as I lay in bed, waiting for the sweet refuge of sleep to take over.  I thank God every night for the very important things in my life... the things that I know I couldn't live without tomorrow.  I also ask for peace.  In our unpredictable world, it seems impossible to just "go with the flow" in every circumstance.  Sometimes we find ourselves in situations that make it hard to be thankful, to just grin and bear it.  Pray for peace.  It will help, I promise.  When you find yourself in a poor situation that's beyond your control, ask for peace.  For uncertainty about the future, ask for peace.  If you're drowning in resentment toward someone who's wronged you, ask for peace. 
When all else fails, nothing seems to be going your way, and any rest seems impossible: count your blessings, be thankful for what you have, and ask for peace.  You'll notice a difference when you wake up.

Every Day is Wednesday

dé·jà vu: Noun.

1.A feeling of having already experienced the present situation. 

2.Tedious familiarity.

Straighten your hair (what little you have).  Someone on the TV says “It’s 14 past the hour.”  You only have a few minutes.  Finish your hair, apply your make-up.  Spray your hair.  You're set to go.  Run to the kitchen, grab the fixings for your lunch: veggies, hummus, pita, apple, banana, granola bar, protein drink.  Stuff it all into your pink lunchbag.  Glance at your other lunch bag, the comical black one with a graphic of a smiling sandwich that says “om nom nom.”  No, you don't feel like using that one.  Not anymore.  Not at this job.  Not where you eat in the park everyday surrounded by homeless people sleeping on the ground.  Unplug your phone from its charger, grab your purse, slip your shoes on.  Grab your keys from the table by the door.  Unlock the door.  Turn around, head to the bathroom, unplug your hair straightener.  Run back to the door.  Hit the light switch, exit the apartment.  Fumble for your keys, run back inside, hit the lightswitch, grab your awful pink lunchbag.  Hit the lightswitch again, exit the apartment again.  Door 1, door 2, door 3. 

The woman from the next building over is leaving for work too.  Just like yesterday, just like the day before.  It’s gray and cloudy.  Darker every morning.  Head out to your car, turn the key.  Back out and drive slowly past the Indian family climbing into the van parked in front of the next building over.  Drive past Mr. Speedwalker – the man who looks to weigh 100 lbs and still goes for AT LEAST 2 BRISK WALKS PER DAY (from what you've seen, anyway).  Drive past a bus that’s stopped at the tracks.  Right lane.  Left lane.  Avoid the pothole - switch lanes.

Turn.  Continue.  Switch lanes.  Stop.  Look at the planes.  Go.  Remember the name Duncan.  Stop. Go. Stop. Go.  Continue.  Listen to the man coming through the speakers of the Starship.  He says something about the uselessness of the Num Lock key on the keyboard.  Shake your head.  Continue driving.

Heading downtown - you can see the lights.  The man with the white cane and backpack is outside the Family Dollar, talking to himself again.  Just like yesterday, just like the day before.  Will he still be there in a month?  Keep driving.  Stop.  Smell the bread.  Go.  Smell the bread.  Smile to yourself.  Remember Tijuana.  Go.  Go. Stop. Right lane.  Left lane.  Right lane.  Maneuver through the city's latest practical joke - the obstacle course that has taken over the final stretch of your commute.  Stop.  Go.  Right lane.  Left lane.  Stop.  Turn.  Stop.  Wait.  Look at the mural on the building ahead of you - " 'To be simple is to be great.' -- Ralph Waldo Emerson."  Your daily mantra.  It's good to keep things simple.  Remember the name Emerson.

Turn.  Feel your heart sink just a little, as always, as you near your final destination.  Stop, go.  Rumble strip.  Rumble strip.  Rumble strip.  Turn, search for the spot closest to the door.  Park, shut the lights off.  Ignition off.  Grab your purse, look at the building.  Sigh.  Think about whether you really want to do this.  Sigh.  D-r-a-g yourself out of the vehicle.  Shut the door.  Check once more to make sure the lights are off.  Look at the building and hesitate.  Sigh.  Walk.  Open the door, punch in your six digits.  Scan your hand.  Wait for the buzz.  Open this door.  Turn and open the next door.

You can actually FEEL the temperature drop as you walk in.  Hang up your coat.  Shiver.  Walk through the silent room - say "Good morning," like a good girl.  You might as well be talking to an empty room, since no one turns around.  Sit down at what looks like a vacant desk and hide your purse in the overhead cabinet.  Move your mouse, pull your stapler out of hibernation, pull a pen out of the sterile desk drawer.  Type in your password, look around.  Open the drawer to look at the calendar.  It's Wednesday.  Yesterday was Tuesday and tomorrow will be Thursday.  And yet, every day is Wednesday.

Hope on the Horizon

As you know, I've started a new job.  Not much to do there yet - and as I've said, while I like the work itself, the place itself is sort of dull.  No one talks to one another, and no music (not even on headphones) is allowed.  You can imagine how boring it might be for a new employee who's trying to find ways to occupy her time in between training sessions.

One activity I use to occupy my spare time is going into Microsoft Word and using the "translate" tool to translate random words into different languages.  Ever the linguist, I like to see how various languages are similar to/different from others.  So I sit there in the unbearable silence of my office and look up translations for whatever word pops into my head: tree, paper clip, stapler, keyboard, computer, carpet, jail, crazy, sad, happy, heart, sky, grow, courage, etc. 

Like I said, I like to see how the translations compare across the board.  Most of the time, the Germanic languages (German, Swedish, Danish, Finnish, Dutch, and even English, by the way...) are very similar to one another.  And the Romance languages (Spanish, French, Italian) are usually awfully close to each other.  Then there's Chinese, Korean, Russian, Thai, Greek, Czech... and more often than not I can't read them, but I still like to look at the pretty symbols :)

I love seeing how the words vary from one language to the next.  I was incredibly surprised when I looked up the word "horizon."  With the exception of the "symbol" languages like Chinese, Korean, etc., the translation of "horizon" is almost exactly the same in so many languaes.  See for yourself:

Greek: ὁρίζω" (horizō)
Afrikaans: horison
Danish: horisont
Spanish: horizonte
French: horizon
Hungarian: horizont
Lithuanian: horizontas
Norwegian: horisont
Portuguese: horizonte
Swedish: horisont
Brazilian: horizonte
German: der Horizont
Finnish: horisontti
Croatian: horizont
Italian: orizzonte
Latvian: horizonts
Dutch: horizon
Polish: horyzont
Romanian: orizont
Serbian: horizont

That "horizon" is pretty amazing, huh?  It got me thinking.

Think of some of the most beautiful paintings/photos you've seen.  Chances are, they feature a horizon.  To me, the horizon is one of the most beautiful symbols in this universe.  The horizon, no matter the time of day or the time of year, symbolizes the joining of two very different subjects into one perfect entity.  It matters not who you are or where you live, you can see it -- every human is able to see the very same sky meeting the very same earth in the horizon.  It separates the day and night, while at the same time bringing them together.  We see the sun set and the sun rise over the horizon -- it marks the end of one day gone, and the beginning of a brand new day.  The horizon is an amazing thing, and it's equally amazing for every human on earth.

We often refer to something "just over the horizon," meaning that something good is imminent -- maybe it's not going to happen immediately, but we can expect it soon.  Go ahead, look into the horizon -- you may have to squint, but look ahead.  The horizon is a symbol of hope.  The horizon is where the rocky, dirt-covered earth meets the infinite and beautiful sky.  Look into the horizon and I promise you'll see hope.  Something good is just ahead, even if you don't know what it might be.

Hug a Bunch

Today I got a hug.  No, today I got two hugs.  Actually, I got three hugs.  I'm dogsitting for my sister's dog (Cooper) this week, and he "gives hugs," which is pretty adorable.  Even more so if you happen to adore the dog himself (and I do).  I also watched my friend's 4-year-old daughter today - and she gave me a hug.  And then instructed her mom (my dear friend Sarah) to hug me.  Sarah and I are not big huggers, but we did as her little girl said and we hugged each other.

Any hug is a good hug - really just a genuine way to show that you care about someone.  Sometimes all you need is a hug.  For those of you who don't know, I've recently begun working at a new job for a totally different company.  And if you've been keeping up with my blogs, you know that I LOVED my previous job.  My new job is okay - I really like the work, but the atmosphere is sort of "blah" and there are days where I realize at 5:00 pm (quitting time!) that I haven't actually spoken to one person all day.  That said, it's on those days especially when I get home and realize that I just need a hug.  Today was one of those days.  And thankfully, I had Sarah, her daughter, and Cooper to hug me. 

As I was winding down this evening, I was standing in the living room, entranced by a scene in Hope Floats.  Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face as I watched Birdie sitting on the bathroom floor, sobbing to her mother about how awful life was since Bill left.  And one quote especially caught my attention: "Sometimes it doesn't matter who or what or when or where the hugging happens.  Sometimes you just need a hug."

And how true that is.  Sometimes you just need a hug.  Maybe you need a hug, or maybe someone you know needs a hug.  Like Birdie says, it doesn't matter who or what or when or where it happens.  The best hugs are the unexpected ones - the ones that happen for no reason in particular.  Hug a little or hug a bunch.  Just hug someone you love.

Lumpy Carrot Syndrome

This past weekend, I went to visit my dad.  My father doesn't watch television, doesn't read, and doesn't really have many constructive hobbies (you know... like painting pottery, crocheting, woodburning).  He has a tendency to get bored.  One thing that keeps him occupied is his garden.  He's got a monstrous and fabulous garden.  And OH EM GEE... is he proud of it-- and for good reason.  He's got a huge stockpile of fresh lettuce, beets, green beans, peas, peppers galore, tomatoes (holy TOMATOES), carrots, potatoes, dill (yuck), corn, onions, green onions, etc. etc.  My sister Liz had instructed me to "make sure and bring some garden stuff back for us!"  Little did she know what she was getting herself into.  Needless to say, my dad packed up the entire trunk of my Starship with produce.  I brought it back to Liz's last night.  So much produce that it looked as though I had dropped the entire Kalamazoo Farmer's Market in her teeny kitchen. 



A photo doesn't even do these things justice...

 Included in my wekeend vegetable treasures was a bag full of carrots.  Not just any carrots... these were very special carrots.  Liz and I both commented on the "special" carrots.  They were lumpy and bumpy and growing parts and splitting off into two or three "legs."  When my dad first gave me the bag of carrots, I looked at them and said, "What are these?  Yams?"  He said no, they were carrots.  I commented on how strange they looked.  His response?  "You know, too often it seems that people just look at what something looks like.  They don't stop to think that the carrots might actually be good."  I thought about it-- yeah, he was right.  But THEN he went on (and for those of you who know my father, this won't sound like him... but I assure you, this is all him).  "That's a good lesson in life -- too often people just look at what's on the outside and they don't stop to think that something or someone might really be good on the inside."  Let me tell you, my father is a man of very few words.  Very rarely are those words philosophical, nurturing, or heartfelt.  As intelligent as he is, the guy's no Aristotle.  It's usually pretty cut-and-dried with him.  To hear his musings on life was a big surprise for me. 

And although his little life lesson in the garden was very short and simple, I've been thinking about it ever since.  He's right-- so often we look at someone or something and all we see is the exterior (I wrote about this in a prevous post-- and btw, the "Mr. Tattoos" I reference in that post has become somewhat of a good friend).  It's so easy to place judgment on others, isn't it?  And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm as guilty of it as anyone.  It seems so easy to look at someone's clothes, their circumstances, hairstyle, hobbies, whatever... and jump to some negative conclusion about them.  Maybe it's easy to look down on people when we feel like our lives are going perfectly.  However, when we've got our own issues to deal with (especially when they're pretty conspicuous issues), we're suddenly more aware of the stigmas that get placed on others, or the judgments that inevitably follow. 

I've been on both sides of the judgment, I'm sorry to say.  And while it often gives us some strange, unnecessarily wonderful power trip when we look down on others, to be on the receiving end of the judgments feels terrible.  No human has the right to feel like he or she is better than someone else.  Every single person (whether it's apparent or not) has his or her own demons to deal with.  And those demons make life ever more difficult.  It's when we're weak from fighting the demons that we need the most love-- and unfortunately, it's also when we're weak from fighting the demons that we're most vulnerable to judgment.  Everyone has their own "lumps and bumps" that might make them seem less desirable.  We've all found ourselves in poor situations, and despite how some people may appear, no one is perfect.  Some are "lumpier" than others, and it's those "lumpy" ones that could especially use some kindness.

No matter how "lumpy" we are, no matter how we got those "lumps," the following remain true: we're all human, we all have a heart, and we all need to be loved.  Sometimes the lumpy carrots are the sweetest carrots.  Embrace the lumpy carrots in your life.

Wherever the Wind Blows Me

Cooper, in all his nautical glory

This past weekend, I went out to the lake with my sister and her husband.  They have a boat (dubbed "The Penelope Cruise" by my sister and me), and one of my favorite things to do is head out onto the water with them and their dog, Cooper, who LOVES the water.

We went out on Sunday, but the weather wasn't necessarily ideal boating weather.  It was maybe 70 degrees, somewhat cloudy.  That said, we chose not to go swimming.  Instead, we drove the boat out to the middle of the lake and shut off the motor.  And after a lovely lunch of sandwiches, we were sleepy.  Donning our sweatshirts and sweatpants and wrapped in towels to stay warm, we decided to doze.  So we did just that.  I was manning the bow of the mighty vessel (a strong term, perhaps...), drifting in and out of sleep.  When I woke up, we were in a totally different part of the lake, headed toward a sandbar.  So my brother-in-law fired up "Penelope" and headed out to the middle of the lake again, where the engine was again shut off and our nautical naps continued. 

It was amazing how far we had drifted in such a short amount of time.  Wind is a pretty amazing thing.  We've learned to harness its power and use it as an amazing renewable energy source.  Wind can power huge equipment and large operations.  It can send ships all the way around the world-- and it's likely that wind brought your family to America at some point.  It can blow trees down in an angry storm, and it can take lives in an instant by demolishing homes and other buildings.  Wind has been known to blow cars off huge suspension bridges, and we've seen it injure/kill people by blowing things like concert stages right off the ground. 

Wind can be both a blessing and a curse, and very often its powerful gusts can come out of nowhere.  Too often, it seems, you look around after a windstorm and wonder how it all happened... where did this mess come from?  Or you wake up and look around after the wind has passed through and wonder how you got to where you are.  We've all experienced wind in our life.  Sometimes it can be a good thing, but other times it can blow you too far off course.  Life seems better when you've just got those warm, gentle breezes-- those pleasant happenings that are likely to move you just a smidge, without making it too difficult to get back to where you started.  When you experience the BIG gusts, though, it can definitely shake you up once you awake and realize just how far from home you are. 

Sometimes there's no way to control the gusts of wind in your life.  Sometimes you don't realize the wind is coming until it's already passing through, and sometimes the storm is completely over before you even realize there was a storm.  No matter what breezes or storms head your way, it's always possible to navigate your way back to where you started, back to where you're comfortable.  Every so often I wake up, look around, and I have to think about how I got there.  There are times I can see the spot where I began, and it doesn't take much effort to get back there.  There are other times, though, when I look around and nothing looks familiar- - it's all chaos.  That  place can be a terrifying place, and if you feel alone, it's even worse.  When I find myself there (and believe me, I do), I challenge myself to look around.  If I can make myself see far enough, I'll see my "lifeboat"-- my family/friends-- who are there to help me.  Even if they can't help me find the place where I started, they'll help me get back on my way.  And that way is always a little brighter when I'm not alone.

Here's wishing you warm and gentle breezes, as well as a loving lifeboat to transport you back to where you belong if you get blown too far off course.

My Haven



My family on vacation - 1990
(check out Liz's supercool perm!)



"The family is a haven in a heartless world." -- Christopher Lasch

I went to dinner with my cousin Jessi last night-- for the first time in over a year (and we live just miles from one another).  And yes, I'm ashamed about that last sentence.  We met at my favorite Mexican restaurant, where we were able to catch up over unlimited chips and salsa and the wonderful cheesy goodness of Mexican cuisine.  We had been sitting there and talking for over an hour.. and who walks in?  My sister and brother-in-law!   (yeah, this restaurant is THAT good)

My sister came over and sat with us for a bit.  She and Jessi talked about getting together to play on a local co-ed sports team, while I sat back (I'm terrified of playing sports that involve balls, so they both knew better than to invite me to play... I appreciate them looking out for my wellbeing).  I sat there and listened to them discuss the deathmatch that is volleyball, and I thought about how lucky I was.  Here I was, on a Wednesday night, away from home (no matter where I live, home will always be where I grew up).  But I had a belly full of beans and rice, and I was in the company of family.  Exactly what I needed.

Yes, I'm aware that so many of my posts reek of gratitude and resound with "how-sweet-life-is," but please bear with me for just one more.  I'm thankful for my family.

Life isn't always easy... though I'm sure you all know that.  I feel like I've run into more obstacles in 2011 than I thought were possible in one piddly year of life.  And while I've had friends there to support me along the way, my family has turned out to be the biggest comfort.  It makes me angry to think that there have been times this year when I've felt like I couldn't turn to my family for guidance, support, and love.  Someone once tried to tell me that there is no such thing as unconditional love, but that's false.  My family is proof of that. 

I have the most amazing mom and dad, sisters, and grandmas.  My brothers-in-law are exactly what I want for my sisters and for our family as a whole :)  My aunts, uncles, and cousins are wonderful.  And soon, when there are additions to my family (nieces/nephews), I imagine that those little monsters will only increase the love and happiness in my family. 

I get a phone call from someone in my family every day-- and I know that doesn't happen to everyone.  Yes, I get a phone call every day from at least one person who loves me and will love me no matter what.  And lately, I feel like I need that more and more.  Sometimes the world seems so cold and harsh... all these external forces don't seem to care about me or how I'm faring.  But no matter what, my family is my haven.  I can always find comfort in that.  I will always feel loved, and as long as I have my family, I will never be alone.  And for that, I'm very grateful.  My dear family, I love you so very much :)  More than words can say.

Fond Memories

When I got my hair cut short and I wore it in a sort of "fauxhawk" fashion, one of my coworkers told me that it reminded her of a Smurf, and she began calling me "Smurfette."  Since I took it so well, she made a point to post random photos of Smurfette on the outside of my cubicle.  Some might think that's offensive.  I think it's endearing.

Today, as I was sitting at my desk, she came up and said, "Oh!  I see you have a new family photo up... that's wonderful!" while she pointed to the outside of my cubicle.  I was a little confused, so I went out to where she was, and sure enough-- there was a photo of the Smurfs (similar to the one on the left) with a caption that read "Family Reunion."  Ah, I love my artist coworkers :)

I made a point to tell my sister about this, because I was quite tickled by the new artwork in my workspace.  I mentioned to her that "The Smurfs" movie was coming out in a couple weeks, and my department is pretty excited about my big debut.  We then discussed the new movie about the little blue creatures, and it quickly moved to Saturday morning cartoons, where she used to catch episodes of the Smurfs every so often.

Naturally, our conversation spiraled into a nostalgic trip down Memory Lane.  We talked about TV shows, commercials, toys, and characters that we remembered.  We both have very fond memories of our childhood -- for many reasons, not just for TV shows.  We spent much of our chidlhood taking the characters that we saw in our toys/books/music/television, and making up stories and games out of them.

Today we talked about Smurfs, ShirtTales, Punky Brewster, Garfield, My Little Pony, Popeye, Carebears, Inspector Gadget, Gumby, Rainbow Brite, The Jetsons, Flinstones, Scooby-Doo, California Raisins, Strawberry Shortcake...  All great shows - and now you can only find them on special-order DVDs and limited-edition lunchboxes from online "retro" stores.

We had a California Raisins lunchbox when I was little - you know, one of those cool plastic ones that included a matching Thermos.  And let's not forget one of my favorites-- the Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox-- the image on the front of the box was of one CBKid with her desktop flipped up, and she was eating her PB&J sandwich, while her friend next to her was appalled that she would be violating classroom rules like that.  It always made me hungry for PB&J.

At the risk of belaboring the subject, Cabbage Patch Kids ROCKED.  What kid born around the 80s didn't adore these guys?  Not just the dolls-- there was memorabilia too.  One of my favorites was our Cabbage Patch Kids album -- yes, I'm referring to vinyl.  It wasn't enough to own a doll, complete with the soft, simply-assembled body (their arms were really just nylons stuffed with some sort of stuffing, right?), the large, hard, oversized head with obnoxious dimples, and a head full of yarn hair...  we had to be able to sing along to the Kids' favorite songs too.  And if you click here, you can sing along as well :)  Click on the "play" button to the left of each song title to preview the song.  Make sure to pay extra close attention to MY FAVORITE: #6, The Bunnybee Song-- you'll find yourself buzzing along in no time.  However, the preview on Amazon doesn't do it justice-- you'll have to go to the YouTube video (here) to get the whole song-- my favorite part, the buzzing, starts around 1:00 into the song.  All the songs, for some reason, feature some pretty strong banjo music... so be prepared.

THEN I asked my sister if she remembered Disney's "One Saturday Morning" (and yes, even as I type it, I still have to sing it the way it was meant to be sung-- if you know One Saturday Morning, you know the jingle to which I'm referring).  She had heard of it, but wasn't totally familiar-- but I think she was a little older when it aired.  Anyway, One Saturday Morning was the block of Saturday morning cartoons on ABC-- featuring shows like Recess, Pepper Ann (one of my favorite theme songs of all time), and Doug.  The hosts of One Saturday Morning were a girl named Mimi and a talking elephant named Jelly Roll... why not? 

Recess-- one of my all-time favorites.  A show about the "dramatic" lives of fourth graders at Third Street School.  Whether in class or out on the playground, they must deal with peer pressure, stormy weather that moves recess inside for [what seems like] eternity, and the evil regime of Miss Finster, a staff member whose main purpose in life is to ruin recess for the students at Third Street.  There is an elite group of "the Ashleys," which is only fair (if you're around my age, how many "Ashleys" did you go to school with?  Popular name...).  Ah, a good show.

Okay, one last nostalgic comment-- long ago and far away, ABC featured a block of television shows airing on Friday nights-- appropriately named "TGIF."  Shows like Perfect Strangers, Full House, Family Matters, Hanging with Mr. Cooper, Step by Step, Boy Meets World, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Clueless, Two of a Kind...  those were good days.  A block of family-friendly television on Friday nights?  What happened to that?  Look at ABC now--  Friday nights feature Supernanny and Wife Swap, with the occasional rerun of Grey's Anatomy.  Not quite the same.

Nothing will ever be the same, though, will it?  Gone are the days of simple cartoons, actual dolls, Teddy Ruxpin (yes, a breakthrough teddy bear that ACTUALLY TALKED, with the aid of 4 batteries, not included), banjo songs about children born as produce, and family-friendly primetime shows.  Now every 8-year-old kid is wrapped up in an iPhone and a PSP.  I guess we can say good-bye to creativity and intelligent thinking.  As long as our thumbs work, who cares about the brain?

Did You Hear About ___??

"You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than by what others say about him."

Ah, gossip: literally, one of those things that you can't stand to live with, yet you'd rather not live without.  When was the last time you heard a really juicy story about someone, and you were tempted to immediately pass it along?  Of course, it's possible that you exhibited amazing self-control and opted out of passing it along (good for you!), but more often than not, we find ourselves in a mad rush to tell the nearest person what we've just heard.  These stories are often lengthy, riddled with details (whether they're 100% true or not), and we don't often hesitate to add our own spin.

Let's try this again: when was the last time you heard a really wonderful/uplifting story about someone, and you were tempted to pass it on?  Yes, I know, we've all heard these great stories and have felt compelled to share them, but the tales usually don't come till a while later: "Oh, speaking of jobs... I forgot to tell you, Sally got that job she's been working for!"  These stories are usually short, free of many details, and downright dull. 

Wouldn't our world be a better place if we spent more time elaborating on the good things in people, rather than spreading bad news about them?  I was reading through a book of poetry last night, and I happened upon a poem called "I Know Something Good About You." I got to thinking how much simpler life could be if we would spend more time sharing pleasant thoughts, and less time spreading those viral negative stories.  Below are a few lines from the poem (you can read the entire poem HERE if you like -- it's not long, but worth reading). 

"Wouldn't life be lots more happy

If the good that's in us all

Were the only thing about us

That folks bothered to recall?

Wouldn't life be lots more happy

if we praised the good we see?

For there's such a lot of goodness

In the worst of you and me!"

Next time you start to feel that urge to gossip, control yourself for a second.  As tempting as it might be to share the dirt on So-and-so, try to think of something positive to say about them.  I'm a firm believer in karma-- what goes around, comes around.  Say something pleasant; the positivity will come back to you ten times over.

This has gotta be the good life.

Yeah, I'm a bit of a nerd. I like to hang out at Barnes & Noble (there are far less intellectual ways to spend one's time, I guess). I like to hang out in the "self-help" section... seems like the most interesting people loom around there. The other day when I was there, I picked up a book called "God Never Blinks" by Regina Brett.  Not sure why it caught my eye, but I'm glad it did. I couldn't put it down. It was like one big blog on life. The author had hit quite a few speedbumps along the road of life, and this book contains 50 musings on the lessons she's learned along the way. If you can get to Barnes & Noble or a library TODAY, do it. You won't be sorry. If you thought your life wasn't in order, get a load of this lady. Her book is appropriately named-- some days she feels as though God "blinked" when she was born, and so she was forgotten along the way somewhere.  She's experienced it all, and she'll help you see the sunny side of anything (with a chuckle or two along the way).

One of the first stories in the book mentions a friend of hers who lives by the phrase "get to." He doesn't have to go to work; he gets to go to work. He doesn't have to go grocery shopping; he gets to go grocery shopping. He's thankful for every opportunity, even the unsatisfactory ones.

Funny how some people view life like that, and others (like me, I admit) see those opportunities as obligations. Sometimes life seems to be going less-than-perfectly, but it always helps to sit back and look at what's going WELL. Despite how I may come off, not everything is perfect in my life (but I had you fooled, didn't I? haha). Today was another unusual day, one of those days when a smile can be difficult to produce. But the day is done, and I'm sitting on my balcony, watching the sun set over Portage. There is a family enjoying a barbecue in the courtyard, and the three young girls who live below me are chasing millions of fireflies around the gazebo. I can hear Disney's Beauty and the Beast through the open window of a nearby apartment, and I am humming along to songs I remember from my childhood (and as I pay attention to the lyrics and dialogue as an adult, I realize exactly how ridiculous they are).

Yeah, this has gotta be the good life.  It's the only one I've got.  I don't have to live my life-- I get to live it.  So I will.  Damn the torpedos and full speed ahead :)

The Right Direction

I got my first (and only) tattoo a few years ago.  It was something I'd already been considering for a while.  After a few years of pondering, I still wanted it, so I decided to go for it.  I had been in Argentina for a couple months, and there were a few extra pesos jingling around in my pocket.  When in Argentina...  :)   (Disclaimer:  Adequate research was done, and I went to the best tattoo parlor in the city... so please don't think I trotted over to a grass shack and had ink injected into me by some random gaucho.)  At a bargain price of only 80 pesos (just over $20 USD), my tattoo (done by an Argentino named Sebastian) is still my proudest purchase from Argentina.  It reads "Mostrame el camino," which means "show me the way."  My tattoo is a little reminder each day of the sometimes-confusing journey through life. 

Some people have asked about the title of my blog, "Finding My Way."  I've dubbed my blog as such for a couple reasons-- a) simply put, I love to travel; and b) like my tattoo, it serves as a reminder to me that every day in this crazy life is part of that terrific journey into the unknown.  Ah, the unknown.  Yeah, it can be exciting.  But it can be very scary too.  How are we ever supposed to know if we're headed in the right direction?  Sometimes we just need a little guidance.

I guess it's safe to say that I'm still trying to find my way in life.  Does anyone have their path figured out just yet?  If you do, congratulations.  I'm not there.  I'm actually not quite sure I'll ever be there.  Seems like I always get a little lost... between the things I want to do, and the things I should do, I'm just never sure what the next step is.

What I want to do:

• travel, travel, and travel some more
• dip my left foot in every ocean
• move to Chicago
• move to New York
• move to Ireland
• move to South America
• find perfect love
• eat nothing but French toast for a month
• start a photography business
• write for a living
• open a cafe/bakery
• meet someone else with my exact name
• take up miming
• grow a huge garden that contains only lavender
• learn the perfect universal joke
• etc...

What I should do:

• sell my car and save my money
• eat nothing but nutritious salads for a month
• stay in my current apartment until the lease is up
• go back to school for a more specific degree, so that I can get a decent job
• travel only when necessary
• talk less and listen more
• snap photos while it's still fun
• write while I still enjoy it
• distribute baked goods for free, not in exchange for money
• etc...

Ah, the eternal struggle.  There's so much I still want to do, and I feel like I'm running out of time and resources while trying to focus on the things I feel I should be doing. 

Lately I've been reading books from my childhood-- just finished my E.B. White collection, which included one of my favorites, Stuart Little.  You don't have to read the book (but if you've got 45 minutes, go ahead... it's an easy read).  It's about a little mouse named Stuart, who befriends a bird named Margalot.  Margalot eventually leaves Stuart (she has her reasons), so Stuart embarks on a journey to be reunited with her.  He hasn't actually found his friend by the end of the book, but White leaves the reader feeling hopeful that Stuart and Margalot will once again find one another. The last paragraph is especially hopeful:

"Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led toward the north.  The sun was just coming up over the hills on his right.  As he peered ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long.  But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction." -- Stuart Little, E.B. White

Yes, sometimes the way does seem long.  And sure, it's often scary to take a step into the unknown.  But look up-- the sky is always bright somewhere (though you might have to look beyond the clouds).  And if you're able to see the bright sky, even through the clouds, you're headed in the right direction.




(side note: The book Stuart Little also contains my favorite sentence from any literary work:  "One morning, when the wind was from the west, Stuart put on his sailor suit and his sailor hat, took his spyglass down from the shelf, and set out for a walk, full of the joy of life and the fear of dogs.")

Be My Bridge

I remember seeing this photo when I was little (possibly at my grandma's house, or perhaps at my elementary school-- if anyone can help me on that, let me know).  When I was young, I'd seen many pictures similar to this one, but for some reason, this one always caught my eye.  I still pause when I see it somewhere... funny how that happens. 

If this picture was indeed at my grandma's house, that would make sense.  She's always talking about guardian angels-- she's a firm believer in their existence.  She made a point to give each of her newly-licensed grandchildren a token to keep in his or car-- either a coin or a metal visor clip that says "Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly."  And perhaps some 16-year-olds would scoff at this and throw it in the glove box, or lose it (and I'd be likely to lose mine, especially considering the number of cars I've driven).  But I still have mine, and though it doesn't fit on my visor, I have my guardian angel clip in my console, and I make sure to take notice of it whenever I set sail in the Starship. 

Guardian angels are pretty amazing -- my favorite stories are those that involve a "close call, saved only by a guardian angel."  Seems like most of us have a story like that... where the odds were against us, and we shouldn't have made it out of whatever pickle we were in, but something stepped in-- maybe it pulled you off the tracks just in time, or the brakes mysteriously began to work as you were about to slide into the oncoming traffic of the expressway, even though your foot was no longer on the brake pedal, or your flashing red gas gauge somehow lasted another 30 miles until you  made it to the next exit.  Guardian angel stories, no matter how intense or dramatic, are good stories.  Maybe they don't involve driving or a life in danger (though many do)-- maybe your guardian angel is a friend, someone who's on your side when times get rough, maybe someone who spoke to you in just the right way, at just the right time.  Everyone needs someone on their side-- why not a guardian angel?

Do guardian angels really exist?  I guess we don't know for sure.  But I believe I've got one.  And I believe you've got one too, whether you agree or not. 

One of my favorite songs is "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon & Garfunkel.  Though the original is amazing, this cover by Johnny Cash (in the video below) is phenomenal.-- recorded in 2002, not even a year before he passed away  There's something about Cash's raspy, aging, pained voice that will haunt you and send shivers down your spine.  Paired with the wistful harmony of Fiona Apple, this song is sure to stick with you.  And by the way, I'll jump at any chance to share some tunes from the Man in Black.



Mr. Simon and Mr. Garfunkel penned some brilliant lyrics in a vast sea of songs, but this is by far one of their most popular songs, and for good reason.  Everyone wants a friend like the "bridge" they refer to, and everyone deserves to have a friend like that.  I'm blessed in that I have many "bridges."  To all my guardian angels out there-- to all of you who have been a bridge for me when I've encountered those troubled waters (even if you didn't know it), thank you.

Good Karma

My cousin was in a bind last week.  She was taking her family up north for the holiday weekend, and she was desperately looking for someone to watch her dog.  Given my affinity for the canine species, I was only too happy to volunteer to spend the weekend with this dog (whom I had never met, but I figured she was harmless). 

Karma

She was indeed harmless.  I spent the weekend there, and in doing so was able to spend a good deal of time with an affectionate yelllow lab named Karma.  Always happy, always wagging her tail, always chewing everything that would stand still, and ALWAYS shedding, Karma instantly reminded me of my late companion Harper (I'm sure you remember her from some previous blogs-- here, here, and here).  I felt an instant connection to this dog, and regardless of my what I was doing to celebrate the holiday weekend, I was always looking forward to getting back to my cousin's house to see Karma.  I'd almost forgotten how wonderful it feels to give all your affection to a dog.  Not only does a dog return the affection, but she will give it back to you ten times over. 

Dogs only want one thing: love.  And Karma was no exception.  It matters not how long you've been gone that day, or whether her dinner was the same food you've given her every day for the last 900 days.  Dogs like Karma adore you because they depend on you.  If you show them one ounce of love/attention, you will likely be their best friend in a nanosecond.  What could be better than a creature who shows unconditional love?  It's a rare thing, that unconditional love.  Humans are certainly capable of magnificent love, but it's not always unconditional because of our human nature.  If you're looking for it, find a dog.  And there you'll find your true and unconditional love.

Not a day goes by where I don't think of Harper and wonder whether things could've turned out differently if I'd done this or if I'd done that.  Although I know it does absolutely no good to obsess over the past, pesky little thoughts still creep up and I constantly regret making the decision to send my little Harper to sleep.  It was a very difficult decision to make -- I still see it as snatching the life away from a creature that loved me infinitely and depended solely on me for everything.

When I accepted the job of dogsitting, I didn't realize that this weekend would mark one year exactly since I lost Harper.  It seemed only right, then, that I should be spending some QT with a dog who reminded me so much of Harper.  Karma... what a fitting name.  Good Karma. 

Thank you, Karma, for being so kind to me :)

The Silent Warrior

Be kind to everyone you meet, for they are fighting a silent battle you know nothing about.

I was recently working late-- and by late, I mean working 8am to 9pm.  I was sitting in my cubicle, the only one in my department who was subjecting herself to the post-workday blues.  Working till 9pm?  Not fun.  Working till 9pm in a basement?  Even worse. 

So there I was, mid-evening, pounding away furiously at my computer, working to finish whatever project I was tackling, when I heard the door to our office area open.  Who was coming in at such an abominable hour?  I looked up to see one of my coworkers fly down the hallway-- and in such a hurry that she didn't even notice me sitting there.  I shrugged and kept working.  Soon I could hear her heading back toward the door, and this time as she passed my cubicle she noticed that I was still working.  She popped in to say hello, just as surprised as I was to see another human in the office.  Frazzled, she explained to me that she had forgotten something important at her desk and didn't realize it until she was all the way home.  (That's happened to me before, so I know it's not fun to have to drive back to work... I could understand her frazzled state.) 

This was someone with whom I had worked, but never very closely.  We'd had a few conversations here and there, but never anything really important and our interactions had always been sort of obligatory, breezy, and "polite."  Tonight, however, she took a seat in the chair opposite me and proceeded to tell me everything that was going wrong in her life.  Naturally, this took me by surprise because we'd never had a deep conversation like this.  I was having a rather poor day myself, so I could understand her need to vent to someone.  An hour later, she concluded with something like, "Okay, there's my sad story.  I don't know why I just spilled all that, and I'm sorry.  I'm sure you never expected any of that."  Well, she was certainly right-- I truly had never guessed that she would waltz into my office for an impromptu therapy session.  I didn't really offer any advice, because I wasn't actually sure that's what she wanted.  I just listened, nodded, and agreed with her. 

The only verbal support I offered her was something that I heard during my first year of college, and it's stuck with me ever since:  "Be kind to everyone you meet, for they are fighting a silent battle you know nothing about."  It's so true... we're all struggling with something, aren't we?  Sure, some are very vocal with their battles, and some are totally silent.  And as much as we might be inclined to take a stand against that loud warrior, they deserve kindness just as much as the silent warrior.  Philosophers compare personal struggles to battles for a reason: they're horrible, and they can completely break you down. 

I had no idea that my coworker was struggling so badly.  Although I'd never been hurtful or rude to her, I'm not sure that I ever really went out of my way to show her genuine kindness, either (which I'm ashamed to say).  Hearing about her own battles made me feel very badly for her.  I started to think about the people I know who seem like they have their life in perfect order-- I feel like I'm less likely to show them genuine kindness, or even really care when I ask how they're doing.  They're okay because they never complain, right?  Maybe.  But it's far more likely that they're dealing with their own demons, just very quietly so that no one knows. 

Everyone you meet is indeed fighting some sort of battle, whether you know it or not.  A little kindness goes a long way.  Be sincere and genuine when you interact with someone, even if it's not your favorite person.  You never know what one little smile might do for someone who's having a rough time.  Treat everyone as if he were a silent warrior - with compassion, love, and genuine kindness.  It's amazing what a little bit of sunshine can do for someone on a very cloudy day. 

Rock Me to Sleep

I've been browsing through the book of poetry (my proud garage sale purchase) that I referenced in an earlier post, Half Dollar Humility.  The book is divided into different sections.  For example: Part I: Love & Friendship, Part II: Inspiration, Part III: Patriotism and Heritage, etc. 

Last night, I was reading through the section entitled "Home and Mother."  One poem that caught my eye was "Rock Me to Sleep" by Elizabeth Akers Allen.  As with all poems, this piece can be interpreted in multiple ways.  At its core, however, the poem is a letter written to a mother from her child.  The child is now grown, and the trials and tribulations of adulthood seem to be wearing her down.  She longs for the simplicity and frivolity of her childhood, where all pain could be eased and all sorrows could be soothed with just one motherly embrace. 

A mother's love is a very powerful thing-- it starts before she's even seen her child, and it only grows exponentially from there.  I know not everyone is as blessed as I am.  There are individuals who have no mother, or perhaps for some reason they have a strained relationship with their mother.  Granted, my relationship with my mother hasn't always been perfect (I admit, I was a teenage nightmare...  and also, is any mother-daughter relationship perfect??).  But I'm happy to say that I'm very close with her and she's the most wonderful and supportive mother a girl could have :)  My mother is always thinking of my sisters and me, and she's always praying for us.  She's never hesitant to help her daughters, and she loves us unconditionally.  That's really all you can ask of a mother, isn't it?  And in the end, the only thing that one should expect from a mother is unconditional love.  My mother has never wanted anything for me and my sisters but peace and happiness.  She's only wanted us to know love and joy, nothing more, nothing less.

I thought of her when I was reading "Rock Me to Sleep" last night.  If you want, you can read the entire poem here (it's a bit lengthy, but worth reading).  The stanza that stood out the most was the fourth:

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,

No love like mother-love ever has shone;

No other worship abides and endures,—

Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:

None like a mother can charm away pain

From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.

Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;—

Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!


This stanza truly defines a mother's love -- there is nothing like it in the world.  A mother's love lasts forever.  It is faithful, unselfish, and patient.  As much as I pride myself on trying to be independent and strong, I would be nothing without my mother.  There are days that go by when I think I've got life all figured out.  And it just takes one bad day to make me realize how much I miss my mom...  A mother is a woman's eternal best friend, and mine is always willing to listen to any gripes I have, or offer her advice for any obstacle I encounter.  I sent this poem to my mom today-- an excellent vehicle for expressing my appreciation for her mother-love.  She responded with this:

"awww...lump in the throat...thanks for sharing, m'ija. Loving mothers are pretty special :) I'm grateful I have mine.  kind of on the same note...i rec'd a text from amanda the night before she started her new job..."it's nights like these when I wish I still lived with my mommy"--sometimes, when life is making you crazy, nothing can take the place of your 'mommy.'  I will always be here for you, Melanie Lynne! God bless you."

That sums it up.  Nothing can take the place of your mommy. 
 
 
 
Side note: My sisters and I generally make a point to refrain from calling our mother 'mommy...' that was simply a cutesie text from my sister.  We're not 'that family.'

In Perfect Harmony

I'm in Frankenmuth this weekend for a wedding. The wedding took place yesterday (a beautiful wedding - the marriage of my best friend Stephanie to a wonderful man named Matthew). Today is Saturday and it's a gorgeous day to be touring Frankenmuth. You know the saying "you don't know what you've got till it's gone?" That saying rings true for me when I visit Frankenmuth. I don't travel back here nearly enough-- and my mom will back me up on that.

My sister (who still lives in the area) went camping this weekend and my mom is out of town today. Which leaves me to entertain myself all day. Luckily, Frankenmuth is the Land of 1,000 Festivals, so there always seems to be something happening in town. Today I left my mom's house, and within minutes saw plenty of tents set up around town. There is an art/craft show here this weekend, so I browsed through it for a while. Then I crossed the street and shopped for a while in the quaint (overpriced) shops of the Riverplace. Didn't buy anything, because I didn't need a personalized keychain, a riverboat tour, or a pound of fudge (though the chocolatey breezes were horribly tempting). I opted to walk back to my car.

Walking past the Bavarian Inn Restaurant on Main St, I passed Fischer Platz, where Linda Lee and Wild Bill were entertaining Hofbrau-sipping patrons with some good old polka music. Most people were drinking, eating, laughing, and clapping along as they sat under umbrellas, seeking shelter from the harsh midday sun. Howeer, one couple (appearing to be approximately 80 years young) took to the dance floor. The tall chap and his tiny little wife were spinning and 1-2-3-ing their way around the makeshift dance floor as though they were the only two people in Frankenmuth. I noticed them dancing and stopped to watch... for the duration of 3 entire songs! As a former resident of Frankenmuth, I admit to having scoffed at pedestrians who stopped to watch the local entertainment; I would rather have been caught dead than be caught watching some Bavarian Inn entertainment. And yet, here I was, awed at this couple showing off their mad (and well-rehearsed) polka skills.

It wasn't just the dancing. It was the way they moved with one another. Don't worry, I'm not getting lewd. On the contrary, I'm actually getting a bit sentimental. Mr. and Mrs. Polka were dancing in perfect harmony, all the while looking at one another. Not once did they look at their feet, nor did they look at their surroundings. To this couple, it was very clear that the only thing that mattered was being with their other half and spending time doing something that they both (clearly) loved. This seemed like a fabulous match... had probably been going strong since the beginning of time. This man completed this woman, and this woman completed this man. Yes, this was love.

So I popped in to the Platz, ordered some French fries (the only vegan option on the menu) and a water, grabbed some brat sauce to dip my fries in, and sat down at an unfortunate umbrella-less table to watch Mr. and Mrs. Polka and their perfect harmony out on the dance floor.

Sure enough, no sooner had I ordered my food and taken a seat than the dancing couple also decided to sit down. Not only that, but Linda Lee and Wild Bill ended up taking a 20-min break as soon as I sat down. No matter, it allowed me time to sit down and blog about the couple.

Granted, I'd only just witnessed a few minutes of them dancing, but this couple looked as though they had it all figured out.  What young woman doesn't dream of having someone like Mr. Polka -- someone with whom she can do the things she loves, and together do them so well that strangers are unable to walk by without staring?  Someone with whom she will move in perfect harmony for decades to come?  Someone to whom she can cling when the rest of the world seems to be spinning?  Mr. and Mrs. Polka knew love, and they were displaying it for all of Michigan's Little Bavaria.

I'd made decent progress on my fries and brat sauce (and in perfect Lanie style, splattered some bright red brat sauce right across my lap... in white shorts, of course) and the ice in my water glass had succumbed to the brilliant rays of the sun when Linda Lee and Wild Bill took to the stage again.  They once more entertained the crowds, she on her accordion and he on his fiddle... the perfect setting in which to be writing.  I was smiling to myself, waiting impatiently to see Mr. and Mrs. Polka command the dance floor once more after their brief intermission, and to my dismay, a group of preteen Little Leaguers (in town for some tournament, no doubt) rushed the dance floor in an attempt to Macarena to a traditional Polish polka.  So much for romance.

And there you have it: the diverse world we live in.  From lovestruck dancers to rhythm-less Little Leaguers, our world is a wonderful place.  And our world wouldn't be nearly as interesting without the variety we have.  The song of the human race is a unique melody indeed.  Not always in perfect accord, but a beautiful song nonetheless, once we find our harmony.  Harmony is an amazing thing-- something that humans will spend their lives searching for, yet very rarely will it be found in its purest form.  Here's hoping you find love, peace, and perfect harmony in all you do :)

Half Dollar Humility



Alas, it is May.  I wake up every morning to birds chirping, geese honking (yes, really, they wake me up!), and a warm apple blossom breeze blowing through my bedroom curtains.  Serenity?  Yes.  This is spring.  The onset of spring also marks the beginning of one of my favorite times of year: the glorious garage sale season.  Though I pride myself on not stuffing my house with useless finds (ever seen the show Hoarders?  that'll turn you around right quick when waffling over whether you really need that oil lamp for fifty cents... and for the record, I don't need that oil lamp). 

Last weekend was the Westnedge Hill neighborhood yard sales.  For those of you not familiar with the area or the event, Westnedge Hill is an area of charming older houses just a few miles from downtown Kalamazoo (fun to drive through and house-gawk, if you're into that sort of thing).  This is a very well-known event around here.  Area business even market their weekend sales specifically for garage sale hoppers (Big Apple Bagel, for example, advertised: "Westnedge Hill garage salers, lunch with us!").  Streets are completely lined with parked cars, toddler-toting moms are rifling through the wares at hundreds of sales, the ice cream man rolls his van through the neighborhood (I was incessantly tortured for the next four days with my inability to quit humming the first riff of "Pop Goes the Weasel"), and cops are in their glory, slapping parking ticket after parking ticket on illegally parked cars.  It's a fun place to be.

I was flying solo through Westnedge Hill, though I eventually met up with my sister, mom, and grandma closer to the end of the day.  When garage-saling was over, I made my way back to my car (parked about 3 miles away), exhausted both physically and mentally from fighting the crowds and haggling over my purchases.  Proudly displayed in my apartment are my trophies from the Battle at Westnedge Hill:

• a real silver tray (desperately seeking some major polish-renovation, but still totally worth $1.50)
• a bread knife (which I wielded post-purchase as though it were some Amazon machete)
• a Trivial Pursuit game (like-new condition... and no wonder, for does anyone actually play this game??)
• a couple books (one chosen because of the color - a fun teal hardcover entitled Timepiece, by Richard Paul Evans; the other [The Best Loved Poems of the American People] purchased for multiple reasons:  a) its essence being an anthology of poems, b) it's a beautiful old book, and c) the inscription inside the front cover is poetry in itself:

Check out the date: February 1961 -- 50 years ago, "Denny" was totally fascinated by "Sue's" remarkable humility, and made it a point to tell her so.  Makes me wonder about Sue.  What makes her so fascinatingly humble?  And this book was perfect for her, huh?  So I bought this book for a whopping 50 cents-- it's an interesting reminder to strive for humility and keep one's feet on the ground.  Humility is a positive trait that's rarely mentioned, or often goes unnoticed.  Think about it -- when you hear a glowing description of someone, you'll often hear words like "caring," "gentle," "compassionate," "friendly," "intelligent," "energetic," "calm," etc.  Oh, that's So-and-so; you'd like her.  She's really ____  (fill in the blank).  These are all remarkable traits, and if you can be described as such, BRAVO TO YOU.  Now, try and think of the most fascinatingly humble person you know (and by the way, I don't expect it to be me, but thanks).  Take a cue from Denny: tell that person how special they are, and try to learn from them.  Imitation is, after all, the most sincere form of flattery.  Yes, flatter that humble person -- they likely deserve it!

Note: If anyone has any idea of how DART II (Deep-Ocean Assessment and Reporting of Tsunamis, maybe?) relates to humility/ inspiration/ poetry, let me know...