Peace

We have now fully entered into the season of beautiful words of peace and well wishes being scribbled on cards, emailed and now mentioned as a facebook status.  From a rhetoric perspective, I love this time of the year.  Open dialog of love and self-expression is at my core as a person - thrive on it.
But articulating words of wisdom and living them can truly be two very different things.  So, I am going to share some incredible advice I received this morning from my dearest and oldest friend...

"Stand at the crossroads and look;

ask for the ancient paths,

ask where the good way is, and walk in it,

and you will find rest for your souls."

I wish for all of the dear, sweet souls who read this blog to receive peace this year.  Peace after you have fully evaluated what is the good way and chosen to be authentic in it.  Peace - fully alive.

Pay Off

When I was twenty years old I took the biggest risk of my life.  I met this boy, he had this great strut and his presence could be felt over fifty feet away.  I couldn't stop my stare.  We talked it up for hours.  Talked about who we wanted to be someday and who we thought God might be.
I wanted to forget him.  I wanted to be able to just walk away like I always did and just forget him.
I didn't.  I couldn't.  So, I broke all of my unwritten rules and married him as a kid - huge risk, the ultimate risk.
Now, eighteen years after being drawn to the swagger and the holes in his jeans, I still can't forget him.
He seems to keep stealing my heart, my affection - my attention.  He has most of me.  More honestly, he created the portions I am most proud of about myself.  Discipline, taking risks, making me fight for authenticity - he coached and enamored, I listened.
When I was a little girl I thought that love was a wicked fairytale that ended poorly.  The story took you to love's bliss and just before the happily ever after came the army of ruin demolished the concept of love.
That isn't true.
Marriage isn't a fairytale.  Marriage is knowing you can't forget the person you love.  It is that sense of loss that can even bring tears to your eyes if you even dream or imagine something happening to him.
I took a huge risk, but the real risk would have been the horrible life of wondering how he could go on without me.

Thank you, Brian, for not making me find out what life would have been like without you :)

The Gift of Time

So, by now you have probably stood in a long line or scrolled on-line looking for the perfect gift for someone.  It is the craziest month.  A month of consumerism and anxiety.
But it doesn't have to be.  For most of us, the calm comes as we really listen to what other people want....our time.
This year my daughter put over five board games on her "want" list.  I stood baffled by the list.  She has a Wii, a DS, an iPod...games and music are at her disposal.  My hope was to add to the collections, but no, she put at the very top, most wanted game - LIFE.  Yes, the board game LIFE.  The one that is celebrating 50 years.
I actually laughed out loud as I ordered the game.  I remembered wanting the game myself at her age.
Then it hit me.  She wants the exact same thing I wanted when I put that game on my list.  Not the game, but the time and people it takes to play it.  Like me, she has realized that parents who purchase a game like this are going to be forced to play it - which translates to a lot of time together as a family.
In reality my daughter has asked for what most children are asking for - time with their parents.
Someday she may not desire our time as much.  Someday I may be the one dragging the old, tattered LIFE game out of the closet begging her to play one more time before she leaves for college.  And maybe, just maybe, she might play with me before she leaves if I give her, this year, the gift of time.

Good Advice

I am quickly learning the sustaining impact of good advice.  It transcends time and after a period it doesn't even matter who the dispenser of the advice is, it just has to be truly good advice.
A piece of advice that has impacted my life and shaped a lot of my personality came from my mom.
I cannot even remember the first time it was stated, but it became a mantra in our home and more importantly a mantra in my own head.  Here it is,
"Don't compare your worst with other people's best."
Can you imagine how helpful that was in high school, those years you are using cover up for zits like crazy?  Yep, it was most helpful.
But the help lasted much longer than through growing pains, the advice shaped a mindset of personal acceptance.  I have been blessed with believing that everyone has a worst and a best and to even attempt to compare those is just foolish.  How can you know which you are comparing?
So, I don't and I haven't spent too much time concerned about comparing which has led to a lot of undeserved self-confidence.  The funny here is that I walked away with that advice even taking it a step further to assume that I have a best that maybe I haven't even seen yet.  Yes, I actually walked away with hope of a better me.

Ode to Allison's Mom

My dearest Kay, the way you freak on germs I aspire to be someday
A sweater in July, the girls may fry, but you will know you've kept them alive

The underdog, perpetually your friend, your love for them has no end
Heart good or bad, you do not see, you judging them...may it never be!

Your strategic mind, planning dates unseen, all your deeds so gracefully
Grandchildren, cats, the ones who need you most, you appear - the precious host

You decorated my door, a birthday wish, for this dear Kay, I throw a kiss
So special one was meant to be, you serenade hearts with acts of glee

No one nor animal could ever say, "Oh, that Kay did not make my day."
For each time you rise early from your recycled bed, it is the little guy you wish to get fed

Hearts for trees, earth and sky, you take them all in, even escort out the fly
Why? Does anyone know why?

It is not for us to question such a creation, only to appreciate this revelation
Ode to Allison's Mom, for she is the motherly bomb!

(knucks all around)

Happy Thanksgiving to all of our Mommas!

Live Alive

Life is going on right now.  This is truly not a dress rehearsal, it's the real deal.
Sometimes I get that, like really get that.  Today was one of those days.
I had the honor of teaching kids at Skelly Elementary the right way to do a book report.  As if that was not enough, I actually got to use my own, soon to be published, book.  Wow.  Vulnerable and engaged, me fully alive.  The beauty of this event is that I am not scared to live it.  I don't shy away from taking risks because I realize the real risk would be dying having never tried for anything.
But my day even gets better.  It gets better because as I drive away from Skelly I am reflecting on how very, very grateful I am for the life I am getting to live.  It is a rich and full life.
My cell phone goes off and my buddy just so happens to be in the area and available for coffee.  As we are catching up I am sharing another aspiration which thankfully she is on board with and ready to go.  Again, engaged - alive.  Alive in ambition and alive in friendship.
Next is an incredible meeting with an attorney from Romania, I see such deep compassion in her eyes for children in conflict.  She energizes my passion and allows me to feel the global human existence.  Alive in my global thoughts, meaning abroad.
We both attend a meeting with our Program Committee at Blended Love where we are creating an on-line class for teachers.  Alive, productivity in the realm of my passion.
Starving I grab a bite to eat and go pick up Eden from school.  She hops in and immediately goes into the events of her day.  To her, I am a mom, all other hats are dropped when I pick her up.  My name tag clearly reads, "Eden's Mom."  I love that.  Alive in heart.  The one I wear on her shirt.  She centers my dreams and brings with her - the present.  This moment, the one that is non-repeatable.
Tonight I will snuggle up with my best friend and he will get the full version of such a beautiful day, again...rich.  I am rich with the gift of life.  I understand that a moment can change or take away a life.  I pray that each day I truly choose life.  I pray I do not get hung up on petty details and forget that life is to be lived not wasted on fear, lazy thoughts or giving up.
Life.  Today.  Thank you.

Lucky

My uncle sent me a great story that is circulating about a dear, sweet dog named Lucky.  Apparently, Lucky loved to acquire a bunch of treasures (aka other people's belongings who came for visits) in a toy box down in his home basement.
The story declares his owner was diagnosed with breast cancer and fully believed she would be passing on until her, Lucky, covered her completely with every treasure he owned as she slept lifelessly.
Oh, we should all be so Lucky.

Children Change Our Lives

I don't know why I get surprised when Eden changes my life.  She has been doing it since the day she was born.  In just a matter of minutes I went from only wanting her out of my body to wanting her back in because I knew she was safe in there and I couldn't promise her that on the outside world.
She has given me vision - time and time again.
The day I saw her heart break over Brian and I not being able to communicate made me learn how quickly.  She got me thinking about my own wounding and why I found it so difficult to talk out issues.  In a way, I can safely say she started a non-profit for children of divorce because she made me look back and heal an open gash which led me to wanting to help others do the same.
Since her creation I have taken many winding roads that would have otherwise been straight.  She has given me courage to desire a legacy.
And now, right now, she is turning my world upside down as she struggles with Celiac Disease.  Just an 1/8th of a teaspoon causes her to throw up violently.  It lasts for days.  So, par the course, I am researching like crazy and learning all about how to be the mom I need to be and how help others as I learn.
When I got diagnosed, I just stayed away from any kind of gluten or thought of gluten, but of course - it takes her to make me really master it.
Children change our lives.  In a moment, they bring us to places we may have never been to if it weren't for the gift of them.

What does BEAUTIFUL look like?

I have gorgeous friends.  After spending the weekend with them, I am reminded that their beauty is so much deeper than the money they each could earn off of it.
What does beautiful really look like?

Beautiful is the way Christy loves her children.  There is nothing she would not do to keep her children safe and feeling loved.  As we rode through Dogwood Canyon she took a nasty fall on her bike because her son stopped too quickly and she didn't want to run him down.  The beauty lasted all weekend as she never reminded him or the group of the mishap.  Her children find comfort in her and in her strength.  She is the kind of mom that puts her self behind their needs and feelings.  She is beautiful, she is selfless.

Beautiful is Stacey.  She keeps her camera so close not wanting to miss a moment of all of our lives.  I cannot tell you how many times she has captured a moment that would not have been captured otherwise.  Those moments we will all be passing down to our grandchildren as they see firsthand some of the grand adventures we've had as a group.  If you spend any time at all with Stacey you walk away feeling completely adored.  She has such a gift of making people feel like they are truly "special."  She is beautiful, she makes love an action.

Beautiful looks like Allison.  She might act all tough and together on the outside, but she carries the weight of the world for her friends and family on the inside.  Continually processing what is best for everyone, a constant flow of evaluating the moments for maximum enjoyment and closeness.  Her mind is not easily shut down.  Her children are blessed to have her keen insight and her willingness to evaluate the quality of their lives and experiences.  As friends, we reap the benefit of this aptitude by seeing her take charge over rowdy kiddos - she lassoed them in and made our evening peaceful.  She is beautiful, she makes the moments count.

All of my buddies were gorgeous this weekend, as usual.  All of them living their lives for husbands and children, but most importantly....for their Father.  They are bright, shining beacons in a world of misunderstood women.  They are what beautiful really looks like.  The kind of beautiful that children recognize and want to emulate. 

Beautiful is kind, generous, loving, selfless, caring, endearing, willing - Beautiful is my friends.

Why ask why???

First of all, thanks friends who have emailed me concerned that I was having my own mid-life crisis.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the concern and the openness in our relationships.  That is valuable and treasured.
My voice of calling out trends or experiences has always come from an awareness of those around me and those I have heard about.  I cannot remember a time that I was not aware of the emotional state of the people around me.  I attribute that to a childhood riddled with a diversity of adults and children.  I was not raised in a box, nor was I sheltered from adult struggles, so naturally I still interpret behavior from a child's view of questioning - not uncommon for me to think, "why?" 
Today, I am questioning why I never gave running a fighting chance until now?  Seriously, I ran out the backdoor the other morning because I was experiencing a kind of stress I wasn't accustomed to in my thirties - so I just put on my hubby's mp3 player and jetted down the golf course.  It was fabulous.  I didn't even suck on my inhaler.
Now, I am running every other day and loving it.  I have never experienced such a feeling of relief.  It feels like when you have someone remove a big to-do on your list - you know - relief. 
Oh, and the shoes, buy good shoes if you are going to run.  It is the difference between sleeping on someone's couch verses having a luxury mattress.  I am not joking.
So, why now?  I have no idea.  On this one I will probably need to just look forward and not try and examine my apathetic past....
Why ask why?
Because that's what people like me do.  We ask, we write, we verbalize and then we clearly move on...









 

The Female Mid-Life Crisis

I have always had a heart for women, most likely because I am one and I have been raised primarily around women.  Years of studying the heart of a woman has happened naturally.  Sisterhood has been one of my most valued treasures.
My sisters and I are struggling.  The only term I know to place on this struggle would be a mid-life crisis, but unlike men it does not drive us to purchase cars or value opinions of the opposite sex.  This crisis causes us to timidly curl up in our shell and pray for brighter days to come.  We are more apt to believe our sadness is our own fault.  If we were better at keeping our schedules straight for our families, if we were more prompt with the laundry or creating those "special moments" that we believe are our responsibilities...then - oh, then this dark cloud would go away.
Ladies, it won't.  I have been there.  It hasn't and doesn't.  You will never do everything right.  Your story with you as the main character will always be a disappointment.  You will never reach a climactic peak where you are the heroine because you folded the towels on time.  And for those of you like me with performance issues - you will never hold a position from your performance that is worth more than your position as a child of God.
Do you want the remedy to the female mid-life crisis?
It is simple, yet complicated.  You must do exactly as Christ commanded you to do - die to self.  You must replace the main character in your life's story to Christ and Him alone.  He is the heroine in your story, He is the performer, He is the great lover - He is the main character.  You have been invited to be a character in the greatest story ever told, but you must quit writing your own story.

I must do the same.

Would you love me if I had nothing to give?

The more years I have under my belt, the more I am convinced that our agonizing climb up the ladder to Self-Actualization is really a descent, not a climb at all.
When we fearfully let go finger by finger we fall back to the most basic core of what we really want to know while we are here.  For me the painful question that has driven a lot of "work" in my life has been the question, "Would you love me if I had nothing to give?"
I don't remember a clear yes from anyone specifically until I met the Lord during one of the most tragic storms of my own life.  A storm that left me rocking on my bedroom floor with a bottle of Sprite in my hand, just hoping to get a drink with my shaky hands.  Yes, it was that rough, but remember I am incredibly stubborn.
I had a hold of a rung and refused to let go until my hands got too sweaty to hold on.
I would love to say the fall is a one time event, but it hasn't been for me.  I find myself grabbing again trying to climb my way to peace and love and perfection only to find another event reminds me to let go.  Each time I get better at letting go sooner, but I still think...just maybe I can grab the top rung.
But this time might just be the last.  I see how this painful question going unanswered for so long has left me with drivers that push and shove their way into my relationships, how I spend my days and how I feel about who I am as a person. 
So, this time as I let go I am yelling, "Would anyone love me if I had nothing to give?"
And hearing an emphatic, "YES!" from the One who built me cell by cell, personality to emotion...
I've arrived.

Humbled

Humility is an interesting thing.  Some believe that you must experience hardships to have humility.  That can be true.  I have definitely experienced that type of humility.  That kind of humility gets you some great dinner party conversation.  A good friend and I were laughing at all the horrid cars we'd had to step out of in our lives.  Some that would shout your arrival with squeaky brakes or wretched mufflers.  Oh, hardship that has grown funny.
But sometimes humility comes in the form of having so much more than you've ever asked or imagined and having someone acknowledge that.
God has been so good and gracious to me.  My hopes and dreams have all come true.  Bending the ear of His Majesty was at the very top, down to living out my passion....it is all there...all more than I ever asked or imagined.  Gratitude, in the purest form.
I know that I am the girl from the other side of the spiritual tracks.  Where I have come from and where I am today has never been a secret, especially since I am a transparent blogger.
So when I received an email from Terry Rush stating that he deemed me one of God's most valuable players and wrote about me in his new book, I sat humbled.  Humbled that my life is worth even mentioning and even more humbled at the fact that I have lived a life of "I cannot" which has started almost every prayer I have ever had.  Humbled that the other part of that phrase is, "but I have met the One who can."  And most humbled that He did.
I have been given a lot of wonderful compliments, and yes, I do appreciate them, but my very favorite compliment is "humble."  I truly believe it is man's greatest attribute.  http://www.christianchronicle.org/blog/2010/07/terry-rush-aims-to-bring-out-the-mvp-in-readers/

Come Down From the Ledge

I hope you are nothing like me.  I hope that right now as you are reading this - you are comfortably relaxed enjoying a schedule that is manageable and realistic. 
But most likely you are not.  Most likely you are just like me, climbing up a proverbial skyscraper bombarded by chants to scale the tall cement wall while not sure exactly what is even at the top.  What if it is just a ledge?
What if after all that climb, all those skinned knees, and bloody fingers...all you get is just a ledge for which the expectation is just to jump?  What if that is how the world works?  What if you are part of a grand scheme to wear out human beings and get them to a place that they believe they can conquer the largest feats alone?  What if those chants are driven by pride?  What if?  Who will call you down from the ledge?  Will you just jump and be satisfied with a brand name that people will remember?  Or will you beg for someone to call you down?
I am a wuss.  I want a tender, poetic voice to call me down from the ledge and invite me to relax with a cup of coffee and a gluten free treat of sorts.  I also want as I am sitting in the presence of this gentle giant that has pulled me off the ledge to feel this sense of value as if the climbing was not in vain, but truly planned with some purpose much bigger and greater than me.
I believe I am being summoned off the ledge right now.  Asked to grab the neck of a Savior who knows exactly why I climbed so fervently in the first place.  I am saved.  Saved from myself and saved from the world's expectation of me.
My coffee this morning was delicious and the view from the grass is much more precious to me than the view from the ledge.  Next time I will just use the elevator.
"For this God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even to the end." Psalms 48:14 

Peace - Under the Sun

This world is tough.  I don't know about you, but it seems that every time I cross off enough to-do's that I can finally breathe there comes a flood of new ones.  Some days I just want to say, "no thank you" to dealing the difficulties of the land of the living.
But sometimes, just sometimes we find ourselves surprised by a serious guffaw that just negates all of the chaos and brings back a sense of peace.  I am assuming this is the kind of peace Solomon spoke of when he talked about our greatest moments on earth not reflecting our pocketbook or our accomplishments, but instead reflecting our satisfaction with living.
I have found that most of those moments take place with children.  They speak about the elephant in the room, actually point fingers at it and laugh.  They cry when they get hurt - refreshing.  They give out random hugs for no reason.  And most importantly, they don't take themselves seriously, they just enjoy being.

Children are not new "under the sun" and their attributes have most likely been around since the beginning of human conception, so let's all roll up our sleeves and jump in the sandbox and praise God for little reminders of the peace that can be found on earth.
 

Empty Eyes

We throw around the word "hope" all the time, but have you personally ever seen someone who has lost it? Sure you have - you've seen homeless people on corners, or maybe a prostitute trying to make a dollar.  You know it, how?  You can see they've lost it by looking into their eyes - the eyes tell the story. 
A car filled with five of us drove over six hundred miles in a day to get to my little girl's Teepa in Nashville last Friday.  Everyone in that car was convinced that we might find a man struggling to stay alive after a bone marrow transplant early this month - his name is Tom Hudson.  It took less than five minutes and one look into his war torn face to realize that the drive was worth it.  His eyes were deep and dark and can only be described as "empty."  As he squeezed my hand I found myself staring into his eyes overcome with such a sense of loss, a tear streamed down the right side of his cheek.  Unknowingly, I found myself so empathetic that my heart began to ache and my anxiousness from the night before returned.  The experience broke my heart.
How does a vibrant man full of life and a golf game most men envy turn into a man with empty eyes unable to eat?   He lost hope.  The eyes told the story.  Not the hope of Jesus and a resurrection, but the hope of living.  The hope of right now.  The hope that says, "today is gonna be a good day."
His days had not been good.  His days had been filled with hospital trips and tons of medication.  His days involved no activity, no stimulating conversations, just making it.  His days had been filled with the key theme being "survival."  Waves of displeasure - nausea, chills, anxiety - episodes to grit your teeth through to survive.
Most of our time in Nashville he remained this way, surviving.  But the night before we left Eden pulled out the Wii and brought back a sense of his past normal, playing games with his grand-daughter.  With each game, he became more involved.  I watched as the dark, empty eyes regained their vision of living.  He laughed. 

It was obvious that he remembered all the late nights playing Wii with us and wanted to return to that life of enjoyment.  His hope was returning, yes, food was to follow.
As hard as it was to pull away on Monday to make the trip home, the reality that we brought the antidote for empty eyes - visions of time with your grand-daughter - comforted all of us. With hope I am convinced we will have Wii nights once again with Teepa right here at home!

Believe

When our life becomes winding roads of adventures with no real common theme it is easy for us to lose heart or get lost in the activity.  But don't forget - there is always a stream in all of us that runs deep at our core.  A steady constant that keeps us afloat.  It is that we believe.
Remind yourself today of all of those beliefs that keep you running your race or gathering your berries.  You have them, they have created who you are and what you are doing with your life.  Remember them today and act on them tomorrow.
I believe love is the central force that holds us all together.
I believe that I am loved and able to love others with all of my mended heart.
If you are reading this, most likely, I dearly love you.

Believe... 

This Little Light of Mine

The day had been crazy.  Sasha, Blended Love's Executive Director, and I had been whisked abruptly into Fox 25's interview studio for our 8:20 a.m. interview around 8:17 a.m. or so.  Being out-of-towners to the area we had to rely solely on a GPS that spoke French.  As he demanded who knows what the arrows were hard to figure out and that resulted in a lot of unnecessary turns on the Oklahoma City expressways.  Exiting on Scott Street became a crowd favorite!
After the interview we had an appointment with Bethel Foundation in Oklahoma City.  Sasha had set up the meeting because she has been involved with some of their fundraisers and believed that I would enjoy learning more about their mission of providing opportunities and tangibles to single mothers.  In theory, great idea - but what I didn't expect....
I walked into this darling house with a gorgeous sign alerting moms that this could be their haven.  The beautiful scriptures that were so gracefully drawn on the wall were arrows to the heart of a path that leads to peace, a common emotion we all want, a common denominator to all who enter.  That peace was magnified as I turned to meet, Lynda, the humble servant who answered God's request to help His children - single moms.  Her inspirational, blue eyes echoed the same peace felt all over this home, except in her eyes this feeling was strongly coupled with determination.
As she spoke of her journey, my empathetic heart began to go down her road of suffering and understanding and yet all overshadowed by HOPE.  This hope has been the ingredient to all their programs.  The hope is as tangible as the "birthday room," a room designed for moms to come in and pick out toys for their children on their birthday and wrap them and leave with a birthday cake.  Hope...providing moms with the ability to make their child's birthday special.  Hope that these same children who receive birthday wishes will in return have a better life for their own children, a life where they can provide these special birthday moments.  Hope also in understanding that moms need hope not only for their children, but for themselves.
Bethel provides scholarships to driven moms looking for careers that require a degree.  Lynda quickly lights up as she speaks about their poster mom who has worked tirelessly to obtain her Masters degree.
Touring this incredible facility that even housed a free store to moms who have need of food, clothing, toys, diapers, etc. strengthened my core belief that we all have a light to shine and some have figured out the One who lights the flame and are allowing their light to shine so brightly that not even the jaded world of experience can blow it out.
Lynda, may your light shine so brightly no one can deny the illuminating beauty! Bethel Foundation

Sisters

The thunder is crashing and I am in a full sprint to my sister's room.  Not because she is the oldest, she is actually seven years younger, no I am in a panic that only the stubborn, strong sister of mine can cure.  As I slide under the covers I can feel her smooth legs up against mine and her arm come sliding over my back with a small tap.  She never really fully woke up on these nights, but her sleepy, apathetic presence reminded me that it was just thunder, not the end of the world.
I would like to say this illustration was a one time event in my childhood, but it wasn't.  Growing up in Oklahoma thunderstorms could be our state song.
As I hear the thunder now I am reminded of how grateful I am for those moments.  Moments of security.  Being a child of so many divorces, security has always been sacred.  Having a sister provided a lot of stability.
She was there.  Bad hair, awful outfits, tearful temper tantrums, you name it she saw it firsthand and loved me through it anyway.

Thank you, little sister.  You may be hours away today, but you are always in my heart and in my prayers.
 

Little Patriots

Patriot: (n.) A person who vigorously supports his country and its way of life

Last night, as the fireworks went off overhead, I realized that I am a grateful patriot living in a land of immense opportunity.  With each loud boom, I thought of the parents, probably my age, making the decision to give their children a better life...our life.  They were so brave.
Regardless of how you feel about the President or the government, you must stop and evaluate the whole of America.  No, we are not a perfect nation, but our imperfections are our choice.
Those who went before us gave us that choice.  Thank them, teach your children about them.
Let's stop preaching to our children all the errors of those who lead this great nation and instead teach them of "the way of life" we've been given.
Patriots can only be bred by patriotic parents and do we really want unpatriotic children growing up and leading this country?

God Bless our Little Patriots!

Face Time

When is the last time you really looked your family in the face?
This past week I realized that seldom do I actually look into my darling daughter's eyes.  Most of our true heart to heart conversations take place while she is riding in the backseat and I am driving.  Sure, sometimes we catch a glimpse of each other in the mirror, but it is only a reflection and she is changing.
She isn't my baby anymore, she is my girl.  Her face is changing, her cheek bones are revealing themselves and her eyes are starting to tell her story and I have been missing it.
So, being the extremist that I am, I have changed my ways almost overnight.  Now, when I fix her breakfast I sit down with her at the island face to face and just listen.  No more television with her beautiful, brown eyes absorbing other faces.  I want her to absorb mine while I memorize hers.
I don't want to miss the expressions behind her voice.  I don't want to look back, like I do now, hanging on to a picture as my mode of reference for the details.  I want to have her face at eight years old completely burned into my memory bank because I looked deeply with intent at it every day I had her home.
And if she feels like I do, she will want to have memories of mine as well.

We are both changing, both growing older, both hoping to hang on to some of these moments for as long as we are on earth.  So, while I am here, I want to remember face time as just that....face time. 

Thank you, Lord, for my body

If you woke up this morning with your health...praise God because not everyone woke up with that gift.

I just enjoyed a trip to Jackson Hole.  I enjoyed that trip as a healthy person able to run, hike and move my body, but while I was there my cousin was put in the hospital struggling to survive.  He has lived with MD for most of his life and has reached the dreaded age of nineteen. 

Following his carebridge site on-line I thought about how much we all take for granted our health and the ability to move freely.  We are so selfish in our thoughts.  Selfish in that we are always pondering what we don't have until we lose something we took for granted.

Let's not do that anymore.  Let's appreciate our bodies no matter the size or color.  Let's live assuming that our bodies are a gift for today, not for always.

If you hate exercise or dread being active, but know it is what is best for you...do this...move your body in honor of all of the children who are not able to move theirs.  Hike, run, walk, play...just move and don't take for granted the gift of that movement.  Many children across the nation and around the world would consider you incredibly rich for having that option. 

The Scales of Life

Why do we live so unbalanced?
What if everything we spoke actually came into being?  What if God made it happen?  Would you be scared?

I would.  I speak of things I know nothing about.  At dinner parties I am the girl in the corner professing to be "Eden's mom" or "Brian's wife" or the party goer who only speaks of the road less traveled chosen so many years ago, but I don't have a clue.

Do you want to test yourself?  Go to a farewell party for someone leaving to receive a treatment they may not survive.  What matters at that party?

No one cares that you wrote a book, heck, even you don't care.  No one cares that you just finished sixty-five pages of curriculum for an innovative program bolstering emotional intelligence for children of all ages.

So what! 

Do you know what really matters?  Being present.

There is no guarantee that you haven't just attended your own farewell party. 

My hope for all of us, me included, is that we truly live in the moment.  Let's embrace those around us by listening with ears to hear what they are actually saying.  Let's live our words instead of professing them and hope that the Lord doesn't make us only wear the titles we profess in life.

Treat each day as a day measured by a scale and pray that it reveals balance.

For me, balance is the beautiful moments that I was completely present wanting nothing but the joy of the moment which usually includes others.

Forget-Me-Not

Oh, the irony that a few weeks ago Eden and I did what we thought was all the planting, only to find we forgot the Forget-Me-Not package of flowers.
Of course being the highly empathetic person I am, I immediately felt horrible for leaving them out and actually forgetting them. Their worst fear is posted on their package and I forgot them.
This realization hit the same day that I was concluding a pilot journal program with a group of fifth graders that I have gotten to know incredibly well over the last year. As I accepted their heartfelt cards and flowers for spending the time with them, I felt like they each had across their own hearts a sign that read, "Forget-Me-Not."
No one wants to be forgotten. We all desire to be remembered.
My step dad is battling cancer right now and you can watch his words and actions around his loved ones and see that he is keeping memories alive, he does not want to be forgotten.
At no age does our desire to be forgotten change. We want to be remembered.
But the harsh reality is that we will all be forgotten unless we are put in the history books as accomplishing something worth remembering.
There is only One who will not forget us. He is the One that gave us the same intuitive appreciation for our own children. I can assure you that as long as I am breathing air I will never forget my own child. He is the same and He will be alive long after the last Memorial Day.
Take comfort and know that you are not a "Forget-Me-Not."

The Noticer, I noticed!

I must confess that I am a critical reader. I notoriously start a book and about a chapter or two into the book I stop reading because the author couldn't keep me hooked. So, if I have gotten to the third or fourth chapter of a book the odds of finishing it go up exponentially.
This past week I got hooked by a book, The Noticer, by Andy Andrews. The idea of the book was simple; passing great advice out through a character that could have clearly been an angel. The advice was the hook. You couldn't wait for the character's next human encounter. Would it be a divorcing couple? A person ready to jump? A dishonest business man trying to get more than he deserved?
And more importantly, what on earth would this guy advise???
He claimed his whole purpose in life was to give others perspective.
I laughed at myself for identifying with the angel and his purpose, seemed a bit too bold. But I do love this blog for that very reason. We all need to be reminded of what really matters and I believe I have had enough go really bad that I can clearly embrace and recognize what goes beautiful, right or good. I hope that I am right in my grand assumption. If you enjoy this blog at all, you might want to check out this book. I am sure the experience and the fact that New York is recognizing Andy Andrews probably means it is worth your time.

Big Girl Pants

I have never once apologized for putting on my big, girl pants.  I never regret it either.

Putting on those pants means I had the courage to apologize, the courage to do something I am terrified of, or forgive someone when I didn’t want to go there.

Big, girl pants are a choice, a beautiful choice that is only chosen when I rise above the petty and go for the gold in character and action.

My big, girl pants have been in my closet for a long time.  I remember putting them on when confronted about my chameleon behavior.  People pleasing, for me, has always been the best defense for keeping the pain of rejection at bay. Frightened of not being considerate of others or a perpetual listening ear led me to a life of putting my own agenda so far back I would be dying having accomplished nothing but meeting everyone else’s needs.  My funeral would have been fabulous, but it would have reflected the bending and stretching of a person at the expense of a life.  Painful to reflect on now, but celebrated to see the power of the big, girl pants and the strength that allows me to love with my whole, complete heart instead of the timid heart afraid of revealing the lifeblood in it.

My big, girl pants become larger each time I wear them.  I find I am more self assured and more comfortable wearing them as I age and learn life’s truth and the Creator of that truth.  That doesn’t mean those pants reflect arrogance, they don’t.  Actually, it is just the opposite… they reflect a quiet humility that demands respect not attention. 

So, as you are doing the spring cleaning and deciding which clothes to throw out; I strongly suggest keeping the big, girl pants!

Mom Moments

I can't think of any Hallmark appointed day that is more honoring to women than Mother's Day.
Where would we be without the women in our lives that told us hard truths or helped us map out our paths?
I could list so many women who have made a huge impact on my life, "mom moments." There have been so many, that I have made it my mission to be one of them.
Julie's mom always kept a toothbrush for me at their house, now I have boxes of unopened toothbrushes for Eden's friends to feel like they are always welcome to stay.
Leah's mom kept ice cream in her freezer because she knew I loved it and came over after school most days. Now, I buy the groceries and keep a stock of treats for the kiddos.

My own mom gave me the hard truth every time I came down the stairs wearing an outfit that made me look bad or sporting a hairstyle that was less than attractive. Those ouch moments kept me from having some really bad pictures in the album. Thanks, Mom.
We all have them. Women who have made a difference in our lives.
Even as an adult I have beautiful women who have kept my sail straight as I weathered some pretty rough storms. Aunt Novella, Aunt Carol, Aunt Tesley, Linda, Sky, Leslie, my grandmother, my mom, Grandma Shirley, Brook, Allison, Christy, Stacey, Andrea, Candice, Tona, Krissy, Amanda, Leah, Megan, Sarah, Pamela, Holly, Jennie, Jennifer, Keil, Kelley, Teri, Kelly, Lauren, Melissa, Sharla, Stephanie, Aunt Trish, Vanesa, Aunt Ruth....to name just a few.
MAY YOU ALL BE HONORED this Mother's Day and all know that "mom moments" are passed down, and around...and most importantly, never forgotten.

Larry's Niece

If you go to any "network" dinner parties you can identify with the scene of hearing people declaring their titles.
"I am the ____________________ of __________________, so nice to meet you."
It is part of our culture, the way we place value on each other and determine some level of importance, really pathetic honestly, but a white collar trend that has stuck.
Well, I found a place those titles are shattered and the ones that really matter are pushed to the forefront....an ER waiting room. Yes, you heard me. You want to see real titles emerge, go to Saint Francis on any given evening and I bet you hear much different titles being thrown out. Titles like brother, mother, daughter...relationship titles, the ones that merit getting a pass to go back to the room.
My uncle had a severe stroke on Tuesday night, so severe that he actually had a Code Blue ringing over the intercom because he quit breathing.
In the waiting room, I was surrounded by my family. I wore the proud title of "niece" as I held my cousin that wore the title of "first born daughter." Our history of being raised through the trail of losing her sister, my mom's multiple marriages, and other family members that have gone before us gave me the honor of holding her tightly after she had just been traumatized by the experience of believing she might lose her dad that evening...a non-repeatable moment.
A moment that echoed the importance of our family titles and experiences. A moment that I was comforted by taking my title so seriously over all of the years. Unless you value those titles, they mean nothing when the storm hits. You are just a stranger with a meaningless title.
Our family values those titles...our family puts them before our professions, our volunteer positions, our church roles...our family understands that if you don't take care of the people God has placed in your family tree than your other titles are really not that valuable.
I am so thankful for that modeling. As I looked around the ER at midnight, I was surrounded by my grandparents, my uncles, my cousins, my mom....
People that placed more value in those roles than their professions, which by the way, could hold their own at any given dinner party.

Personal Everest, the Climb

We all have one. We all have a dream that we are dreaming. We all have a moment that we would love to experience from the mountain top.
A friend of mine, very talented friend of mine, has just moved to Nashville to climb his personal Everest. I actually stole this phrase from him. He is a writer, like me, so he has a lot of meaning in just a few words. I love the fact that we are exactly the same age, born the same day, and are both creative and expressive.
His climb is a personal journey that he has had since he was a kid...music...making it a living, a career.
My climb has been about being the "voice of children of divorce," giving them a say, a real voice to tell their stories. It has been a hard climb at times, but I must confess I spent ten years before the climb just standing at the base of the mountain begging myself to take the first step. I am still not completely sure what held me back from taking the first step, but I can tell you what shoved me over the rail and running up the side...DEATH, regret.
I stood helpless, holding the dying hand of one of the most talented musicians I have ever known telling me about his personal regret. The Everest he didn't climb because he thought he would have more time.
Stop standing at the base of the mountain. Climb.

Laugh

"Humor is the great thing, the saving thing.  The minute it crops up, all our irritations and resentments slip away and a sunny spirit takes their place." -Mark Twain (1835-1910)

My life is entertaining.  This morning I drove my daughter to school with small birds swooping down, flying side by side as I drove...major Snow White moment.  I laughed, yes, out loud and thought it was one of those moments that I usually miss because I am hyper focused on a to do list the size of Texas.

I have missed a lot of moments.  I don't want to do that anymore.  

I want to laugh until milk comes out my nose.  I want to laugh so hard my stomach muscles hurt and I have laugh lines.  Okay, I don't really want the laugh lines, but I do want to start really laughing.

Humor is available...and for free. Okay, not really free, it is usually at someone's expense.

Just take a trip to a public place and start people watching.  Us humans, are hilarious!  We pick our nose at stoplights, we pull chewies from our cracks while waiting at the crosswalk, we even adjust our bras like brutes.  We run down on our trails wearing too tight, too loose, too bright, or too crazy outfits.  

So, be one of the crazy ones...listen to rap music, wear yellow, eat sour patch kids, play with a booger, make fun of yourself....and laugh! 

Rewind

Today I am pillaging through papers looking frantically for my husband's car title because he is buying a new car when suddenly the excitement of the purchase is overshadowed by a letter from my dad.  The find was like a gold treasure, way more valuable than the car we are about to purchase.
So, there I sat in the attic, black Ann Taylor pants and all...dusty...tears rolling down my face because I miss so much.  I miss his beautiful handwriting, I miss his sarcasm, I miss the way he wrote like he was speaking...I miss the way he worked so hard to make it to the post office but sometimes it would take three or four trips back to his house to remember what he was going to mail.
My dad wrote the letter about his excitement of us coming to see him in Florida.  He hadn't lived there very long and he was thrilled to show us his new position at Universal Studios.  He played keyboards professionally and was thrilled to actually have business cards, not to mention a 401K.
He also was needing to express the deep grief the family was feeling as my cousin had been diagnosed with MD like his older brother.  My dad hated sharing bad news....his tender heart needed me to know before I got there.
Brian was entering the master's program at OSU and I was teaching full-time which is why we could finally afford to fly down there.  The trip was wonderful.
I am posting the letter in parts for those of you who knew him.

For those of you who did not know him, know this...if you have not experienced the loss of your daddy...take the time to value him more than a BMW or more than a position at work or even more than whatever your filled in blank is right now.  And please, savor the moments, and keep the letters, you may find yourself on your own attic floor wishing you had worn waterproof mascara and jeans.

Scattered Hope

Right now there are groups of people all over the world celebrating the days of unleavened bread. Many of them have absolutely nothing in common except a love of hope and eternal existence. Their belief in who God is and what His plan is can be completely different as interpretation of Scripture can be like the old folktale of three blind men feeling different parts of an elephant only to conclude with three very different features to describe the beast.
But what they all agree on is "hope." These days are about being pulled away from what the world tells us we must have to be happy to the reality that happiness comes from knowing your own family tree and the "hope" found in knowing your real roots.
Hope tells us not to love the world or love materialism, but to love the author of our life and our siblings. Yes, we will crave HAVING and BEING, but those cravings lead us to a false identity. One job loss or adultery takes those titles away.
We are smart, we know that a false hope is not really hope at all.
1 John 3:2, "Dear friends, now we are the children of God, and what we WILL BE has not yet been made known..."

The Road Less Traveled

Sure, we've all heard the Robert Frost quote, but have we ever really tried to live it?
I believe the road less traveled is a road without pavement. A road that has a traveler listening. Listening to the sounds of their surroundings.
Have you ever heard a small voice within you that says, "I need to call _________."
Or "I've always wanted to ____________."
Fill in the blank...you've heard it.
We know when we are needed, we know when we could do something worth our time. We also know that we have people in our lives that may not be around forever. Truth be told, we may be that person.
So, get off the pavement...the road that goes fast and furious and keeps you distracted from the real journey. Join us on the windy, unpredictable trail. The trail of intense failure and intense triumph. At times it can appear manic, but it has depth, it holds real. You can't zoom along too quickly because you'll get lost, but you'll perceive things you've only imagined and you'll actually enjoy small moments of natural, normal.
Dear friends, the ones I have had lunch with or coffee with and talked about dreams that have gone unexplored....this is for you.
Now is your chance to change your mind and take a risk. I believe in you.
You are absent of the good or bad opinion of others, you are valuable without any identity....just you. Your talent, given at the foundation of time, belongs to you and you alone. LISTEN.

Real Perspective

Each day is a gift...

I strongly recommend each of you watch the video above.  It is amazing to listen to a man facing a terminal illness with such dedication to believing God has a plan for him.

My prayer for each of us is to live fully, completely, without fear, without hesitation, no holding back, full of love, full of grace, full of life while we are still in the land of the living.

Regardless of your faith....believe today is a gift and treat it as such!

The Real Human Experience

Last week I spoke on having a broken heart and the humanitarian efforts that have come out of a life with a broken heart. I used a quote I love,

"It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise." by Sara Teasdale
Although I appreciate the wisdom and understanding that comes from painful experiences, some days...I beg for mercy...to feel less.
I am not sure if my heart is more open, tattered and scarred and that is why it feels so much or if not being a stranger to pain makes it so familiar? Who knows?
But I do know that hurting people are all around us. We have no idea how many terminal cancer patients we are passing as our cart goes down the grocery isle. We have no idea how many receptionists we are dealing with that may have just lost a mother, brother or even their own child. Who knows if the guy checking us out at our favorite fast food lost his corporate job and is having to manage the drive thru to provide food for his family.
Hurting, scared people...desperate for us, anyone, to try even for a minute to walk in their shoes and understand their pain.
One of those guys going up and down the grocery store is my step dad. Be kind to him. Flash a smile. His spirits are easily lifted with smiles and hugs. He is not too different from a lot of people. It doesn't take much, really.
This week, I challenge you and myself, to go out of our way to try to walk with someone in a crisis. If your schedule only allows an hour, use that hour.
Those of us that have experienced pain should be even more accountable to lift up another human being. We know personally what it feels like to feel an arm under yours lifting you from a low place, it feels doable. At that moment, you know, you might just get through it.
Help someone get through it.

Spring "Far From" Break

Wow. Seriously, what a crazy week. My theoretical calendar and my reality calendar completely conflicted this week, cognitive dissonance via schedule.
So, Sunday night we are taking a little bit of a too leisure drive to Kansas and don't actually show up until almost one in the morning.
I didn't get too much sleep hearing Eden cough a chunky cough and doctoring a sore throat myself, morning comes quickly. So, I go through my presentation for the Bethel College Convocation and realize I am fading fast, but it is Eden's actual birthday and I dare not disappoint, so I suck it up. By eleven o'clock I am in front of the Bethel College student body and faculty giving a lecture on "What to do with a broken heart?" while hearing sweet Eden in the back row with her rough cough that is hanging on way too long. At this point, I am wearing my professional hat, but lugging a mother's heavy heart.
In hopes of making her day special Brian and I decided to drive a few miles over to the Cosmosphere, great experience! We catch an IMAX, see the stars, learn the history of the rocket...all exhausting, but awesome.
By Tuesday, I am increasingly worried about her cough and have decided that when we get home we are really going to the doctor. Oh, and I have a child-like runny nose myself, so the two of us are going through a box of tissues in less than an hour.
But, staying true to the schedule because it is "Spring Break", we have a lovely dinner with some new friends in Newton. I notice that Eden isn't eating much and seems really uncomfortable, truth be told, I am not so comfortable myself having acquired enough congestion for a full classroom of children.
So, that night, we go to bed having still achieved keeping our tight schedule of activities...until the dreaded, "Mom, I think I'm gonna throw uuuuuuuu..."
If you are a mom, I don't have to finish this, you know what happened next.
Okay, it is two a.m. and I am holding a hot child complaining of a painful neck and throwing up in a town I don't know very well. Scary moment.
Brian goes to a store and buys a thermometer, for us to have another scary moment...104...seriously.
We all pile in the car, trash can by our side and head to the local ER where our fears are realized, Eden is dehydrated and needs an IV because she is fighting pneumonia. Poor girl. Obviously, our schedule dramatically changes. Sleep schedules are all truly out the window, a new TV schedule becomes apparent and the main goal is getting antibiotic to stay down, oh, and fluids.
Do you know how hard it is to get an eight year old to drink water these days?
I had no idea until now, but apparently when they turn eight water is out.
Well, now it is Friday and I am happily blogging about this instead of living it. Spring Break has essentially come and gone and at least four days of it are a complete fog. I have decided not to post a picture with this blog because I personally do not think that showing our sick faces would be helpful...I am sure you can picture us...dark circles, heaving chests, watery eyes...
I am now thankful we didn't try to plan a ski trip, what a waste that would have been this year!

Happy Birthday!

What a blessing to see the child I was never suppose to have celebrate her 8th Birthday!
After four years of crying every time I found myself at a stop sign or light next to a car with a car seat in the back, I heard the words, "you are pregnant!"  I can still get goose bumps to think of that day.
I remember thanking God for every experience.  I praised Him for knowing what it felt like to hear those words.  I cried in gratitude for saving her as I miscarried her twin.  I thanked Him for being allowed to have my own experience on the Maternity Floor at the hospital.
Each experience...a grateful heart because I know that children are all on loan and that He is the provider of life.
As I jumped with Eden at Pump It Up this year I could not help but think of the gift she is and has been to me.  When I wanted a child, I did not dare understand the full meaning of the desire.  I had no idea that I was asking for my heart to be put out, vulnerable, outside of my body for all to see, criticize and love.  I also had no idea that I would birth my own friend and playmate.  And lastly, how close to God I would have to stay in order to raise a child responsibly.  He has been my guide as I have tried to navigate through the pulls of training up another human being as her largest influence of what family and faith should look like.
God has granted me eight years of hearing the word, "mom" in every pitch, tone, mood and whine...and for that I consider myself incredibly blessed to have ears to hear them.
Happy Birthday, Eden!

Ledge of Bad Leadership

My daughter is a lot like her mother in that she views events and experiences through incredibly creative lenses.  I appreciate that about her and always enjoy her photography.  She took this picture.
When I look at it I immediately think of the tricky balance of leading people or movements.
The owl looks confident on his ledge of leadership, but does he really?  Because from a different angle you could think he was planning a fatal jump out of despair.  Perception...
I believe people who are put in charge of leading people and movements are sometimes a bit manic, which is part of the attraction and energy that brings a following.
Here in America we've seen a lot of manic leaders that take us down a path of hope and inspiration only to drop us off at infidelity and resignation.  The ledge, my friend, can be deceiving.
I believe that the great leaders have never mounted themselves on the ledge.  The great leaders are in the crowd inspiring movements as one of the many.
"The real leader  has no need to lead -- he is content to point the way."  Henry Miller

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

Everyday is a gift. Not just this moment writing, which I love and find as therapy, but all the moments...listening, loving someone, driving, cooking, returning emails...you know, the day. Your day is not promised, so treasure it as a gift.
I say this because I have lost loved ones to cancer and have one right now fighting this battle for more days. So, the harsh reality of our days being numbered has shaped a lot of my thinking and life. As I plan my time throughout the day, I know it is a gift to be able to implement all that is on my schedule.
Today, I got to read, Hop on Pop, to a group of fabulous third graders at Addams Elementary School because today is Dr. Seuss' Birthday, seriously, it is his birthday. And how beautiful to celebrate the occasion with a group of kids so pumped to eat green eggs and ham for lunch!
I am thankful for the moments of remembering the joy of reading a book of rhyme and silly words...with each little giggle coming from beneath my feet was a memory of happiness with a book that makes you laugh.
Oh, laugh...don't take yourself so seriously...grab a book by Dr. Seuss if you have to...but don't waste today with your worry because tomorrow is not promised and wouldn't you be incredibly disappointed if you kept trying to juggle the world's problems on your bike and never stopped to just take a joy ride!

Importance

Lately I have realized that we are all demanding to be "important."
I have fallen victim several times to wanting my job, my activities, my life to be deemed incredibly important.  Sometimes I get so caught up in it that I become depressed when it doesn't yield results...it's a life, not a math problem.
So, I started an experiment.  I have taken several days to completely disregard what I have valued and start listening to what other people value and try to boost up their importance.
Wow.  I am surrounded by such important people with lives they are living and growing and helping others.  Being a part of that and not a spectator because I am competing for importance has been so rewarding.  Depression cannot be fed if you are involved in the lives of others, it is only truly fed by your own desire to stay important. 
Being important is not finishing a conversation with, "I've talked enough about me, let's talk about you, what do you think of me?"

Reba's

It's dark, I am driving down a downtown in the middle of Kansas that has closed down for the night and it is only seven-thirty. Although I have Eden in the backseat and I am promoting this experience as a "get-a-way," I am finding myself incredibly lonely for familiar.
The town is quaint, all of the townspeople are kind and sweet, but it still feels like crashing a family reunion. They speak about generations of families I have never met and laugh at inside jokes I have never heard. Darling, if I were on the inside and not the outside.
I remembered a restaurant from a trip here about four or five months ago, I believed it was called Reba's and was located on Main Street.
I felt a peace and calmness return to me as I walked through the hall of the cherry stained wood paneling and landed at the tile top high bar. This wonderful, smiling woman looks at me and remembers exactly what I had last time I was there and ask about my health issues that made me eat so simply.
The ambiance of a district in my town that I love to dine in coupled with Reba, really Rebecca, who rolls up her sleeves and prepares me a dish all too familiar - oh, connected.
The connection isn't just the familiar, the connection is also in the sincerity of the couple who owns Reba's. They are beautifully comfortable in their own skin and enjoy the moments, not the results of life. Their conversation is like traveling back in time with my dad in an era of free love and housing. Relaxed, far from judging anyone, just in the moment.
There must be scattered throughout this eclectic nation a band of familiar souls that recognize each other as they drift through their journey of life excited to run into one another and share their travels.
To those souls, I believe I owe a huge, "thank you" for your exsistence...

Human Heartbeat

The human experience for many of us is different.  If you were born in a third world country, you are not experiencing life through my lens of wealth and security.  Experience is an interpretation of a journey, a journey we all take...called life.
But, we all share a heartbeat - blood flows through our veins sustaining us and we all desire to avoid pain.
Last night, I spent the evening listening to my cousin, Lauren, talk about her medical mission trip to Haiti.
As she clicked through the Macbook slide show...our worlds collided.  Eden,  my daughter, recognized her friend's dad in one of the pictures and recalled listening to her tell about his experience as a doctor helping in Haiti.  Brian recognized the very boxes he had packed at Bethel College in Kansas for the food distribution.

We are the human race.  We share a heartbeat.  We share compassion.  We share our lives.
Each slide had a person's story, a story that ended at the clinic or a story of a miracle.  Each member of the medical team had a story.  One doctor had just been told his cancer had returned right before boarding the plane. Doctors from the east coast, doctors from the west coast all meeting at the same time in an airport to offer their training to a hurting country.  All people, characters in a story that stretches from the middle of the land of the brave to the outermost parts of the world - our story as the human race.
Hearts beating to the very rhythm of the blood that flows through them.  The color of the skin, the language spoken, the journey didn't matter - stopping the pain is what mattered - saving a life.
The OR floor contained puddles of blood, the wounds were greater than could be imagined, the children having to be cradled through the pain of their injuries are visuals that will not soon be forgotten.
May God bless our human hearts. 

Diamonds

Make new friends and keep the old ones, one is silver and the other gold...
Words from a song I used to sing to Eden when she was a toddler.
Wonder which ones are silver and which ones are gold?  The old ones gold maybe and the new ones silver cause the relationship is all shiny and usually reflects your own image.  Who knows?
The important thing is that we need both in our lives.  We need those people who knew us when to remind of us of where we've been and those who know us now to enjoy the present.  By the way, you can be both, the silver and the gold.  Those friends should be "diamonds" because they take a long time to make, but once they've been created it is hard to break them.
I am blessed to have a bunch of diamonds in my life.  Those diamonds keep me grounded and centered, but also bring great joy to my life.  I am also thankful for the diamonds allowing me into their lives sharing their adventures as they go through life.  Some diamonds have coffee with me and share their beautiful children to be a part of the moment and conversation, beautiful random hugs.  Other diamonds share their success and allow me to celebrate with them, party diamond - you know who you are.  And yet other diamonds share their medical training, prayers and compassion.  I have a lot of diamonds.  I could go on and on, but the lesson is not in sharing every single diamond.  The lesson is in recognizing that we are all surrounded by diamonds.  People we should care for and cherish, true treasures.  People are more important than things, connections with others is soul food.  Just as we don't forget to eat, don't forget to love on those relationships that are part of your world - part of your heart.

Hard Beginnings

"A hard beginning maketh a good ending"
Any of you who have started something knows the uphill battle of creating something worth hanging your hat on.
This past year has been my personal climb right alongside by best friend, Brian, having his own climb.  The two of us have developed curriculum for two different causes, shaken a lot of hands, written a lot of blogs, and dined with some of the finest Oklahoma and Kansas business leaders advocating our passions.
We both know it is very hard to bring a vision from a thought to a reality.  We also know that it is very hard to maintain a cheerful heart while doing it.  Sacrifice, lack of sleep, sometimes nausea are all part of the journey.  It is truly hard.
When do you know you've hit the "good ending?"
I believe when the hard has become a lifestyle and your eye is off the result and completely fixed on the love of the journey, the passion behind the journey - you fully alive.
Having a great idea is just that - a great idea.

Having a passion become a reality is where the good ending to a life well lived becomes a philosophical trophy for which there is no replacement.

Create a Fan Club

I've often wondered if Eden really pays attention to me.  I throw out suggestions, commands, hugs...all just randomly thrown out there for the taking,  but is it really taken?
Some days the muck and the mire of raising kids becomes a season of survival.  Does her dance bag have all the dance shoes in it?  Did I pay for her yearbook?  Is her uniform clean?  What time is practice? 
I drop her somewhere, usually with my hair in a ponytail, praying I did "my part" before she gets out of the car.
But sometimes, ray of sunshine comes beaming, the muck and the mire are so yesterday...because sometimes you have one of those moments that makes it all beautiful - they imitate something you love about yourself and adopt it all their own.  So magical - really.
I've always loved my transparency with my love for others.  I write it, text it, email it, practically tattoo it on my face...if I love you, you know it. 

And to know that I taught that to a seven year old - leaving a note of affection to her mommy....I've created my own fan club!

"I'm with him!"

What if when the man you love went to check out, you went with him? How bad would that be?
We listen to our girlfriends, and I've done it myself, whine about the man in our life just "checking out." Do we gripe because we are jealous? We are, you know it.
We are jealous of the freedom of dreaming outside the box. We are jealous of the irresponsibility of it all. Thinking like this doesn't fit our schedules, but could it? What do we have to lose? What are we holding so tightly to that is worth more than taking an adventure with the love of our life.
Do we skip the vacation because we aren't in-love anymore? Do we even know what love is or looks like?
I believe that as women we have denied ourselves the right to be "crazy." Our crazy has to fit society norms. That, my friends, is crazy.
Why do we want to fit the norm?
Where is that crazy high school girl in you that used to dare to be different? Nerves of steel to tackle adolescence with a reckless abandonment! That girl needs to be retrieved. That girl could save a marriage...build a life, a real one.
Next time, when you see the glazed over look in his eyes and you think nagging at him will bring him back to your reality, I beg you, don't. Go with him, ask him where he is going and if you can come. Then pull out your rocker shirt from the 80's and dare to be the girl that could turn his head.
Double dog dare you...

Constructing a Memory

This week while dining at an awesome bistro, cleverly titled, The Bistro, I got a call from my "baby" cousin. Okay, so he is no longer a real baby, but in our family of practically all girls, he once was and always will be "our baby."
He's getting married in July, and like a lot of us, anticipating a change can bring back other changes in your life - pretty common. So, where has his reflection taken him? To a change that affects his future.
Someone will be missing at his wedding, his sister. Unfortunately, he was only three when she was taken instantly from us in her car, she was driving alone and hit a cement drain wall asleep.
I got this call because he is trying to piece together a memory of a beautiful person that he doesn't remember, but feels like he should, after all, she was and is...his sister.
Just at the mention of her name, I have a flood of warm goosebumps, as she was my childhood idol. Partly because I was almost four years younger and our moms were best friends so we spent a lot of time together. The other partly was because she was one of those people that you just felt loved by. I don't ever remember not saying and feeling loved in our relationship.
I have a little, autograph dog that I got for my tenth birthday that has written across an ear in bubble letters, "I love you! Love, Jeanean"
Jeanean is a part of my first memories...pooping together. (embarrassing, but true)
She is also in one of my most lasting, terrifying memories of hearing her car pull away from our house just minutes before her life ended.
But her brother doesn't know what those hours or days were like after her death. He doesn't remember the church that was overflowing with high school kids and grown-ups trying to understand such a tragedy.
All he knows is that there will be someone missing and that he wants to feel like he knows exactly who she is to acknowledge her absence.
If only he could know how sacred that spot should be. Now, it is up to us that knew her radiant spirit and details of her being to fill him in on the sister that would wish him the best and tell him repeatedly, "I love you! Love, Jeanean."