As we drive to work every day, daughter Johanna and I entertain ourselves by reading the messages on church signs.  Being in the midst of the Bible Belt, we see quite a few.  We have some pretty lively discussions about what they mean, their tone (is this condescending, epecially to the non-churched folks?) and their sometimes hint of humor.  Last week, we saw something that made us both hoot with laughter.

The church sign proclaimed: HELL DOESN’T HAVE A THERMOSTAT.  In the very next parking lot, positioned so that it was visible along with the church sign was this admonition from the local volunteer fire department: CAUTION WHEN BURNING.

Do you think they were working together?

Mother’s Day is always a time of reflection for me.  In the past, the memories were sometimes unpleasant or at the very least, sad.  My mother and I didn’t ever sync — I couldn’t be what she wanted — because of who she was, she couldn’t tell me what she wanted.  Age has mellowed most of that, and now when I think of her, I feel only sadness.  I’ve grieved for all that she missed in life and for the fact that I don’t believe she knew she was missing anything.  Life is so rich when we open our hearts to it, but hers, for reasons unknown, was forever locked away.

Since becoming a mother myself, the memories are sweet, sometimes humorous and always filled with love. 

When Becca and Jo were young, Harold always helped them orchestrate the day.  Breakfast in bed and maybe a new book for Mom to read, some new music, or a piece of jewelry.  No matter that one time breakfast was a cheeseburger and chocolate doughnuts — they were both favorite foods of mine.  What made it special was that the girls noticed what I liked and insisted that their dad help them accomplish the unusual menu.

Now that I’m older and they are grown women, they continue to make this one day — and all the other days of my life — special.  They are both thoughtful and generous.  They are also best friends, which in itself is a gift to me, and they share their friendship with me.

This year, their thoughtfulness exceeded anything I could have imagined.  The two of them, along with my wonderful son-in-law Nathan, are flying me to Albuquerque to visit with my dearest friend Donna who was suddenly widowed in February.  To realize that we need to see each other and connect beyond the phone and Internet…well, my kids are just super!

Because there always has to be “a gift to open”, they also gave me a lovely necklace & earrings from their favorite shop in Albuquerque — in garnet, my birthstone.  And taking care of life’s basics, a box of Starbuck’s Tasting Chocolates.

And speaking of son-in-laws, mine has got to be the best.  He cooked an excellent meal yesterday — Becca helped too — with grilled steaks, a most wonderful risotto and steamed broccoli.  My grown-up favorites!!  That he would take the time and make the effort to do this has so touched my heart.

Harold fixed home-made waffles for breakfast and presented me with a gorgeous bouquet of roses.  My hubby is such a sweet guy.  Someday I may deserve him…

I am a blessed woman, and a thankful one.

Live simply. 
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.

This quote (author unknown) came to me as part of an email.  Why do I find it significant?

I’ve been expressing discontent about the way I’m living of late.  I expressed to a friend that I felt like I was becoming petty and mean-spirited in response to being around those attributes so much of the time.  On reflection, that seemed to me to be a cop-out — no, not seemed to be — it absolutely is.  I am not required to respond in kind and I, and only I, am responsible for my attitude. 

“Live simply” — I need to work on this.  Not that my life is that complicated.  I don’t travel for work anymore.  Basically, we have an empty-nest household (not rushing you out, Jo!).  I feel the lack of simplicity in all of the “stuff” we’ve accumulated and in the management of what time I do have to use. 

The stuff problem is ongoing.  Last weekend, I began clearing out clothes from my closet.  Pulled down a lot and donated them but still have too many.  My needs are simpler than they used to be.  It occurred to me that I was hanging on to them with a pessimist mentality — I might need them…what if I wasn’t able to replace them.  Get a grip, Susan!  And, the other stuff?  Well, I missed Becca’s yard sale but once Jo moves out and I get things out of storage, there will be some major sorting and unloading.  That’s it — unloading as in not being weighed down.

The time issue is harder.  We drive too far to work but we don’t want to live in the city.  I’m tired when I get home.  I think I just need to find a way to push past that.  Don’t “they” say one needs less sleep with age.  Pretty soon, I can stay up all night.  LOL

“Love generously” — oh, I do hope I do this.  I know I do on my better days, but there are the selfish days too.  This is a matter of intent too.  If I want to, I will.  I always feel better when my attention, and my love, is directed outward.

“Care deeply” — see above paragraph.  Seriously, I need to renew some passions in my life.  I find it easy to care about people.  Causes I sometimes find easier to leave for others.  Living green, the upcoming elections, the economy, health issues, retirement issues — it’s time to be more active.  Admittedly, the election thing is getting discouraging, but that was another whole post.  There’s a whole world out there that needs attention.  There are things I can do right here, right now.

“Speak kindly” — ouch, who’s been riding in my car during rush hour or listening to the gossip at work???  Here’s this matter of intent again.  I am not a puppet or a ventriloquist’s dummy.  I control what words come out.  Again, I don’t have to respond in kind.  I was taught in Sunday School many years ago that the words we speak reflect what is in our heart.  Some self searching may be in order here.

“Leave the rest to God” — to a hopefully recovering control freak, this is tough.  From the time I can remember, my prayers were a lot about me giving suggestions to God as to how things should turn out.  No matter that I was speaking to GOD.  He gave me my intelligence, after all, so why should I not share my wisdom with Him?  It’s good that God has a great sense of humor or He/She might have written me off long ago.  Learning to let go is a work in progress for me…

My daughter Becca tells me that sometimes I’m too hard on myself, too quick to be critical of me.  In certain instances, she may be right.  But, here I’m talking about making choices.  Because when it comes right down to it, happiness is a choice.  I really believe this!  Call it attitude adjustment if you want, but it’s all the same.  We cannot always change our circumstances or the people we are forced to deal with — but we can certainly change how we respond.

Today I cooked.  I don’t mean just lunch or dinner — this was a marathon.  Yesterday, I cooked two chickens.  Today, those became Green Chile Chicken Enchilada casserole and Chicken Tetrazzini.  I made a huge batch of red beans and sausage for beans & rice.  All of these will be wonderful to re-heat through the week.  For breakfasts, I made two kinds of muffins — Harvest Muffins with carrot, zucchini, apple — very healthy & very delicious – and Mocha Banana Chocolate Chip, not so healthy but oh so yummy…  Plus two dozen sausage kolaches and a dozen cream cheese kolaches.  Whew!!

I’m tired but in a good way.  I accomplished something!  I know that Harold is tired of fast food and I’m tired of being too beat to fix dinner when we get home.  Then there is paying for breakfasts and lunches every day for work.  It’s killing my budget.  Mainly, though, I just wanted to do something nice for my family.  Maybe it’s partly the idea of getting to a man’s heart through his stomach.  I think Harold’s heart (spirit) needs some extra love right now. Work is not going well these days.

Of course, this all makes me feel even more deeply that I belong at home.  This is what I do well.  This is who I am.  Caring for my family and caring for myself by expressing myself in creative ways — writing and cooking and writing…

It was a very good day!

I recently reviewed a book about a woman who said she had worked in a field all her adult life and said she was there “accidentally”.  It was a difficult review to write since I truly disliked almost everything about it — the style, the grammatical errors, etc.  I found myself wondering, as I read about one disastrous job situation after another, why in the world this woman didn’t find something else to do.  She explained her actions as being necessary to making a living.

It suddenly hit me tonight that one of the reasons this book grated on my psyche so much was that it reminded me of me…

Like the author, I worked most of my adult life in a field not related to my college degree (Psychology) or to my dreams (being a counselor and a writer).  My first retail job was an after-school money maker while I was in high school.  I continued working at the same place through college as I could work around my class schedule.  When I finished my bachelor’s degree, I kept right on working there, my excuse being I might as well not look for anything else or go to graduate school since I knew we’d be moving when my husband came home from Vietnam.

And we kept moving.  So I worked in retail because we needed the money, the jobs were easy to get with my experience, and it was a field where much of the workforce was transitory.  I made a few attempts to go back to school for a Master’s degree but with a family and the constant moving, it seemed like one step forward and two back.  The dreams seemed further away and I guess I settled for expedient.

To be fair to myself, I should mention that I was very good at retail, moving up through the ranks to buyer and manager.  I managed to make a fair living.

There it is again — making a living…what does that mean?  For me, it brought in needed income and kept me from the hassle of serious job-hunting.  Maybe I wasn’t hungry enough.  Maybe I wasn’t confident enough.  Maybe I wasn’t in tune with myself deeply enough.  I know I wasn’t brave enough to give up all that another path through life would have demanded.

For years, a friend and I have traded comments about what we want to be “when we grow up”.  You know, I think I passed that threshold a long time ago. And, it’s the looking back and the realization that I’m near the end of my working life that has caused this angst.  That and the fact that I have once again “settled for” an expedient job which is totally unfulfilling.

Life is lived through a series of choices.  I made choices.  Here I am.  Would I have changed anything?  Looking back, maybe, but at the time, they all seemed to be the right choices for that point in time.  I even read somewhere that all the choices we make are the ones we need to make — to learn from them, to complete the process of becoming the unique being that each of us is.  If that’s true, maybe I haven’t learned what I needed to.  I just know I feel quite unsatisfied, unfinished, unfulfilled.  That sounds, even to me, somewhat harsh in light of the wonderful blessings I have in family and friends — they are truly my treasures.  Yet, when I look back at the hours I spent working, I wonder if I accomplished anything but earning money for that family.  I didn’t make an impact on lives, on my community, on my environment.  I feel that I should have. 

I always wanted to follow the precept of this passge from Colossians: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men…” (Col 3:23 NIV)  I think I gave my best effort to all my jobs.  I believe that’s not just important but required of me as a professing Christian.  But I do wonder if I honored God’s creation, me, by being less than I could be?  (Bothers me a lot on my current job, as I don’t always give 100%.  No motivation and bad attitude — not good.)

Self-awareness has come late to me, maybe too late.  I have no answers for me.  But, I want to find a way to tell my daughters that they need to live and work their dreams, and not just make a living.  What kind of an example did I set for them all those years, working way too many hours at jobs I didn’t like? I wasn’t that good a mom to them, spending all my time and energy on those jobs.  I don’t want them to settle for that.

Making a living is just not enough.

Today was the funeral of my husband’s Aunt Lucille — a very traditional Lutheran service for a very traditional Lutheran lady.  I am not a fan of open caskets, but I actually smiled today.  One of her granddaughters thought her grandma wouldn’t look like herself unless she had a skein of yarn and a crochet hook in her hands, so that’s what they did.  It was such a sweet touch and absolutely appropriate for Lucille.

At the luncheon afterwards in the church hall, all of the cousins visited and several of us expressed concern that we might not be seeing much of one another with all of the parent generation gone.  After all, we’re scattered all over south and central Texas and we all lead busy lives, so… 

But, wait!  We were all there today, taking time off from work, travelling to this tiny country church, supporting our grieving family members.  It mattered so we came.  So…doesn’t it matter for those of us left to stay in touch, to visit, to talk, to celebrate life??  We’re still here and we matter to one another, don’t we?  We certainly should.  We are family!

We exchanged e-mail addresses and told one another we would figure this out.  I hope we do.  Life is precious, every day of it.  Family is precious, every member of it.  Memories are precious — we have many to share with one another — and many yet to make.

Too busy?  I pray not.

The James Lipton meme

I  was tagged by daughter Becca.  This “meme” thing is new to me but here goes….

What is your favorite word?

hope

What is your least favorite word?

stupid

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Vulnerability, trust, and honesty 

What turns you off?

apathy

What is your favorite curse word?

I’m really trying hard not to really curse… (I said trying, Jo!)

What sound or noise do you love?

Mountain sounds – wind whistling through tall pine trees, a stream burbling over rocks, birdsong and the howling of the coyotes

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Either a counselor or a pastry chef.

What profession would you not like to do?

Politician

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

”Welcome home”

**********

I’m going to tag Jo and Mom, just to make them blog something. Get going!

OK, Becca, just for you!!! 

As you can see by my title, I’ve developed some attitude about our political system this year.  Actually, the attitude isn’t new – it’s just reached a new high.  I vaguely remember a time when I found it all exciting and engaging, when it was new and fresh and when I felt like my vote mattered.Now I know there will be those quick to assure me that my vote does count, and to be sure, I will not give up or abdicate that privilege.  I will vote in both primary and general elections.  Yet somewhere along the way, I have begun to feel that while a privilege to me, the system has relegated a single vote to nothingness.  The system has decided that the popular vote, the accumulation of all the single votes like mine, is not important at all.  Instead, there are, in addition to voting, caucuses and committed delegates and uncommitted delegates and super delegates.  Are we the people no longer able enough or intelligent enough or committed enough or passionate enough or informed enough that our efforts to vote are so easily dismissed?  Grass roots efforts are mowed over by the political machinery.  For every candidate, there are volunteers at every level – precinct, local, county, state, national – who work long and hard to help their candidate win.  Even their efforts seem to me to be diminished by the way the system works.  Just getting people interested and out to vote is not enough these days.  Delegates are deemed more important and more powerful that the individual voter and the campaign workers.  The power to put a person in elected office no longer lies with the common people.

Of course, there are the campaigns and the candidates themselves.  This prolonged presidential primary campaign is well, prolonged…and overdone and just plain ridiculous.   These candidates for the highest office in the land speak of fiscal responsibility and balanced budgets and wise spending and campaign reforms when all the while they expend countless millions of dollars just to get to the November ballot.  I wonder, if asked directly, if they would honestly choose the most important to them, a dollar or a heartfelt vote?  I think I know what they would say…

In defense of any candidate, I believe that they have to be courageous to even put themselves in the process.  Private lives become public, the past is put under a microscope, innuendo is reported as fact and the ludicrous becomes the norm.  The media issue is another subject for another time, but suffice it to say that there are those who would muck-rake through a saint’s life if it yielded a story – and not one of us, not one of the candidates, and I daresay not one of the press corps comes close to being a saint.  Yet daily, mud is served up like caviar.  Should we not consider the background, abilities, records and achievements of the candidates?  Should we not be interested in their ethics, their beliefs and their character?  Of course we should, but at this price?  Here again we the people are sold short.  If given the straightforward truth, could we not determine for ourselves how the candidates measure up?  Do we have to settle for hearing that the truth doesn’t make headlines or give substance for political ads and speeches?  I want to know about the person I choose to vote for, but I’d prefer to depend on my own research and my own conclusions.  I am that intelligent, that capable and that good a judge of character.  I can’t pretend that I do that for every candidate and every issue, but I do try.

And the debates.  Have we ever seen this many?  Debating in its truest form is not what is actually presented.  We all know that behind the scenes there are speech writers and campaign managers.  Even so, the debates could and should be an excellent platform for airing one’s views, one’s record of achievements, and one’s ideas/plans for governing.  They should be the place we have the opportunity to see the real person. However, when they disintegrate into petty character assassinations and a series of “he said, she said”, no one is well-served.  We don’t need more sound bytes, more mud-slinging, or more media circuses. To be fair, I would say we’ve had some of the good, as well as doses of the bad and the ugly in this election cycle.  Civility is not too much to ask of one who would lead a nation and be its top diplomat.

Maybe I’m too idealistic.  Maybe I’m not realistic.  Maybe time has passed me by.  Maybe the idea of “government of the people, by the people and for the people” has become passé.   Maybe…

Here’s what I’d love to see – untold millions of people, each going to the polls on Election Day, each casting his/her vote.  I want people to care enough to make the effort.  I want there to be a turnout unlike any ever seen.  I want the voice of the people to be heard so loudly and so clearly through more votes cast than ever could be imagined.  I want the message of the people to be so strong that no caucus, no delegate, no supper delegate would dare ignore it.  I want there to be a deafening roar.  We can do that.

For let us never forget this truth.  A vote is a privilege and a responsibility.  We are blessed with the freedom that allows us to vote in safety.  This blessing and this freedom have never come cheaply.  Let us honor those who have protected our freedom throughout our history.  To not vote, to not recognize the blessing we’ve been given is to dismiss and denigrate their efforts.  We cannot do that.  

One of those days…stubbed toes, spilled cups, dropped papers, forgot to hit <save> on my computer. 

Then there’s my blasted back.  I can do very little in a physical way.  It’s Saturday and time to grocery shop.  Well, I’m limited to lifting 5 pounds — let’s see, I could put things in the cart.  Pushing the cart itself might be pushing my limit.  No cases of water or soda.  So, I could sort of shop, but I couldn’t get the groceries into the house.  Sounds futile to me. 

I can’t vacuum, can’t move around the SpotBot, which definitely needs doing.  No lifting a big batch of wet laundry.  Move it one piece at a time.  AAARRRGGGGHHH!! 

I know this will pass.  The disks can’t be repaired, but my back will get stronger.  The pain will go away, or at least lessen.  Still, the therapist told me yesterday it will be 3 to 5 weeks.  Have I ever mentioned my little problems with patience?

What’s really bothered me most is that this is turning me into a whiner.  I’m grumpy, I don’t want to be around people.  The nonsense that goes on at work gets on my last nerve.  And then there’s the fact that I’ve missed work and me with no sick leave.  Half the time I can’t concentrate if the pain level is high, but I can’t function (or safely drive) if I take full doses of the pain medication and muscle relaxant.  If I fight the pain all day, I’m more exhausted than ever when I get home — and poor Harold gets the resulting misery of putting up with me.  He’s a saint, really!!

I am finding my way, though, into biofeedback & relaxation techniques, thanks to tips from my friend Helen.  It works better for me than most anyting else.  Now if I just had a couch and a door that shuts at work….

Just keep repeating — this will pass, this will pass…

I don’t remember much about Mothers’ Day when I was growing up.  Daddy usually took us out to dinner or we’d go on a picnic.  I do recall that once on May 9th, we went to the mountains near Albuquerque for one of those picnic outings and got caught in a snow storm.  Such is weather in New Mexico!

As I got a bit older, and relations with Mom were strained to say the least, I grew to dread the day.  Her children were expected to make command appearances…  And, of course, the day never lived up to her expectations.  Of course, Mom never bothered to communicate what those expectations were, so we were in a no-win situation.  Sigh…

When I despaired of ever getting pregnant, the day was a bitter reminder.

When I finally became a mother, we had our own precious traditions.  I always got breakfast in bed before church.  As the girls got older and they wanted to “cook”, things were often creative.  One year, I had chocolate donuts and a cheeseburger, an interesting combo  of my favorite foods.  The girls loved doing it and I love being their mom! In the beginning, Harold was the driving force behind the celebration — and he still lets me know that he appreciates me as the mother of his children.

These days, we’re not always together for the day.  This year, for instance, both Becca & Johanna are out of town, so we’ll celebrate together another day.  I’ve talked to them both on the phone, they both sent cards, Jo sent a bucketful of daisies, our son-in-law came for lunch, amd in a fine show of keeping to tradition, Harold brought me chocolate iced, chocolate-filled donuts this morning. Intense flavor!  All in all, a very fine day!

Now that it’s quiet in the house, with Nathan gone and Harold taking his afternoon nap, I’ve had some time to ponder this motherhood thing. My mom didn’t like it much.  I never found out why, so I’m left to wonder.  I’ve read several books of late that concerned mothers.  In The Glass Castle by Jeannete Wells, her mother was to put it mildly, a free spirit.  She valued her art and her free time to create more highly than childcare.  In Saving Graces, Elizabeth Edwards showed us a fairly traditonal model of motherhood.  In Strange Son, a mother spends all her time and resources to the end of finding a cure for autism for one of her sons, often to the exclusion of her other children.  Three very different women with very different mothering styles.  One thing in common — they all loved their children and showed them that they did.

I have come to believe that my mother did love me even if she didn’t show it.  I think she did the best she could.  And, isn’t that, after all, the most we can ask?  I love my girls dearly, and I think they know it. (Son-in-law Nathan too!) I’ve always loved being a mom, even though I didn’t always do the best thing, didn’t always make the best choice, but at the end of the day, there was always love. They always know that no matter what, they have my unconditional love.  I consider my daughters to be my friends now that they’re grown and independent, and I think they consider me their friend as well.  We talk often, read some of the same books, have wonderful discussions, go places together…I am so very blessed!