Happy 2014!!  I’ve taken some time off from writing to focus on my friends and family and honestly, just to relax and re-energize.  I spent the first week of my Christmas vacation entertaining A LOT and the second week recuperating from entertaining.  I did very little except watch my kids play sports.  In fact, I did so little and felt so tired that I went and had a blood test for mono.  Fortunately, no mono, just a touch of the flu and plenty of my body trying to tell me to settle down a bit.  So that’s what I did!  Lazy comes pretty naturally to me when given the opportunity!

During my entertaining week, three generations of women in my family went to have manicures and pedicures.  It was wonderful.  We randomly happened to have the place to ourselves so we were able to really enjoy ourselves.  I had talked my mother into a different kind of manicure than she normally gets and she was very excited with the results.  I was sitting beside her and said “Let me see!”  She enthusiastically showed off her manicure than immediately followed up with shame over the look of her hands.  “Look how old they are, aren’t they ugly?” she stated.  I said, “No mom, they are not ugly…they are beautiful.”  She laughed and we moved on, but her comment stayed with me.  I have compared my own hands to the beautiful unblemished hands of my own daughter and felt the exact same way…ashamed.

When did we become a society so obsessed with looking youthful that we are ashamed of aging?

I was having trouble sleeping one night and so I began to watch TV around 2:00 a.m.  Television that time of night is filled with many infomercials.  I found myself too awake to sleep, but too sleepy to even care what was playing so I just watched and flipped channels. I spent hours watching about how to make a woman’s aging skin look young again, how to fix a woman’s sagging chin, how to get rid of a woman’s ugly stretch marks, and the glorification of looking 20 when you are 40 or 50.  I have to admit, it was quite depressing.  Millions of dollars spent by women trying their hardest not to age…me included.  When did aging become a dirty word?  When did it become unattractive to be 50 years old and actually LOOK 50 years old?  When did we lose respect for the experience and wisdom that comes along with the gift of aging?

I’m in no way saying we shouldn’t take care of ourselves.  We should be eating a healthy diet, exercising our bodies and minds, protecting ourselves from the harmful effects of the sun, and trying our best to cut back on all those bad habits we started in our 20’s.  My point is we have become a culture that has limited the definition of beauty to one word…youth.  I find this extremely disheartening and sad.  And the truth is,  I wouldn’t go back to 20 even if I could.  My body might not be what it once was and I may not be seen as beautiful to some as I was 10 or 20 years ago, but my beauty goes so much deeper than it did back then.  At 44 I don’t want to just look beautiful anymore…I want to be a beautiful person.  There’s a big difference, one I might not have understood in my 20’s and I hope to understand even more in my 70’s. 

So about your hands Mom…I cannot think of anything more beautiful than your hands.  Those hands loved my father for over 40 years and took amazing care of him throughout his battle with cancer.  They changed the diapers of four children and put us to bed each night.  They fed our family, sewed clothes, and knitted scarves.  They have decorated over 50 Christmas trees and wrapped thousands of gifts.  They were our safety net in learning how to walk and they rubbed our backs when we were sick.  They have wiped countless tears and clapped over and over for our accomplishments.  They brushed our hair and baked us cookies.  They have held your head as you prayed for us and smacked our bottoms when we deserved it.  They have written love letters and obituaries.  They have held and rocked eight grandbabies.  Every spot and wrinkle on your hand is a sign of living and loving. 

There is nothing more beautiful than that.

Last night I was watching the CBS evening news and they did a segment called Six Word War.  First, let me tell you a bit about this memoir from their website www.sixwordwar.com. 

“Welcome to Six Word War. Instead of a book about Iraq or Afghanistan that tells one soldier’s perspective, Six Word War is the first ‘crowdsourced’ war memoir that will tell a story different than any other ever told about war. For the first time in history, one book will contain the collective experience of our military at war in their own words.

Sometimes veterans have funny stories to tell and sometimes they’re tragic. Not every story on its own could justify an entire book, but that’s what we think is incredible about this project. The thousands of stories that we’re gathering tell the real story of Iraq and Afghanistan - a story that couldn’t possibly be told by one person.

This project is being run by Shaun Wheelwright and Mike Nemeth, both US Army veterans. Mike and Shaun met as West Point classmates at the United States Military Academy. Shaun went on to deploy to Iraq from 2007-2009 with the 1-27 Infantry, 25th ID. Mike was injured prior to a deployment and left the Army as a 2nd Lieutenant. “

I was so deeply moved by this segment that I immediately went to their website. I was astonished at how much emotion, insight, loss, and even humor could be described in six short words.  Here are a few of my favorites…

Family Sacrifice Personal Sacrifice Rinse Repeat

I came home, but never left.

Divorce, despair, only God could repair.

Hearts and minds, I lost both.

It’s okay to not be okay

Responsibilities causing maturing beyond my years

Taliban Bullet, Army Hospital, Found Love

Nicotine. Caffeine. Dead friends. No sleep.

I am tired of the goodbyes.

Baby coming. Please come home alive!

The other battle starts at home.

Powerful stuff, huh.  They were inspired by a website called http://sixwordmemoirs.com.  A Six-Word Memoir® is the story of your life—some part of it or all of it—told in exactly six words.

This inspired me to think about how I would sum up my own life in six words.  It was a struggle, but today this is the six words that would represent me.

Flawed and fearful.  Blessed beyond belief.

I have so many flaws.  What’s even worse is I actually know how flawed I really am.  But holding hands with all my flaws is good intention and lessons learned.  Each day I try to do better.  Each day I try to take a baby step to a better me.  I don’t always succeed, but I can never be accused of not trying.

I am not a risk taker…never have been.  I used to feel bad about it but I’ve come to accept that is just part of who I am and there is nothing wrong with that.  When it becomes an issue though, is when fears stops me from stepping outside my comfort zone and reaching my goals.  Fear of failure, fear of change, fear of someone being mad at me, fear of losing someone, fear of being hurt.  Although I have no regrets in my life, I am ashamed of the missed opportunities and experiences never lived because fear has gotten in my way.

I really am blessed.  I am blessed beyond belief.  I am blessed with my health and the health of all my loved ones.  I am blessed with a job that reconfirms how blessed I am on a daily basis.  I’m blessed with the ability to love and to be loved.  I’m blessed with two children who are perfect for me, who I stare at constantly because I can’t believe they are really mine.  I am blessed with a diverse array of friends from all chapters of my life who have guided me, supported me, and loved me, even at my worst.

So, go check out the sixwordwar website.  Or check out the segment from CBS Evening News I’ve linked on my page.  Or even better yet, go buy the book.  My six words might change next week or next year.  They would have looked very different five years ago and even more different ten years ago.  But for today, this is my six word life. 

What’s yours?  How would you describe your life in six words?

My husband and I were recently on a trip.  We were on our flight home and as they came by with food and drinks, I ordered a fruit and cheese tray and my husband ordered chex mix.  As I ate, I watched him eat the chex mix but meticulously take out every pretzel.  I found this strange since he really likes pretzels but refrained from saying anything.  I decided maybe he was bored or there was something wrong with them.  Finally when I couldn’t stand it any longer I asked him why he was not eating the pretzels.  He replied, “Because I’m saving them for you.  You love pretzels.”  Seriously?!  I studied his face to see if there was a punch line or if he was being sarcastic but he obviously wasn’t.  He just sincerely thought I would like the pretzels.  That small, but sweet, gesture showed me he cared about me more than any expensive gift or elaborate trip.  It got me thinking about the impact small gestures like these have on our life.

It would take some effort and thought to remember all the gifts I have received over the years, but I had no problem recalling other small, caring gestures that have stayed with me and I was readily able to pull them from memory.

In middle school, there was a big “party” where all the boys and girls I was friends with were invited…everyone but me that is.  I was devastated.  My best friend decided not to go to the party and her mom took us to dinner and a movie instead.  I can vividly remember a picture her mom took of us sitting on a piano bench before we went out.  I even remember what I was wearing.  But more importantly, I remember how amazed I was that she would do that for me.  This was THE party and she was choosing not to go because she knew my feelings were hurt and she didn’t want me to feel left out.  I’m not sure I ever thanked her appropriately for that profound moment in my life, so thank you Pam!

And there are others.  A sweet note from my sister after I had lost a bunch of weight telling me how proud she was of me.  I still have that note because it was unusual for her to share her thoughts and feelings with me like that.  The flowers I received from my other sister on my first day of school one year just saying good luck.  My good friend who brought me a warm, fresh baked cookie by my office for no other reason but she thought I’d enjoy it.  The co-worker who remembered me mentioning my favorite holiday cookie and when she made a batch, she made a few extra for me.  A lengthy handwritten note from another friend thanking me for my support during a difficult time in her life.  My college friends all making the trip for my dad’s funeral and my best friend who was with me every step of the way during that horrible time.  The pimento cheese my husband once spent 20 minutes looking for in the grocery store because he remembered me saying how much I loved it.  Coming home to a clean kitchen because my kids knew I had a stressful day.  The list could go on and on. 

As we step into November, the month where we count our blessings and speak of our gratitude, I am going to focus on these small gestures.  I am going to be more intentional in my thoughtfulness towards others as well as more intentional in the acknowledgment of the thoughtfulness of others.    Is there a small gesture you received from someone that meant more to you than you ever expressed?  If so, I’d love to hear about it!  If you don’t want to share it here, it’s never too late to say thank you to that person!  And let’s never lose sight of the impact the small acts of kindness mean to those on the receiving end…it can be life-changing.

I remember bits and pieces of my elementary school days…I remember most of my teachers’ names, of course my friends from that time, and an occasional memory here and there.  However, 1978-79 stands out pretty clearly for me.  That was the year I was in fourth grade and I LOVED fourth grade.

We studied dinosaurs, we studied the Civil War and I even remember the project I did with my friend Andrea where we wrote letters from the front line of the battle back home to our pretend families.  I recall burning the edges of the paper so the letters would look old and worn.  I have committed to memory a heated game of kickball where I was standing on the foul line and Chuck (the best kicker in the class) kicked one right down the foul line and before I could even move, my face stopped the ball and was a red, swollen mess for the rest of the day!  It was also the year boys began to enter my life (although I was not ready for them!)  Someone in our class had a “kissing game”.  The game was just a girl and a boy and when you pushed the button, the heads spun and landed on the girl kissing the boy, the boy kissing the girl, both heads turned away or the boy and girl kissing each other.  It landed on the boy and girl kissing each other and some boys in the class teased that since a boy named Kurt liked me, it was he and I kissing each other.  I spent the rest of the day crying because I was so embarrassed.  It was also the year Pat, a boy from my class that lived in my neighborhood, came to my front door and brought me a rose.  My mother called me upstairs to accept it and made me say thank you and then I immediately retreated to my room, refusing to come out because I thought it meant I had to be his girlfriend and I didn’t want to be his girlfriend.  Although my mom explained to me I didn’t need to be anyone’s girlfriend, I was so traumatized I refused to go to school the next day, thereby crushing my dream of the perfect attendance award I had been working so hard towards.  Why in the world do I remember all of these things so distinctly?  Because of Mrs. Long…my fourth grade teacher.

I loved Mrs. Long and she loved me.  How did I know she loved me?  I just knew.  I knew by the way she never lost patience with me.  I knew by the way she spent time with me outside of school and the letters she sent home to my parents.  I knew by the way she gave me the important job of filling out her grade book because I had such good handwriting (probably illegal now!).  I knew by the way she listened to me and never made my problems seem silly or inconsequential.  I knew because she made me feel special.  And although she never said it, I just knew deep down inside I was her favorite.

I may not have been the typical kid that often writes about the difference a teacher made in their life.  I didn’t come from a low-income family or a broken home.  I wasn’t suffering with a family secret, bullied, or having trouble making friends.  I wasn’t struggling with my grades or a behavior problem.  In fact, I was the complete opposite.  I was a straight A student from a middle class, loving family with lots of friends.  But I was a kid, like every other kid.  Our differences didn’t matter; we all wanted the same thing.   We craved adult attention.  We longed to feel special.  We wanted someone to really like us, not pretend to like us or like us because they had to, but really like us.  We yearned for someone to truly care about all the things important to a ten year-old and Mrs. Long did all these things.   I would venture to guess that every single student in her class that year felt like her favorite.  That’s just the kind of teacher she was.

Wouldn’t it be huge if every child had a Mrs. Long in their life?  Wouldn’t it be even more amazing if YOU were the Mrs. Long in a young person’s life?  You don’t have to be a teacher to be a Mrs. Long, there are many other opportunities.  Maybe it’s a child in your neighborhood or a friend of your own child.  Maybe it’s the teenager in your Sunday school group or the young man you coach.  Maybe it’s the pre-teen in your Girl Scout troop or the child who stops in your store often.  Maybe it’s your niece or your grandson.  Or maybe you are a teacher and to you I say THANK YOU.  I see you emulating Mrs. Long every single day with many different students, each with a myriad of needs.  And you do this year after year.

I never got a chance to tell Mrs. Long what an impact she made on my life.  I don’t know where she is or where life has taken her in all these years.  Maybe someone reading this does and I would love to hear from you!  But in case I never get a chance to tell her, my humble way to honor her is to strive every day to walk in her footsteps and pass forward the most valuable gifts she gave me…her time, her attention, and her love.  I fall short on a daily basis, especially with my own kids, but if each of us was intentional in our commitment to be a “Mrs. Long”, what a wonderful, loving world it would be!

Who was your “Mrs. Long”?  How was your life impacted by the attention of a loving adult?  I’d love to hear your story!

I’ve started this week’s blog post about five times and I keep hitting the delete button.  I’m just not feeling it this week.  I’m in a funk.  Everything I write feels blah because I feel blah.  I’m tired and cranky and overwhelmed and moody (yes, poor Todd!).  I’ve not been as productive as I want to be because I’ve been having too much fun being the guest of honor at my own pity party.  I want to climb in the bed and stay…for days.  Everything feels hard and I’m resentful because everything “seems” easy for everyone else, although I know it’s not.

I have nothing witty to say, no great lesson to cast upon you, I’m just showing up.  And you know what?  That’s ok.  Sometimes just showing up is the best we can do.  Although we don’t want to burden others with our sob stories, sometimes it’s nice to know that others have these kinds of days.  A kind of day where my hair feels too short, my thighs feel too big, my house feels too messy, my laundry feels too overwhelming, my job feels too scary, my kids feel too old, my friends feel too distant, my blog feels too insignificant, my heart feels too heavy, my diet feels too boring, my moods feel too manic, my smiles feel too absent, and my guilt feels too consuming because I have no “good reason” to feel all these things…I just do.

Here’s the thing.  I showed up today and I’m going to show up tomorrow…and the next day and the next.  Because that’s what we do.  We keep showing up until our gloomy days feel sunny again.  And they will.  That’s the beauty and irony of life…nothing is permanent.  Whatever you may be experiencing in this moment, know that this too shall pass.  It will, I promise.

I posted this quote on my LimitlessLessons facebook page this morning and I love it. 

I’ve written about being brave in a previous blog post and I sincerely believe that one of the most courageous acts is just showing up. I love the fact that we get the gift of a new day…a new beginning…a fresh start.  So, as Ralph Waldo Emerson so perfectly said, “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

See you tomorrow!  Maybe even with a new blog post and a smile on my face!

About six years ago, we completely renovated our house.  When I say renovated, I mean pretty much gutted it and started over.  I handled that the way I handle most things in my life…it handled me!  I was working full time, we were living in a very small rental home, I had two elementary aged kids, and things were happening much faster than I anticipated.  The workers helping to build the house even “packed” some of my stuff and a decade worth of my life was stored all over the place.  It was a mess.   

When we got moved in to the new house, I realized what a mess it really was.  Boxes were missing, some of our stuff had gotten ruined when a basement where we had things stored flooded, and many items were lost in the move.  One item that turned up missing was a box with my personal files in it.  All of the files were very important and special to me, but one of the files was an accumulation of memories of my dad…his will, the letter he wrote me before he died, newspaper articles about him, mementos from his funeral, a genealogy he worked on before his death, cards, pictures, and a lifetime of other stuff that I had deemed important enough to keep all those years.

I searched for that box for about three years, never allowing myself to believe it was actually gone.  I would not permit myself to even think about it.  Once I realized it really was gone, I was heartbroken.  I felt like my dad had died for a second time.  Now, not only was he gone, but all of his memories were gone as well.  I have refused to even think about it because it is so crushing to me and I have hated myself for ever letting it out of my sight.

Fast forward to a couple of weekends ago (no, I didn’t find the files!)  Todd and I decided to take Bella for a walk to a piece of land called “the love tunnel”.  I’m assuming it’s called this because (1) it’s a tunnel and (2) it’s spray painted with all sorts of expressions of love.  When Todd and I were in high school, we added our names to the tunnel, along with a date that had a special meaning to us.  I had not been up there in many years and my curiosity piqued as to what I would see when I got there.  Well, it was gone.  Not a trace of those two young, naive kids who believed our love was as invincible as that spray paint.

But in that moment as I searched the tunnel wall for any sign of the dedication of our love, I realized something very important.  I didn’t need to “see” the painted words in order to remember that day almost thirty years ago and what we wrote.  And I don’t need to “see” the file I kept on my dad to remember how much I loved him and how much he loved me.  I also don’t need to “see” all the important people in my life to remember what they mean to me.  My love and my memories of all the special people I have loved throughout my life are in a much safer place than a tunnel wall or a file…they are in my heart.  That’s the place where they will never get lost and where they will never fade.  So, I’m forgiving myself for losing that file, I’m going to stop worrying that without the “things” I might one day forget my dad,  and I’m just going to remember… because as long as I remember, the people I love will never be forgotten.

I’ve been enjoying some “Bella Time” the past couple of months.  If you’ve ever had a lab, and especially a lab puppy, you know their energy can be quite exhausting at times.  So, on most days, I load her in my jeep and drive a mile or so down the road where my husband’s family owns about 150 acres of farm land and woods.  She can’t sit still on the way there, running from one window to the other and crying the whole time because she is so excited!  Although she is still quite crazy, we’ve come a long way from her jumping out the car window as I was going down the driveway the first time I took her!  Who knew you had to train dogs to stay in the car?!?

As soon as we get there, I open the door and she jumps out and takes off as I follow her in my jeep.  She runs through the pastures, stopping occasionally to play in a creek or swim in the pond.  She explores the woods and chases animals she smells that are long gone.  She gets so excited she can barely stand it, but is child-like in the way she never gets too far ahead, always looking back to make sure I’m with her and waiting for me when the need arises.  If we do get separated, one honk of the horn sends her swiftly back to me.  And I get to feel like a bit of a bad-ass crossing creek beds and driving places I would only feel comfortable in a 4WD.  She has gotten so attached to this time, on days I can’t take her she sits by the doors and cries and pouts.  She loves “Bella Time” as much as I do!

Along with being great exercise for Bella and some much needed quiet time for me, I’ve used this time to do what I always do…look for a lesson to take away, an experience to experience, or an “aha” moment to teach me something new.  Here are some things that have stuck with me.

Everyone should spend some time in nature.  My husband is a hunter, but he seldom shoots at anything.  One day I asked him why (which is, by the way, fine with me!)  He explained he loves to be in nature.  He loves the quiet, watching the animals, and the peace that comes along with being disconnected from the world.  It’s where he does his best thinking and feeling.  I get it now.  I get very limited phone service on this land so it’s mostly me and nature.  It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, it’s peaceful and I have seen some amazing things.  We used to spend a lot of times outdoors in our younger days and I forgot how serene it can be.  I would be remiss though in not mentioning that my idea of being in nature involves me sitting in my jeep with the air conditioning on because there are too many bugs outside and I’m scared of snakes!  But I’m still enjoying nature…just on my own terms!

It takes a very special person to stick by you through feast and famine. Normally on these adventures, the cattle are generally in the same location.  Recently the cattle were really spread out which is no fun for me because Bella is still learning not to chase them!  I called my husband and asked why they were so spread out.  He explained that when the grass is lush and in abundance, the cattle stick together.  When the grass is browning (due to our lack of rain) and there is not an abundance of food, they will go their own ways and spread out.  Obviously in the cow world, this is a necessity in order to find food, but I immediately thought about humans.  When our life is lush with an abundance of blessings and good fortune, people stick with us like glue.  When life is not so lush and we are lacking in good fortune and maybe even good choices, people scatter.  If you are lucky enough to have some of those special people in your life who stick by you in a drought, don’t let them go!

Mamas are mamas no matter the species.  I wrote in a previous blog post, Lessons from the Creek, about Bella’s run-in with a mama deer.  She has had quite a few run-ins with mama cows and it’s exactly the same reaction.  They will protect their babies with a passion that is like no other, just like we protect ours.  I discussed in the other blog post about our ability to turn from intelligent, soft-spoken women to a scarier version of the Incredible Hulk if we think our children are threatened.  I have also found that “mother instinct” to come into play with my dog!  Bella was in the woods and I heard a noise that alarmed me.  There are coyotes in the area and I got worried.  I know the likelihood of a coyote messing with her in the middle of the day is probably very slim, but I didn’t even think.  I jumped out of the jeep and was ready to take on the coyotes when Bella came trotting out of the woods.  Now, I admit I don’t know what I REALLY would have done if a coyote came trotting out after her, especially since I don’t even know what a coyote looks like, but for that moment, my adrenaline kicked in and I was ready to take some coyotes down!  I’m sure there are some people now spitting out their drink as they laugh at that last sentence, but it’s true!!  I also almost jumped in the pond to save her from (my perceived) drowning one time, but I’ll save that for another post.

A couple of more random lessons I’ve learned.  You would be extremely grossed out if you saw how many flies are on one cow.  I’m surprised they don’t all die from disease!  Also, cows poop…A LOT!  So much that I looked it up.  They can poop up to 150 lbs a day.  Disgusting, huh!  And the last random lesson I learned is no matter how hard I try to prevent it, a dog will always step in that cow poop the moment before they jump into your car!  It never fails.

Of everything I experience on these adventures though, the best thing is watching how happy it makes Bella…what could be more satisfying than that?  My daughter says I love Bella more than my kids.  Well, she IS always happy to see me, always sad to see me go, never talks back, never tires of my kisses (even in public), doesn’t know how to roll her eyes, and the only thing she wants from me is my attention and time…let’s just call it a tie!

When I was a kid, we kept ourselves busy by playing outside. There was a street light near my house that bats were drawn to.  They would fly around the light at night.  The neighborhood kids would throw rocks up in the air and watch the bats swoop down, I guess assuming the rocks were food. I was a little weary of the bats. I worried they would swoop down and land on my head so I typically just sat and watched.  One night I got brave and decided to participate.  I threw my rock high up in the air!  I watched the rock go up…and I watched the rock come back down and hit me on the side of the head!  After some blood and tears, I decided I was done with the “bat game”.

I still have a dent on the right side of my temple from that rock.  It’s probably something only I can notice, but it occasionally leads me back to my 8 or 9 year-old self
to wonder why I didn’t get out of the way.  My husband would tell you it’s because
I was gifted with plenty of smarts but not a lick of sense.  He’s probably right, I am lacking in the common sense department at times, but I also think it might have been an indicator of things to come.

You see, just like that child stood and watched the rock hit her smack on the side of the head, this adult sometimes stands and allows hurtful people and situations to plow me over, with never even an attempt to get out of the way.  And just like I was the person who threw the rock that hit me, I think most of my painful situations have been self-inflicted as well.  
 
So how DO we “get out of the way”?  Here are some of the things I'm working on...

Stop surrounding yourself with people who bring you down.  Stay away from friends who judge you and make you feel bad about yourself and relationships that leave you feeling sad, rejected, and lonely.   Surround yourself with people who bring out the best in you.  Friends who support you and make you smile.  People you can be your authentic self with, not a mask of who you think they want you to be.  When I started doing this, my circle of friends dwindled, but I became a much happier person in the process.

Stop putting yourself in situations you know will lead to unhappiness.  Do things that make you happy… even if those things aren’t popular with your friends.  Doing things you truly enjoy will connect you with people with similar interests and you will be surprised how many people out there may have a hidden passion for the same things you do.  Writing a blog such as this is not something I have in common with many
people.  I knew I might not get a lot of support for it, but it has connected me with some of the most amazing people who write me privately about their struggles.  My writing is not for everyone, but for those who “get me” I cannot say thank you enough for your camaraderie.

Be you own best friend. Get to know yourself.  Learn to be comfortable spending time alone.  I spent more time by myself this summer than I ever have.  It was a blessing.  There was a time I would have not been comfortable doing that.  I always felt like I had to “fill” my time and try to keep up with the fun I thought everyone else was having.  For the first time in a long time, I’m comfortable in my own skin and I like being with me.

Let go of what you can’t control.  Just let it go.  It’s heavy and it’s weighing you down.  Hand it over to a higher power or decide you will revisit it some other time, but for now, set it down and continue the journey without it.  This is probably the hardest for me, but I’m making baby steps and so can you.

Stay positive and count your blessings.  There is always something to be thankful for, even if it’s just growing old…many don’t have that privilege.   Don’t take life so seriously.  That’s my goal this year…to put more fun in my life, especially at work.  Keep the focus on what’s good in your life and that will help you stay on the path of positivity.

What do you do to “get out of the way”?  Are some of the painful situations in your life “self-inflicted”?  I would love to hear your story!

It’s the beginning of the end…the end of summer that is.  It’s the end of lazy days and sleeping in.  It’s the end of long vacations, the sound of the waves, and the smell of suntan lotion.  It’s the end of going out to breakfast with the kids and hours spent playing with my puppy. It’s the end of a clean house, manageable laundry, and not being sure what day it is. I know the end of summer has come when I go buy my planner for the upcoming year.  I love the crisp, clean pages that will soon be colorfully marked with school schedules, meetings, sporting events, practices, appointments, and celebrations.

But many endings can be sad. At my age, I see my peers dealing with some painful endings.  The end of a marriage…the end of children living at home. ..the end of a career…the end of strong, healthy parents…the end of a friendship. 

But as we know, all endings are new beginnings in disguise.

I find some comfort in the idea that behind every painful ending, there is something new and promising waiting for us.  I am intrigued by what might be waiting ahead if I just have the courage to keep walking. The end of a marriage might be the beginning of finding your best friend.  The end of children living at home might be an exciting new chapter for you and your spouse.  The end of a career might open the door for you to follow your true passion.  The end of healthy parents might give way to a deeper relationship with them as the roles begin to reverse and the end of a friendship could lead the way to finding a new friend who understands you like no other.

Although the end of summer is a bit melancholy for me, it is also the beginning of many new things in my life as well.  It’s the start of a new school year with a new principal, new expectations, and new students.  It’s the opportunity to serve as an
advisor for Kappa Delta sorority at Virginia Tech as soon as the students arrive back. It’s the inauguration of being a parent to two kids in high school  and the excitement of new seasons for all their sports. It’s the establishment of my own journey to healthier living and a more peaceful state of mind and it’s the commencement of new challenges and opportunities for personal growth.

I don’t like change (see my post about change) so letting go of the old to make room for the new has always been challenging and frightening for me.  I'm trying not to focus on the sad endings and scary beginnings though, but to embrace all the life that comes in between.  How have you dealt with a painful ending or scary beginning in your life?  Have you made it through and are on the other side now?  How did it feel?

Everyone has “their” show…for my Dad it was Everybody Loves Raymond.  I can see him like it was yesterday, sitting on the edge of his bed laughing and laughing at that show.  For my husband, it’s The Big Bang Theory.  He watches marathons of it and just cracks up, even if he’s seen the episode many, many times.  For me, it’s The Middle.  I LOVE that show.  It’s the only show I laugh out loud to.  I record it and sometimes watch each episode a couple of times because I always catch something the second time I may have missed the first time around.  The show resonates with me on so many different levels.

The Middle is real. It doesn’t sugarcoat the realities of life and in our world of perfect “facebook families” the Hecks are a breath of fresh air.  I want to be their friend.  I’m still catching up on recorded episodes and I watched one the other day where Frankie (mom) was trying to get a job.  She was complaining to Mike (dad) that she kept getting asked in the interviews the philosophical question of “Who is Frankie Heck?”  She had no idea.  Together they decided “nice” and “hardworking” might be stretching the truth a bit so she asked her three kids to each give a word to describe her…Axl (son #1) came up with lazy, Brick (son #2) chose angry, and Sue (daughter) selected tired.  Frankie got frustrated and walked off and Axl yelled, “We are just trying to help!  You are being ungrateful!”  The other two kids started clapping, nodding their heads saying “ungrateful, great word Axl!”  So Frankie spends the rest of the show trying to figure out who she is.

Frankie, I don’t know who I am either and I hope I never really do.  Because if I can ever precisely define myself, it means I’ve stopped growing and changing.  I’ve been lots of different people throughout the stages of my life, some I’ve liked and some not so much, but they have all made me who I am today.  But here’s what I do know about myself…

I’m a contradiction. I’m the keeper of secrets and the shoulder that soaks up many tears.  I’m the unwelcome voice of reason and the look that makes you look away. I’m passionate, loyal, and trustworthy, but I’m also emotional, sensitive, and stubborn.  I’m a magician that can pull lost things from thin air and a gardener who nurtures, waters, and pulls the weeds of the many relationships I tend to.  I see myself as weak but always find myself to be stronger than I ever imagined possible when I have to be.  I don’t let you in easily, but when I do, you get the whole me…the good, bad, and ugly. I have a temper, but I also have a generous heart.  I’m not a risk taker with anything except relationships and then there’s no risk too great.  I can be inpatient and insecure but also independent and introspective.  I make lots of mistakes and ask for forgiveness. My heart feels like it’s going to burst with all the love and compassion I feel, but at the same time my head feels like it’s going to explode from all the thoughts and worries I ruminate.  I sometimes get so caught up in what I don’t have, I forget what I do have. I’m grateful and spoiled. I’m silly and serious. I’m lazy and busy.  I’m happy and sad.  I’m perfectly imperfect.

But no matter what combination you get of me on a given day, I also know I’m enough. 

And YOU are enough too.