That's so random

This makes me happy. I could just look and look and look at things like this. Do you know what it is?

Ellie used my glitter, which was also something that I could just look at and be happy.

That's probably a good thing. It was wasteful to just have it and not use it. But I liked looking at it. It made me happy.

My new watch makes me happy too. It's hard to see here, but the little circles are swarovski crystals. It's like magic. I don't understand at all how it works. But it makes me happy.

That's all I need to be happy. This glitter and this watch. That's all I need. I don't need one more thing.

I need this! (Name that movie and I'll give you a sticker).

Ok, enough whining

Or whinging as my New Zealand friend says.

It's a new year. I've made resolutions. Of course, I want to be healthier. If that includes losing weight, that's awesome. I do want to exercise more often, but that was something I wanted to do way before the new year. Hopefully I will get it done though.

My main resolutions are to:

1) Make more art. I don't mean crafty stuff -- I do plenty of that, and I love it -- my knitting keeps me sane, but I mean real art -- drawing, painting, collage, etc.

2) Be a nicer person inside my head, and inside my car. I tend to call other drivers IDIOT quite often. I was trying to be kind to everyone before Christmas, and I let people in front of my several times at the Walmart parking lot, but I also ended up calling several of them IDIOT. My mom said that undid my good deed. She's probably right. I'm going to try being nicer on the inside this year. I think my outside self is pretty nice to pretty much everyone, but I'm not always nice inside my head or my heart. I want to be.

That's it for now. I have lots of things I want to do with my life. Be more organized, make long term lesson plans, de-clutter my house. But they are way too much to think of all at once!!!

I'm not ready

We had a wonderful Christmas. Really. And now I am totally freaking out. I am realizing that it's once again time for the letting go to begin. And I'm not ready. This time as parents of children who live with you goes too fast. There's no other way to put it. Next year at this time we will have two children living at college and not living with us except at holidays.

To put it lightly, I'm freaking out. Not outwardly. And I'll be fine. We'll all be fine. It's what we do these years of parenting for.

But trust me, it's not easy. I don't want to let go.

So Merry Christmas to all, or whatever holiday you might celebrate during this time of year when light is hard to come by (although here in Kansas we have had beautiful sunlight to balance out the dark nights). I understand and appreciate the many, many blessings in my life. And I know that in the big picture this letting go is easy compared to what many mother's deal with daily. But that doesn't make it any less gut-wrenching for me.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

I am so bad at this

I don't know how long it's been since I posted here. A long time. Life is busy. I read a quote last night in the book I'm reading that struck a cord.

"Imagine you dream of the things you might become--maybe a doll maker or a singer or you just want to travel one way to another country and see what it's like to live there. And at some point, you notice years have gone by, years of spending your days doing these trivial things you aren't even interested in. And you wonder what happened to your dreams? What happened to the you who might have been?"

-- From "Up from the Blue" by Susan Henderson

It just made me think about life, and how fast it goes by, and wondering if you really get the things done that you wanted to, that you dreamed about when you were young.

I don't know the answer. I know that a lot of the things that have taken up my time are nothing I ever dreamed, but I love them, because they made me who I am now and they brought the people into my life that mean so much to me. And helped me appreciate the ones that were already here.

I turn 52 tomorrow. I thought of making a list of 52 things but that kind of overwhelms me right now.

I'm going to go out tonight and watch the meteor shower with my family. And tomorrow I'm doing a "painting" birthday party for a friend and her daughter, who is one of my students. I'm excited about that.

I read a blog post about a woman who, along with her children, did 35 random acts of kindness for her 35th birthday. If I'd have read it sooner I would have tried to do that. Maybe we'll do it another day.

I always used to say fall was my favorite season, and it is a beautiful season, but I've decided that it's melancholy. I don't know why, but it feels that way to me. I know when my grandma died it was fall. That was the first death that really hit me, as an adult, and made mortality real. Her funeral was on my birthday. I remember vividly the funeral home director telling us that she was a lovely corpse. Even in my grief I couldn't believe it. Do you really tell people that???? Seriously?

Random post, but at least I posted for a change!
Be well.

On reading and sexism

I pride myself in being a pretty tolerant person. While I have my days (just ask my family) when people of the world get on my nerves, most of the time, I accept people where they are. I'm not one that has prejudices against others just because they are different from me. And if I identify a prejudice that I am harboring, I try to change it in myself. That being said, I pretty much refuse to read books written by men. Oh, ocassionally I will read a book by the likes of Thomas Merton, but when I choose books to read for pleasure, they are exclusively by women. So much so that I won't even look at books by men. Another thing about how I choose books, though, is that I have to like the cover. You know that adage "don't judge a book by it's cover?" Not true, for me, when choosing reading material. Cover is important. I believe in not judging people by their "cover" aka first impressions, etc., but when it comes to books? Well, forget it. I am drawn to interesting book covers. By women. I did read a book by a man recently, and liked it immensely. Hotel at the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford. Doesn't that title just make you want to read it? And it has a pretty cover too. I'm thinking he must write like a woman.

Remembering

I was cleaning yesterday and came across a paper copy of the sharing I did during worship (I wouldn't call it a sermon, because, well . . . I just wouldn't), when I left my job at the church. It brought back such memories of my work there, the joys and challenges.
I loved that job, and the interactions I had with our church community and the larger community as well. I spent a lot of time on the phone and in person with people in need in our community, and it was a part of the job that was most challenging and most rewarding at the same time. Sometimes we couldn't help, and that was hard. I was often the one who had to say no. I remember vividly calling a woman back to tell her we couldn't help her. She was in a dire situation and I had cried along with her when she initially called. I took her plight to the pastors, even though I knew our funds had been depleted for the month. When I called her back to tell her we couldn't help, she thanked me. Thanked me, even though I was the bearer of bad news. She appreciated so much that I had taken the time to call back.
I was humbled by the appreciation expressed when giving out groceries. People were surprised when we said they could take what they needed from our grocery cupboards, no limits, just take what you need. I think people in need are so used to restrictions, that when there aren't any, it's such a nice surprise. Also, when we gave our garage sale "leftovers" to the women at the domestic violence safe-house. These were the things we didn't want and also the things no one who came to our garage sale wanted. The dregs, essentially. But these women were so thankful to have them. Most of them were starting over, and needed everything for their new homes. Very humbling.
My experiences in that job made me a better person. I hope as I get farther away from it I don't lose that growth. I hope I continue to be a light-bearer to those I meet. I know I'm not always, I can come up with many times just off the top of my head that I haven't been. But I hope more times than not I am. And I hope I can always see the light in those I meet. I pray for that.

Sending them out . . .pulling them closer (when I can)

This summer has been a series of sending my children out into the world, and pulling them close when I can. It's what you do all the years of parenting for, but it isn't easy.

Our oldest went to Texas/New Mexico for 5 weeks. I know we are spoiled by having her in college right up the street. It's not that we (the parental units, anyway) see her that often. But we, and she, know we are only 5 minutes away, should we need each other for some reason. Of course we need each other, but in case we need direct contact. Having her 16 hours away was a new experience for all of us. She was homesick and we missed her. But we all grew through the experience.

12 hours after her return, our middle daughter left on the train for a week in Pittsburgh with our youth group. She was surrounded by people who love and care for her, but she was still going out into the world without us. After sitting at the train station for 45 minutes or so, she said "why are you still here?". It was 3:30 AM by that time, so we said our good-byes and left. She will be home before we know it. I know that's true, but I still miss her already!

In both of these letting gos, I have held it together, no crying. That's not normal for me. I used to cry leaving them at camp. As hard as it is for me to believe I can hold it together, I think it must be a natural step in parenthood. If I continued to cry every time they left me, I would be a basketcase. But it's weird, for sure. A new normal, I guess, to not have all of my chicks under my wing, or at least nearby. I've had people tell me "you need to loosen the apron strings" or similar platitudes. They have no idea.