This time of year is very emotional for many people and I am no different. (In fact, to be perfectly honest, I teared up at a Folgers commercial on Thursday.) There are people in my life who are grieving this Christmas season for loved ones lost recently and for those lost long ago. Holiday traditions that are different now by necessity not choice can be difficult to establish and maintain when the heart longs for past traditions.
Yesterday, while baking cookies with my kids, I missed my grandmother, Mommer, so much that my heart physically hurt. She has been gone a lot more than a decade now, but in the moments of the batter flying, I could hear her singing very clearly and I missed her profusely. I remembered the days in her kitchen decorating sugar cookies and making a mess; her happy face accented with flour smudges. My Mommer was more than a grandmother to me, she was the constant in my chaotic and often drama filled childhood. She taught me to rollerskate and iron shirts. She taught me how to move through tough situations with a song in my head. She taught me to snap green beans and mow grass. She taught me how to hold my head high when people said terrible things about my family and I. She gave me the best parenting advice I have ever received when my kids were babies. She loved me unconditionally and specially even though I was one of thirteen grandkids. She loved each of us that way. Throughout the years, I have often woke up thinking, I have to ask Mommer about this only to remember when I was fully awake that I could only do that in my dreams.
Last night, as I was cleaning up my own cookie mess in my own kitchen, I worked to reframe my missing her and also to come to grips with the enormity of the struggle for those working to reframe larger and more recent losses. I wish my reframe would have ended in some profound miracle salve for the heart that I could hand out in little boxes with big bows. But it didn't.
Here is the everyday miracle that I finally landed on. The everyday miracle is that I was blessed to have Mommer in my life. She made me a better person, mother and friend. I see her influence in my life everyday. I got to hold her hand and now I hold that memory tight.
Sending a little box with a big bow to those who need it this Christmas season. Trying to live as a blessing in the lives of those around me. Everyday miracles in cookie batter and chocolate chips.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
The smell of thankful
I am one of those people; those people with sensitive sniffers. Smell to me is a base sense, connected to memories, people and emotions. In fact, I am so weird about it, I try to live in a bubble of Happy, the perfume. Ask those around me. They can bear witness to my perfume bubble.
I remember scents more than faces or words. I smelled a slightly off apricot last summer and was transported to a summer when I was young and my great aunt thought I should drink apricot brandy to calm my stomach pains. I remember the smell of my hospital rooms when I had my kids, the smell of the floor wax on the first day of school, and the smell of my first boyfriend's cologne in middle school mixed with the smell of sweat from those around us at the school dance. (Wait, maybe that was the smell of his sweat but bear with me.)
So lately, in the rush that is everyday, I have not smelled anything exceptional. I have rushed through each day doing the best I can, being the best I can and collapsing in bed each night, never once having breathed deeply.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday I smelled thankful in big deep gulps of scent with my daughter walking hand in hand through the conservatory at Long Wood Gardens. We walked into the orchid room and the smell was sweet and heavy but the moment was light and lovely.
"Oh, hello sniffer!" my brain thought. "Are you cataloging this moment? Are you memorizing the tones of orchid? The look on your daughter's face as she takes that picture? The peace that comes on the waves of fragrance? Connect these moments. Be connected to these moments." My brain and my nose are very good friends.
Thankful may smell different to everyone and that is how it should be. Thankful can also smell differently at different times- the smell of a baby's head, rain in the spring, that first shovel full of dirt turned over in the garden, your child's cereal breath in the morning, cinnamon on a cold day, and the list goes on and on. ( I, for example, love when my husband has been working outside and comes in smelling of campfire smoke and hard work.)
Thankful to me this week smelled like orchids, ripe and rich and blooming in December. Ripe and rich and very special- blooming like it was their job for my daughter and I as we strolled through their midst; deep in conversation about life, love, and education.
A plethora of thankful in intricate blooms of tropical color forever linked in my mind. An everyday miracle thankfully linked in my heart.
I remember scents more than faces or words. I smelled a slightly off apricot last summer and was transported to a summer when I was young and my great aunt thought I should drink apricot brandy to calm my stomach pains. I remember the smell of my hospital rooms when I had my kids, the smell of the floor wax on the first day of school, and the smell of my first boyfriend's cologne in middle school mixed with the smell of sweat from those around us at the school dance. (Wait, maybe that was the smell of his sweat but bear with me.)
So lately, in the rush that is everyday, I have not smelled anything exceptional. I have rushed through each day doing the best I can, being the best I can and collapsing in bed each night, never once having breathed deeply.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday I smelled thankful in big deep gulps of scent with my daughter walking hand in hand through the conservatory at Long Wood Gardens. We walked into the orchid room and the smell was sweet and heavy but the moment was light and lovely.
"Oh, hello sniffer!" my brain thought. "Are you cataloging this moment? Are you memorizing the tones of orchid? The look on your daughter's face as she takes that picture? The peace that comes on the waves of fragrance? Connect these moments. Be connected to these moments." My brain and my nose are very good friends.
Thankful may smell different to everyone and that is how it should be. Thankful can also smell differently at different times- the smell of a baby's head, rain in the spring, that first shovel full of dirt turned over in the garden, your child's cereal breath in the morning, cinnamon on a cold day, and the list goes on and on. ( I, for example, love when my husband has been working outside and comes in smelling of campfire smoke and hard work.)
Thankful to me this week smelled like orchids, ripe and rich and blooming in December. Ripe and rich and very special- blooming like it was their job for my daughter and I as we strolled through their midst; deep in conversation about life, love, and education.
A plethora of thankful in intricate blooms of tropical color forever linked in my mind. An everyday miracle thankfully linked in my heart.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Greyhound Man
Greyhound man.
Good weather or bad,
You and your lanky, obviously well loved dogs,
Make the trek through my little corner of the world (Past the window, past the parking lot, down the lane- with your baggie of....) every working day.
We never greet each other, except that one head nod, one time a few years ago, when it was snowing.
Today I thought about you all day though.
I noticed one of your greyhounds was gone.
Replaced with a smaller, albeit still cute, hound.
Your task was the same.
Your time was the same.
But your cadence was off.
I always loved the graceful dance
of the long legged ones on both sides of you.
I bet you did too.
But you will be okay,
Greyhound man.
In the background of your life,
There are people cheering you on.
Wishing you good will.
Thankful that you still walk,
Early and daily.
Even though your groove is different.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Milky Way
Life has been so busy lately but that's nothing new.
It is the asynchrony of it all that has left me unsettled. I have felt like Steve Martin in that famous scene from "The Jerk", trying so hard, so earnestly, but missing the beat.
But then Saturday happened.
Saturday we held hands under the Milky Way and looked up.
And for that moment, and in every moment since,
I have felt awe.
It's as if the universe whispered into my ear,
"look at this great tapestry- do not doubt the weaver."
Stars on a beautiful night, an everyday reminder of one grand miracle.
It is the asynchrony of it all that has left me unsettled. I have felt like Steve Martin in that famous scene from "The Jerk", trying so hard, so earnestly, but missing the beat.
But then Saturday happened.
Saturday we held hands under the Milky Way and looked up.
And for that moment, and in every moment since,
I have felt awe.
It's as if the universe whispered into my ear,
"look at this great tapestry- do not doubt the weaver."
Stars on a beautiful night, an everyday reminder of one grand miracle.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
History
I sat in the small diner and ate my salad by myself before class started. Two employees, both in their early 20's, were filling little containers of salad dressings about five feet from me. They were working hard and talking nonstop. At first, I couldn't figure out what they were talking about because the conversation seemed disjointed. As I listened closer (yes, I am an eavesdropper), I realized they were studying for a bio test together as they worked. The young woman stumbled on an answer and the man working along with her said, "Well, that ain't swag."
She stopped, put down her ladle and said," Are you stupid? Do you know what swag means? Just because JZ says swag doesn't mean that you should use it! I looked swag up and it means curtain. Choose your own words."
He looked at her and said, "Everyone uses "swag", relax."
"Everyone uses "swag". Great. Genius. We are working on changing our history and you are going to say "swag" as a grown man and expect history to change."
She looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and said, "He doesn't get it." And walked back to the kitchen.
The man stood there, dumbfounded, holding his ladle and said, "She takes it all so seriously."
I looked down at my salad and cursed my nosiness that had led me into being a witness to such an uncomfortable situation. I could think of nothing witty to say to break the tension. Then the man walked back to the kitchen too.
I paid my bill and went to class.
I had two very divergent thoughts as I reflected on the encounter.
1. This woman felt the weight of her history each day and the responsibility to chose each word carefully to change perception and the future. (what an amazing individual, how many of us could carry that load?)
2. What would the world be like if we all chose to be selective about the words we say? If each word was written as part of the history?
There are persons of wisdom and deep thought hidden in life's tapestry. Luckie me, I expect to find them and I always do. Luckie me, they will all be included in my history.
She stopped, put down her ladle and said," Are you stupid? Do you know what swag means? Just because JZ says swag doesn't mean that you should use it! I looked swag up and it means curtain. Choose your own words."
He looked at her and said, "Everyone uses "swag", relax."
"Everyone uses "swag". Great. Genius. We are working on changing our history and you are going to say "swag" as a grown man and expect history to change."
She looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and said, "He doesn't get it." And walked back to the kitchen.
The man stood there, dumbfounded, holding his ladle and said, "She takes it all so seriously."
I looked down at my salad and cursed my nosiness that had led me into being a witness to such an uncomfortable situation. I could think of nothing witty to say to break the tension. Then the man walked back to the kitchen too.
I paid my bill and went to class.
I had two very divergent thoughts as I reflected on the encounter.
1. This woman felt the weight of her history each day and the responsibility to chose each word carefully to change perception and the future. (what an amazing individual, how many of us could carry that load?)
2. What would the world be like if we all chose to be selective about the words we say? If each word was written as part of the history?
There are persons of wisdom and deep thought hidden in life's tapestry. Luckie me, I expect to find them and I always do. Luckie me, they will all be included in my history.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Shiny Floors
Tomorrow is back to school day for many people. My little world seems to be vibrating with anxious waves of energy, what will tomorrow bring? What will tomorrow bring?
Here is what I know for sure:
Tomorrow will bring-
kids with book bags and nervous grins
teachers with book bags and nervous grins
lots of problem solving opportunities.
But, there will also be....
a million rays of possibility
reflecting off the shiny floors.
And that makes me grateful that I get to do what I do.
First day miracles in fresh wax. I can't wait!
Here is what I know for sure:
Tomorrow will bring-
kids with book bags and nervous grins
teachers with book bags and nervous grins
lots of problem solving opportunities.
But, there will also be....
a million rays of possibility
reflecting off the shiny floors.
And that makes me grateful that I get to do what I do.
First day miracles in fresh wax. I can't wait!
Friday, August 10, 2012
Hummmm
I gave myself the gift of time.
A whole afternoon in fact.
To sit and rock and sit and rock and
listen.
I looked too,
but I didn't do anything.
I didn't read or plan or worry or write.
I didn't think.
At first, it was hard, at first, I felt guilty.
At first, I couldn't quiet myself. My mind kept going back to my
"to dos".
Oh, but then.
I saw a tiny hummingbird on the feeder and then another and another.
Three together sparring and sipping. I watched and then closed my eyes and listened.
I sat very still and listened for a long time.
Then I heard it:
The hums of their wings were unique. Each bird's wings had a signature pitch.
And that recognition brought me great joy. I was flooded with gratefulness for this tiny tidbit.
I have thought about that moment everyday since. I am sure there are a million metaphors for life and good living embedded in that moment.
But, my lesson was this:
there are small and wondrous things all around, little nudges from the universe that life was meant to be beautiful. All I need to do is breathe and cherish and the joy comes rushing in.
Everyday miracles on a itsy bitsy wing~
A whole afternoon in fact.
To sit and rock and sit and rock and
listen.
I looked too,
but I didn't do anything.
I didn't read or plan or worry or write.
I didn't think.
At first, it was hard, at first, I felt guilty.
At first, I couldn't quiet myself. My mind kept going back to my
"to dos".
Oh, but then.
I saw a tiny hummingbird on the feeder and then another and another.
Three together sparring and sipping. I watched and then closed my eyes and listened.
I sat very still and listened for a long time.
Then I heard it:
The hums of their wings were unique. Each bird's wings had a signature pitch.
And that recognition brought me great joy. I was flooded with gratefulness for this tiny tidbit.
I have thought about that moment everyday since. I am sure there are a million metaphors for life and good living embedded in that moment.
But, my lesson was this:
there are small and wondrous things all around, little nudges from the universe that life was meant to be beautiful. All I need to do is breathe and cherish and the joy comes rushing in.
Everyday miracles on a itsy bitsy wing~
Friday, July 13, 2012
A gathering up
I had a conversation with a young woman earlier this week.
It was a long journey from where she started to the stoop on which we both sat to talk. She has seen things and experienced things that people shouldn't have to see or experience, ever. She has lost people and her place in the world. All of this I knew and had grieved before we spoke.
In her quiet voice, with large tears dropping onto the step below, she shared her dream with me and also her fear that it may not come true. It wasn't a grandiose dream; nothing extreme or flashy for her.
She wants her education.
She wants her education!!
My heart broke for her lost opportunities as we sat still on the stoop, both looking down. I put my arm on her shoulders to comfort her but I could not speak.
And then I felt it, her spirit gathering up inside of her; putting her back together, drying her cheeks, and propping up her resolve. I felt that gathering so strongly that I expected to look over and see her angel self putting her physical self back together.
"Miss Michelle, I had the honor roll when I was young."
"Of course you did because you are smart," I said.
Viktor Frankl, author of the book Man's Search for Meaning, wrote, " “Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”
Luckie me, I was in the presence of a great and dedicated chooser. She will get her education.
It was a long journey from where she started to the stoop on which we both sat to talk. She has seen things and experienced things that people shouldn't have to see or experience, ever. She has lost people and her place in the world. All of this I knew and had grieved before we spoke.
In her quiet voice, with large tears dropping onto the step below, she shared her dream with me and also her fear that it may not come true. It wasn't a grandiose dream; nothing extreme or flashy for her.
She wants her education.
She wants her education!!
My heart broke for her lost opportunities as we sat still on the stoop, both looking down. I put my arm on her shoulders to comfort her but I could not speak.
And then I felt it, her spirit gathering up inside of her; putting her back together, drying her cheeks, and propping up her resolve. I felt that gathering so strongly that I expected to look over and see her angel self putting her physical self back together.
"Miss Michelle, I had the honor roll when I was young."
"Of course you did because you are smart," I said.
Viktor Frankl, author of the book Man's Search for Meaning, wrote, " “Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”
Luckie me, I was in the presence of a great and dedicated chooser. She will get her education.
Monday, July 2, 2012
I see you.
One day, a long time ago, I was significantly struggling.
I was trying hard to get through. I avoided all eyes, forced every smile, and swallowed the ugly cry that kept trying to creep up my throat. I thought I was doing pretty well at the Big Fake.
And then.
A person, not a stranger, but almost a stranger, came up to me, looked me right in the eye and said,
i see you.
you aren't alone.
Then she patted my hand and walked away.
It meant the whole world to me that day.
Today I paid it forward and I witnessed the power of simply bearing witness.
I didn't fix anything. (i see you)
Nothing essential was changed. (you aren't alone)
But in that honest moment, there was a space for hope.
Thank you lady of long ago for sharing your blessing with me. Your name is lost in some errant file of my brain but your gift remains.
Everyday miracles in six words and some space. Lovely.
I was trying hard to get through. I avoided all eyes, forced every smile, and swallowed the ugly cry that kept trying to creep up my throat. I thought I was doing pretty well at the Big Fake.
And then.
A person, not a stranger, but almost a stranger, came up to me, looked me right in the eye and said,
i see you.
you aren't alone.
Then she patted my hand and walked away.
It meant the whole world to me that day.
Today I paid it forward and I witnessed the power of simply bearing witness.
I didn't fix anything. (i see you)
Nothing essential was changed. (you aren't alone)
But in that honest moment, there was a space for hope.
Thank you lady of long ago for sharing your blessing with me. Your name is lost in some errant file of my brain but your gift remains.
Everyday miracles in six words and some space. Lovely.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Plucked
Today I plucked a stone from my heart.
I held it in my hand and examined it as a casual observer would. It was shiny and sharp; obsidian condensed. Obviously igneous in origin ( formed at some point in my volcanic past), it felt heavy in my hand. Looking at it and feeling its dense burden, I understood why it had held a prized spot on my internal shelf for so long.
Then I set it down gently to the side of my path.
The gentleness surprised me. I have long thought that when this moment came, I would fling this old hurt far away or pulverize it to dust. But today, today I found I had lost the associated fervor and animosity and so
I set it gently down.
Peace and confidence rushed in to fill the void left from my plucking and I found myself standing in the gym with a huge and goofy smile on my face.
Forgiveness. A profound and en"lightening" everyday miracle.
I held it in my hand and examined it as a casual observer would. It was shiny and sharp; obsidian condensed. Obviously igneous in origin ( formed at some point in my volcanic past), it felt heavy in my hand. Looking at it and feeling its dense burden, I understood why it had held a prized spot on my internal shelf for so long.
Then I set it down gently to the side of my path.
The gentleness surprised me. I have long thought that when this moment came, I would fling this old hurt far away or pulverize it to dust. But today, today I found I had lost the associated fervor and animosity and so
I set it gently down.
Peace and confidence rushed in to fill the void left from my plucking and I found myself standing in the gym with a huge and goofy smile on my face.
Forgiveness. A profound and en"lightening" everyday miracle.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
You gotta laugh
I was working with a new student yesterday and we (the assembled adults) were trying to figure out how to get him out of his wheelchair. In case you have never had the experience, each wheelchair is unique in its lever and its belts and whozawhatisits and thingadings. I was working on a lever, trying to find the ever so secret button to release it, when my eyes met the student's eyes and he started giggling. And then we all started giggling.
Then giggling turned to laughing and laughing turned into more laughing.
I can't even imagine what was going through his head. I know I would have been thinking:
"These are the people in charge??"
"Why does the short one keep talking? She should be concentrating on the chair!"
Etc.
Etc.
My heart was filled in that moment of laughter and I was so grateful, so very grateful to that student for sharing that moment with us and for his simple, yet wise reminder that sometimes in life, many times actually,
you just gotta laugh.
Grace and kindness in an awkward situation-this kid truly is a miracle. Luckie me, I get to see him everyday.
Then giggling turned to laughing and laughing turned into more laughing.
I can't even imagine what was going through his head. I know I would have been thinking:
"These are the people in charge??"
"Why does the short one keep talking? She should be concentrating on the chair!"
Etc.
Etc.
My heart was filled in that moment of laughter and I was so grateful, so very grateful to that student for sharing that moment with us and for his simple, yet wise reminder that sometimes in life, many times actually,
you just gotta laugh.
Grace and kindness in an awkward situation-this kid truly is a miracle. Luckie me, I get to see him everyday.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Summer
I was at the convenience store yesterday and overheard the following conversation.
Child to mom, " I am so glad you make us wait until the last day of school for our first slurpee."
Mom to child, " Slurpees are the start of summer. What kind are you getting?"
Child to mom," I think I want blue because before I had a Coke one and it was good, but it wasn't blue and I like when my teeth to turn blue and then Dad knows when he sees my blue teeth that it is really summer and blue is like the pool and the beach and a Coke one is just brown and... but I know I like the Coke one but I think blue, yes blue. I am going to get blue."
Mom to child, " Blue it is."
Child to Mom, " What kind are you getting?"
Mom to child, " Blue of course, I don't want you to be the only one with the cool blue teeth!"
Child to Mom,as he took her hand, " It is going to be so great!"
I was on my way to get my usual unsweetened ice tea,
but I had to circle back
and get a blue slushee.
The kid was right. It tasted like summer!
(my blue teeth weren't a huge hit in my graduate class, but I could tell, they were just jealous.)
The ability to celebrate the everyday- what a great gift for a mom to give to her child.
The ability to celebrate the everyday- that is my wish for you on this Tuesday morning.
Child to mom, " I am so glad you make us wait until the last day of school for our first slurpee."
Mom to child, " Slurpees are the start of summer. What kind are you getting?"
Child to mom," I think I want blue because before I had a Coke one and it was good, but it wasn't blue and I like when my teeth to turn blue and then Dad knows when he sees my blue teeth that it is really summer and blue is like the pool and the beach and a Coke one is just brown and... but I know I like the Coke one but I think blue, yes blue. I am going to get blue."
Mom to child, " Blue it is."
Child to Mom, " What kind are you getting?"
Mom to child, " Blue of course, I don't want you to be the only one with the cool blue teeth!"
Child to Mom,as he took her hand, " It is going to be so great!"
I was on my way to get my usual unsweetened ice tea,
but I had to circle back
and get a blue slushee.
The kid was right. It tasted like summer!
(my blue teeth weren't a huge hit in my graduate class, but I could tell, they were just jealous.)
The ability to celebrate the everyday- what a great gift for a mom to give to her child.
The ability to celebrate the everyday- that is my wish for you on this Tuesday morning.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
really really real love
I was thinking today that I have officially lived more of my life with my hubby than without. It is kind of a strange feeling being so connected to one person for so long. He has seen me at my best and Lord knows he has seen me at my worst and I have been witness to his extremes too. Yet most of our lives together have been those every day, in-between times when extreme seems a funny and foreign word.
My sweet William is the best person I have ever met. I am still thankful and oft times incredulous that he picked me to be his wife. He is honest and hard working and handsome and loyal and kind. He is a wonderful father, son, brother, and friend. He calms me and soothes my soul. I still get butterflies when he kisses me. Oh, the list could go on....
But.
I wanted to share this one extra special thing.
(the everyday miracle found in the long-term, slogging out a life together thing)
he knows me;
really really real knows me. i really really real know him too.
And.
He is on the red-eye. Coming home.
really really real love.
luckie me.
My sweet William is the best person I have ever met. I am still thankful and oft times incredulous that he picked me to be his wife. He is honest and hard working and handsome and loyal and kind. He is a wonderful father, son, brother, and friend. He calms me and soothes my soul. I still get butterflies when he kisses me. Oh, the list could go on....
But.
I wanted to share this one extra special thing.
(the everyday miracle found in the long-term, slogging out a life together thing)
he knows me;
really really real knows me. i really really real know him too.
And.
He is on the red-eye. Coming home.
really really real love.
luckie me.
Monday, May 14, 2012
I was walking down 44...
A friend of mine was recently lost in the woods; really a bit lost for at least a few hours. She was alone in a place that was beautiful, but foreign to her, and once she realized she was lost, I am sure the scenery was the last thing on her mind. She got discombobulated ( for lack of a better word- really, is there a better word in the world than discombobulated? ) when all the trails looked the same.
But, no worries my friends, this story has a happy ending!
SHE FOUND HER WAY HOME!
We were very relieved that she was safe and sound, but that is not why I tell this story.
Of course, there are everyday miracles already embedded in the trial above, but there is a deeper miracle to be discovered. Keep reading.
Did she cry about her long afternoon? Did she complain?
Nope.
She chose to sing about her crazy day. She chose to laugh and move on. She chose to not let the past few hours ruin the future few hours. Aah, the everyday miracle of choice...
Walking down 44
(sing these lines to any really twangy country song that pops in your head and FYI Reeders is an amazing country bar in the middle of nowhere)
While I was walking down 44,
I knocked on just about every door,
I hollered and walked and hollered some more,
My heart was tired and my feet were sore.
Then I saw with sheer delight,
The sign with the antlers and specials of Bud Light,
It gave me strength, it gave me might
it was
Reeders in the distance.
(chorus)
Reeders, Reeders,
Where lost friends are found,
Reeders, Reeders,
I'm so glad you are around.
A big reframe with an extra little twist- lovely!
But, no worries my friends, this story has a happy ending!
SHE FOUND HER WAY HOME!
We were very relieved that she was safe and sound, but that is not why I tell this story.
Of course, there are everyday miracles already embedded in the trial above, but there is a deeper miracle to be discovered. Keep reading.
Did she cry about her long afternoon? Did she complain?
Nope.
She chose to sing about her crazy day. She chose to laugh and move on. She chose to not let the past few hours ruin the future few hours. Aah, the everyday miracle of choice...
Walking down 44
(sing these lines to any really twangy country song that pops in your head and FYI Reeders is an amazing country bar in the middle of nowhere)
While I was walking down 44,
I knocked on just about every door,
I hollered and walked and hollered some more,
My heart was tired and my feet were sore.
Then I saw with sheer delight,
The sign with the antlers and specials of Bud Light,
It gave me strength, it gave me might
it was
Reeders in the distance.
(chorus)
Reeders, Reeders,
Where lost friends are found,
Reeders, Reeders,
I'm so glad you are around.
A big reframe with an extra little twist- lovely!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Kate in the morning
My kids are all grown up.
I love the ages they are now- bursting with enthusiasm and possibility, able to live their own lives, able to have a glass of wine with dinner and discuss politics and other adult things.
But, sometimes, I miss their younger days when we had them all to ourselves to snuggle with and play with and read to and do the million other little things that families do every day.
Today I was cleaning out a stack of old papers and found a poem I wrote about my daughter Kate many years ago. I was struck with a memory so profound and wonderful that I had to share.
Katie in the Morning
Hardly contained in her little girl shell,
Words and feelings
pop out of every pore-
making her feet grow
making her face change.
(she is all opinions and beauty. she is her father's biggest worry.)
But,
In my eyes she will always be
Katie in the morning
Looking for a hug and
eating cereal-
All birdsnests and brown eyes.
And here is the everyday miracle, the heart remembers. It remembers and smiles, long after life has moved on.
I love the ages they are now- bursting with enthusiasm and possibility, able to live their own lives, able to have a glass of wine with dinner and discuss politics and other adult things.
But, sometimes, I miss their younger days when we had them all to ourselves to snuggle with and play with and read to and do the million other little things that families do every day.
Today I was cleaning out a stack of old papers and found a poem I wrote about my daughter Kate many years ago. I was struck with a memory so profound and wonderful that I had to share.
Katie in the Morning
Hardly contained in her little girl shell,
Words and feelings
pop out of every pore-
making her feet grow
making her face change.
(she is all opinions and beauty. she is her father's biggest worry.)
But,
In my eyes she will always be
Katie in the morning
Looking for a hug and
eating cereal-
All birdsnests and brown eyes.
And here is the everyday miracle, the heart remembers. It remembers and smiles, long after life has moved on.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Taste the Purple
I love lilacs. When I see them, purple and fragrant, hanging in great gobs of lovely, they make my heart beat. They bring sweet smiles to my face. They remind me to breathe deeply.
I passed many lilacs today and had to stop and pull over at one particularly beautiful bunch. I pulled off to the side of the road, snuck up to a lilac bush and stuck my head all the way in. I was so far in the flowers I could taste the purple at the back of my throat and nose. Lilac purple is sweet and overwhelming (but in a good way).
I did some thinking with my head in those flowers- clear thinking without the mish mash of other obligations and distractions. I like to think of it as "lilac thinking" and it was very profound as it tends to be.
I thought,
Even in all my imperfections, I still try.
Even in all the heartache in this world, I still love and am amazed at the love given to me.
Even in the middle of this neighborhood, there is such beauty.
I smiled and inhaled the purple and remembered that it is all a gift.
Then I smiled and giggled and got back in my car and hoped the lilac owner didn't mind me sharing the bounty of the spring that happened to be on his lawn.
Deep purple happiness- an everyday (April and May) miracle!
I passed many lilacs today and had to stop and pull over at one particularly beautiful bunch. I pulled off to the side of the road, snuck up to a lilac bush and stuck my head all the way in. I was so far in the flowers I could taste the purple at the back of my throat and nose. Lilac purple is sweet and overwhelming (but in a good way).
I did some thinking with my head in those flowers- clear thinking without the mish mash of other obligations and distractions. I like to think of it as "lilac thinking" and it was very profound as it tends to be.
I thought,
Even in all my imperfections, I still try.
Even in all the heartache in this world, I still love and am amazed at the love given to me.
Even in the middle of this neighborhood, there is such beauty.
I smiled and inhaled the purple and remembered that it is all a gift.
Then I smiled and giggled and got back in my car and hoped the lilac owner didn't mind me sharing the bounty of the spring that happened to be on his lawn.
Deep purple happiness- an everyday (April and May) miracle!
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Sleeping Beauty
To Whom It May Concern:
I wrote this poem a few years back for my husband to thank him for putting up with such a tumultuous and noisy wife.
I looked for it everywhere this morning as I actually WOKE MYSELF from a dead sleep with a snore/snort/roll over laugh.
Me, in bed.
Not the sweet, quiet beauty
With pouty lips and smooth cheek to pillow-
But, instead,
A wild, tangled mess of noise and movement.
Waking from unconscious battles with loud snorts,
Only to fall back into heated, one-sided debates.
No inanimate dreaming for me.
Amazing then,
That every day when I wake (far from my side and wrapped tight in every cover),
That he still smiles at me, amused and tender,
As if he had spent a night of pleasurable ease with some
demure lover.
Love that survives all the big,all the little, and all the annoying moments of each day.
Ladies and gentlemen of the court, that is one awesomely wonderful miracle.
Sweet dreams,
Sleeping Beauty
I wrote this poem a few years back for my husband to thank him for putting up with such a tumultuous and noisy wife.
I looked for it everywhere this morning as I actually WOKE MYSELF from a dead sleep with a snore/snort/roll over laugh.
Me, in bed.
Not the sweet, quiet beauty
With pouty lips and smooth cheek to pillow-
But, instead,
A wild, tangled mess of noise and movement.
Waking from unconscious battles with loud snorts,
Only to fall back into heated, one-sided debates.
No inanimate dreaming for me.
Amazing then,
That every day when I wake (far from my side and wrapped tight in every cover),
That he still smiles at me, amused and tender,
As if he had spent a night of pleasurable ease with some
demure lover.
Love that survives all the big,all the little, and all the annoying moments of each day.
Ladies and gentlemen of the court, that is one awesomely wonderful miracle.
Sweet dreams,
Sleeping Beauty
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
A Sweet Refrain
I was in the checkout line, looking a little rough in a rugged ponytail, worn tee, and old yoga pants. I was feeling rough on the inside too. Actually, I think jagged is a better descriptor.
Yep, I was feeling jagged inside; sharp, pointy, scratchy, and craggy.
I imagined myself as a thousand pointed icicles putting Greek yogurt on the checkout conveyor belt. (a ridiculous feat to be sure.)
I took a deep breath.
I tried to reframe.
I took a deep breath.
I tried to reframe.
I took a deep breath
and listened.
There it was under the muzac of the store, under my icicles of ego glass, under my attempts to reframe....
peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.
Ah, there it was. My needed sweet refrain.
peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.
I smiled at the kid in the cart behind me bugging his mom for a candy bar.
I was not jagged. (Of course the ponytail and the "I need to do laundry" ensemble had not changed. I was kind of hoping that such an internal epiphany would equal a Wonder Woman outfit but no such luck.)
I asked those who love me to pray for peace this past week. I meant for them to pray for those who were lost and hurting.
Luckie me, my loved ones are generous in all things including prayer.
Luckie me, God's intent was louder than the piped in Beyonce in Giant.
Yep, I was feeling jagged inside; sharp, pointy, scratchy, and craggy.
I imagined myself as a thousand pointed icicles putting Greek yogurt on the checkout conveyor belt. (a ridiculous feat to be sure.)
I took a deep breath.
I tried to reframe.
I took a deep breath.
I tried to reframe.
I took a deep breath
and listened.
There it was under the muzac of the store, under my icicles of ego glass, under my attempts to reframe....
peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.
Ah, there it was. My needed sweet refrain.
peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.peace.
I smiled at the kid in the cart behind me bugging his mom for a candy bar.
I was not jagged. (Of course the ponytail and the "I need to do laundry" ensemble had not changed. I was kind of hoping that such an internal epiphany would equal a Wonder Woman outfit but no such luck.)
I asked those who love me to pray for peace this past week. I meant for them to pray for those who were lost and hurting.
Luckie me, my loved ones are generous in all things including prayer.
Luckie me, God's intent was louder than the piped in Beyonce in Giant.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Salient
"Sometimes, I just need to see your face and smush your cheeks," my friend said to me.
I smiled, ear to ear, making my cheeks noticeably more smushable. "Sometimes I just need to see your face too."
And then it hit me.
The point of all points.
The big one.
The truth known to everyone (even the ones that act like they don't know it.)
There is no greater gift than to look at each person with love.
A visit with a dear friend, a basket of fried pickles, and a friendly reminder of a salient truth; pretty profound for Texas Roadhouse on a Tuesday. Gotta love those everyday miracles.
I smiled, ear to ear, making my cheeks noticeably more smushable. "Sometimes I just need to see your face too."
And then it hit me.
The point of all points.
The big one.
The truth known to everyone (even the ones that act like they don't know it.)
There is no greater gift than to look at each person with love.
A visit with a dear friend, a basket of fried pickles, and a friendly reminder of a salient truth; pretty profound for Texas Roadhouse on a Tuesday. Gotta love those everyday miracles.
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Big Reframe
Yesterday was a stressful day at work. I let it get the better of me and my typically optimistic attitude. As I reflected last night, it occurred to me that although today will probably not be any less stressful, I could choose to find the positive in it and I can always choose my perspective.
That thought gave me great hope.
It also re-engaged my fortitude and with that lens, I thought about the day again. Here is yesterday through my rose colored glasses:
The ability to reframe... an everyday blessing to me.
That thought gave me great hope.
It also re-engaged my fortitude and with that lens, I thought about the day again. Here is yesterday through my rose colored glasses:
- My stress was caused by bureaucracy, not tragedy.
- Although stressed, I was still styling in my animal print top.
- Our philosophy of doing what is good for kids and families is good for our community. The rest is details.
- My need to always do everything perfectly drives myself and those around me crazy. I need to get over my bad self.
- And, finally, most importantly, I work with amazing people who care about me and supported me in my slightly crazed, somewhat teary state.
The ability to reframe... an everyday blessing to me.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Blank and Sturdy
Today I bought a tri-fold cardboard for a presentation I need to do. I must have looked at 5 different kinds and ended up paying $2 more for the extra sturdy version. It is something special- all blank and rigid with two neat folds and made from recycled cardboard. I carried it carefully to my car so as not to ding the corners.
I have to admit it. I was giddy.
I actually had a little "coming to Jesus" with myself in the parking lot to reign in my overwhelming desire to run like a wild lady back into Staples. I really wanted that giant assortment of multi-colored slim Sharpies and some rubber cement.
My mind raced all the way to school thinking of the clever and unusual things I could put on that board for my presentation. Oh, the possibilities!!!
I was thinking, "Tri-fold cardboard, an everyday miracle!"
But then I realized, it wasn't the cardboard. It was the potential making me smile.
That blank slate, the unfettered line, the whole world in a tri-fold!
P.S- I set up the tri-fold on my kitchen table for inspiration. It is adjustable and not easy to knock down- just the way I like my potential. :)
I have to admit it. I was giddy.
I actually had a little "coming to Jesus" with myself in the parking lot to reign in my overwhelming desire to run like a wild lady back into Staples. I really wanted that giant assortment of multi-colored slim Sharpies and some rubber cement.
My mind raced all the way to school thinking of the clever and unusual things I could put on that board for my presentation. Oh, the possibilities!!!
I was thinking, "Tri-fold cardboard, an everyday miracle!"
But then I realized, it wasn't the cardboard. It was the potential making me smile.
That blank slate, the unfettered line, the whole world in a tri-fold!
P.S- I set up the tri-fold on my kitchen table for inspiration. It is adjustable and not easy to knock down- just the way I like my potential. :)
Monday, February 13, 2012
Plant Magnetism
I know that tomorrow is Valentine's Day and you are probably thinking that I should write some super sweet love story with kissing and stuff. (I have some of those, but to share today would be too cliche). :)
I visited a magnificent tree this weekend. I was drawn off the trail to its roots. I craned my neck to see its top and put my cheek against its living suit.
It is an old tree; probably escaped the loggers of the late 1800's through some exciting twist of fate or natural magic. It has that aura of improbability about it.
It is a wrinkly tree with deep rivets in its bark. When I put my fingers into the folds, there was a smoothness at its core. Fascinating.
That tree has stood there through generations of human foolishness and grew tall and round and wise. It understands the present of the present with its snowflakes or summer sun.
I fell in love with that tree on Saturday in a little knoll on a little trail in central Pennsylvania.
I would have stayed all day to watch the snow accumulate on its branches and bask in its stately peace, but eventually it whispered to me,
"Get along child, you have some growing to do."
I visited a magnificent tree this weekend. I was drawn off the trail to its roots. I craned my neck to see its top and put my cheek against its living suit.
It is an old tree; probably escaped the loggers of the late 1800's through some exciting twist of fate or natural magic. It has that aura of improbability about it.
It is a wrinkly tree with deep rivets in its bark. When I put my fingers into the folds, there was a smoothness at its core. Fascinating.
That tree has stood there through generations of human foolishness and grew tall and round and wise. It understands the present of the present with its snowflakes or summer sun.
I fell in love with that tree on Saturday in a little knoll on a little trail in central Pennsylvania.
I would have stayed all day to watch the snow accumulate on its branches and bask in its stately peace, but eventually it whispered to me,
"Get along child, you have some growing to do."
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Finding my foot... on the floor
I am not known for my grace or coordination. In fact, in some circles, I am infamous for the opposite. I used to mind it a lot; always back line in dance class, falling up the stairs, never hitting a basket with a ball, etc. But, as I have grown older/wiser, I have come to love my clumsy self (because really what else is there to do?)
So, I celebrate little victories over my body that rejects motor planning like it is its job. And I enjoy the awkward adventure when victory eludes me.
Today, I found my foot on the floor.
It wasn't pretty, as my friend would say watching me. Oh no, it was not pretty. But I did it. Five times on each side to be exact (not exactly exact, but pretty darn close) and if we are counting it that way I should really say I found both feet on the floor. That would be a double "atta girl"!
I found my foot with my hand on the opposite side of my body while looking at my other hand that was pointed to the sky and with slightly bended knees and no peaking. Wow, it even sounds complicated to write it!
Tonight I have a happy heart because I found my feet and I have friends who encourage me even when I can't find them.
"A little more to the left MacLuckie."
"No, your other left."
:)Luckie me.
So, I celebrate little victories over my body that rejects motor planning like it is its job. And I enjoy the awkward adventure when victory eludes me.
Today, I found my foot on the floor.
It wasn't pretty, as my friend would say watching me. Oh no, it was not pretty. But I did it. Five times on each side to be exact (not exactly exact, but pretty darn close) and if we are counting it that way I should really say I found both feet on the floor. That would be a double "atta girl"!
I found my foot with my hand on the opposite side of my body while looking at my other hand that was pointed to the sky and with slightly bended knees and no peaking. Wow, it even sounds complicated to write it!
Tonight I have a happy heart because I found my feet and I have friends who encourage me even when I can't find them.
"A little more to the left MacLuckie."
"No, your other left."
:)Luckie me.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Adult Children
Maternal pleasure is felt often in parenting. That quiet moment when your baby grasps your hand tightly, the first words, reading a book before bed, etc. The list could go on forever and is very personal for each mom and child. ( Now that I think about it, chronicling that list for an hour would probably end with a grateful heart. I'm going to put that on my "to dos")
Today I am celebrating a distinct maternal pleasure however.
This week I spent time individually (and somewhat briefly) with each of my children. They are in that phase of life that sociologists are now calling extended adolescence for this generation. However, as we talked I realized that they have left adolescence behind.
They are headed down their grown up roads.
I know, as a mom, I should feel sadness as my baby birds leave the nest. But, although I miss them both everyday, mostly what I feel is joy at who they have become and what I see for them looking down their grown up roads.
My wee little babes have become individuals with character and dedication. It is fun to hang out with them and discuss books, life, relationships and yes, on occasion, even politics. (My son, my son a Republican! He must get that from his father.)
Having adult children that you would pick to hang out with even if they weren't your kids- a blessing one thousand times over.
One grateful and happy momma going to work with a smile on her face.
Today I am celebrating a distinct maternal pleasure however.
This week I spent time individually (and somewhat briefly) with each of my children. They are in that phase of life that sociologists are now calling extended adolescence for this generation. However, as we talked I realized that they have left adolescence behind.
They are headed down their grown up roads.
I know, as a mom, I should feel sadness as my baby birds leave the nest. But, although I miss them both everyday, mostly what I feel is joy at who they have become and what I see for them looking down their grown up roads.
My wee little babes have become individuals with character and dedication. It is fun to hang out with them and discuss books, life, relationships and yes, on occasion, even politics. (My son, my son a Republican! He must get that from his father.)
Having adult children that you would pick to hang out with even if they weren't your kids- a blessing one thousand times over.
One grateful and happy momma going to work with a smile on her face.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Geeky pleasure
I started taking classes again recently, as in last night, recently.
I am one of "those" people when I am a student. I am the annoying, sit in the front, notebook ready, hand poised for question answering, did all the homework kind of student. I can't help it. I love it so much. And, since I freely admit it, I think it makes me somewhat tolerable as a classmate. Trust me, you want me as your group partner!
All day today thoughts of education were on my mind.
~Imagine these in little thought bubbles~
I know people who have fought to be educated.
I know people who have left their families to be educated.
I know people who have to struggle to learn even the most basic things.
I know that I love to be in a classroom, engaged in conversation, learning from my classmates, thinking about things differently, suffering through the cognitive dissonance, groaning at the syllabus review.... oh, the geeky pleasure of it all!
Why do I love it so ridiculously?
I love the moment when either as a student, or as a teacher, something fits as a little golden "tidbit" (as my dear friend likes to say) into the intricate weave of intellect and the person is changed.
I love that "eureka" moment, shouted silently or out loud when it finally makes sense; when the equation is balanced, the argument made, the point delivered, the right question asked.
The opportunity to learn- a blessing to me!
P.S- Today I had all of these thoughts and also left my gym bag in the driveway instead of putting it my car before I went to work. Yep. Ridiculous, but true. As Victor Hugo once said,"“Common sense is in spite of, not the result of, education.” Obviously. :)
I am one of "those" people when I am a student. I am the annoying, sit in the front, notebook ready, hand poised for question answering, did all the homework kind of student. I can't help it. I love it so much. And, since I freely admit it, I think it makes me somewhat tolerable as a classmate. Trust me, you want me as your group partner!
All day today thoughts of education were on my mind.
~Imagine these in little thought bubbles~
I know people who have fought to be educated.
I know people who have left their families to be educated.
I know people who have to struggle to learn even the most basic things.
I know that I love to be in a classroom, engaged in conversation, learning from my classmates, thinking about things differently, suffering through the cognitive dissonance, groaning at the syllabus review.... oh, the geeky pleasure of it all!
Why do I love it so ridiculously?
I love the moment when either as a student, or as a teacher, something fits as a little golden "tidbit" (as my dear friend likes to say) into the intricate weave of intellect and the person is changed.
I love that "eureka" moment, shouted silently or out loud when it finally makes sense; when the equation is balanced, the argument made, the point delivered, the right question asked.
The opportunity to learn- a blessing to me!
P.S- Today I had all of these thoughts and also left my gym bag in the driveway instead of putting it my car before I went to work. Yep. Ridiculous, but true. As Victor Hugo once said,"“Common sense is in spite of, not the result of, education.” Obviously. :)
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Dip and Dill
I have a dear friend and former co-worker who did a wonderful thing each time it was a co-worker's birthday. She would find out that person's favorite treat and make it (homemade make it!) and bring it in to share. Over the years we worked together, I enjoyed a wide variety of cookies, cakes, and other assorted goodies. The best part of the whole birthday experience was that she took the time to really find out what you, the birthday girl/boy, really wanted as a treat. She labored, I can't even imagine how many hours, over the smallest details like shredding carrots for a special carrot cake or finding just the right card to bring a laugh out loud laugh.
She and I went through a lot together. She helped me, mentored me, let me cry on her shoulder, and then, when she really knew me, she made me my special birthday treat.
Spinach dip.
extra special in a big bread bowl on a fancy plate with a container to take home spinach dip!
I loved her for it and looked forward to it every year. Cake schmake, show me the dip!
Today another dear friend, and current co-worker, brought me a large jar of dill pickles. Heaven! It meant so much to me and reminded me of the spinach dip from long ago and not because they are both tasty treats!
I had this thought.
To have people in life that know you,
really know you...
not just the good stuff
not just the bad stuff
but the in between details that make you you
and they continue to like you a lot
even with all that knowledge
that is truly a blessing.
Lord knows, I have been dippy. I have also been pickled (no comment). And, through it all, I have been blessed.
Everyday miracles even in a jar of gherkins! :)
She and I went through a lot together. She helped me, mentored me, let me cry on her shoulder, and then, when she really knew me, she made me my special birthday treat.
Spinach dip.
extra special in a big bread bowl on a fancy plate with a container to take home spinach dip!
I loved her for it and looked forward to it every year. Cake schmake, show me the dip!
Today another dear friend, and current co-worker, brought me a large jar of dill pickles. Heaven! It meant so much to me and reminded me of the spinach dip from long ago and not because they are both tasty treats!
I had this thought.
To have people in life that know you,
really know you...
not just the good stuff
not just the bad stuff
but the in between details that make you you
and they continue to like you a lot
even with all that knowledge
that is truly a blessing.
Lord knows, I have been dippy. I have also been pickled (no comment). And, through it all, I have been blessed.
Everyday miracles even in a jar of gherkins! :)
Friday, January 13, 2012
Sometimes you just need to see yourself....differently
Self-perception has been on my mind a lot lately.
My sister and I share a mind set that most of the at-risk kids we teach and help are struggling from a warped self-perception. They live out the self fulfilling thoughts like ," I am a bad kid. I am worthless. I am mean." Our job is to make them see that they are contributing and successful members of the community who have had a rough time and that rough times pass.
My sister texted me a picture of she and her students working at the local soup kitchen this week. My heart cheered. Here it was--- a snapshot of possibility. The kids were making sandwiches, smiling, and working together for the good of others. A stranger looking at this picture might mistake the kids for honor roll students, members of a Key Club, or a youth church group. Each time she catches them being who they really are and shows them the evidence, they are nudged down the path of a different self-perception, a new reality. I love my sister because she is my sister. But the teacher in me loves her because she sees what others don't and pursues it relentlessly on behalf of her students' futures.
I have been thinking about self-perception in a different context also.
I made two decisions this week regarding self-perception.
1. Knowing that how I see someone impacts significantly how they see themselves, I want to try to see everyone with more loving eyes.
2. Knowing that my own internal critic is tough, I want to try to see more of myself through the loving eyes of others.
The ability to see yourself and others differently... an everyday miracle with lasting results.
My sister and I share a mind set that most of the at-risk kids we teach and help are struggling from a warped self-perception. They live out the self fulfilling thoughts like ," I am a bad kid. I am worthless. I am mean." Our job is to make them see that they are contributing and successful members of the community who have had a rough time and that rough times pass.
My sister texted me a picture of she and her students working at the local soup kitchen this week. My heart cheered. Here it was--- a snapshot of possibility. The kids were making sandwiches, smiling, and working together for the good of others. A stranger looking at this picture might mistake the kids for honor roll students, members of a Key Club, or a youth church group. Each time she catches them being who they really are and shows them the evidence, they are nudged down the path of a different self-perception, a new reality. I love my sister because she is my sister. But the teacher in me loves her because she sees what others don't and pursues it relentlessly on behalf of her students' futures.
I have been thinking about self-perception in a different context also.
I made two decisions this week regarding self-perception.
1. Knowing that how I see someone impacts significantly how they see themselves, I want to try to see everyone with more loving eyes.
2. Knowing that my own internal critic is tough, I want to try to see more of myself through the loving eyes of others.
The ability to see yourself and others differently... an everyday miracle with lasting results.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Goodbye Tears
We had family up from Texas to spend some time. We spent many hours just hanging out, eating like rock stars, playing, and telling the old family stories.
Last night, we said goodbye to them.
My young nephew, a truly sensitive soul, got very sad.
"I hate goodbyes," he said as a few large tears dripped from his eyes.
"Don't worry,time passes quickly and we will see everyone soon," his mom said.
"Don't be sad, summer will be here before you know it," his uncle said.
His cousins hugged him and tickled him and the tears receded, only to return every few minutes as the time for the real goodbyes got closer.
I snuggled in close with him for a few minutes and I wanted to say, "I get it kiddo, I am going to miss you guys so much too! Summer seems a long way off and grown ups always say stuff like that."
But I didn't want to fuel his tear production.
So, I said, "I love you so much!"
He said, "I love you so much too!"
And he gave me an extra squeeze.
He knew that I knew that he was right. Goodbyes are tough.Tough enough to warrant some tears sometimes.
The bond of family- another everyday miracle and a blessing to me. (come on summer!)
Last night, we said goodbye to them.
My young nephew, a truly sensitive soul, got very sad.
"I hate goodbyes," he said as a few large tears dripped from his eyes.
"Don't worry,time passes quickly and we will see everyone soon," his mom said.
"Don't be sad, summer will be here before you know it," his uncle said.
His cousins hugged him and tickled him and the tears receded, only to return every few minutes as the time for the real goodbyes got closer.
I snuggled in close with him for a few minutes and I wanted to say, "I get it kiddo, I am going to miss you guys so much too! Summer seems a long way off and grown ups always say stuff like that."
But I didn't want to fuel his tear production.
So, I said, "I love you so much!"
He said, "I love you so much too!"
And he gave me an extra squeeze.
He knew that I knew that he was right. Goodbyes are tough.Tough enough to warrant some tears sometimes.
The bond of family- another everyday miracle and a blessing to me. (come on summer!)
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