Several years ago we heard that our friends from North Carolina were going to be in Utah. Their son told our son that he would come see him on a certain day. This is all the information I got. A day. I wasn't sure if his family; specifically his mother whom I adore, was thinking about coming too since the last time his family stopped by she was unable to be there. Again, no definite time was given, they'd just come when they could.
Well, many things began to go wrong that day. My stack of to-dos had already been piling up and becoming worrisome and weightier all week. I was one stressed out lady. I still remember how desperate and powerless I was feeling.
The price of gas had just shot up and I was combining trips whenever I could. I realized at one point that morning that I could actually get some back-to-school shopping done on the way back from another, critical errand I had to run. So I stopped at Target that day and amidst the crowds and the whining tweens, my shopping cart began to fill with pretty good deals, and a few hard-to-finds. My mind started to relax and I was feeling not so overwhelmed anymore, not to mention quite a bit closer to staying on budget.
It was at this point that my cell phone rang. It was Nick. Not only had his friend arrived at our house, but so had the entire family, including his mom. How fast can I get home? he asks.
Well, if I left my cart, and my hard won deals, and drove like mad...15 minutes. But that meant taking two steps back into the land of overwhelming incompetance and day-late dollar-shortness. I paused for a second to consider then said..."I just can't do it". If they could wait 'til I got home (45 minutes) that would be just smashing, but I didn't expect them to. And they didn't.
All the rest of the day I felt deflated, like the biggest loser. All that I accomplished and was finally able to cross off my list was no longer such a bright light at the end of my tunnel. I had been a schmuck to my friend who was afterall, visiting from over 2,000 miles away.
Apologies and explanations have weakly been offered. And I really have no idea how she feels about all of it. I know that she's been back in town a few times and has expressed no interest in giving a get-together another try and I don't blame her. I've traveled across country with a family before and know what it's like to have a long list of people that I want to visit or feel obliged to visit, so I know first hand how stressful that day probably was for her too.
Sometimes you just can't win them all. Such is the life of a woman. No matter how hard you try, or how hard you work, you will always feel like you've let someone down. So in a way, I have really given a priceless gift to my friend: one less person to worry about pleasing. I'm quite sure I'm off her list.
But this isn't as dire, dreary or depleating as it may sound. It's actually liberating and kind of funny. We don't need a vacation or a spa package to relax, all we need to do is acknowledge our faults and have a good laugh at ourselves. It may take a while, but soon you'll be joined by many friends, all laughing at themselves. You know...it's called retirement, aka the Golden Age.
"Surround yourself with people who take their work seriously, but not themselves." Colin Powell
Monday, July 25, 2011
F2 Baby
On August 11, 1999 my husband learned that when your wife shows up out of the blue at your office and wants to take you out for a slice of pie, she's probably coming to tell you something. Maybe something like, she's found a way to fill that one last empty seat in the mini-van? Yup, congratulations, another bun in the oven! Number five was every bit as exciting as the first, if not more. Of course, it didn't hurt that twenty seconds after I broke the news to Mark, a fellow patron in the restaurant stood up and shouted "get away from the windows!".
We were sitting in the restaurant part of the old Inn at Temple Square, next to the wall of windows that ran along South Temple. We dubbiously scanned the room to see if there were any obvious signs that we might want to listen to the crazy guy's frantic warning. Abruptly, other patrons started to stand and move from the windows so, still not knowing why...(maybe it was a gunman?), we left our table and moved to the center of the room as well. That is when we noticed that large debris had begun flying past the windows at uncanny speeds. The world outside had been turned into soup and someone was giving it a stir.
I found a phone in the lobby and called the babysitter at home to see how things were going there and to encourage them to go down to the basement and to also let them know we wouldn't be home for a while.
When everything had died down, people started emptying on to the streets in droves. Even people who otherwise had no business to go outside, went out to survey the damage. We were all walking up and down the streets aimlessly, all talking to each other like we'd known each other for years. Once in our car, it took us over 45 minutes just to get from State street to the I-15 on-ramp.
Everyone wants it to be special when you announce a pregnancy. But no amount of creativity or meteorological divination on my part could have ever produced a more memorable announcement than this. (even though I never did get to finish my piece of pie ).
Rachel, our fifth baby, came eight months later and has ironically been the calm after the storm. But, on the other hand, her creative powers surely carry a F3 or F4 punch that could really put any tornado to shame.
We were sitting in the restaurant part of the old Inn at Temple Square, next to the wall of windows that ran along South Temple. We dubbiously scanned the room to see if there were any obvious signs that we might want to listen to the crazy guy's frantic warning. Abruptly, other patrons started to stand and move from the windows so, still not knowing why...(maybe it was a gunman?), we left our table and moved to the center of the room as well. That is when we noticed that large debris had begun flying past the windows at uncanny speeds. The world outside had been turned into soup and someone was giving it a stir.
I found a phone in the lobby and called the babysitter at home to see how things were going there and to encourage them to go down to the basement and to also let them know we wouldn't be home for a while.
When everything had died down, people started emptying on to the streets in droves. Even people who otherwise had no business to go outside, went out to survey the damage. We were all walking up and down the streets aimlessly, all talking to each other like we'd known each other for years. Once in our car, it took us over 45 minutes just to get from State street to the I-15 on-ramp.
Everyone wants it to be special when you announce a pregnancy. But no amount of creativity or meteorological divination on my part could have ever produced a more memorable announcement than this. (even though I never did get to finish my piece of pie ).
Rachel, our fifth baby, came eight months later and has ironically been the calm after the storm. But, on the other hand, her creative powers surely carry a F3 or F4 punch that could really put any tornado to shame.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
When you're a woman, and life hands you this sentence: "Comb-over, 50 to life", you can try to discern what crime you committed to deserve such a punishment, or you can carefully meter out what courage you still have left from all the other sucker-punches you've been dealt and march on... until you drop.
Here's what happens. One day you'll want to go out with your husband and NOT wear a wig or a hat or anything. You'll want to feel normal, even though you know your not. So you'll choose a venue in another city where no one knows you. You will strategically place every strand of hair where it can cover the most scalp and still look inconspicuous. Then off you'll go.
In my case, we chose the Timpanogos Temple. This is the part where the temple workers; the kindest, most seasoned, sweet little old ladies would speak to me, all the time looking me in the eyes, except of course for the occasional, almost rhythmic glance up...at my hair. And yes, they pretty much all had more hair than me.
No worries, right? Who cares. Off to the grocery store. It's 10:30 now, on a Friday night. I won't see anyone I know, right? Wrong. There's person A at the cucumbers, but fortunately I can duck into the cereal isle quick enough before she sees me and wants to chat. Phew! But who would be in the cereal isle??? Person B. Now I'm surrounded. I have to talk to person B, and sure enough, buying cucumbers obviously reminds person A how much she needs some rice crispies and viola! it's a party in the cereal isle. Everyone's invited but my hair.
So, ok...let's be humble. Let's have a little perspective. Let's go buy some milk. We won't see anyone else we know, for the remainder of the jaunt, but we will pass another woman...with a comb-over. She'll be a night stock person. She has the good sense to relegate herself to the graveyard shift where all women who look like they just crawled out of a grave belong.
I'm almost out of courage. I feel it waning. I've done my best. It's time to drop.
I need a farm, out in the middle Kansas somewhere, where no one has my address and I don't even own a phone. Or a miracle...yeah, that would be nice too.
Here's what happens. One day you'll want to go out with your husband and NOT wear a wig or a hat or anything. You'll want to feel normal, even though you know your not. So you'll choose a venue in another city where no one knows you. You will strategically place every strand of hair where it can cover the most scalp and still look inconspicuous. Then off you'll go.
In my case, we chose the Timpanogos Temple. This is the part where the temple workers; the kindest, most seasoned, sweet little old ladies would speak to me, all the time looking me in the eyes, except of course for the occasional, almost rhythmic glance up...at my hair. And yes, they pretty much all had more hair than me.
No worries, right? Who cares. Off to the grocery store. It's 10:30 now, on a Friday night. I won't see anyone I know, right? Wrong. There's person A at the cucumbers, but fortunately I can duck into the cereal isle quick enough before she sees me and wants to chat. Phew! But who would be in the cereal isle??? Person B. Now I'm surrounded. I have to talk to person B, and sure enough, buying cucumbers obviously reminds person A how much she needs some rice crispies and viola! it's a party in the cereal isle. Everyone's invited but my hair.
So, ok...let's be humble. Let's have a little perspective. Let's go buy some milk. We won't see anyone else we know, for the remainder of the jaunt, but we will pass another woman...with a comb-over. She'll be a night stock person. She has the good sense to relegate herself to the graveyard shift where all women who look like they just crawled out of a grave belong.
I'm almost out of courage. I feel it waning. I've done my best. It's time to drop.
I need a farm, out in the middle Kansas somewhere, where no one has my address and I don't even own a phone. Or a miracle...yeah, that would be nice too.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Work Station(ary)
Here I place my butt to stay
At this desk to work all day
Though no new weight have I gained
My hooks and zippers feel quite strained
Stand, run, walk, I used to do
Little errands, house chores too
No time to sit ‘til after nine
Back then my pants would fit just fine
I am comfy, I suppose
But now I need to buy new clothes
Desks and chairs we have a few
But we could use a treadmill too
At this desk to work all day
Though no new weight have I gained
My hooks and zippers feel quite strained
Stand, run, walk, I used to do
Little errands, house chores too
No time to sit ‘til after nine
Back then my pants would fit just fine
I am comfy, I suppose
But now I need to buy new clothes
Desks and chairs we have a few
But we could use a treadmill too
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The Book Thief...and other endings
It has been an emotional week for me. As I've pondered the passing of a friend and as I've finished reading a book written with such weighty brilliance that it's been credited by many as "changing their lives", I find myself quick to cry and slow to...well, anything else. In other words, everything else has slowed down to a speed more prone to contemplation and appreciation.
That, by the way, is not the speed that our world is spinning at right now. Our RPM is currently set at FRANTIC. Cunningly so by the author of all unhappiness, Mr. Devil. Our sobriety is dependant on being 'present in the moment', so in order for him to maintain our dis-ease, we must not be allowed enough time to even know the moment existed in the first place, until that is, the consequences of the moment are seated insistantly at our feet.
Breathe in. Wait. Breathe out. Listen for the lilt in someone's laugh, look for the playful in someone's eye.
Take the time to say no. Take the time to let someone else adjust..learn..merge.
When I speak of sobriety, it's almost impossible to do so without thinking strong drink as well. But in The Book of Mormon, sobriety is admonished with no referral at all to wine. According to Elder James J. Hamula "Being sober means being earnest and serious in assessing your circumstances, and careful and circumspect in weighing the consequences of your actions. Soberness therefore yields good judgment, as well as measured conduct."
But enough about that.
So, as I put down the 560 pages of Markus Zusak's "The Book Thief" I have to ask myself; how can Mr. Zusak live with himself? Knowing a creation of such magnitude came out of himself? Wow. Good job Markus. Stay with us.
Other endings in my life have happened or are about to happen in the form of serving in God's kingdom. Church callings are changing hands. This happens almost every week so why do the most recent ones seem to have affected my heart strings this week in particular? Probably because I have witnessed Andy and Jim and Randy all give their hearts in their service. Their families as well have sacrificed. How do you put it down then, and move on? How do you redirect dedication? By definition you shouldn't be able to. By experience, it's known to be hard, as Christopher and Evan will discover in two years when they return home from their missions abroad.
I know that I too, will soon be released. Dismissed. I'm lost trying to figure out how that's going to work. They (the sisters) are in my heart, so it can't, can it? But somehow it will have to and it will be, in it's own way, glorious. Because for me, I can't help thinking that I have let the cancer and the calling become entangled in one. I hope to find out that upon my release, I can finally let go and put the disease behind me and be done with it. (well...the moving plan didn't work...I've got to try something!)
Now on to Howard and death. Same problem but bigger question mark. How is that going to work? He's in our hearts, but our opportunity to serve him and learn from him, at least here on earth, have now passed.
We may be uncertain as we wonder in callings as in relationships "could I have done more?" but today in church, I was overcome with such an overwhelming feeling of "well done, though good and faithful servant" that I think it's safe to just smile and let that one go. I know that I loved all the sisters in my ward and that I loved Howard as well, so what more could I have done?
That, by the way, is not the speed that our world is spinning at right now. Our RPM is currently set at FRANTIC. Cunningly so by the author of all unhappiness, Mr. Devil. Our sobriety is dependant on being 'present in the moment', so in order for him to maintain our dis-ease, we must not be allowed enough time to even know the moment existed in the first place, until that is, the consequences of the moment are seated insistantly at our feet.
Breathe in. Wait. Breathe out. Listen for the lilt in someone's laugh, look for the playful in someone's eye.
Take the time to say no. Take the time to let someone else adjust..learn..merge.
When I speak of sobriety, it's almost impossible to do so without thinking strong drink as well. But in The Book of Mormon, sobriety is admonished with no referral at all to wine. According to Elder James J. Hamula "Being sober means being earnest and serious in assessing your circumstances, and careful and circumspect in weighing the consequences of your actions. Soberness therefore yields good judgment, as well as measured conduct."
But enough about that.
So, as I put down the 560 pages of Markus Zusak's "The Book Thief" I have to ask myself; how can Mr. Zusak live with himself? Knowing a creation of such magnitude came out of himself? Wow. Good job Markus. Stay with us.
Other endings in my life have happened or are about to happen in the form of serving in God's kingdom. Church callings are changing hands. This happens almost every week so why do the most recent ones seem to have affected my heart strings this week in particular? Probably because I have witnessed Andy and Jim and Randy all give their hearts in their service. Their families as well have sacrificed. How do you put it down then, and move on? How do you redirect dedication? By definition you shouldn't be able to. By experience, it's known to be hard, as Christopher and Evan will discover in two years when they return home from their missions abroad.
I know that I too, will soon be released. Dismissed. I'm lost trying to figure out how that's going to work. They (the sisters) are in my heart, so it can't, can it? But somehow it will have to and it will be, in it's own way, glorious. Because for me, I can't help thinking that I have let the cancer and the calling become entangled in one. I hope to find out that upon my release, I can finally let go and put the disease behind me and be done with it. (well...the moving plan didn't work...I've got to try something!)
Now on to Howard and death. Same problem but bigger question mark. How is that going to work? He's in our hearts, but our opportunity to serve him and learn from him, at least here on earth, have now passed.
We may be uncertain as we wonder in callings as in relationships "could I have done more?" but today in church, I was overcome with such an overwhelming feeling of "well done, though good and faithful servant" that I think it's safe to just smile and let that one go. I know that I loved all the sisters in my ward and that I loved Howard as well, so what more could I have done?
Friday, May 20, 2011
From My Journal - 1988
"I feel so alone for the first time in my life; like a has-been Nike swoosh, like a new kid at school, like a cream soda in the fridge, like a word stuck in a pen."
That was from my journal in 1988. If you're from the 80's, you will remember that for a while, Nike was huge and you had to have that swoosh on your shoes. But by '88, the craze was pretty well over, no one had thought of "just do it" yet and other tennies like Adidas and K Swiss had stolen the market, at least as far as a journal writer in St. Louis at the time was concerned. And I apparently wasn't too fond of cream soda.
I guess I was feeling alone at the time. I wrote my best poetry as a lonely teenager and as an in love teenager and as a hyper teenager and as a trying to win free stuff teenager and as a contemplative teenager....you get the point. My career as a poet hit it's peak right about the same time as my hormones did. Juvenescence makes a riotous muse if captured properly.
One of my favorites is called "Why Do Lovers Walk So Slow?"
Why do lovers walk so slow
Don't they know I've got to go
They walk so slow that I can't stand
To be behind those hand in hand.
The bells gonna ring
And I'll be late
Just because two people date.
I try not to be tardy to class,
But lovers walk slow...
And are hard to pass.
Technically, that is a sonnet, but not intentionally. It just sort of happened that way.
That was from my journal in 1988. If you're from the 80's, you will remember that for a while, Nike was huge and you had to have that swoosh on your shoes. But by '88, the craze was pretty well over, no one had thought of "just do it" yet and other tennies like Adidas and K Swiss had stolen the market, at least as far as a journal writer in St. Louis at the time was concerned. And I apparently wasn't too fond of cream soda.
I guess I was feeling alone at the time. I wrote my best poetry as a lonely teenager and as an in love teenager and as a hyper teenager and as a trying to win free stuff teenager and as a contemplative teenager....you get the point. My career as a poet hit it's peak right about the same time as my hormones did. Juvenescence makes a riotous muse if captured properly.
One of my favorites is called "Why Do Lovers Walk So Slow?"
Why do lovers walk so slow
Don't they know I've got to go
They walk so slow that I can't stand
To be behind those hand in hand.
The bells gonna ring
And I'll be late
Just because two people date.
I try not to be tardy to class,
But lovers walk slow...
And are hard to pass.
Technically, that is a sonnet, but not intentionally. It just sort of happened that way.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
So this is it. Mothers Day 2011 starts at 4 am. I don't know why, but apparently I'm supposed to be up right now. Breakfast in bed? Nope. Try breakfast in a dark kitchen when the house is so quiet, you think that cracking an egg is going to break the sound barrier and when did the keyboard get so dang loud!?
A bowl of cereal would have been easier, and possibly quieter, but some lousy idiot discovered that carbs aren't as good for you as we once supposed (how could something that makes you so happy be good for you!?) and that eating them will give your body a reaction opposite to what you're going for at 4 am...namely more awake, less asleep. Ignorance really is bliss ya' know. Get your stinkin' lab coat away from my bliss!
And when did my job, which was supposed to be a source of mad money, or fun money, become so darn essential? How come now I cannot imagine how we'd get through the next month without it and how "fun" has nothing to do with it? Did God know that our entire sprinkler system would blow up today and seem so hopelessly expensive to fix? Did he trick-bless me into getting a job so I'd be ready for this, quite possible $1,000 repair. Which came first...the chicken or the egg?
It happened. Sometime within the last 24 hrs, our MLS listing slipped quietly and peacefully away. After a year of "house on the market" angst, it just ended. Almost without our knowledge. If it wouldn't have been for the first, of I'm sure many, phone call from a realtor/vulture, ready to jump in and be the answer to all my real estate problems, I probably wouldn't have even known.
I love my house. I love my neighbors. I just don't love where they all come together.
Goodbye dream of moving. Please go away.
A bowl of cereal would have been easier, and possibly quieter, but some lousy idiot discovered that carbs aren't as good for you as we once supposed (how could something that makes you so happy be good for you!?) and that eating them will give your body a reaction opposite to what you're going for at 4 am...namely more awake, less asleep. Ignorance really is bliss ya' know. Get your stinkin' lab coat away from my bliss!
And when did my job, which was supposed to be a source of mad money, or fun money, become so darn essential? How come now I cannot imagine how we'd get through the next month without it and how "fun" has nothing to do with it? Did God know that our entire sprinkler system would blow up today and seem so hopelessly expensive to fix? Did he trick-bless me into getting a job so I'd be ready for this, quite possible $1,000 repair. Which came first...the chicken or the egg?
It happened. Sometime within the last 24 hrs, our MLS listing slipped quietly and peacefully away. After a year of "house on the market" angst, it just ended. Almost without our knowledge. If it wouldn't have been for the first, of I'm sure many, phone call from a realtor/vulture, ready to jump in and be the answer to all my real estate problems, I probably wouldn't have even known.
I love my house. I love my neighbors. I just don't love where they all come together.
Goodbye dream of moving. Please go away.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Still with the Yay! Thing
Yay! Yay! Yay! is still on my mind. This may have something to do with the fact that yesterday I forgot to come to ward council with a spiritual thought prepared and had to wing it by trying to use my most recent blog piece. Hm mm. Questionable move on my part. I vaguely recall getting lots of blank stares.
I'd like to think that behind those stares were thoughts of: "Wow... I am moved so much by the deep insights of Sister Jarman that I find myself rendered speechless. If only Heaven would open up right now and take us all home so we could praise the good Lord in person for this bestowal of wisdom and light."
But what they were probably thinking was: "Dude...she totally forgot to bring the spiritual thought."
Nevertheless...I am still led to believe that there is some deeper reason why this little boy's reaction made such an impact on me. Which has led me to reflect on the scripture; "Men are that they might have joy". Ever notice how it comes right after the verse "Adam fell that men might be"? The single most enfeebling, disruptive and bruising event in the history of the world, yes the very Fall of Adam itself, is followed by the declaration that...it's all about our happiness?
Men are that they might have joy. Go figure.
So if all this learning and hurting and growing and nitty-gritty life stuff is really so good for us, and I think that it is, and having these adversity laden days are really what it's all about...then those Mormons really do know what they're talking about. I think members of the LDS church may be getting a bad rap for the whole "Gods and Godesses' in embryo thing" because when you think about it...it's quite spot on. But do we ever think about it? Eternity that is?
Has it ever occured to anyone that sitting around eating grapes or plucking harps for eternity would quite literally be it's own kind of HELL? So why would we get on someones case when they talk about progressing eternally? To dam something is to stop it, correct? Do you want to be who you are right now...forever? Would you be happy if you were still the same person today that you were 10 years ago? I know I wouldn't. Ever heard someone be grateful for a past trial? "If I could do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing."
So, yah. Maybe if you progress and learn and change FOR ETERNITY...you might just eventually pick up a few attributes here and there that are...dare I say it....Godlike. He is our Father you know, and a perfect one at that. Matthew 7: 9-11
"Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?
If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"
Don't worry. The Mormons don't believe they have the potential of being your God. That job is already taken. But do know, that Yay! Yay! Yay! happiness is the object and design of our existence (Who designed our existence and Who is perfectly happy?) and will be the end thereof.
So, you're gonna have to find something else to get upset over the Mormons about...because being upset because they understand that God is their Father and wants them to have everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, that He has is a little on the naive and short sighted side. It would be more appropriate to be upset at them because they actually have that knowledge and so much more, yet they so often do not live up to their potential, or as Brigham Young said it "far beneath our privileges."
I'd like to think that behind those stares were thoughts of: "Wow... I am moved so much by the deep insights of Sister Jarman that I find myself rendered speechless. If only Heaven would open up right now and take us all home so we could praise the good Lord in person for this bestowal of wisdom and light."
But what they were probably thinking was: "Dude...she totally forgot to bring the spiritual thought."
Nevertheless...I am still led to believe that there is some deeper reason why this little boy's reaction made such an impact on me. Which has led me to reflect on the scripture; "Men are that they might have joy". Ever notice how it comes right after the verse "Adam fell that men might be"? The single most enfeebling, disruptive and bruising event in the history of the world, yes the very Fall of Adam itself, is followed by the declaration that...it's all about our happiness?
Men are that they might have joy. Go figure.
So if all this learning and hurting and growing and nitty-gritty life stuff is really so good for us, and I think that it is, and having these adversity laden days are really what it's all about...then those Mormons really do know what they're talking about. I think members of the LDS church may be getting a bad rap for the whole "Gods and Godesses' in embryo thing" because when you think about it...it's quite spot on. But do we ever think about it? Eternity that is?
Has it ever occured to anyone that sitting around eating grapes or plucking harps for eternity would quite literally be it's own kind of HELL? So why would we get on someones case when they talk about progressing eternally? To dam something is to stop it, correct? Do you want to be who you are right now...forever? Would you be happy if you were still the same person today that you were 10 years ago? I know I wouldn't. Ever heard someone be grateful for a past trial? "If I could do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing."
So, yah. Maybe if you progress and learn and change FOR ETERNITY...you might just eventually pick up a few attributes here and there that are...dare I say it....Godlike. He is our Father you know, and a perfect one at that. Matthew 7: 9-11
"Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?
If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"
Don't worry. The Mormons don't believe they have the potential of being your God. That job is already taken. But do know, that Yay! Yay! Yay! happiness is the object and design of our existence (Who designed our existence and Who is perfectly happy?) and will be the end thereof.
So, you're gonna have to find something else to get upset over the Mormons about...because being upset because they understand that God is their Father and wants them to have everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, that He has is a little on the naive and short sighted side. It would be more appropriate to be upset at them because they actually have that knowledge and so much more, yet they so often do not live up to their potential, or as Brigham Young said it "far beneath our privileges."
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Yay! Yay! Yay!
This is what a little four year old boy said today when I handed him a simple yellow balloon at the Thanksgiving Point Half Marathon. "Yay! Yay! Yay!" as he hopped away on both feet, like Tigger.
He was the highlight of everyone at the booth today that witnessed his reaction to this seemingly simple acquisition of helium and latex. Hundreds of yellow balloons tied to hundreds of little wrists this morning, but none were as appreciated, loved, or delighted in quite as much this one was.
"To become like little children..." as Christ beckons through century and verse, apparently includes rejoicing and delighting in blessings of every size, color and unremarkable ordinary-ness...even to the point of becoming "hopping happy".
He was the highlight of everyone at the booth today that witnessed his reaction to this seemingly simple acquisition of helium and latex. Hundreds of yellow balloons tied to hundreds of little wrists this morning, but none were as appreciated, loved, or delighted in quite as much this one was.
"To become like little children..." as Christ beckons through century and verse, apparently includes rejoicing and delighting in blessings of every size, color and unremarkable ordinary-ness...even to the point of becoming "hopping happy".
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Omen and It's Possible Meanings
I almost didn't recognize it at first. In fact, I readily dismissed the lone earring that lay in that last bit of diminishing snow as someone elses's problem. I only picked it up to lay it in a more conspicuous place in case it's owner came back.
I guess my plan worked...because I quickly realized that I was the owner! If not mistaken, this was the earring that I lost a long time ago! I probably lost it while raking leaves at our apartment last fall. Sure enough, I took it home and compared it to the one in my jewelry box and it was a perfect match!
Considering the size of the earring and the time and conditions that had passed since it fell out of my ear, this was really quite amazing to me. Mark says it's an omen. I am all for that. Now all I have to do is decide what it's an omen for.
I know, how about the return of my hair! We could really work the whole fall/spring analogy thing.
Or...I certainly wouldn't mind the return of my strength and stamina. You would have thought that by now, I'd be back up to par...but I'm still the biggest wimp I know. My short term memory would be nice too. But then I think I'd trade it all for the return of the cute, cuddly little friends my two youngest daughters used to be to each other. The fighting....the drama...the hormones...really girls?
If you need some omen, just let me know. I'll share some with you. I'm sure there's plenty to go around, but you should know one thing. I went to grab the earring to take a picture of it for this blog and I couldn't find either one. Yup, now they are both missing. I may have to check with Mark first, but, I think it's an omen.
I guess my plan worked...because I quickly realized that I was the owner! If not mistaken, this was the earring that I lost a long time ago! I probably lost it while raking leaves at our apartment last fall. Sure enough, I took it home and compared it to the one in my jewelry box and it was a perfect match!
Considering the size of the earring and the time and conditions that had passed since it fell out of my ear, this was really quite amazing to me. Mark says it's an omen. I am all for that. Now all I have to do is decide what it's an omen for.
I know, how about the return of my hair! We could really work the whole fall/spring analogy thing.
Or...I certainly wouldn't mind the return of my strength and stamina. You would have thought that by now, I'd be back up to par...but I'm still the biggest wimp I know. My short term memory would be nice too. But then I think I'd trade it all for the return of the cute, cuddly little friends my two youngest daughters used to be to each other. The fighting....the drama...the hormones...really girls?
If you need some omen, just let me know. I'll share some with you. I'm sure there's plenty to go around, but you should know one thing. I went to grab the earring to take a picture of it for this blog and I couldn't find either one. Yup, now they are both missing. I may have to check with Mark first, but, I think it's an omen.
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