Fill in the blank..

Green with ____.  Most people have no trouble finishing this sentence.

"Envy is the art of counting the other fellow's blessings instead of your own." Harold Coffin

I think we can agree that everyone has felt envy at one time or another. It's not pretty. Or healthy.  In this world of social media I think envy may be more prevalent than ever. We see SO MANY details of other people's lives. Mostly the great stuff that is happening for them.

It all seems to begin with comparison. So there I was, happily tra-la-laing along with my gizmo. Then I checked in on Facebook and saw that someone else has the newer, bigger, better, more expensive  model. I looked down at my gizmo and was not quite as satisfied.  The gizmo I loved just a few moments ago had suddenly fallen short.. So and So has the new model, and it's beautiful. Suddenly, out of nowhere, up pops that niggly, painful feeling..I want what THEY have! And just like that,  envy is born, with maybe a teeny tiny bit of resent thrown in. Ugly emotions both!

Comparison is a dead end street. There is no way we can be happy for others or content with our place in this world if we are always comparing.  Someone will ALWAYS have MORE than us. More money, be more beautiful, more fit, travel more..

To nip envy in the bud I need to be proactive. Figuring out the "triggers" that set off this negative feeling is top priority, then I can avoid getting into those situations. For example, we don't have to follow every single one of our "friends" on Facebook.

I have found that keeping a sufficiency journal where I list my blessings, and practicing the ole daily "attitude of gratitude" is what works best for me.

That..and staying off Facebook, lol!  ;)


Journal Journey Day 7

It's a dog's life.

I crave a life like my dog's.  He is just so chill. His world is what it is.  Snoozing in the sunny spot, sniffing for rabbits along the trail to the barn, assisting me in the kitchen as clean up crew.

He's not worried that yesterday he begged WAY too much or that tomorrow he has a vet appointment. He seems content no matter what he is doing. Sure he has his favorite things to do that make him happy and satisfied, but even so, he has has this easy-going attitude that I admire greatly.

Living in the moment. That's what it is. Finding joy in just being. Content in the now-ness. No matter how badly yesterday went or what's on my plate for tomorrow, I have decided to see every day as a treasure. Even the ones that seem somewhat mundane.
Let them ALL be dog days..


Journal Journey Day 6

I have a confession..

Journal Day 3

I have a confession to make.  I'm not proud of it. In fact it's extremely embarrassing.  If you came to my house, I doubt that you would even realize it.  I hide it well...

Welcome to my home, pretty orderly and neat, right? A place for everything and everything in it's place, (perennially in need of a good dusting though). Would you like a cup of tea?

WAIT!!! PLEASE!!! Don''t open that CLOSET!!!  Ooh, too late.. Hehe. It's ok, really. No worries, I'll put all that stuff back in there later.. Now, what about that tea?

Open just about any closet or drawer in my house and the ugly truth reveals itself. I am a muddled  messy.  My closets are in chaos, the drawers disorderly, the paperwork punch-drunk. Being so disorganized means that I cannot locate anything in a timely manner. Important things. Tax forms, insurance records, the snorkel gear. Things my husband asks for, things he needs me to find right now. I'm breaking out in a nervous sweat just thinking about it.

This monster problem has been on my New Year's Resolution list for so many years, that it has just  automatically started showing up on it's own every January 1st. I think I may have tried just about every self help book out there. I get better for awhile, but I've never been able to maintain neatness and inevitably I fall back into my same hurried, cram it somewhere patterns.

But wait folks, there's more! And this part is really awkward.. My husband is neat.  He is VERY neat. And orderly.  I know it must drive him crazy that I am messy. Bless him, he has tried to help me. He has organized me with lists and charts and colored stickers.. We make plans for me to have a garage sale, put items on Craig's list and eBay. And it works! At least it works while he's helping me.

But when I am again left to my own devices, I feel overwhelmed with the enormity of the tasks before me. Opening boxes to find that my mother actually saved every one of my art projects from kindergarten?? Well maybe I was no Picasso, but those have to worth something, right?  Did I mention that I also have a bit of a problem with procrastination and am easily distracted?  Trying to decide what stuff is important to keep and what to actually let go of seems gargantuan. I struggle in fits and starts, and eventually everything quietly falls back into disarray.

 I guess you don't need to be an Einstein to grasp this, but I believe the biggest problem to overcoming messiness is "stuff". And I have SO. Much. Stuff. Years and years and YEARS worth of stuff.  Since I live in a large home I have always gotten away with this secret messiness by just putting this stuff in "the storage room"(read: black hole). The room is lined with shelves all the way to the ceiling. In there I have stuff I haven't needed or looked at in years. It's nice stuff. Good stuff. Precious stuff and unnecessary stuff. Stuff I keep because it was my mother's, or maybe even her mother's. Stuff that I have some weird emotional obligation to hold on to forever. All this stuff has begun to feel like a ball and chain.  But it doesn't matter because it is out of sight and out of mind. No need to even think about that room or what's in it. Right?

Well guess what.. my husband wants to downsize. Put the farm on the market, move to a smaller no upkeep place so we can travel. He said he might even like a condo. A CONDO?? I can't fit all this stuff into a condo! The truth is all this stuff is weighting me down, I can't drag it around with me anymore. I truly want to get free!

And now it's real. I have a deadline. We are putting the house on the market May 1st.  I like deadlines, they help me to focus, they get me motivated! I can do this!!! Yes! I will be organized by May 1st!!! I gotta go get started!! I should make a list. And get some stickers. Let's pop the top on this first box...MY kid's kindergarten artwork. Nice! Gotta keep that!

And ooh, look at this! Something shiny..

My fade into Facebook

Journal Day 2

For some time now I've chosen to ignore the fact that Facebook has a tendency to undermine my sense of well-being. Still, I seem drawn to it like a moth to flame. Last night I once again admitted that FB, and to some extent the whole of the Internet does little to enhance my life. The negatives always seem to outweigh the positives. 

While I love keeping up with family and friends through Facebook, the net (how apropos) is thrown wide and I am pulled into what has become for me, a time sucking black hole. 

I will think I am hopping online "real quick like" to check my email and FB, but what inevitably happens is I click on something interesting. Then I click on something else "interesting". Then I click, click, click, click... By the time I come up for air, my coffee has gone cold and 45 minutes will  have passed without me, 45 minutes I won't get back. I've decided I want to be more present in ALL my minutes, so.. 

Day 2 of my journaling journey is also a bit of a "goodbye for now" to my Facebook friends. I will miss you all terribly, but I am in need of a break. I'd like to see something outside this little box I've been staring into. To live a bit more of a natural existence out here in the fray.  

I will probably keep tossing the odd journal entry up onto my blog, and I if you need me, I think my private messenger will keep working since it is supposedly separate from Facebook now, so please feel free to contact me there. 

I wish you blessings my friends, I will be thinking of you! 

Happy New Year! Sweet 2016!

My Journal Journey Day 1: Well hello there stranger..

Just about my one and only resolution for this coming year is to write in a journal every day. That and no more negativity. And to get more exercise, And to eat better. And to...oh you get the idea. Same resolutions, different year. ;)

I didn't intend to journal here, but since I can't find even ONE of my many paper journals, I realized I HAD to write somewhere today or I will have failed my only resolution on Day One. So here goes somethin'..

A new year lays out before me like a freshly discovered path. The anticipation of finding out what's around this next bend is almost palatable.  Exciting! And scary!! So many opportunities to be a better me! To stretch, grow, get out of my rut. To get it right this year!

But really, I can't launch myself into this new year with out a glance back at the year just passed.  So many great experiences. HUGE birthday. (Age is just a number right?) Sweet moments with some heartbreaking times mingled in.  But isn't that the way life is? Whether it's easy breezy or the toughest day of our lives, every second of time we have here is precious.

So my REAL New Year's resolutions? Be present in every moment. Look for the good. Bless others. Seek peace. Chase joy..

My Heart's Song

Awareness beckons.
Calling my mind to the surface,
towards consciousness,
away from dreams of the night.

Unwaveringly, my mind sets off on a road all it's own.
I travel a well worn route, walk it daily.
Down the miles and the years to where my children dwell.
But they are children no longer, these sons of mine.
Men now, years past mothering and the need for one.

Still it is a mother's heart that beats in my chest.
A drum pounding a song to my sons grown so far from me.
An anthem that could not be stopped if I desired it so.
The lullaby they listened to under my ribs
as they lay waiting to burst forth into the world.
My heart will sing this litany
till the last beat quiets in my chest.

A canticle so familiar and true,
strummed on my heartstrings
the moment I first beheld them.
When my heart swelled beyond reason,
so full of amazement and joy
that it must surely burst.

The lyrics never change.
They are the same, enduring.
Words of love and hope.
An acclamation brimming with motherly pride..
It is an ode full of joy and anticipation,
for who they are and who they will become.

It is a quiet hymn of thankfulness.
For I am blessed to know them,
to have held them in my arms.
It is a chant to the world
that I am holding them still.
In my heart. In my mind.
In my prayers.

My song is full and pouring over,
an aria that runs in an endless river
from my heart to theirs.
I am convinced this refrain will echo
down the years.
Long after I am gone from this place.

If they listen closely,
with their hearts open wide.
I believe.
They will catch the melody
of my heart's song,

Still drifting to them on the breeze...

Just an old chunk of wood

At first I see nothing beyond the familiar form.

The "me" I have become over the years.

The hardened block of who I am.

Recently though, life has come at me like an axe.
The first swing sliced cleanly through the branches of who I believe I am. It is now busy lopping away the bark covering the persona I have unknowingly created.

This slashing is painful to the extreme.
I wonder if can survive this much chiseling and gouging. It seems there may be nothing recognizable left.

I study my reflection.

It's still me that stares back, yet not me.

Hmm, something  new there, just behind the eyes.

Though still raw and rough hewn to behold,

it's evident.  A transformation is taking place.

An epiphany surfaces,
I am being sculpted.

A craftsman has eyed this timber it seems.
Considered it's natural shape and bend.
Determined the best means to free the heart within.
Artistic license is being taken.

This artist will shape me as he sees fit,
skillfully carving me into something useful.
My true grain is slowly beginning to show.

I am more than a little surprised.

The color is deeper and richer than I thought likely.
Much more real this "new" me.

I know this transformation is nowhere near complete.
So much more work to be done.
I can't imagine what the sanding process will entail.
When finished,  I cannot fathom who I will be,
or what I will look like.

Though still painful to endure,
I think I've found the key.

To abide this refinement,

I cannot not fight against my sculptor's hand.
I must yield to his touch. Trust the skill of his knife.
I will wait patiently..

and let the chips fall where they may..

Hello...hello? Is anybody here?

Creepy sounds echo down an empty hall..a key scraping in the lock, the turn of a rusty knob. A door creaking open on corroded hinges..  A violent, maniacal scream ringing out. (Mine. I am draped in cobwebs as I poke my head in the door.) I peer into murky darkness. The air is stale and lifeless.  My eyes adjust, a forlorn atmosphere of neglect permeates the space. Hello? Hello? Is..is anybody here?? 

This is where I used to live. The place I called home for a wonderful season of my life. I spent some of my most satisfying times here. It was a comfortable place, one where felt free to express my opinions and emotions, highs and lows, on a regular basis. I had thoughts profound (and not so much), and shared them with anyone that would listen.

 I started with such promise. I was just getting to know myself as a writer, just spreading my wings, finding my voice, memorizing the home keys... Then this happened and everything fell apart. I have not written one blog word since I burned out with that "novel".

I have gone so far as to purposely avoid other's blogs so I wouldn't feel the "pull". Then my friend Tori announced on Facebook that she had written a blog about Perennial Pete, dang it all! I have such a soft spot for that guy, I had to read it! Then of course, I wanted to comment on her post, but couldn't even remember my blogger name. I had to go to my account to look up my info, that's when I saw it. My blog. Sad and empty with the screen door hanging askew on it's hinges.. The whole thing slowly sinking into blog oblivion.
Such a waste..  No. Wait. I can't let it end like this, can I?  I LOVED my blog!  It was so important to me once, maybe it could be again. I should at least give it a try I think. Expressing myself through writing was good for my soul.

It will definitely take some elbow grease though. I now tend to write in a monotone, and I'm still having trouble forming sentences over six words long. But here I am, screwdriver in hand..the tool not the drink..ready to attempt a restoration on my little blog. Have patience and wish me luck! (and don't expect anything impressive for awhile, okay?)

Oh, by the way, Tori? Thanks.
Say hi to Pete for me. :)

A "novel" endeavor..

No, no, no,no, nooo!!! Why, oh why?! I can't believe it! What was I thinking?? I'm doomed!
 
It all started last night. There I was minding my own business. Reading a blog, choosing another from the ones that commented, going to their blog, picking another from the commenter’s, going to their blog... I was so far into the deep recesses of Blogdom, I could NEVER have backtracked my way out.

Suddenly up pops a little message on my screen. I have a note from Tori.  Ah Tori,  a dear friend and fellow blogger, she has been most helpful in guiding me through the do's and don'ts of blogging. Well let's see what "The Tor-ster's" up to tonight:

Hi Pam,
I don't know if you've ever heard of this: http://www.nanowrimo.org/.  You write a novel in a month. It starts November 1 and ends on the 30th (duh) . I am seriously considering doing this. I'm wondering if you'd like to take this crazy journey with me.
Tori

Let's see what I said:
Gee Tori, I’ve never even considered writing a book, I've got no ideas. 50,00 words? Wow. That seems like a lot of time and effort to put into something that would be awful. (See? See my response right there? I am using my deductive reasoning skills. It doesn't happen often. It's my inner-self quietly telling me no. No Pam, don't.)

Tori: Most of what results is CRAP, but that's half the fun. They expect crap. I have no idea what I would write either. I think that's part of it, just letting go, concentrating on hitting the word count goal w/o worry about the content.

Me: Hmmm ...I don't know...the time commitment.. the fiction thing. I wouldn't even know what to write about... (See, here again, that inner voice of reason)

Tori: We could encourage, commiserate, celebrate, procrastinate with each other! We could set small rewards for goals met. We could celebrate huge if we succeed. It would involve carbs....lots and lots of carbs...and alcohol {and maybe strippers}

Me: drooling slightly..Carbs? Oh my. Dang it all, she KNOWS I'm in the carb-less hell of Phase 1 on the South Beach Diet! (This is when I start to hum  a little. My inner-voice is still talking but I can't quite make out what it's saying. )

Tori: Maybe something surprising would come out of it, ya know. Bragging rights that you wrote a novel is one! No pressure really... I could do it alone I guess...I'd still luv ya...

Oh no! Poor Tori, I can't let her be alone in this.  (My inner-voice is now screaming bloody murder, "She LIKES being alone! She WANTS to be alone! Let her do it .. ALL alone!!!)

Me humming loudly..Well,  I guess it might be fun...and if there's carbs involved and they really just expect drivel... then, ...Okay, I'm in.   (My inner voice is now crazily rattling around  in my mental cupboards looking for a VERY sharp knife with which to cut off my two typing fingers.....)

I am not really a writer, I am a yammerer (this probably isn't a word, but you get the idea). My mind flits around like a butterfly, never landing in one place for too long. I think that's why I enjoy blogging. An idea comes, I ruminate on it for awhile, spit it out into the blogosphere and viola! I'm done and it's gone, never needing to be thought about again.

But another thing about me..I'm faithful. Once I tell ya I'm there, I am (just usually 15 to 20 minutes late).

I told Tori I would do this, and so I will. I will write a REALLY crappy, confusing, jumbled novel in 30 days time. So here I go:   "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Sounds fun... doesn't it? :-/

Care to join us?

He just doesn't get it. Why I Blog...

Last night in bed, my husband turned to me.  I could tell by the look on his face that this was not going to be the usual bedtime question (you know the one I mean). "Oh no", I thought, "here it comes".  I had been dreading this elephant in the room for weeks, dancing around it, all smoke and mirrors. He leveled his gaze looked deep into my eyes and asked...

"Why do you blog?"

I was a deer caught in the headlights. "Well, I blog because I...because it..." I sputtered. "Ooohhh, I don't know why!!" He just looked at me. "Oh" was all he said poor guy. But how can I tell him why,  when I don't even know the answer myself?

I have been spending a lot of time on my laptop lately...I mean A LOT of time...hours...days..weeks. I felt a little obsessed and slightly out of control. Sitting here tapping away with the dishes and laundry piling up around me. Still in my pj's at noon. It's been my guilty little pleasure, my "new love".

I have a better handle on my priorities now. I'm showering regularly again, the house is back in order. But still, even with the house sparkling and dinner in the oven, I have a tendency to jump up from the computer the minute I hear his truck in the driveway. (I have no idea why I do that.)

But back to the other why.  Hmm... blogging...why.. Well, it started by chance. An adorable, young college friend of mine began blogging and I really wanted to know what was going on in her gifted mind.  I read her blog, loved it and wanted to tell her so. To do this it seems, I had to have a bloggy thingy of  my own. No problem. I filled out the form, came up with a name off the top of my head, and posted a comment to my darling friend. There. Done. Wait...

My blog looked so empty compared to hers. All of a sudden it was like getting a new apartment. I had an empty space to fill, colors to choose, little gadgety furnishings to place here and there.  SO FUN! I loved it.

When I was finished, I thought it was beautiful. But now what?  What would I do if this really was my new apartment? I'd have some friends over! I'd invite them. But to what, a blog with no blogs? No words, no thoughts..oh, I couldn't have that. That would be like having no wine in the fridge! I decided then and there that I'd better write something.

I sat down at my computer with a nice hot cup of coffee, put my fingers on the keys and ....nothing, not one word, thought or idea. Eww. I found this a tiny frightening.. I tried harder...still nothing. When did I stop thinking, I wondered. Trying not to panic,  I was finally able to bang out a few words strung together. But the fact that I couldn't come up with any thoughts profound or otherwise worried me. Was this the start of my downward slide toward slack-jawed drooling in front of the TV??

I needed to do something to get my my mind ruminating NOW! So every few days I sit down to write. At first, thinking was a challenge (I can't believe I am even telling you this!), but I'm finding, the more I do it the easier it becomes. Kind of like exercising...only for the brain..

 As a somewhat newly empty-nest mom, blogging has helped me get through some tough times. Times of family moving,  hormonal issues, Michigan winters and having my only grandchild live far away.. But in reality, more than anything else, I blog to keep my mind humming on all cylinders.

And to keep this from happening to me:





 
Wouldn't you??

When did I become a butterball?

Actually I am  more likely a wine and cheese ball, but either way, these last few years I have let the pounds sneak on and my middle thicken. I think am beginning to resemble a member of the Pillsbury Dough family. Either that or my arms, legs and neck are getting shorter.

To make matters more complicated, for the last month or so,  I have been travelling almost non-stop. Weddings and birthdays are such fun and  I love gathering with family and friends. Lots of yakking, lots of food, lots of drinks. And speaking of travel, what about those hotel "all you can eat breakfast buffets", aren't they awesome?  Though I doubt you are actually supposed to see how much you can pack away, I act like it's a contest or something. Bleah. I'm starting to feel like I may  pop. ENOUGH with the eating already!  I will never run a marathon and I do not really hibernate, so there is no reason to eat as if I do.

I have always gained weight in the winter, lost it in the summer. I've been my own personal sundial. Long days equal slender and fit, short days equal chubby and subdued (read fat and lazy). But somehow my metabolism changed when I wasn't looking and now I gain weight in the winter, don't lose any in the summer, gain weight in the winter, don't lose any... You get the idea, and guess what, winter is coming. If I don't get a handle on this now, you won't be able to see my limbs at all by Spring. 

So yesterday I ate a goodbye Whopper (not the junior), fries and a coke. This morning I signed up for the South Beach Diet online. I didn't have a lot of the ingredients needed for today's meals so I had to modify somewhat, but my body got the point...the "carb party" is over. Although the first two weeks will be pretty tough, (no bread, potatoes, bread, rice, bread, beer, bread, wine or bread. Did I mention no bread?),  I like the over all looks of the diet, very balanced, satisfying amounts of food, some sweets.
 
Here's a problem though, I don't usually cook, I graze. So today was spent shopping and chopping and prepping so it won't take me hours to make my meals, because when I do cook, I have a tendency to nibble (read: gobble) while I work. 
 
Another problem? I haven't been getting any exercise. So today I went back to the gym...Wow have things changed there since my last visit. New machines, an awesome coffee bar, a ..WATER PARK?  Cheez! How long has it been since I  worked out last??  If you know the answer to that, please don't tell me, I don't really want to know.
 
I went to a class called BODYPUMP. Each person grabs a barbell and then weights it up according to their abilities. The instructor then puts you through hell, a full body workout,  yelling insults encouragment while she attempts to kill you  works you for 45 minutes to an hour. There were little bitty grey haired women with more weight on their barbells than me. I looked like I was holding a really long silver Q-Tip, and I still struggled to get it over my head. Tomorrow I will be so sore I won't be able to use my pudgy little arms at all.  Sad.
 
 I have always taken my health and my slender frame as a given, like the color of my hair (don't go there..that's a topic for another day) or the color of my eyes. It seems pretty arrogant when I look back on it, but here's the cold hard fact, it isn't easy anymore, and now I'm scared. 
 
I want to be active and healthy for the rest of my life, but in reality it's not going to a breeze like it was before. Now it's going to take hard work and sacrifice (Goodbye curling up on the couch with a good book for hours. Goodbye double bacon cheeseburgers, great big beers and DQ Turtle Sundaes..hello aerobics classes from hell, water, veggies and lean meat in all it's forms...boiled, broiled, baked, stewed and shoe leather). 

Changing my lifestyle for good? Wow, that's daunting, but you know what? I'm okay with it,  I just have to be. Hey, I'd better get to bed, I've got to work out in the morning..  :-}

Hanging tough!
Pam

Where is love?

Love is patient.

Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love covers offenses.

Perfect love casts out fear.

True love cannot be quenched.

Love always builds up.

Love is God is...LOVE.

Truth. Fo sho.

Whats the matter with me?

Today I mailed a high school graduation card to a darling girl, whose family I have become close to over the years. Sweet right? Yes, well...the only problem is this particular girl graduated from high school last year. What's up with that? Did I know she was graduating last year? Yes. Was I invited to the graduation party? Yes. Odd? Yes. I had her card, I just never mailed it.

You are probably thinking, oh that kind of thing can happen to the best of us on occasion. But therein lies the problem...this isn't occasional, it is constant and on going. My regular mode of operation. I once bought my sister a birthday card saying how she looks good for someone old enough that she wore bell bottoms. Then I waited so long to give it to her that bell bottoms came back into style and the joke became pointless.

Usually though, once it had been too long after the event, I will just bag it and try to pretend it never happened. I would be embarrassed for a gift to show up six months after the couple is married, the kid is born, etc.

Wait, it gets worse..the lack of gift doesn't usually stop me from going to their wedding, toasting the bride, doing the chicken dance with their family and bellying up to the bar...crass aren't I? Horrible.

Paralyzed to change maybe. Not that I haven't tried. I'm sure Dr. Phil would have a field day taking this quirk apart. What goes wrong? I buy cards by the lot. I have darling birthday, graduation, bridal shower, wedding, baby shower, baptism, first communion, anniversary (including a 50th), retirement, get well soon and this is horrible, sympathy cards. A person's whole life could be congratulated and comforted from my card stock alone...

Is there any hope for me? I'm not sure, but I'm going to keep trying...

So anyway..

Happy Graduation Shelby. The card is the mail... well not in the mail, but in my purse ready for the post. Okay that's a lie. It's still in the drawer, but I'm getting it out now..really...

Love you Kid.

A Hard Look in the Mirror..

This entry was difficult to write, so I know it will be uncomfortable to read. It may make you squirm a little. But man or woman, parent or spouse, I pray if you see yourself here, even a little bit, these words of mine will encourage you to change and to grow.

I know of what I speak. This is a lesson learned in the hardest possible way, by wielding my words as a weapon and seeing the injured fall under the weight of them. It is an offense I detest in myself. Oh, to unsay a lifetime of thoughtless words that have pierced my loved ones. But no. Once airborne they cannot be drawn back, and they echo into eternity.

Like a blade, harsh words lay the victim wide. Yet we throw them about with no regard to the pain they cause. Apologize as we might, the damage is done. The wounded, though they forgive us, will nonetheless bear a scar.

If I can enlighten one person to the devastation of this, then these words are not in vain. So dear friends, this is my love letter to you:


I heard you today. You and your little family enjoying a mall lunch at the food court, your children playing in the fountain. So entertaining to watch, such a perfect little family. Then it happened.

I saw the daggers fly from your lips. Straight toward your wife's heart, they hit their target full on. Her shoulders sagged. Your words knocked the wind out of her, visibly crumbling her self-worth. I don't believe you realize the power of your words.

Like a snake, your criticism wrapped around her, crushing her spirit. Your assessment of her inadequacies was like a knife. You were probably trying to motivate her, but you shamed her instead. Though only a onlooker, your words stung me too. I'm sure you love her, I can see that you love her, but you wield your words like a club. I fear you will beat her to death with them.

Still, behind the hurt in her eyes, I could see that she adores you. She thinks you hung the moon. Young man, prove it's true. Be the person she thinks you are. Walk in grace and integrity, curb your tongue.

You are called to be her protector, her safe place, not her judge, not her jury. Not one more voice in a world of voices that tramples her down. A gift to you, she was created from God's own heart, made beautiful inside and out. He knows and loves her as she is right now, just as he does you.

I'm sure it would shock you, if someone told you how you sound. But, be it adult or child, if there is little feeling of acceptance, understanding and respect between two people, if one is hurting, is belittled or mocked by the other; "can't you do anything right?", "you're so lazy", "are you an idiot?" that person is verbally battered.

Some would justify, "Being nice doesn't work. They've got to learn to take it. I'm doing it for their own good, to help them become a better person." But another might ask, does verbal abuse ever make someone a better, healthier person? Does it ever enrich the relationship? Does it ever show love?

For some unfathomable reason, we seem to be the hardest on the ones we love the most. To our family we often speak with severity, using words we would never utter to a friend, an acquaintance, or a even a stranger. Why do we have this need to be judge over another? Why the desire to "fix" our loved ones, to point out their shortcomings, when we should be working our own?

How confusing, the heart. How devious the tongue. (you can read more on this: James 3:2-12)

But of course, thankfully, there is a wonderfully redeeming flip-side. The tongue can speak joy and peace as healing as any balm. Soothing, they bless both the hearer and the speaker. Sweet words make our hearts sing. Words of affirmation and acceptance build us up. They help us stand taller and make us feel loved and appreciated, safe and warm. They beget kind words in return. They teach our children the power of kindness.

Something harshness can never do, words of encouragement easily accomplish, for they cause us to bloom. Like spring rain, they create in us a desire to grow, to reach for the sky. To be our best. And it's in this process that we all become richer, fuller and more complete.

What a contrast. Words can cut or they can heal. Bring pain or comfort, sadness or joy. Death and life it seems, are in the power of the tongue.

Choose life.

'Nuff said.

Like two ships passing...

It's the natural way of friendship I guess. People drift in and out of our lives like boats on the tide. Some resemble huge cabin cruisers as they go steaming past, full speed ahead. Others are more akin to little dories and dinghies that bob happily by, sharing the water for a time before heading off in another direction, on to new adventures in their lives.
Once or twice in a lifetime though, the winds may chance to breeze a resplendent little cattamaran into your life. With sails snapping in the wind, colorful flags flying and bullhorn booming: "Let the fun begin!" I am blessed to have a friend like this. She comes complete with a Caribbean steel drum band and rum punch. Let's christen her "The Dolphin".

"The Dolphin" and I have been anchored in the same small harbor together for more than a few years now. Drawn into friendship by the circumstances of our kid's activities and a mutual admiration of all things equine, we have had great fun sailing along on a similar course. Always there for each other with a hand to help, an encouraging word or an obnoxiously self-serving I-told-you-so, we have weathered some rough seas together.

Recently though, ever so slightly and without being aware of it, I have begun to list a few degrees starboard of my charted route. At first I didn't realize that I was off course, it looked like we were still heading toward the same spot on the horizon. Now I am conscious of an ever widening distance between us, as I unwillingly change direction.

I feel as if I somehow came unmoored in the night, caught up in my own personal riptide. Untethered from parenting, I seem somewhat rudderless, and I am for the moment, drifting in an unfamiliar direction. Pummeled by the hormonal tempest of my age-group, I am at the mercy of this fickle wind as it blows me into uncharted territory.

All the while, "The Dolphin" has been sailing steadily along behind me. The winds of mothering teenagers whirl around her, as she braves the storms of her parents ill-health. She needs all hands topside, a firm grasp on the wheel, and a sharp eye towards the rocky shoals. I've sailed these waters before. I want to run alongside, to call out a sounding that will help her avoid the craggy shoreline and the dangers of running aground or capsizing.

But I've drifted too far ahead. We are both battered by the wind and waves. As my storm intensifies, I call out one thing, she hears another. She yells back, but I can't understand her. As I am slowly spun out to sea, I am convinced that she can no longer hear me at all.

As this day draws to a close, the wind and waves have ceased and the water is like glass. I sit marooned and alone, no land in sight. I long to get back to familiar waters, but my sails are in tatters and my rudder is gone. The sharks of despair seem to make ever smaller circles towards my leaky, broken boat. I think our friendship may be sinking, but I am unwilling to abandon ship. I hope this isn't the end...

Wait. Do I hear Reggae? Could it possibly be? There, in the distance, motoring at top speed, sails full and flags whipping in the breeze, it's "The Dolphin" coming to the rescue of her sinking compatriot. As she makes ready to pull alongside, I am filled with delight as I hear a familiar voice shout, "Hey, do you have any olives? Quit teasing the sharks and get over here. Let's get this party started!"

A sighting of the ever elusive...

It was a rare sighting. They landed in our yard just before midnight after a weekend spent on the shore of Lake Michigan. To gain strength before winging their way back to Chicago, they returned once again, to a place of known food, shelter and shower facilities. We coaxed them into staying with promises of soft beds, endless hot water and a big breakfast.

They didn't stay long, just enough time for hugs, kisses, how are you's, and here eat this. Then, born to fly, they were gone and the nest sits empty once again.

The seasons of life have changed and I watch my fledglings soar off into the unknown, with me waving a frantic good-bye. It's hard not to be melancholy, they were nurtured in this nest. But you can't hold them after they learn to fly. They will just struggle in your hand until you release them. Then with a whir and a flutter, they ascend till they are just a tiny speck in the sky.

Still, I understand the seasons, so I don't despair. Just like the robins that disappear from my yard in Autumn, only to return every spring, they'll be back...

They know the way home.

Clown Fish and Rich Girls

Trying to join an existing “friend group” is a little like scuba diving, you have to constantly watch your perimeters. This is especially true, if the water you are entering is an established friendship of strong, beautiful, well-to-do women.

It’s like swimming with say... Manta Rays. It’s amazingly fascinating and fun, but it also has an element of danger. A school of Manta Ray is not aggressive per se, but when they go cruising by, swinging those long tails with the VERY sharp barbs on the end, it’s only a matter of time before you get hit.

That’s probably why I am somewhat of a loner. As much as I enjoy the company of other women, I don’t usually swim in a school. There is always an intricate hierarchy, too many dynamics already in place.

I usually feel like the clown fish, swimming in and out among the anemones, trying to avoid the stinging tentacles. It’s exhausting and not really all that worth it, because more often than not, I come away stung and tattered, with puncture wounds all over my dignity. Painful to say the least. It's enough to make me want to get out of the water.

Maybe I should just swim nearer the shore. Play in the waves with a few really good dolphin friends I have in my life. Not venture out too deep.

You never know what’s out there in the dark water… maybe something that bites.

The Bitter Root

It starts out as a hurt, real or imagined. It plants itself in my mind and heart. I water it with my distressed thoughts, raking it over time and again. Before I know it, bitterness has taken root and soon blooms into what looks like Jack's beanstalk. Or more like that plant, Audrey Jr. from The Little Shop of Horrors.

It's huge and feeds on my thought life for weeks or months. When finally I get sick of this thing eating me alive and come to my senses, I decide enough is enough. That's it. I'm forgiving this person. I take hold of the hurt, give a pull and up it comes. Easy. There it's gone.

What I didn't see was the root left behind, below the surface, and the next time that person comes to mind..whoosh! I turn around and there it is, bitterness, anger, resentment in full bloom again. It always surprises me. Where did THIS come from? I dealt with that weed long ago.

We all know weeds are almost impossible to get rid of. You pull, you dig, you spray, you set it on fire and if you work REALLY hard, you MIGHT eradicate it. God in his wisdom offers a much better plan. Don't plant it in the first place.
Hebrews 12:15 "See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many."

Here is what I am learning. Dispense with hurt while it's still a seed. Take it to God and if possible, to the person that caused it. It's alright to examine it, but then choose to forgive and cast the hurt away. Don't allow yourself to dwell on it any longer. Give it no room to grow in the garden of your mind. Philippians 4:8 states "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." These are flowers in the garden.

Weeds and flowers don't grow well together. The weeds will eventually choke the flowers out. Deal ruthlessly with bitterness and anger. Ephesians 4:31 "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice."

As for dealing with old hurts and resentments that we have cultivated.....

Lay an axe to the root.

Bella Ella

A year ago my oldest son and his beautiful wife ripped my heart right out of my chest and took it with them to live in Tennessee. They stole my granddaughter, Ella. Okay, perhaps "stole" is too strong a word, she is their daughter after all, and they had an excellent reason to go. They went in search of a more peaceful way of life, and of course they took their daughter with them.

At first, I held out hope that they would come to their senses and realize they just couldn't be happy living so far away from us. While being outwardly supportive, I found myself secretly exulting with every hardship and difficulty they encountered. Aha, I would think, now they are going to realize the mistake they've made and head home. But no. They are happy and thriving in the South. My little family has been "mountain folk" for just over a year, and now a serious development is unfolding. They are buying a house. So. They are not coming back.

My son and his wife moved to Tennessee for a variety of reasons, all of them compelling. They wanted warmer weather, mountains to bike, rivers to swim, a simpler life-style close to nature. I understand completely and am overjoyed that they have found contentment with a slower paced life centered on their family, but sometimes I am so lonely for Ella I can hardly breathe.

I can't remember what I did for fun before she came along. Being with her makes me appreciate God and this wonderful world he made for us to play and live in. For such a little munchkin she certainly has taught me a lot and reminded me of things I hadn’t thought about since her daddy and uncles were little. Things like-

Being outdoors is always more fun than being inside.

Admire the sky least once a day, it's an ever changing masterpiece.

Dance barefoot in the grass.

Hugs, kisses and smiles should be given freely and often. They make both the giver and the receiver feel good.

Anything and everything can be taken to God in prayer:
"Lord, please bless these ladybugs and help them find their way out of Nonni's house, before we have to send them to Heaven through the vacuum cleaner..."

It’s nice to sit on the floor with dogs.

Smell the flowers, even the wilted ones.

Remember to kiss your pony after you ride.

Gaze around in wonder.

It’s okay to cry when you feel hurt or disappointed.

Hold your hands up in the air and feel the breeze.

Get down really close to bugs and stare hard at them.

A nap always helps when you feel cranky.

Look for fun, it's all around you.

And just like gems, you can never have too many interesting rocks.

God bless you Ella Belle, thanks for the life lessons little girl.

My new reality, Ella in my life at Christmas and summers. That's not going to be enough. It looks like I will be burning up the road between here and the Smokies on a regular basis. So Ella and I won't have the casual, see you everyday relationship that we have enjoyed. But, we'll make it work.

Our visits will be precious. Our time together condensed to it's essence, like coal compressed till it's a diamond, and for that, it will shine all the more.

Snow..it's just around the corner.

A recent realization; even though I have faked it my whole life with skiing, sledding, ice skating and snow angels, I have lately come to the conclusion that I'm not all that fond of winter.

It's a predicament. I live in Michigan. At one point, our state motto was "Michigan, the winter water wonderland". Wonderland? Yes, but I now "wonder" how I am going to make it through another unending Michigan winterland.

The length of winter, the deep, brittle cold, the abbreviated days, these are at the center of my despair. Winter brings horse chores in thigh high snowdrifts, with it's frozen water tanks and water lines, frozen fingers and frozen toes. It's the ice storms, the freezing rain blowing sideways, black ice, slush that sucks at your tires and tries to pull your car off the road. The deep wind-blown drifts on the highways, the.... yikes! What an absurd preoccupation with the coming horrors of winter. This has got to stop, it's still August!

I can't change where I live, I'm a Michigan girl and this is home. It's obvious wishful thinking won't change anything, or the North would be in the South. The only thing I can change is my perspective. To do that, I need to see the Creator in this picture.

As I ponder the seasons, my first thought is how graceful God is. He doesn't just slap us in the face with winter the day after Labor Day. He brings the change slowly. First he cools the air, making it brisk and refreshing; it leaves me feeling invigorated and full of anticipation. Next, he plasters color everywhere. There is no way to ignore his invitation to come outside. Trees and plants turn golden, orange, red. Leaves fall and crunch underfoot. Apple orchards yield their harvest, pumpkin patches are full. The bugs die down and it's perfect weather for trail-riding. Family and friends gather for bonfires, football games, hay rides. I can't believe I forgot about Autumn, I LOVE Autumn.

And what about the holidays, Thanksgiving with Christmas right on it's heels? I cannot imagine Christmas without snow. I love tromping through the drifts to find the perfect tree. As a child, I considered Southerners deprived at the Yuletide; I could never Christmas shop in shorts. I still feel cheated if I wake up to a green Christmas morning. Apparently, I look forward to the snow. Confusing isn't it?

Well, it's not that I hate snow, I love the stuff. I love how it sparkles in the sun like it's filled with hidden diamonds. I'm amazed that each snowflake is intricate and unique. I like snowball fights and snowmen and coming into the house to a roaring fire and hot chocolate. I love to gaze out my living room window when it's snowing really hard. I feel like I'm inside a snow globe that has been shaken. I like the crunch of new snow under my boots and walking in the dogs tracks down to the barn. I love furry horses with frosty whiskers. When they call out to me, I can see their whinnies in the air.

I love woolly sweaters and fleecy robes. Cute hats with matching gloves and big scarves. I love laying on my back in the snow at twilight, while snowflakes land on my face. I like... well, I guess I like winter. Remind of this in February, will you?