For the past several years, shows like "America's Got Talent," "American Idol," and "The Voice" have become part of our national reality. We refer to them as "reality shows"...but the truth is...they are vehicles to showcase talent. Now, bear in mind that the word "talent" is one of those words like "beauty" and "intelligence" that is seriously subject to interpretation. But sometimes it just is what it is...pure, unadulterated, passionate talent.
I am a believer that every person drawing breath has a unique gift that is for the benefit of us all. It is God given and is usually nurtured by Him so that it is present at the exact moment that He wants to employ it. I also believe that we have tendencies toward certain talents and are attracted to hobbies and interests that we develop over our lives. I don't want to split hairs here...because I do believe that everything comes to us from God...but I will say that sometimes He gives us a little room to explore something on our own so that it turns into a "dream" or "goal" or we learn from totally failing at it over time. Our "gift" or "gifts" are something that flows out of us naturally...like being able to spell, sing, notice details, or play the piano by ear. But our talents are something that we tend to develop over time...and we learn something about ourselves in the process.
I watched the Olympics several weeks ago and it was talent on parade. But it wasn't just a natural bent that brought these athletes to this competition. It was the hard work, sacrifice, coaching, determination and love of the sport that got them here. Or the government told them that they were going to compete, perhaps, but let's assume that they had to show some aptitude to at least be considered. I think of the things that people said "no" to so that they could continue to get just a little bit better day after day, month after month...year after year.
That level of discipline is something that I could really use right now. I have been struggling so much with being undisciplined in a couple areas of my life. I suppose that this is pretty universal...but when I see someone overcoming the natural tendency to just quit doing something because it is too difficult...it makes me smile.
For the past several years, I have struggled with my weight. For the longest time, I was able to justify this because I truly was extraordinarily busy and honestly felt that investing in my children and in my career were more important than taking care of me. Now that I have an uphill battle to fight...some days it just seems easier to just not worry about it.
My theory on freedom is this...you have the freedom to do whatever you want...but for that freedom, you'll have to pay for that freedom with either discipline or pain. I mean...I can choose to eat whatever I want...but I can't wear what I want or do some things that I want because I am not in shape. Other people are in shape...but they cannot eat everything that they want. It is a tradeoff.
Life is full of tradeoffs.
In America, we often hear that we can do anything that we want to do. And that is somewhat true. If we have the opportunity to learn, the capacity to do something, and the good fortune to have all of the pieces fall into place...we might realize our dreams. In other words...there is no limit to what we can do from a freedom perspective...if we discipline ourselves, learn, have natural ability, perseverance, help, a little luck, or are fulfilling our God's will for our lives. But the truth is...at my age...I can't go back and be a prima ballerina. I will not have any more children...unless our children marry. My time for doing certain things has passed...while other things have been laid wide open. That is the nature of growing up and growing older, I suppose.
What I mean, though, is that I am free to eat what I want...and in exchange for that freedom...I am giving up so much. I don't like the way I look...so I won't be photographed. I have given up most items of clothing and some activities. So, I'm free to eat what I want...but I am a prisoner of the consequences of those decisions.
I think that part of the reason folks have with the Bible is that they believe that it is a book of "thou shall nots" rather than a guidebook for intelligent living. It teaches that discipline is freedom...not indulgence. It teaches that staying within the boundaries frees the conscience and fuels potential. That saying "no" to sin means that we are more trustworthy to do bigger things for God.
That is what I am struggling with right now...and I know I'm not the first to wrestle with God. I want things to be easy, favored, and meaningful...and what He wants me to do is sacrifice, be disciplined, and be grateful for what I have. I fail at this daily.
But he hasn't given up on me yet. I know that because I'm still drawing breath.
I realize that there are people who don't struggle with an addiction to food or anything else, who have a kind and loving nature, who have found something that they are excellent at and they use it to serve the Lord, and who face every day with expectancy. They have kept their reputations pure and their hearts free from some of what easily ensnares the rest of us. Where I used to be envious of people who had the outward trappings of success like a nice house, car, or job...I am now far more impressed with people who have the inward trappings of a life well lived.
It is my desire to live like that as well. I'm fairly certain it is God's will for my life, too.
Every decision that we make has consequences. Sometimes it is an equal choice...such as going to this college or that one or living in this city or that one. But often, it is those tiny choices...that seem so inconsequential at the time, that turn into the fabric of our lives. And sometimes we look over our shoulder and take a peek at the tapestry we've woven and desperately want to add more color, more interest, or more quality. Sometimes we may even want to rip it off and start all over as a new creature in Christ. We can do that, you know...in His power.
When I look at my life, I am genuinely amazed at how gracious God has been to me. How the love of friends and family has carried me through the times when I was not only unlovable...but unreasonable as well. Even though I don't have the metabolism I would like...and I have not had things work out the way that I would like much of the time...I realize that I am free to choose all over again tomorrow.
To choose to be more disciplined so that I can have more freedom. A radical thought...but then again...so like Him. Like an athlete preparing to run the race set out for him, or a singer to showcase her skills...I have to do the difficult work to be all that God created me to be. And that starts tomorrow.
One day at a time...
Monday, September 24, 2012
Europe Trip - London - Days 5 - 7
I believe I left off with our visit to the Changing of the Guard and then back on the bus to Trafalgar Square. Because the Paralympics were going on, there was a huge TV screen set up with the live action from the games on it, with places to sit and what appeared to be some kind of a carnival. Although there were signs everywhere stating that it was "free" - there were also guards at the entrances. It was my opinion that the "free" meant for the families of the athletes or some special guests...but it was seriously difficult to tell. Mom, being the "free" hound that she is was about to go marching all up in there...and they probably wouldn't have stopped her, but we convinced her to just wait for us outside the museum while I ran Bonnie through the National Gallery at warp speed so she could see paintings by Vincent van Gogh in person as well as some paintings by Georges Seurat as well. Okay, it took asking two people where to find them and a whole lot of stairs...but we finally found the right room. (It was the one with a ridiculous number of people in it.)
Don't have a clue what I am talking about? Here are some of the paintings by Seurat. The small one was in the London gallery. He painted by using tons of tiny dots. The whole concept fascinates me.
Here's "Sunflowers" and "Wheatfield with Cypress" by Van Gogh. In the middle is "Two Crabs" - a painting that was a little bit of a surprise...and one that I really liked seeing in person.
While I honestly can tell you that I did not like museums as a child...much like I'm not a fan of cantatas as an adult...I started loving art when I realized that my best hope of participating in art was in the area of appreciation. If you have ever seen any of my creations - which are laughable at best - you'll know that I am quite in awe of people who are gifted in this area.
Here are a few photos from London. I'll try to narrate beneath them and see what comes to mind...
This is the Tower Bridge...the one that had the Olympic rings on it but had the ones from the Paralympics on it while we were there.
A great view of Parliament and Big Ben (the Elizabeth Tower) from the London Eye.
My beautiful Mom in front of Westminster Abbey. This was the easiest thing we did in London. Got on a bus in front of the hotel and hopped off a block from the Abbey. Rock on.
Riding in the top of the London buses. I think that this was before the mad dash to the restroom that we made at one point in time after realizing that we were going into the business section of London and it would be awhile before we got back around to civilization. I thought that Waterloo was an appropriate place for us to go. Literally.
Bonnie with one of the Horseguards. She had a fascination with all things "horse" while we were there since her daughter is such a fan.
This is me riding along with my "I don't care hair." Because seriously...my hair looked pretty awful the entire time I was overseas in spite of decent weather. I'm sure that riding on the top of buses all day didn't help matters. That and no hair straightener.
Westminster Abbey. It was really awesome going through without whining children, rain, or sub-zero temperatures (trip of 2006). Lovely.
Bonnie and me on the London Eye. I'd like to say that my face is fat from steroids...but it's 100% natural. Dang it.
Better. Sort of. Still London Eye. Taken by a nice passenger with us. Of course, I took it upon myself to photograph everyone in the pod as well because that's how I roll. This sticking the camera out and taking a shot on the cell phone makes me nuts. I mean...come on.
Two of the beds in our three bed room at the Luna Simone Hotel. Seriously, if you want a great place to stay in London. This is it.
You have to know my mother to know that this is typical. However, you should also know that this photo was taken in the ladies' room at The Ritz. I kid you not.
Our tea...see those biscuit looking things? Apparently, those are "proper scones." To me, they looked and tasted like canned Pillsbury biscuits. Which totally did not rock.
Here we are being photographed by the waiter. The lady across from us was showing serious cleavage and was acting like Ellie Mae Clampett at the tea. Her daughter, who was very attractive and dressed appropriately (meaning...covered up), appeared to be somewhat mortified.
Bonnie at the tea.
Another photo of the bathroom at the Ritz...because I mean...when are you going to take photos in a restroom? Except, of course, the year that I took my kids into the ladies' lounge at the church for our Christmas card picture because the furniture in there was nicer than what we had at home. True story.
Had to photograph this because this was the station by the Ritz. See all of those numbers and letters? Well, let's just say that you had to have a decoder ring to figure out what bus you were on. This was also a reminder of the station where we nearly lost Bonnie. We hopped on the Tube one time in London...we were to go one stop and get off for our tea. Well, Bonnie got on and was two steps ahead of us. Needless to say, the doors shut before we could get on. I was yelling, "Get off at the next stop!" while holding up on finger. After a very nervous three minute ride...she was waiting for us at the next stop. We didn't ride the Tube anymore after that.
Yeah, more of the Ritz. Excuse me THE Ritz. Gee.
A photo of Mom and me outside Harrod's. It was apparently "Burka Night" when we were there.
Just another shot of the building. Just imagine everything on earth that could possibly ever be for sale in a store...and it was at Harrod's.
This was a lovely cocktail called Pimm's Cup The recipe can be found here: .http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/pimms-cup-10000001646369/ It was a lovely concoction with fresh fruit, cucumbers, mint leaves, something alcoholic (Pimms, maybe?) and ginger ale. I highly recommend it. We had it in a pub on a Friday night with Mom's friend, Jill, and her sweet husband.
And here they are. Jill was an intern with my folks one summer in Highlands, NC when they were operating the newspaper up there. Other than the fact that she is a Democrat...she was perfectly lovely. (Kidding! My entire family of origin votes Democrat. No, I'm not adopted.) They were wonderful hosts and we had a terrific time with them.
The next morning, we left for Paris. More on that to come...
Don't have a clue what I am talking about? Here are some of the paintings by Seurat. The small one was in the London gallery. He painted by using tons of tiny dots. The whole concept fascinates me.
Here's "Sunflowers" and "Wheatfield with Cypress" by Van Gogh. In the middle is "Two Crabs" - a painting that was a little bit of a surprise...and one that I really liked seeing in person.
While I honestly can tell you that I did not like museums as a child...much like I'm not a fan of cantatas as an adult...I started loving art when I realized that my best hope of participating in art was in the area of appreciation. If you have ever seen any of my creations - which are laughable at best - you'll know that I am quite in awe of people who are gifted in this area.
Here are a few photos from London. I'll try to narrate beneath them and see what comes to mind...
This is the Tower Bridge...the one that had the Olympic rings on it but had the ones from the Paralympics on it while we were there.
A great view of Parliament and Big Ben (the Elizabeth Tower) from the London Eye.
My beautiful Mom in front of Westminster Abbey. This was the easiest thing we did in London. Got on a bus in front of the hotel and hopped off a block from the Abbey. Rock on.
Riding in the top of the London buses. I think that this was before the mad dash to the restroom that we made at one point in time after realizing that we were going into the business section of London and it would be awhile before we got back around to civilization. I thought that Waterloo was an appropriate place for us to go. Literally.
Bonnie with one of the Horseguards. She had a fascination with all things "horse" while we were there since her daughter is such a fan.
This is me riding along with my "I don't care hair." Because seriously...my hair looked pretty awful the entire time I was overseas in spite of decent weather. I'm sure that riding on the top of buses all day didn't help matters. That and no hair straightener.
Westminster Abbey. It was really awesome going through without whining children, rain, or sub-zero temperatures (trip of 2006). Lovely.
Bonnie and me on the London Eye. I'd like to say that my face is fat from steroids...but it's 100% natural. Dang it.
Better. Sort of. Still London Eye. Taken by a nice passenger with us. Of course, I took it upon myself to photograph everyone in the pod as well because that's how I roll. This sticking the camera out and taking a shot on the cell phone makes me nuts. I mean...come on.
Two of the beds in our three bed room at the Luna Simone Hotel. Seriously, if you want a great place to stay in London. This is it.
You have to know my mother to know that this is typical. However, you should also know that this photo was taken in the ladies' room at The Ritz. I kid you not.
Our tea...see those biscuit looking things? Apparently, those are "proper scones." To me, they looked and tasted like canned Pillsbury biscuits. Which totally did not rock.
Here we are being photographed by the waiter. The lady across from us was showing serious cleavage and was acting like Ellie Mae Clampett at the tea. Her daughter, who was very attractive and dressed appropriately (meaning...covered up), appeared to be somewhat mortified.
Bonnie at the tea.
Another photo of the bathroom at the Ritz...because I mean...when are you going to take photos in a restroom? Except, of course, the year that I took my kids into the ladies' lounge at the church for our Christmas card picture because the furniture in there was nicer than what we had at home. True story.
Had to photograph this because this was the station by the Ritz. See all of those numbers and letters? Well, let's just say that you had to have a decoder ring to figure out what bus you were on. This was also a reminder of the station where we nearly lost Bonnie. We hopped on the Tube one time in London...we were to go one stop and get off for our tea. Well, Bonnie got on and was two steps ahead of us. Needless to say, the doors shut before we could get on. I was yelling, "Get off at the next stop!" while holding up on finger. After a very nervous three minute ride...she was waiting for us at the next stop. We didn't ride the Tube anymore after that.
Yeah, more of the Ritz. Excuse me THE Ritz. Gee.
A photo of Mom and me outside Harrod's. It was apparently "Burka Night" when we were there.
Just another shot of the building. Just imagine everything on earth that could possibly ever be for sale in a store...and it was at Harrod's.
This was a lovely cocktail called Pimm's Cup The recipe can be found here: .http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/pimms-cup-10000001646369/ It was a lovely concoction with fresh fruit, cucumbers, mint leaves, something alcoholic (Pimms, maybe?) and ginger ale. I highly recommend it. We had it in a pub on a Friday night with Mom's friend, Jill, and her sweet husband.
And here they are. Jill was an intern with my folks one summer in Highlands, NC when they were operating the newspaper up there. Other than the fact that she is a Democrat...she was perfectly lovely. (Kidding! My entire family of origin votes Democrat. No, I'm not adopted.) They were wonderful hosts and we had a terrific time with them.
The next morning, we left for Paris. More on that to come...
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Europe Trip - Day 5 - Changing of the Guard
So, we got through the douane (the "Dwayne") and were onboard Ryan Air headed toward London. I don't want to whine about Ryan Air...because seriously, folks, you get what you pay for...but we are talking no frills, load 'em up-move 'em out logistical movement from point A to point B. Of course, it was a little interesting to watch the Chinese fire drill when they opened up the gate to Dublin where the people lining up to board for London were and everybody had to scatter from one part of the large room to the other. See, on Ryan Air...there are no assigned seats...unless, of course, you want to pay something like $30 for that privilege. Seeing as we paid $80 for the flight including a checked bag...I thought that this was probably a wee bit excessive.
The most disturbing part of the flight was watching the lady in the aisle seat beside me go though all of the stages of denial when it came to buckling her seat belt. She held in, dragged the belt across her lap numerous times, and then started this odd exhaling exercise in the vain hope that she wouldn't have to ask for a seat extender. Seriously. I took one look at the seat and knew I'd be sitting in Mom's lap for part of the flight (what I referred to as "encroachment" because it sounds better than "just shy of needing to purchase a second seat" - don't you think?) and went ahead and asked for one. Fortunately, I didn't have to pay for that.
But heaven knows, they were hawking everything else you can imagine in the aisles - for a nominal fee, of course.
We landed in London, and I figured we'd take a bus into the city from Stansted Airport. We made it past the Dwayne in London by telling him that we were in town for four days - or at least part of four days - to see the sights. After looking at us as if we might be potential suicide bombers and figuring that we probably weren't...we got on the bus.
Along with at least 14 people wearing burkas. That was a little disconcerting...I won't lie. Bonnie struck up a conversation with a lady from Italy who was also a schoolteacher...and who was anxious to practice her English. The rest of the trip wasn't bad...and the bus deposited us at Victoria Station after touring us about London a bit so that we could see a little of the "sights" and remind Bonnie which country we were in.
Of course, the majority of people speaking English was helpful.
While we were in London, the Paralympic Games were going on, and a lot of people were there from various countries...many of them in wheelchairs and wearing various jackets with the name of the country that they were representing. There were a lot of volunteers all over helping guide people from point A to point B...which was nice. We took a cab for the few blocks to the hotel...because my new rule of travel is...if you have luggage, you do not take public transportation...and we were pretty worn out from traveling.
Okay, okay, I also didn't know which direction to walk in to get to the hotel. But whatever.
We found the hotel - the Luna and Simone - which is located off of Belgrave Road...a fact that I learned when we had to find it a few times and was clearly lost - and was just as wonderful this time as it was six years ago when we stayed there. It is run by twins - Peter and Bernard (pronounced BURN-urd). They offer a comfortable room at a fair price, and they give a discounted room rate for paying in cash.
We paid in cash.
Instead of staying at the top of a ridiculous number of stairs like we did in 2006, we stayed downstairs so - at worst - we had to go up and down one flight of stairs. We also had an extra bathroom because the "lobby" bathroom outside of the dining area (the hotel serves breakfast that totally rocks) right outside our door. You have to believe me when I tell you that this was the most ridiculously small bathroom I have ever seen in my life, but somehow it contained a toilet and a small sink. The bathroom in our room was a nice size, spotless, and extremely comfortable.
But enough about all of that. But, seriously, if you want a good place to stay...
We got up early the next morning with our London bus passes in our hot little hands and we were ready to hop on a tour bus at Victoria Station and ride around London all day. The weather was crisp and perfect...and the sky was that blue that you love to see when you are on vacation because you know that you can punt the umbrella. We loaded up on the bus and drove around for a little while...and then we realized...oh...Changing of the Guard. If we don't get off...we won't find our way back.
Because collectively, we were the most directionally impaired threesome you can possibly imagine.
So, we exited the bus and wandered around for an hour or so before the guard change. The crowds were astounding...as was the rudeness of people in general. Somehow, we squeezed through and saw bits and pieces of this and that...and were surprised when there was a band and a mini-concert featuring Elton John songs.
So not kidding.
"Can You Feel the Love Tonight," "Your Song," and a couple of others.
Yes, I took this photo through the round hole in the fence. I was inspired by a girl who was near me trying to take a shot who did it by accident. Still, cool, yes?
I know you are thinking...what? No better pictures? The answer is no and yes. No, I don't have any better photos because of the Italian family that set up camp right in my way, and yes, we do have better pictures but Bonnie has them. Plus, I'm not sophisticated enough to figure out how to get the up and down pictures to post normally on here...so I am basically limited to those that are taken side to side.
Yeah, I know...bummer.
We left there, found the bus and moved on through to Parliament. We got off there to take the free cruise of the Thames River that came with our ticket...and we walked right by the London Eye. I'll pick up there tonight...
The most disturbing part of the flight was watching the lady in the aisle seat beside me go though all of the stages of denial when it came to buckling her seat belt. She held in, dragged the belt across her lap numerous times, and then started this odd exhaling exercise in the vain hope that she wouldn't have to ask for a seat extender. Seriously. I took one look at the seat and knew I'd be sitting in Mom's lap for part of the flight (what I referred to as "encroachment" because it sounds better than "just shy of needing to purchase a second seat" - don't you think?) and went ahead and asked for one. Fortunately, I didn't have to pay for that.
But heaven knows, they were hawking everything else you can imagine in the aisles - for a nominal fee, of course.
We landed in London, and I figured we'd take a bus into the city from Stansted Airport. We made it past the Dwayne in London by telling him that we were in town for four days - or at least part of four days - to see the sights. After looking at us as if we might be potential suicide bombers and figuring that we probably weren't...we got on the bus.
Along with at least 14 people wearing burkas. That was a little disconcerting...I won't lie. Bonnie struck up a conversation with a lady from Italy who was also a schoolteacher...and who was anxious to practice her English. The rest of the trip wasn't bad...and the bus deposited us at Victoria Station after touring us about London a bit so that we could see a little of the "sights" and remind Bonnie which country we were in.
Of course, the majority of people speaking English was helpful.
While we were in London, the Paralympic Games were going on, and a lot of people were there from various countries...many of them in wheelchairs and wearing various jackets with the name of the country that they were representing. There were a lot of volunteers all over helping guide people from point A to point B...which was nice. We took a cab for the few blocks to the hotel...because my new rule of travel is...if you have luggage, you do not take public transportation...and we were pretty worn out from traveling.
Okay, okay, I also didn't know which direction to walk in to get to the hotel. But whatever.
We found the hotel - the Luna and Simone - which is located off of Belgrave Road...a fact that I learned when we had to find it a few times and was clearly lost - and was just as wonderful this time as it was six years ago when we stayed there. It is run by twins - Peter and Bernard (pronounced BURN-urd). They offer a comfortable room at a fair price, and they give a discounted room rate for paying in cash.
We paid in cash.
Instead of staying at the top of a ridiculous number of stairs like we did in 2006, we stayed downstairs so - at worst - we had to go up and down one flight of stairs. We also had an extra bathroom because the "lobby" bathroom outside of the dining area (the hotel serves breakfast that totally rocks) right outside our door. You have to believe me when I tell you that this was the most ridiculously small bathroom I have ever seen in my life, but somehow it contained a toilet and a small sink. The bathroom in our room was a nice size, spotless, and extremely comfortable.
But enough about all of that. But, seriously, if you want a good place to stay...
We got up early the next morning with our London bus passes in our hot little hands and we were ready to hop on a tour bus at Victoria Station and ride around London all day. The weather was crisp and perfect...and the sky was that blue that you love to see when you are on vacation because you know that you can punt the umbrella. We loaded up on the bus and drove around for a little while...and then we realized...oh...Changing of the Guard. If we don't get off...we won't find our way back.
Because collectively, we were the most directionally impaired threesome you can possibly imagine.
So, we exited the bus and wandered around for an hour or so before the guard change. The crowds were astounding...as was the rudeness of people in general. Somehow, we squeezed through and saw bits and pieces of this and that...and were surprised when there was a band and a mini-concert featuring Elton John songs.
So not kidding.
"Can You Feel the Love Tonight," "Your Song," and a couple of others.
I know you are thinking...what? No better pictures? The answer is no and yes. No, I don't have any better photos because of the Italian family that set up camp right in my way, and yes, we do have better pictures but Bonnie has them. Plus, I'm not sophisticated enough to figure out how to get the up and down pictures to post normally on here...so I am basically limited to those that are taken side to side.
Yeah, I know...bummer.
We left there, found the bus and moved on through to Parliament. We got off there to take the free cruise of the Thames River that came with our ticket...and we walked right by the London Eye. I'll pick up there tonight...
Monday, September 17, 2012
Europe Trip - Days 2 - 4 - Chateau de L'Aubraie
After getting off of the train in Nantes, France, we were delighted to know that it would only be a few more miles until we reached our destination. We had been traveling for what seemed like forever since we left at 5:50 p.m., flew 8 1/2 hours, waited two hours for the train, rode it for over two hours, and then had a short 45 minute drive to Linda's home. The time change didn't help much either...since we were technically seven hours ahead of what we had left...which would have been fine...except that we hadn't really slept the night before.
Or the night before that because we were trying to pack, do last minute details, or were just generally excited about the trip.
We arrived at Linda's home - technically known as "Chateau de L'Aubraie" - located somewhere in the Vendee region of France. Since I hardly know Georgia (where I grew up) or Alabama (where I landed) geography, I won't pretend to have even a remote clue where that is...except that it is somewhere approximately 2 1/2 hours southwest of Paris.
We pulled into the driveway and were immediately greeted by my niece and nephew, Tara and Alex, and their brothers Amaury, Benjamin and Engie. Of course, we knew that we were REALLY being welcomed when Tara showed up in tights, a ballet costume and everything short of a tiara...and rainboots.
C'mon...you know that's cute. Because it totally is.
We put our suitcases down and were shown to our rooms...which were inviting but also large and spacious. We climbed the staircase and enjoyed the cool air...especially refreshing after a summer of ridiculous temperatures.
We went outside and looked at the garden...at the huge pumpkins that Linda plants each year for the Halloween Party that she will do for the local children including games and costumes. It is now something that the children look forward to...much like we enjoy Fall Festivals at our local schools and churches.
See those pumpkins in the background? There are at least two dozen of them. And a couple of them are huge!
We enjoyed the garden...which has every fruit tree on earth (including kiwi...I kid you not) and at least thirty five tomato plants...all of which had the most beautiful red tomatoes hanging off of them that you can imagine. All different varieties...even some black ones!
Bonnie picked a couple of zucchini that were absolutely massive. All I could think of was how much zucchini bread I could have made with these.
Here are some photos of the house. Beautiful, isn't it? Part of the structure has been used since the 1200s, and the Clemenceau family has owned the property for the past several hundred years.
See the pretty blondes? My sister and my mother.
Linda has been working on the garden by the house...stunning.
Does this not look inviting? Yes. Yes it does.
I suppose that when you are traveling, you don't really expect to have a time in your trip that is peaceful, beautiful, and just comfortable. We were really lucky that we did. After the trip we took six years ago...I vowed that I would begin my next trip at Linda's house because we were so exhausted after six days of sightseeing...and jet lag...and rain...that I thought it would just be great to start out refreshed.
Just so you know...after six days of sightseeing...it matters not what shape you were in when you embarked.
Unless you count basic good physical shape. Yeah, that would have helped.
Anyway, we had time to visit, to eat healthy food that was grown in the garden and to just enjoy life at a pace that we don't normally get to experience. One of the offerings was beets...a food that I have just refused to eat along with apple rings, liver, and anything that looks like lawn clippings. And for the record...fresh beets really aren't that bad.
I actually had seconds. True story.
We sat in the kitchen at the massive table that Linda and Eric have to seat everyone and we started trying to figure out some of the words that would help us survive four days in Paris. For instance - the word "poulet" means "chicken." And "poisson" means "fish." Reviewing this actually came in handy.
Except that even as we were doing this...Bonnie was still under the impression that we were in a house outside London with my flight-attendant sister. (Just kidding, Bonnie...if you are reading this...I couldn't resist. :))
We stayed at Linda's for three days...as we took walks to the garden, fed the chickens, jumped on the trampoline (okay, that was Bonnie and my mother), and just breathed. We slept well and ate wonderful food, we rested and just enjoyed the act of breathing in and breathing out. Time moved slowly as we just sat on lawn chairs and stared out into the beautiful park that is to the rear of the house. We listened to the sounds of children playing, and the dinner bell beckoning us in for a meal that we had absolutely nothing to do with preparing. It was the best kind of vacation...if truth be told.
The last night we were there, Linda's husband, Eric, cooked some steaks that I refer to as "Fred Flintstone steaks" because that's what they look like to me...that were absolutely delicious. We were outside in the park when the dinner bell rang and were on our way in to eat when we noticed that the chickens had gotten out and were meandering all over the yard. Tara had fed them earlier...and the little "chicken whisperer" had failed to secure the gate. We spent the next ten minutes trying to get the chickens (and the two roosters) back in the pen. Technically, Tara was trying to get them back in the pen, Linda was shooing them in with a badminton racquet, Bonnie and Mom were herding them, and I was pretty much laughing...because I totally suck as a chicken herder...just so you know.
Here's the "Chicken Whisperer" in action.
I realize that I am in none of these pictures. And that's okay. Trust me on this.
We left Linda's after three days of relaxation...and took off on Ryan Air out of LaRochelle, France to London. It was a pretty uneventful flight and a really great start to the trip. Plus...there was the added bonus of English being spoken.
I remember in the LaRochelle airport seeing a beautiful young woman who worked for Ryan Air that looked exactly like I imagine my niece, Tara, will look in about fifteen years. Same green eyes and blonde hair...and the same beautiful smile.
I think that sometimes when we are in a foreign place, we tend to look for those things that are familiar to us. Like Coca-Cola's in the airport...and people speaking English. Of course, if you are my mother, you take any opportunity that you are free to make a new friend. She made two in line at Ryan Air...a young man with dark Auburn hair named Patrick and a petite brunette girl named Natalie. They were headed back to London after traveling around...and they talked to us for about thirty minutes or so. Actually...we found them again in the London airport as we were being herded to baggage claim and customs.
Before we left LaRochelle, Linda told us that we had to have our passports stamped by the "douane" - pronounced "doo-on." Of course, the word looked like "Duane" to me...so we referred to every officer who questioned us either entering or exiting the country as "the Duane/Dwayne." I'm quite sure that my ability to shift an unfamiliar word into something I can actually remember is why I am absolutely hopeless at languages.
More on the London trip in a day or so...thanks for reading...
Or the night before that because we were trying to pack, do last minute details, or were just generally excited about the trip.
We arrived at Linda's home - technically known as "Chateau de L'Aubraie" - located somewhere in the Vendee region of France. Since I hardly know Georgia (where I grew up) or Alabama (where I landed) geography, I won't pretend to have even a remote clue where that is...except that it is somewhere approximately 2 1/2 hours southwest of Paris.
We pulled into the driveway and were immediately greeted by my niece and nephew, Tara and Alex, and their brothers Amaury, Benjamin and Engie. Of course, we knew that we were REALLY being welcomed when Tara showed up in tights, a ballet costume and everything short of a tiara...and rainboots.
C'mon...you know that's cute. Because it totally is.
We put our suitcases down and were shown to our rooms...which were inviting but also large and spacious. We climbed the staircase and enjoyed the cool air...especially refreshing after a summer of ridiculous temperatures.
We went outside and looked at the garden...at the huge pumpkins that Linda plants each year for the Halloween Party that she will do for the local children including games and costumes. It is now something that the children look forward to...much like we enjoy Fall Festivals at our local schools and churches.
See those pumpkins in the background? There are at least two dozen of them. And a couple of them are huge!
We enjoyed the garden...which has every fruit tree on earth (including kiwi...I kid you not) and at least thirty five tomato plants...all of which had the most beautiful red tomatoes hanging off of them that you can imagine. All different varieties...even some black ones!
Bonnie picked a couple of zucchini that were absolutely massive. All I could think of was how much zucchini bread I could have made with these.
Here are some photos of the house. Beautiful, isn't it? Part of the structure has been used since the 1200s, and the Clemenceau family has owned the property for the past several hundred years.
See the pretty blondes? My sister and my mother.
Linda has been working on the garden by the house...stunning.
Does this not look inviting? Yes. Yes it does.
I suppose that when you are traveling, you don't really expect to have a time in your trip that is peaceful, beautiful, and just comfortable. We were really lucky that we did. After the trip we took six years ago...I vowed that I would begin my next trip at Linda's house because we were so exhausted after six days of sightseeing...and jet lag...and rain...that I thought it would just be great to start out refreshed.
Just so you know...after six days of sightseeing...it matters not what shape you were in when you embarked.
Unless you count basic good physical shape. Yeah, that would have helped.
Anyway, we had time to visit, to eat healthy food that was grown in the garden and to just enjoy life at a pace that we don't normally get to experience. One of the offerings was beets...a food that I have just refused to eat along with apple rings, liver, and anything that looks like lawn clippings. And for the record...fresh beets really aren't that bad.
I actually had seconds. True story.
We sat in the kitchen at the massive table that Linda and Eric have to seat everyone and we started trying to figure out some of the words that would help us survive four days in Paris. For instance - the word "poulet" means "chicken." And "poisson" means "fish." Reviewing this actually came in handy.
Except that even as we were doing this...Bonnie was still under the impression that we were in a house outside London with my flight-attendant sister. (Just kidding, Bonnie...if you are reading this...I couldn't resist. :))
We stayed at Linda's for three days...as we took walks to the garden, fed the chickens, jumped on the trampoline (okay, that was Bonnie and my mother), and just breathed. We slept well and ate wonderful food, we rested and just enjoyed the act of breathing in and breathing out. Time moved slowly as we just sat on lawn chairs and stared out into the beautiful park that is to the rear of the house. We listened to the sounds of children playing, and the dinner bell beckoning us in for a meal that we had absolutely nothing to do with preparing. It was the best kind of vacation...if truth be told.
The last night we were there, Linda's husband, Eric, cooked some steaks that I refer to as "Fred Flintstone steaks" because that's what they look like to me...that were absolutely delicious. We were outside in the park when the dinner bell rang and were on our way in to eat when we noticed that the chickens had gotten out and were meandering all over the yard. Tara had fed them earlier...and the little "chicken whisperer" had failed to secure the gate. We spent the next ten minutes trying to get the chickens (and the two roosters) back in the pen. Technically, Tara was trying to get them back in the pen, Linda was shooing them in with a badminton racquet, Bonnie and Mom were herding them, and I was pretty much laughing...because I totally suck as a chicken herder...just so you know.
Here's the "Chicken Whisperer" in action.
I realize that I am in none of these pictures. And that's okay. Trust me on this.
We left Linda's after three days of relaxation...and took off on Ryan Air out of LaRochelle, France to London. It was a pretty uneventful flight and a really great start to the trip. Plus...there was the added bonus of English being spoken.
I remember in the LaRochelle airport seeing a beautiful young woman who worked for Ryan Air that looked exactly like I imagine my niece, Tara, will look in about fifteen years. Same green eyes and blonde hair...and the same beautiful smile.
I think that sometimes when we are in a foreign place, we tend to look for those things that are familiar to us. Like Coca-Cola's in the airport...and people speaking English. Of course, if you are my mother, you take any opportunity that you are free to make a new friend. She made two in line at Ryan Air...a young man with dark Auburn hair named Patrick and a petite brunette girl named Natalie. They were headed back to London after traveling around...and they talked to us for about thirty minutes or so. Actually...we found them again in the London airport as we were being herded to baggage claim and customs.
Before we left LaRochelle, Linda told us that we had to have our passports stamped by the "douane" - pronounced "doo-on." Of course, the word looked like "Duane" to me...so we referred to every officer who questioned us either entering or exiting the country as "the Duane/Dwayne." I'm quite sure that my ability to shift an unfamiliar word into something I can actually remember is why I am absolutely hopeless at languages.
More on the London trip in a day or so...thanks for reading...
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Europe Trip 2012 - Day 1
I have just reentered that place otherwise known as "my life" after galavanting across France and England for about ten days. The trip was planned in January...at least the flight was...and the details were pretty much left to gel about a week before the plane lifted off of the ground. My traveling companions were my mother, and my friend, Bonnie, who - after 33 1/2 years of teaching Special Education - was seriously past due for a few days to herself and a change of scenery. It was meant to be a laid back type of vacation with just enough structure to keep us moving from point A to point B without too much difficulty.
As if that is possible with travel...but whatever.
My sister, Linda, lives in France...and visiting her and her family was the major point of the trip. But seriously, while you are over there anyway...you may as well do the tourist thing because there is so much to see and do in Europe. After all, if you are going to ride for eight hours or so on a plane...you may as well make the most of it. When Bonnie joined our trip...I knew that going to London and Paris was going to be part of the travel agenda. After all, London pretty much owed me a decent few days after what it put us through in 2006.
Sideways blowing freezing rain. In mid-May. Seriously.
For three days. Add three teenagers and two retirees to that trip and the good times just kept on rolling.
Let's just say that it took all of the charm out of watching events such as the "Changing of the Guard" at Buckingham Palace as it doesn't hold the same appeal when the guards are wearing gray raincoats instead of the smart bright red jackets and black hats that are distinctive...but actually quite funny if you think about it long enough.
It was everything you are probably imagining right now. And more. So much more.
So, going back to give London a chance to redeem itself seemed appropriate somehow. Plus, the Olympics had just been there and I was quite sure that the city had accustomed itself to having guests from every corner of the earth, right?
Funny thing...when I was checking the schedule for the Olympics...I failed to recognize that the Paralympics were going to be going on while we were there. After all, I was not exactly familiar with these games...having only heard from them because of one of the track and field stars who made the semi-finals with prosthetic legs. But in London and Europe in general? The Paralympics are HUGE I tell you. So much so that there were guides all over town available to assist people who were clueless.
Ahem. That would be me...or more specifically US...but I'll get to that later...
Anyway, the trip started out as just an idea last January...that 2012 would be a great year to take a trip since Jill was to graduate in May (she did, thankfully) and Brian was in his second year at a local college (on scholarship...rock on). So, I started combing (stalking) Delta's website and found that I could burn 60,000 points for a round trip ticket to Paris instead of the 120,000 points I thought it would take and had saved. Needless to say...those tickets were scored and the trip morphed into reality nine months later.
By the way, you can end up planning for something like a big trip until every detail is nailed down...or you can just do a little bit of winging it and hoping for the best. A lot of it depends on your personality and the desires of those who are traveling with you. Since one of my travel partners threatened my life if I scheduled anything concrete and the other one was just along for the ride...I thought it was in my best interest to keep things loose. I overplanned in 2006 and tried to be fairly unstructured (which is really difficult for me...but I'm getting better) this time for a change of pace.
And, of course, the weather decided to cooperate. Not that I didn't feel the need to check www.weather.com 863 times before departing just to see if they were going to change the 0% chance of rain for the three days in London to something like torrential downpours or a tsunami or something...but weather.com is to be commended for being spot on.
The first challenge that we had was getting everything in one suitcase and one carry-on bag. Since we had access to a washer-dryer at my sister's house and the apartment in Paris, there was no need to carry every single solitary item of clothing that we thought we might need over the 10 day period. We were trying to not have to check bags coming over...and had even thought that our flight on Ryan Air would mean that everything had to get in one carry-on bag. So, everyone packed light and packed a travel-size Febreeze.
Which we used. Liberally.
Part of the issue with one bag is that it has to actually fit...and it had to weigh less than 22 pounds. Seeing as I was using a suitcase circa 1987, I was already down something like seven pounds before I packed a thing. But we managed. And my mother...who I was concerned would be the one to blow the plan...actually had the lightest bags of all.
We made it to the new International Airport in Atlanta (which totally rocked by the way...which is code for "this was too easy and you are going to seriously get a giant BOHICA on the return flight"), got on an Air France flight and spent the next 8 1/2 hours watching movies and trying (insincerely) to sleep.
May I plug Air France while I am talking about it? Not only is the food better, but the planes are nice, the attendants are helpful, they give you a pillow and a blanket without you having to ask for it, and they give you free champagne and wine with your meal. Not that I'm a big drinker...but I couldn't help but notice this little detail. Probably because I ordered the champagne in the hopes that it would make me sleep. It was even a bit charming that everyone was speaking in French first and then English. (The return flight? Not so much. I was almost screaming "ENGLISH!" on the return trip when we were about to land in Atlanta...but I'm getting ahead of myself.)
When we got off of the plane at the end of the flight...we walked off and had our luggage...so all we had to do was find the trains, get on the one that I had pre-purchased tickets for...and get on it. Simple, yes?
No. Actually, more like HECK no.
We walked from one end of the Charles de Gaulle Airport to the other (a total of something like 4 miles...no lie) having absolutely no success in finding the trains...despite asking twelve people who reluctantly spoke English to us when they realized that I know about as many French words as my dogs know in English. We finally found the trains (it took well over an hour) and then saw the word "retard" beside the train we were supposed to be boarding. Just so you know...I'm not being unkind..."retard" apparently means "late" in French...although at first I did halfway think that the board was mocking me. So, after another unplanned 45 minute delay...we waited.
We met people from Georgia, Montreal, and California while we were trying to figure out what we were doing...and we finally made it onto the train to Nantes, France. Of course, my sweet friend, Bonnie, had gotten confused in all of the hoopla, and had convinced herself that we were headed to England on the train because she thought that my sister lived in England...not France. Never mind that everyone was speaking French. She also was under the impression that Linda was a flight attendant...because I had once mentioned that Linda met her husband in Heathrow Airport. (Linda worked in fraud prevention in the telecommunications industry before teaching English in Paris and becoming a homemaker for the record.)
And why yes, we DID have a good time with that all week.
We arrived in Nantes, Linda picked us up at the train station, and she drove us to her beautiful home. Photos tomorrow...along with more commentary...
As if that is possible with travel...but whatever.
My sister, Linda, lives in France...and visiting her and her family was the major point of the trip. But seriously, while you are over there anyway...you may as well do the tourist thing because there is so much to see and do in Europe. After all, if you are going to ride for eight hours or so on a plane...you may as well make the most of it. When Bonnie joined our trip...I knew that going to London and Paris was going to be part of the travel agenda. After all, London pretty much owed me a decent few days after what it put us through in 2006.
Sideways blowing freezing rain. In mid-May. Seriously.
For three days. Add three teenagers and two retirees to that trip and the good times just kept on rolling.
Let's just say that it took all of the charm out of watching events such as the "Changing of the Guard" at Buckingham Palace as it doesn't hold the same appeal when the guards are wearing gray raincoats instead of the smart bright red jackets and black hats that are distinctive...but actually quite funny if you think about it long enough.
It was everything you are probably imagining right now. And more. So much more.
So, going back to give London a chance to redeem itself seemed appropriate somehow. Plus, the Olympics had just been there and I was quite sure that the city had accustomed itself to having guests from every corner of the earth, right?
Funny thing...when I was checking the schedule for the Olympics...I failed to recognize that the Paralympics were going to be going on while we were there. After all, I was not exactly familiar with these games...having only heard from them because of one of the track and field stars who made the semi-finals with prosthetic legs. But in London and Europe in general? The Paralympics are HUGE I tell you. So much so that there were guides all over town available to assist people who were clueless.
Ahem. That would be me...or more specifically US...but I'll get to that later...
Anyway, the trip started out as just an idea last January...that 2012 would be a great year to take a trip since Jill was to graduate in May (she did, thankfully) and Brian was in his second year at a local college (on scholarship...rock on). So, I started combing (stalking) Delta's website and found that I could burn 60,000 points for a round trip ticket to Paris instead of the 120,000 points I thought it would take and had saved. Needless to say...those tickets were scored and the trip morphed into reality nine months later.
By the way, you can end up planning for something like a big trip until every detail is nailed down...or you can just do a little bit of winging it and hoping for the best. A lot of it depends on your personality and the desires of those who are traveling with you. Since one of my travel partners threatened my life if I scheduled anything concrete and the other one was just along for the ride...I thought it was in my best interest to keep things loose. I overplanned in 2006 and tried to be fairly unstructured (which is really difficult for me...but I'm getting better) this time for a change of pace.
And, of course, the weather decided to cooperate. Not that I didn't feel the need to check www.weather.com 863 times before departing just to see if they were going to change the 0% chance of rain for the three days in London to something like torrential downpours or a tsunami or something...but weather.com is to be commended for being spot on.
The first challenge that we had was getting everything in one suitcase and one carry-on bag. Since we had access to a washer-dryer at my sister's house and the apartment in Paris, there was no need to carry every single solitary item of clothing that we thought we might need over the 10 day period. We were trying to not have to check bags coming over...and had even thought that our flight on Ryan Air would mean that everything had to get in one carry-on bag. So, everyone packed light and packed a travel-size Febreeze.
Which we used. Liberally.
Part of the issue with one bag is that it has to actually fit...and it had to weigh less than 22 pounds. Seeing as I was using a suitcase circa 1987, I was already down something like seven pounds before I packed a thing. But we managed. And my mother...who I was concerned would be the one to blow the plan...actually had the lightest bags of all.
We made it to the new International Airport in Atlanta (which totally rocked by the way...which is code for "this was too easy and you are going to seriously get a giant BOHICA on the return flight"), got on an Air France flight and spent the next 8 1/2 hours watching movies and trying (insincerely) to sleep.
May I plug Air France while I am talking about it? Not only is the food better, but the planes are nice, the attendants are helpful, they give you a pillow and a blanket without you having to ask for it, and they give you free champagne and wine with your meal. Not that I'm a big drinker...but I couldn't help but notice this little detail. Probably because I ordered the champagne in the hopes that it would make me sleep. It was even a bit charming that everyone was speaking in French first and then English. (The return flight? Not so much. I was almost screaming "ENGLISH!" on the return trip when we were about to land in Atlanta...but I'm getting ahead of myself.)
When we got off of the plane at the end of the flight...we walked off and had our luggage...so all we had to do was find the trains, get on the one that I had pre-purchased tickets for...and get on it. Simple, yes?
No. Actually, more like HECK no.
We walked from one end of the Charles de Gaulle Airport to the other (a total of something like 4 miles...no lie) having absolutely no success in finding the trains...despite asking twelve people who reluctantly spoke English to us when they realized that I know about as many French words as my dogs know in English. We finally found the trains (it took well over an hour) and then saw the word "retard" beside the train we were supposed to be boarding. Just so you know...I'm not being unkind..."retard" apparently means "late" in French...although at first I did halfway think that the board was mocking me. So, after another unplanned 45 minute delay...we waited.
We met people from Georgia, Montreal, and California while we were trying to figure out what we were doing...and we finally made it onto the train to Nantes, France. Of course, my sweet friend, Bonnie, had gotten confused in all of the hoopla, and had convinced herself that we were headed to England on the train because she thought that my sister lived in England...not France. Never mind that everyone was speaking French. She also was under the impression that Linda was a flight attendant...because I had once mentioned that Linda met her husband in Heathrow Airport. (Linda worked in fraud prevention in the telecommunications industry before teaching English in Paris and becoming a homemaker for the record.)
And why yes, we DID have a good time with that all week.
We arrived in Nantes, Linda picked us up at the train station, and she drove us to her beautiful home. Photos tomorrow...along with more commentary...
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
On Complaining
One of the lessons that my recently departed mother-in-law taught me through her example that I am really trying to correct in my life is that I have a major tendency to complain. Oh, I'm not talking about letting off a little steam when someone does something particularly bat-dung crazy or when you need to declare something that is unpleasant...but is true just the same (like...I need to take some Tylenol because my head is exploding). I'm talking about the tendency to go all-out in full blown whining over the little annoyances of life that we are all pretty much stuck with on a daily basis if we are drawing breath and don't have a payroll of people whose job it is to address our every whim.
I just wish I had someone who cleaned my house, car, or dogs other than myself. But whatever. (At least I have a house, car and dogs. See?)
I don't know about you, but when I am going through what my sweet friend refers to as a "valley" - I have a tendency to turn anything from spilling something on my favorite shirt to not being able to get a decent place in the Publix parking lot into a personal assault on my happiness. How somehow this has slipped through my consciousness I cannot imagine because I know that my happiness is not the center of everyone's universe. Nor is the fact that I am unhappy God's fault...like it has slipped past through God's filter of protection that I honestly believe in and sometimes assume should be used in ways I'm quite certain it wasn't intended. My head knows that I am not guaranteed a great deal on something, comfort, exactly what I want, the perfect future son-in-law, or even a good hair day. But something in me seems to think that I do deserve all of that, my way in most things, and the occasional happy surprise to let me know that I am loved as a daughter of the King.
Obviously, I also sometimes seriously need to get over myself. Or spend more time in the Word, in a soup kitchen, or on someone else other than yours truly.
Lately, because I have been in mourning...and have been trying to support my wonderful husband who has just lost his Mom...and my children who have just lost the grandmother that they always thought would be with them...I have been extremely sensitive. I cry sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons that have less to do with the mourning process...and more to do with a bratty little pity party that even I'm embarrassed to be attending. The other day, I hit my foot on something and took it personally...as if the universe was conspiring against me to make me even more miserable than I already am. Which, in turn, made everything seem so much worse...because I'm focused on the expectation of exactly that.
I didn't know how to break the cycle other than to get mad at myself for being ridiculous while simultaneously allowing it to go on until one day it just fades away...like hiccoughs eventually do if you just get used to having them when holding your breath won't work. In the past week, I have tried both of these options...giving in to the "poor, poor, pitiful me" person while also sometimes berating myself for being such a big baby.
Neither was particularly helpful...just so you know.
I think that things begin to get better when you come to the end of both of these options and just declare that whatever happens...you know that you'll be fine. It is at that point when you can actually look up and see some sun peeking through the clouds, or you might even amaze yourself by finding a rainbow.
That's my favorite, by the way. The rainbows. I rarely see one when I don't think that God is on my side and that whatever is going on is about to be over. I realize that rainbows aren't "wishing stars" - but they are one way that God gives me personally to let me know that He is in control and I need to go back to Trust 101 and start all over.
I think that looking at what is going wrong in our lives is actually quite healthy from time to time. People that tell you that what you think and declare is what follows might be right - I honestly wouldn't know - but I find it useful to take myself to the "worst thing that can happen" and wallow around in that for awhile. I learn that I can handle that...and then anything positive from that point just serves to support me coming out of the valley toward the mountaintop. In a completely metaphorical sense, mind you, as I have no intention whatsoever of climbing anything until I drop some weight.
Like stairs, for instance.
But one day I will. That's the plan anyway. Plus, I'm pretty sure that every train station in Europe has at least a gazillion steps to get up to go anywhere useful. And I'm headed to Europe in less than two weeks.
One of the lessons that I have learned is that it is okay to complain for a little while and work through whatever it is so that you can come out whole on the other side. It is fine to accept condolences, meals prepared for you, cards, flowers, and prayers and be grateful for those kindnesses. It is not out of line to spend two days curled up in bed watching the Hallmark Channel and convincing yourself that even you could write some movies better than those you are insisting on watching. It is even alright to have a thirty minute conversation with God about why you are particularly unhappy and why you need just a few little kindnesses thrown your way to give you the motivation to get out of the fetal position on your couch...and on with life.
I had such a conversation with God this morning on the way to work. I'm sure that the people passing me thought I was on the phone, singing along to the radio, or something...but the truth is...I was praying diligently for a break in the storm that is my life at this point in time. I am grieving that the wholeness of the wonderful family I married into - is broken until we are all united where she is right now. That she will watch my children and niece get married one day from the best seat in the house...but we won't have her physical presence. That when my niece delivers her baby next March, there will be no photos of her holding the newest member of the family. I must be content with the photos in my scrapbooks and the memories in my heart. I also asked Him to bring me some peace in a situation or fifty that have been tearing away at my self-confidence and my faith. Because I am a believer in signs...I asked Him to just give me a little bit of help to be able to keep the faith until the day when He puts everything in place for me. It isn't that I doubt that He can...I'm just having trouble thinking that He will in a way that I can handle. Bearing in mind, of course, that right now my little feelings are somewhat tender and my heart is fairly burdened.
But I'm not here to complain about that. In fact, far from it. After all, I've learned that complaining really doesn't do anything for anyone...the complainer...or the person who has to endure listening to it. Be honest...don't you avoid people who make it a point to find something negative in just about everything they come across? I know I do. Life's too short...and the closer I get to 50...the less inclined I am to want to waste my time on people who are perpetually unhappy about every single little thing that crosses their paths.
So, in order to move along...I'm going to just assume that God will take our little conversation today and either change my circumstances...or change me. I'm equally open to both.
To be honest, I have actually crossed over from being fearful, sad, and overwhelmed to finding the humor in some of what is going on with me. I can't really change any of it...so I may as well enjoy myself. After all, laughing your way through those raw times is actually far healthier than the alternative.
I am blessed to have friends who don't mind the occasional telephone call to wax nostalgic or to just express my frustration at the events of the day...or in the case of August - which is apparently NOT my friend - the month. I'm just hoping that this dark cloud dissipates in time for me to spend the better part of the first two weeks of September in Europe visiting my sister in France and spending some time in London and Paris. Right now, I'll just be happy if it doesn't rain and we have minimal hassles. But if it does...that will be okay too. Once you've walked across the Thames River in London in the freezing rain in late May...you pretty much get over that whole "I must have perfect weather or I will deem this vacation a dud" thing. Thank you, trip of 2006 for that gem of perspective...and dose of reality.
In the coming weeks, I am going to be praying for the ability to only see what is going right...and not to see what is not. I'm going to dance like an ASU Stingette if something wonderful happens to me...and I'm going to be more "eh" when something does not...instead of assuming that the universe is conspiring to steal my joy. I realize by throwing down that challenge I am inviting every potential hassle to come into my life...and that somewhere the devil is taking out a composition book and filling it with things to test my resolve...but I'm also going to trust that God will bring me through all of this.
Without complaining.
After all, once you have seen someone who has had every reason to complain choose not to do so...it is a powerful and valuable lesson. I just hope that I have the ability to be half as faithful to live up to that example. If so, that will be far better than where I've been.
I just wish I had someone who cleaned my house, car, or dogs other than myself. But whatever. (At least I have a house, car and dogs. See?)
I don't know about you, but when I am going through what my sweet friend refers to as a "valley" - I have a tendency to turn anything from spilling something on my favorite shirt to not being able to get a decent place in the Publix parking lot into a personal assault on my happiness. How somehow this has slipped through my consciousness I cannot imagine because I know that my happiness is not the center of everyone's universe. Nor is the fact that I am unhappy God's fault...like it has slipped past through God's filter of protection that I honestly believe in and sometimes assume should be used in ways I'm quite certain it wasn't intended. My head knows that I am not guaranteed a great deal on something, comfort, exactly what I want, the perfect future son-in-law, or even a good hair day. But something in me seems to think that I do deserve all of that, my way in most things, and the occasional happy surprise to let me know that I am loved as a daughter of the King.
Obviously, I also sometimes seriously need to get over myself. Or spend more time in the Word, in a soup kitchen, or on someone else other than yours truly.
Lately, because I have been in mourning...and have been trying to support my wonderful husband who has just lost his Mom...and my children who have just lost the grandmother that they always thought would be with them...I have been extremely sensitive. I cry sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons that have less to do with the mourning process...and more to do with a bratty little pity party that even I'm embarrassed to be attending. The other day, I hit my foot on something and took it personally...as if the universe was conspiring against me to make me even more miserable than I already am. Which, in turn, made everything seem so much worse...because I'm focused on the expectation of exactly that.
I didn't know how to break the cycle other than to get mad at myself for being ridiculous while simultaneously allowing it to go on until one day it just fades away...like hiccoughs eventually do if you just get used to having them when holding your breath won't work. In the past week, I have tried both of these options...giving in to the "poor, poor, pitiful me" person while also sometimes berating myself for being such a big baby.
Neither was particularly helpful...just so you know.
I think that things begin to get better when you come to the end of both of these options and just declare that whatever happens...you know that you'll be fine. It is at that point when you can actually look up and see some sun peeking through the clouds, or you might even amaze yourself by finding a rainbow.
That's my favorite, by the way. The rainbows. I rarely see one when I don't think that God is on my side and that whatever is going on is about to be over. I realize that rainbows aren't "wishing stars" - but they are one way that God gives me personally to let me know that He is in control and I need to go back to Trust 101 and start all over.
I think that looking at what is going wrong in our lives is actually quite healthy from time to time. People that tell you that what you think and declare is what follows might be right - I honestly wouldn't know - but I find it useful to take myself to the "worst thing that can happen" and wallow around in that for awhile. I learn that I can handle that...and then anything positive from that point just serves to support me coming out of the valley toward the mountaintop. In a completely metaphorical sense, mind you, as I have no intention whatsoever of climbing anything until I drop some weight.
Like stairs, for instance.
But one day I will. That's the plan anyway. Plus, I'm pretty sure that every train station in Europe has at least a gazillion steps to get up to go anywhere useful. And I'm headed to Europe in less than two weeks.
One of the lessons that I have learned is that it is okay to complain for a little while and work through whatever it is so that you can come out whole on the other side. It is fine to accept condolences, meals prepared for you, cards, flowers, and prayers and be grateful for those kindnesses. It is not out of line to spend two days curled up in bed watching the Hallmark Channel and convincing yourself that even you could write some movies better than those you are insisting on watching. It is even alright to have a thirty minute conversation with God about why you are particularly unhappy and why you need just a few little kindnesses thrown your way to give you the motivation to get out of the fetal position on your couch...and on with life.
I had such a conversation with God this morning on the way to work. I'm sure that the people passing me thought I was on the phone, singing along to the radio, or something...but the truth is...I was praying diligently for a break in the storm that is my life at this point in time. I am grieving that the wholeness of the wonderful family I married into - is broken until we are all united where she is right now. That she will watch my children and niece get married one day from the best seat in the house...but we won't have her physical presence. That when my niece delivers her baby next March, there will be no photos of her holding the newest member of the family. I must be content with the photos in my scrapbooks and the memories in my heart. I also asked Him to bring me some peace in a situation or fifty that have been tearing away at my self-confidence and my faith. Because I am a believer in signs...I asked Him to just give me a little bit of help to be able to keep the faith until the day when He puts everything in place for me. It isn't that I doubt that He can...I'm just having trouble thinking that He will in a way that I can handle. Bearing in mind, of course, that right now my little feelings are somewhat tender and my heart is fairly burdened.
But I'm not here to complain about that. In fact, far from it. After all, I've learned that complaining really doesn't do anything for anyone...the complainer...or the person who has to endure listening to it. Be honest...don't you avoid people who make it a point to find something negative in just about everything they come across? I know I do. Life's too short...and the closer I get to 50...the less inclined I am to want to waste my time on people who are perpetually unhappy about every single little thing that crosses their paths.
So, in order to move along...I'm going to just assume that God will take our little conversation today and either change my circumstances...or change me. I'm equally open to both.
To be honest, I have actually crossed over from being fearful, sad, and overwhelmed to finding the humor in some of what is going on with me. I can't really change any of it...so I may as well enjoy myself. After all, laughing your way through those raw times is actually far healthier than the alternative.
I am blessed to have friends who don't mind the occasional telephone call to wax nostalgic or to just express my frustration at the events of the day...or in the case of August - which is apparently NOT my friend - the month. I'm just hoping that this dark cloud dissipates in time for me to spend the better part of the first two weeks of September in Europe visiting my sister in France and spending some time in London and Paris. Right now, I'll just be happy if it doesn't rain and we have minimal hassles. But if it does...that will be okay too. Once you've walked across the Thames River in London in the freezing rain in late May...you pretty much get over that whole "I must have perfect weather or I will deem this vacation a dud" thing. Thank you, trip of 2006 for that gem of perspective...and dose of reality.
In the coming weeks, I am going to be praying for the ability to only see what is going right...and not to see what is not. I'm going to dance like an ASU Stingette if something wonderful happens to me...and I'm going to be more "eh" when something does not...instead of assuming that the universe is conspiring to steal my joy. I realize by throwing down that challenge I am inviting every potential hassle to come into my life...and that somewhere the devil is taking out a composition book and filling it with things to test my resolve...but I'm also going to trust that God will bring me through all of this.
Without complaining.
After all, once you have seen someone who has had every reason to complain choose not to do so...it is a powerful and valuable lesson. I just hope that I have the ability to be half as faithful to live up to that example. If so, that will be far better than where I've been.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Just a Simple Saturday in August
Today is a Saturday. Just an ordinary day in early August like many others where I have gotten up and prepared a cup of coffee and sat at this computer to write. My dogs are stirring around me and looking up at me occasionally as they hope that I'm about to say the word that they love most in the world - "treat" -while halfway fearing that I will say one of the three that they hate - "vet," "beautified," or "bath." My house is relatively clean because we've been gone so much this week...and other than a few loads of laundry and facing the American Express bill that I have yet to figure out...my day is my own.
Right now, the Military Channel is playing some program about weapon systems in the background...with words like "technological disaster" and "missles" floating over here like unwelcome guests. I'd get up and turn it off, but when I begin writing, I usually sit here until I complete my thoughts. Besides, there is virtually nothing else on anyway, more than likely, in spite of the fact that we have a ridiculous number of channels from which to choose.
Big Dave has left to go to work...fixing a ceiling or something...and then coming back here to change my oil. Yeah, we're the most interesting people in the world.
The house has been quiet this week...we have a family member in Hospice...and we have tiptoed around that fact by trying to keep our lives running as normally as possible. We have been happy, sad, and every emotion in between as we wait and reminisce and wonder. Fortunately, there are no issues to work through and no words that need to be said that haven't been. There is very little drama in this family and it is one of the most functional families I know. In this day and age...that is nothing short of a miracle. Anything that is out of whack gets brought up into the open...and there is acceptance and forgiveness. Which is wonderful.
Jill has been on her own since June and Brian has been gone a lot this summer. He has traveled around and is currently hanging out with his sister before school starts in a few weeks. Big Dave and I have become empty nesters in a more gradual way...like a gentle wave instead of one that knocked us down. We have found that we don't mind the quiet...and that it is actually easier to choose to eat salsa and chips for dinner when we aren't that hungry instead of putting a meal on the table for someone that may or may not choose to eat it anyway. Other than the dogs...who are in our bedroom instead of one of the bedrooms at the front of the house...and who hear every leaf blowing in our backyard and see fit to bark at it...it has been surprisingly easy. Almost too easy...but I'm not complaining....it was time.
In a few hours, I am supposed to see some old sorority sisters as we prepare a meal for the girls going through Rush Workshop in Troy. I have done this for the past five years with one group or another...and I recognize the faces now...even if I don't know the names. It is my way of giving back to the group - Phi Mu - that gave me instant friends at a school I transferred to after I met Big Dave and moved to Troy without knowing a soul. Girls that I remember well and that I am glad to pick up the thread of acquaintance with after years of letting it drop. All because of Facebook, if truth be told.
This afternoon, I will attend a wedding of a sweet girl whose existence I have known about since her Dad popped into my hospital room with his "It's a Girl" button on to see my Jill. I thought he was just a lost but exuberant father...but it turned out that he was my pediatrician. His daughter, Abby, was born a day before Jill. They attended school together for many years and then were in a bible study for a year after Abby transferred to another school. They have been friends...but have lost touch...which happens in those years when everyone scatters to the winds. But for me, Abby is one of the sweet girls that went to school with my Jill, and is therefore...special to me. Plus, she has always struck me as an amazing and godly young woman. That's probably because she is.
Sometimes you look at a bride-to-be and you see someone who is concerned with every detail of her wedding. And other times you see a bride-to-be that is concerned about every detail of her groom and their upcoming marriage. Abby is in the latter group. Not only does she look happy...she glows. And not only does she glow...she radiates joy. A lot of this is her sweet spirit and her precious personality. But there is really something deeper with her. She has found the man that God created just for her...and she is overjoyed. I hope that one day that some of the women in my life who have not found their special someone will find what she has.
The best part is...if the engagement video that Abby posted is evidence is to be believed...and I am 100% sure that it is...her groom knows what a jewel he has in her. Which is as it should be.
After all of that...I expect that tonight I will probably do some of those things that I need to do but don't really want to get into at this point in time. But for the most part...it honestly matters not if I get to them or if I leave them for another day. Which totally rocks, by the way.
It is a simple day in early August with a whole lot of opportunities but no pressure to perform. Nobody is requiring anything from me and I am happy that it is what it is. All appears stable on the Hospice front, and for that I am appreciative. The prayers of many people are obviously getting through.
So, off to enjoy a few hours of relative inactivity while looking forward to seeing some sisters at lunch and a beautiful bride this afternoon...while realizing that sometimes it is those points in time that are strung together that make a life. A really, really good life.
Right now, the Military Channel is playing some program about weapon systems in the background...with words like "technological disaster" and "missles" floating over here like unwelcome guests. I'd get up and turn it off, but when I begin writing, I usually sit here until I complete my thoughts. Besides, there is virtually nothing else on anyway, more than likely, in spite of the fact that we have a ridiculous number of channels from which to choose.
Big Dave has left to go to work...fixing a ceiling or something...and then coming back here to change my oil. Yeah, we're the most interesting people in the world.
The house has been quiet this week...we have a family member in Hospice...and we have tiptoed around that fact by trying to keep our lives running as normally as possible. We have been happy, sad, and every emotion in between as we wait and reminisce and wonder. Fortunately, there are no issues to work through and no words that need to be said that haven't been. There is very little drama in this family and it is one of the most functional families I know. In this day and age...that is nothing short of a miracle. Anything that is out of whack gets brought up into the open...and there is acceptance and forgiveness. Which is wonderful.
Jill has been on her own since June and Brian has been gone a lot this summer. He has traveled around and is currently hanging out with his sister before school starts in a few weeks. Big Dave and I have become empty nesters in a more gradual way...like a gentle wave instead of one that knocked us down. We have found that we don't mind the quiet...and that it is actually easier to choose to eat salsa and chips for dinner when we aren't that hungry instead of putting a meal on the table for someone that may or may not choose to eat it anyway. Other than the dogs...who are in our bedroom instead of one of the bedrooms at the front of the house...and who hear every leaf blowing in our backyard and see fit to bark at it...it has been surprisingly easy. Almost too easy...but I'm not complaining....it was time.
In a few hours, I am supposed to see some old sorority sisters as we prepare a meal for the girls going through Rush Workshop in Troy. I have done this for the past five years with one group or another...and I recognize the faces now...even if I don't know the names. It is my way of giving back to the group - Phi Mu - that gave me instant friends at a school I transferred to after I met Big Dave and moved to Troy without knowing a soul. Girls that I remember well and that I am glad to pick up the thread of acquaintance with after years of letting it drop. All because of Facebook, if truth be told.
This afternoon, I will attend a wedding of a sweet girl whose existence I have known about since her Dad popped into my hospital room with his "It's a Girl" button on to see my Jill. I thought he was just a lost but exuberant father...but it turned out that he was my pediatrician. His daughter, Abby, was born a day before Jill. They attended school together for many years and then were in a bible study for a year after Abby transferred to another school. They have been friends...but have lost touch...which happens in those years when everyone scatters to the winds. But for me, Abby is one of the sweet girls that went to school with my Jill, and is therefore...special to me. Plus, she has always struck me as an amazing and godly young woman. That's probably because she is.
Sometimes you look at a bride-to-be and you see someone who is concerned with every detail of her wedding. And other times you see a bride-to-be that is concerned about every detail of her groom and their upcoming marriage. Abby is in the latter group. Not only does she look happy...she glows. And not only does she glow...she radiates joy. A lot of this is her sweet spirit and her precious personality. But there is really something deeper with her. She has found the man that God created just for her...and she is overjoyed. I hope that one day that some of the women in my life who have not found their special someone will find what she has.
The best part is...if the engagement video that Abby posted is evidence is to be believed...and I am 100% sure that it is...her groom knows what a jewel he has in her. Which is as it should be.
After all of that...I expect that tonight I will probably do some of those things that I need to do but don't really want to get into at this point in time. But for the most part...it honestly matters not if I get to them or if I leave them for another day. Which totally rocks, by the way.
It is a simple day in early August with a whole lot of opportunities but no pressure to perform. Nobody is requiring anything from me and I am happy that it is what it is. All appears stable on the Hospice front, and for that I am appreciative. The prayers of many people are obviously getting through.
So, off to enjoy a few hours of relative inactivity while looking forward to seeing some sisters at lunch and a beautiful bride this afternoon...while realizing that sometimes it is those points in time that are strung together that make a life. A really, really good life.
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