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.