Standing upon shoulders............

A few weeks ago, I was privileged to watch my daughter soar. She sang the National Anthem at a volleyball game. A few day prior, she had hopped into the car and informed me that she would be singing. I asked if she was ready to do something like that ( I honestly wasn't sure and I didn't want her to fail). Her confidence was unshakable. I couldn't have been more pleased. She sang for anyone and everyone in the family to prepare. The night arrived and I was nervous, as was she. There were words of encouragement and a prayer was spoken. I was in constant communication with my Father in Heaven. "Please let her remember the words," I pleaded over and over. I didn't want her to join the legions of botched memories on Youtube for her first time out. The time arrived, and she took the microphone. Staring hard at the flag, I held my breath.......... and it happened. She took flight and soared. I love those moments. Moments where an individual, standing upon the shoulders of those who have gone before, takes an enormous leap. Individuals such as mothers, fathers, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends; people that have counselled, dried tears, listened, cried, worried, and cheered. During the singing, my mom watched me as I stood there and cried tears of relief, pride, and gratitude. It was a sweet moment. How many times have I stood upon her shoulders, preparing to take my own leap? It is humbling. When moments of greatness occur, I look around. Hidden among the crowd, off to the side, or even watching down from Heaven are individuals with tears streaming down their faces and footprints upon their shoulders.

Glories run wild..........

I admit, with enthusiasm, that I am not a neat orderly person. Never have been. I have tried, trust me on this. I have friends and family members (my dear Mother), who take great pleasure in organizing. They become giddy at the thought of tackling a wayward closet. Me? Well, I can honestly say that I just don't understand the entire thought process that goes into the organizing of one's closet or anything else for that matter. I tend to be a 'grouper.' I stack things, pile things, and then will continue to relocate them until they are out of sight. I might add that it does drive the neater people of my family a bit crazy. My garden is a perfect example of two ideas run amuk. Every year I plan out and plant in semi neat rows. My tomatoes, pumpkins, cantaloupes, squash, and flowers are all planted. One year I stepped way over my boundaries and created four areas instead of one big group. The husband was most impressed. Yet, every year the garden takes on a life of its own. I love it. I weed and harvest, but very soon, it takes on a wild quality that is just beautiful to behold. I believe that there are pumpkins everywhere, and brilliant blue morning glories are shrouding the dying sunflowers. Ruby red cherry tomatoes peek out begging to be picked. It is my own personal little world of chaotic beauty, and I am happy.

What's in a wink?

The 'boy' winked at my teenager this week. She has been floating ever since. Apparently this was no ordinary wink, nor was he trying to clear his eye of a stray eyelash. This particular wink was smooth, suave, exquisitely executed, and perfectly timed. I imagine her stomach still flips when she runs through it in her mind. How wonderful that things never change. Life moves pretty fast, and we seem to grow up so quickly these days. Yet, that flirtatious dance still exists. Ok, there are many people who light speed the process, but it is still there. I remember those moments, many more tender and intimate than physically touching someone. When was the last time I gazed into the eyes of my loved one? It's been awhile, quite awhile. I should try it, I wonder if his eyes are still blue.? Watching the teenager and the 'boy' has been fun for me. Right now they revel in stolen glances. A hug brings blushes. Creativity has been enhanced as they try to figure out where they can casually 'bump' into the other during the weekends. She has been very open with all of us, and her enthusiasm is catchy. Just the other day, I caught my boy practicing his 'wink' in front of the mirror. That's right ladies... watch out!

Ramblings concerning heat........... or rantings!

I will just say it...... I am 'done' with summer. Oh yes I am! I am tired of ninety plus degree weather and I am highly put out with Mother Nature. My summer clothes are worn out, the pool will not hold chlorine, the kids have to wear socks to school, and I spend entirely too much time in the car. A car, I might add, that takes eternities to cool down. So, as with every year, I have begun to research real estate in the mountains. And this year, I am serious. All dreams start somewhere and mine have always begun and ended in the mountains. It will be marvelous. My children will be happy, all the time. They will be so busy exploring that video games and cell phones will cease to be relevant. They will run around the small quaint town and get into adorable scrapes. I will always be around because my beautiful shop will be just around the corner. It will house rare antiques and beautiful aprons crafted by yours truly. I will wear long flowing skirts and in the winter will wear beautifully knitted sweaters with my adorable, yet functional boots. MMMMM. The husband will be doing something manly. Stoking a fire or clearing a patch of land for our humble two story cabin with huge windows to watch the morning sun rise slowly over the evergreen pines *Sigh* Okay, so I was going to go on and list a few negatives about the cool crisp air of the mountains. I don't believe I will today. It is just to hot, and honestly, I need every bit of imagination I have to survive the end of September in the desert. So this is where we part ways. I hope you are cool where you reside at this moment. I am. My son has just finished tying cans to a dog's tail and is chasing him around the mountainside. The little girls are chasing butterflies and making dandy lion chains in the meadow behind my store. I am inside with all of the windows and doors open, breathing in the sweet air of the clouds. Yes, I think I even smell rain. Yes, with my eyes closed, I am cool.

Coming and goings...........

" Life is full of meetings and partings, that is the way of it." Wise words from a little green frog named Kermit, in his role of the humble Bob Cratchit. I couldn't help but think of them today as I sent my five year old off to kindergarten. Parting with my 'velcro' child was tender this morning. I watched her walk, with her hand holding tightly to her teacher, with a great amount of emotion. I was proud of her. She is a shy girl and I knew that leaving me took strength. I was nervous. Did I prepare her enough? Would she make friends? Does she remember where the bathrooms are located? Would she remember to go? I was sad. How swiftly time passes. I wanted to grab her and run away to 'Neverland', live with the faires, and never grow up! Yet, I was thankful. Blessing after blessing rushed through my mind. Grateful for those moments I took to cuddle. Grateful for the laughter and secret snickers we had shared. Grateful for memories created.

Sitting in my car, drying my tears I was reminded of another saying....... "The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again." I had to smile. Yes, I am looking forward to that meeting at the bus stop. Keeping my fingers crossed for a happy excited face and a mouth smiling in aticipation as she waits for me to ask......."So tell me.... how was your first day!?"

Throwing boulders..............

Admittedly I am not a huge fan of Tiger Woods, never have been, even in his heyday. That's why I find it slightly amusing that I am coming to his defence. I know, I know, he is a horrid man, he cheated repeatedly and with great enthusiasm on his wife. He let his sponsors down, and destroyed his reputation among his followers. Scum, stupidity at it's finest, idiot, woman hater, *#^@!, and so on. Yet, I pause. Words keeps bobbing up to the surface of my mind: repentance, forgiveness, repentance, forgiveness. Radio, TV, newspapers, and water cooler gossip have all weighed in on the Tiger issue. Many with glee and satisfaction; for you see, a hero, seemingly indestructible, had fallen. Many taking issue that his 'apology' was not sincere enough for their liking. Others go into great detail about what they would do to "their man" if he followed Tiger's example. The jokes have been nonstop. What has been missing is the ability or idea that he truly can repent and become better. I have no idea what can be found in the deepest parts of his heart and mind, and I feel like it is none of my business. I do know there is hurt there, deep hurt. Hurt that is not reserved, isolated, or owned by Tiger himself. Those closest, as usually is the case, suffer too. Men have stated openly over microphones that he is no longer a hero. I beg to differ. He still has a chance. A chance to show that we have the ability to better ourselves. Each of us are human, and because of that we are prone to make mistakes, big and small. Strong men and women, in my experience, are those on bended knee before their Maker. They come, in deep humility, with a broken heart and contrite spirit. Knowing that they have done wrong, ready to accept the consequences and praying for forgiveness and direction. I hope Tiger makes it through this, I really do. I hope that as he wades through this trial, caused by his own selfish and prideful actions, he learns. I hope he learns that actions have consequences. I hope he learns that there is a Father in Heaven, that he is loved, and he can find peace. I hope he learns that if he keeps moving forward he will be strengthened with wisdom and filled with tenderness for those around him. I don't envy him, it will be a long long journey; a hard soul wrenching journey. In the end, if he succeeds and gives all that he has, he becomes a hero once again. And when it is all said and done, those are the heroes we admire.

The door to the house has been continually open and shut all afternoon. Normally the sound of slamming doors has me muttering and, more often than I care to admit, yelling for them to either stay in or out! Today I am loving that sound. My two little girls are busy beavers. Grandpa came and built a fort for them outside and they are 'decorating' their new home. Blankets, pillows, a small table, dolls, their cat Bella, apples, drinks, two chairs, and chalk to decorate the walls have all been dragged outside. Creativity is contagious. Listening to their happy chattering and planning, has caused my creative juices to flow. Dreams and wishes formulate, and I am excited. Suddenly the world seems a tad brighter, with more hope, and even a little sparkly........ pixie dust comes to mind. That instinctive need and desire to create, I believe, makes us stronger and more rooted in life. Talents and gifts are discovered, as well as learning the meaning of the old and wise words, "if at first you don't succeed, try again." And of course problem solving. A lesson the little girls are about to learn, as I just caught a glimpse of their brother with a water gun, readying himself to storm the castle. I'm not worried. The little heroines have invested too much to give up easily.

I'm trying.............

This afternoon I tried. It started out innocently enough. Rushed the kids into the van with usual rants and threats. Sluggishly they all piled in and promptly started whining. Worked hard to block the whimpering from the back seat and focused on the afternoon schedule. It was going to be tight, thanks be to the gods that tennis was cancelled. First up, was getting the third child to her piano lesson. Held up a good five minutes in the garage, while the soccer child searched for lost shin guard. Tried hard to keep mean and thoughtless remarks to myself, as I remember, specifically, asking him to find his stuff twenty minutes ago. Instead, found soccer star deeply immersed in book with one shin guard. Ten deep breaths and I was light headed and dizzy, resorted to staring meanly in his direction until shin guard was recovered. Arrived at piano lesson twelve minutes late. Piano child wouldn't leave the van, claiming she was thirsty. Seeing dollar signs with wings as each second passed, hastily promised piano child she would receive an ice cream after the lesson. Soccer child made a noise of dismay, quickly assured him that if he gave 120% at his game, he too, would receive an ice cream. The tyrant child in the car seat was also assured of her ice cream before a campaign could be mounted. Fifteen minutes later piano child skips out of her lessons and yells that the piano teacher would like her money for next month. Yell assurances that piano will be paid in full when I drop off song child for her voice lessons in a few hours. Tyrant child suddenly decides she doesn't need, nor does she want a car seat. Plead with tyrant child to just use the car seat, am forced to issue threats of jail time and mean police officers. She is not completely convinced that my threats contain any truth, but she does decide to buckle up. Of course, she might have been listening to soccer star's threats of no ice cream. We are late. Run through the drive through, which is amazingly fast. Soon piano and tyrant child are happily eating their ice cream. Happiness prevails. Soccer star keeps looking at the clock, assure him that I will get him to the field before the game starts. We make it, 4 minutes to spare. I have twenty minutes to watch the game, and then it is time to load piano and tyrant in van and head across town to pick up song child for lessons and then drive across town (new direction....west instead of south) to drop off said child. Standing there watching the game, feeling guilty about leaving early, made monumental decision. I cancelled song child's lessons. An hour in the car evaporated into thin air, just like that. It was liberating. Was I allowed to do that? Guilt had me calling song child to assess her opinion and to ward off any hysteria. There was none, and if I was reading the voice correctly, I detected a hint of relief. Soccer star was happy, and looking out across the fields, I spied piano and tyrant child happily arguing over who was "it" for a rambunctious game of tag. I took a big breath........ I had tried.

You are kidding me....... right?

I truly believe that each of us out there have a need to be loved and to love. It is one of those beautiful things that make us human. That said, I must ask..... where upon God's beautiful green earth did the creators of 'The Bachelor' actually think these people could possibly find true love. Come on! A dozen or so beautiful, self absorbed women chasing after one finely chiseled, self absorbed, rich man. And we can't forget the thousands of people waiting on the edges of their seats with their fingers crossed. I won't deny it makes for great television, but I implore.. where is the self respect? Did Elizabeth compete for Darcy? No! Scarlett O'Hara certainly didn't line up and wait for her rose! Even determined little Jane Eyre didn't care to be one of Rochester's ladies. These women and many others can teach our generation and a few others a thing or two about love, loss, and being a strong confidant woman. Scene after scene of the 'bachelor' making out in a hot tub with the 'girl of the hour,' is enough to have me reaching for the antacids and the remote. I want to take these girls by hand and tell them that they are worth more than this and that love will come on it's own time. Unfortunately, this world can be a lonely one. The allure of love is powerful, and I truly wish each couple the best. I just hope that as my daughters search for love, they keep in mind this quote from 'Winnie the Pooh'..... "you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." If they believe that, they won't waste their time standing in line, waiting, for some man to pick them. Instead, they will create, and live a life that is full of all kinds of possibilities. They will discover that their talents are beyond what the mirror reflects, and they will learn that 'service to others' improves their countenance more than any amount of rouge or glitter. With that, I bid adieu to the current season of 'The Bachelor.' May you slink off to the superficial world where you belong and leave us to pick our own flowers, there are many beautiful one to choose, for red roses have never been my favorite!

Be of good cheer........

My Grandma taught me to laugh, not a weak or giggly laugh, mind you. This laugh is loud, commanding, uninhibited, and full of zeal. I can still picture her sitting in her chair, like the matriarch she was, laughing and encouraging us to join her. She would tilt her head back, close her eyes, open her mouth wide, and start laughing. It was beautiful to watch.

I tried this laugh the other day, needing its magic. Standing in the kitchen, by myself, I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, opened my mouth, and stopped. I felt stupid and even a little crazy. Wow. This was hard. I tried it again, and this time I laughed, loud. The dog's ears raised in confusion and wonderment, which brought more laughter. As I settled down, I was full of gratitude, happiness, and strength. Grateful for my Grandma. She was a strong woman and standing there in the kitchen laughing I discovered that I had strength too.

Ah January.........

It must be hard to follow the vivacious and charming month which is December. My heart truly goes out to poor January, but I am not sad to see her go. Have always pictured her as the uptight school marm with the ruler in her icy fingers, and bleakness in her eyes. Depressing picture, no? Yet, I have hope. One of these years she will loosen her hair, add color to her pale cheeks and discover a deep and rich sense of humor(a new holiday could possible help!). Until then, we must press on and endure the icy winds, plummeting temperatures, and endless resolutions to be better. Finding that the written word often leaves me comforted I leave you with the words of the French philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, "To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June." I think I will dig out Shel Silverstein, snuggle with my children and 'go for a walk.'