Tracy Line

We bought some property in the country last year. One day we hope to build a house on the land. But this spring, my family planted a garden. Well in all honesty, my daughters and husband did the planting. Having been born with a brown thumb, no one trusted me in the garden. But my husband Steve, his thumb is a little greener. So just about everything he and the girls planted is growing like mad. Including the weeds.

Weeds I can handle, so the two of us, my husband and I, have spent many hours this summer weeding. I’m learning a great deal, and ironically it’s not just about gardening.

Each time we go out, I begin weeding on one end of the garden while Steve starts on the other. The goal is to meet in the middle.  A few weeks back, just as I was knee deep in dirt and weeds, I heard a loud chirping.  I looked up and discovered a small brown and white bird. She was crazy, flitting around and chirping like a maniac.  She only backed away if I got too close, otherwise she continued her dance. Week after week we weeded, and every time we did so, I was given a squawky serenade.

“What’s the deal with this bird?” I finally asked my husband.

He looked up, taking note of where stood. “She’s got a nest,” he said, “by that third tomato plant.”

I moved toward the plant, peered down and saw it. Four little eggs, tucked away beneath the grass and weeds. Buff in color, the eggs had brown markings resembling dirt and sticks. As I studied them, I heard her again: crazy loud chirps. I quickly stepped back, looked up and saw mama bird, floundering on the ground. It appeared she had broken her wing.

“Look,” I said, “She’s hurt.”

“She’s not hurt,” said Steve, “she’s distracting you, she wants you to get away from her nest.”

Call me a city girl (which I am) but wow. I was amazed. This mama bird was putting on a complete show, pretending she’d broken her wing, all in hopes that she could lure me away from her precious babies.

My mama heart felt a tug of compassion. I know what it’s like to want to protect your babies. It’s instinctual I think, that deep-rooted desire to keep your offspring safe. The problem is, trying to do so is so often an exercise in futility.

She continued flailing and I must say, it was convincing.

“Don’t worry little mama,” I said, “I won’t hurt your babies.”

My words did nothing to convince her. She remained in position, screeching and flapping her wings. She didn’t stop until I moved away.

Later that evening, I did a little research and discovered my feathered friend was a Killdeer. Killdeers often nest in open fields and when threatened by predators (horses, cows, etc.) they chirp loudly and bob their heads up and down to get your attention. If that doesn’t work, they do their broken-wing act.

If she only knew I was on her side.

I have three daughters. One has flown the coop, one is in college and one will soon start high school. For all extensive purposes, I’m done raising two out of my three girls (go me!). And, seeing as the older ones are alive and productive humans, it seems like I should perhaps pat myself on the back for a job well done, yes? No. This isn’t how it works. Because while the job of raising children ends, you never stop being a mother.  You never stop caring about your children’s well being.

My older girls are pretty great people (I’d say the same for the younger one but I don’t want to jinx myself). They are wise and kind and doing well in life. I don’t need to worry about them. And for the most part I don’t. Yet still, I am their mama. So that means…

I worry when they tell me their worries.

I feel sad when they feel sad.

And when life hands them a bad deal, my heart aches for what they have to go through.

Oh how I wish I could pretend to have a broken wing in order to distract life’s predators away from my girls (read: mean people, unfair circumstances, terrible bosses). But life doesn’t work that way. In fact, it never has.  Most of what happens to us (and to my kids) is beyond my control.

Hopefully I’ve given my girls the coping strategies they need to get them through.  They will indeed go through tough times.  And I can’t fix their problems.  Letting them grow up: it’s perhaps the hardest part of parenting.  But here’s what I can do, like the mama Killdeer, I can be there for them.

I can listen.

I can care.

And, I can trust.    

Trust that my adult daughters will find their own way in life.

Trust that my youngest will survive high school and come out okay.

Trust that God is with me through it all.  And more importantly, that he’s also with them.

It’s been a rainy summer here in Indiana. We’ve reaped quite a harvest from the garden. It’s been amazing to watch these tiny seeds grow into something beautiful. Though there will always storms, I believe life is good, rich and full of beauty.

Last week when we went out to pull weeds, I was startled by the silence. Mama bird was nowhere to be found. And the nest?  It was gone.

Did the eggs hatch?  Did the baby birds find their way to freedom?  I’ll never know.  Yet I’m sure that no matter what, mama bird was right there with them.  It’s where I’ll be too.

We were sitting at her kitchen table, my friend and I, when her daughter walked in. I immediately got up, gave her a hug and congratulated her on her recent engagement. We all sat for a while, drinking our tea and chatting about love and marriage.

When I told the story of how my husband had proposed, my friend’s daughter asked me, “How did you know he was the one?”

It was a simple question, one I should have had an answer for; but I didn’t.

“Well,” I said, “I just knew.”

I paused, trying to remember, “I was so excited when he asked,” I said, “It just felt like everything was right.”

She nodded like she understood, and we went on to talk about marriage, houses and babies, the cornerstones of the American dream.

Later, on the way home, I kept coming back to this young girl’s question. I felt I hadn’t really answered it. It’s true that when my husband proposed I was excited. It’s also true that once I said yes, there was no turning back for me. I was all in.

But when I think back to the days before those days, I do remember bits and pieces of being a young girl who spent hours and hours trying to figure out love.

I vividly remember the first boy I ever cared about. I recall thinking that I’d die if he ever broke up with me. Months later, it was me, not him, who decided it was time to part ways. Insert new boy and: wash, rinse, repeat. By the ripe age of twenty, I met Steve. Wow, I thought: Now this is a nice guy. Cute, funny and smart; someone I could hang out with. When we first started dating, I noticed something was different. Being together was easy, comfortable, and fun. And maybe the first time, I had no angst over whether or not he cared for me as much as I did for him.  Perhaps I was finally growing up…

Just a couple months later I began to think he might be: The One. And of course, being the analyzer that I am, I then had to wonder if I was crazy for thinking it. Hours and hours I spent, writing my in journals, racking my brain, all in an effort to understand just what love is, and how it worked.

Funny as it sounds, none of my angst had anything to do with Steve. He and I were fine at the time, dating, having fun and getting along fabulously. Instead, my internal concerns had everything to do with my personal fears.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of choosing the wrong person.

Fear of getting hurt.

What I didn’t know then, was that my qualms about committing to a serious relationship were pretty normal. Simply a part of the process we (worriers) go through when we fall in love.

We can’t love without risk. And we can’t risk without fear. (Profound, huh?)

So how do we know if love is worth the risk?

I am certainly no expert on love, but I have been married for, like,  forever (okay, just over 25 years). Add to that the fact that I still like (and love) my husband, and maybe, just maybe you should keep reading. (Regardless, it’s my blog-of course I’m here to give you my thoughts.) So let’s continue. Below are the seven signs that you should take a gamble on love.

Love is worth your risk when your loved one…

1-Is there for you when the world isn’t. You know what I mean: You’ve got a fever of 102, your breath stinks, and/or you just lost your job (and self-worth). Life happens and when it does, we often lose our footing. When your someone is there to help you plant your feet back on the ground, well then, he’s a keeper.

 2-Brings out the best in you. We are all here, I believe anyway, to lift each other up, and not put each other down. When our partner believes in us, it is somehow so much easier to believe in ourselves. But when the one we love isn’t in our corner, well…It makes for a long and lonely road.

 3-Makes you laugh. Life can be amazing. It can also be so stinking hard. And frustrating (think dealing with the cable company’s customer service). Being with someone who can make you laugh along the way makes it all a bit more bearable.

4-Challenges you. Somehow my husband sees right through me. He knows when I’m procrastinating, when I’m whining (dang it) and when I’m not being fair. Unfortunately for me, he calls me out on it. (See number two.)

 5-Loves you when you’re unlovable. I’ll admit, there may have been a time or two when I’ve yelled at my Steve unfairly. Perhaps once I made the flu out to be as bad as a terminal illness. And occasionally I can be a little passive aggressive. I’m not perfect, but neither is he. When your partner can overlook your faults and love you anyway, well that is a gift.

6-Enjoys your company. There is nothing better than having fun together. If you are lucky enough to enjoy being with your partner, whether it’s a big night out or a cozy night in, you’re pretty darn lucky.  And seeing as marriage is forever, this is pretty darn important.

 7-Contributes to your life together. So many good men lack the romance gene. But does it really matter? People show love in different ways. These same men who forgot the flowers are out there earning a living, helping bath your toddler, picking up your preteen from her school dance and/or mowing the lawn. They are doing what needs to be done. Contributing to your life together.  This, my friends, is love in action.

So on this Valentine’s Day, if you discover your mate made the Tracy cut, be sure and thank him/her for being such a great partner in life. 

And if you’re still out there looking for Miss/Mr. Wonderful, be sure and look beyond physical attributes, romance and your person’s (ugh) potential. Instead, take a good look at who your loved one is right now.  Pay attention to the condition of his/her heart.  Then consider whether such a heart deserves yours. 

Happy Valentine’s Day to all my readers!

I love the holidays, I really do. Anyone who knows me knows my priorities in life are faith and family. But if I’m honest, there is usually a tiny part of me that can’t wait for it all to be over.

Why? Because for a introverted, to-do list clutching, over-thinker, Christmas can be overwhelming.

For me, getting through the month of December feels like running a marathon (caveat here: I’ve never really run one, I’m just guessing). You start out excited only to find yourself getting a little tired about a third of the way through. Yet you keep on trucking, and next thing you know you’re seriously considering the fact that you just might really die from exhaustion.  But alas you don’t, and then all of a sudden, you find you’re crossing the finish line with a sense of elation. Next thing you know, you’ve collapsed on the ground in a colossal heap.

This is what I don’t like about the holiday season.

The tasks of Christmas-the cooking, cleaning, shopping, wrapping, waiting in line, waiting in traffic, and running out of tape at 9pm the night before the night before Christmas-all really get to me. Sometimes I just wish I could run away (this cabin would be perfect!).

Can you imagine staying here?  An introvert’s dream! 😉

I surely don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to be a Negative Nancy/Tracy. I don’t welcome the irritation that rises up when the slow lady in front of me clogs up the aisle at Target. And as a Christian, I for sure don’t want to be crabby in this most important season.  But each year it happens, that is until God steps in. It goes something like this:

I hit December with my feet running.  I shop. I bake.  I send cards.  I participate in extra activities, buy clothes and food for the needy, and and take on way too much.  Then, I get tired and whine to God (pretty bold of me, all things considered).  God, I imagine, just rolls his eyes and whispers to himself, ‘Here we go again…’ But never does he let me down.

Instead God throws me a rope, provides a little perspective to get me through the season. This year, he got a handle on me early, through the words in a book by Max Lucado.

(This is how I picture the sky looking when God speaks to my heart.)

My bible study group is reading Because of Bethlehem by Max Lucado. Lucado is a witty Texan pastor with a plethora of books to his name (nearly 100 according to Wikipedia). This particular book shares the story of how Jesus came to Bethlehem (and to us) in an unexpected way and in the midst of chaos. Now to this I can relate.

Because of Bethlehem is Max Lucado’s newest book.

I’ve read Lucado before and always enjoy his entertaining writing style.  But what struck me in this book was Lucado’s suggestions for how to find peace amidst the chaos. Yes! Peace! Go Max! This is what I’m always seeking in the holiday season.

One action item he recommends is to ditch the to-do list for a to-be list.  “We often get caught up in the busyness of doing,” says Lucado, “Time is short, and our to-do lists are long, especially during the holidays.” Sounds like my life… Lucado then asks the reader the following question, “How might it change your experience of Advent this year if you were to make your priority being-the person you want to become-instead of doing?” He then suggests the reader make a list of all they want to be.

And so I did. Just making the list has quieted my heart and mind. Made me excited about this busy, celebratory season. Given me peace. So I’m happy to tell you that for the first time in years, I am not running the race in December. I will not do Christmas, instead I will just be.

And because I’m either brave or stupid, today I’m sharing my to-be list with you.

 Tracy’s Christmas 2016 To-Be List

*I want to be a person who delights in the holiday season, appreciating the traditions of twinkling Christmas lights, holiday music, and gift-giving.

I want to be a person who makes sure her family and friends know, without question, just how much they are loved.

I want to be kind, patient, content and centered amidst the chaos. (Even when I’m the 8th customer in the one open lane at Walmart and it seems like Christmas will come before I get through the line-no one said this would be easy).

I want to be cognizant of God’s plan for and gift of eternal grace.  What an amazing gift it is.

I want to be still before God, each day, not just on Sunday.

I want to be a friendly and encouraging face to others. We all need this. 

I want to be less self-centered and more other-centered. This is hard, and I will fail time and time again.  But a girl can try, right?

So much of my stress during the holidays is self-imposed.  When I put focus on getting things done instead of being present, I lose sight of myself and get crabby.  I forget the entire purpose of the season. I miss seeing the blessings God pours down over me.  Not this year.

It’s December 7th and I’ve barely touched my to-do list.  But it’s okay, the good news is this: I’m a little easier to be around this season. Definitely more at peace. And somehow, I know that what really needs to get done, will get done.  I may never get around to sending out cards, but somehow I think God doesn’t mind so much. 

Happiest of Holidays to you, lovely readers!

It’s day one of our adventure and we’re getting ready. I look across the room and see my husband sliding his feet into his new cowboy boots. I can’t help it, the sight makes me chuckle.

Steve. In cowboy boots. Never in a million years did I think I’d see it. He looks up at me and grins. “What?” he says.

“Nothing, it’s just…you’ve changed. I never thought I’d see you in boots. This is not the same man I married twenty-five years ago,” I say with a giggle.

He smiles, “I don’t know, I think I’ve just figured it out, the things that make me happy.”

I knew exactly what he meant. My husband comes alive when he is in nature, he loves being in wide open spaces and watching wildlife.  I too, am learning to recognize what I love.  I’m learning the difference between things I like, and things that bring me great joy. They are very different things.

My family has just returned from a week at the Bar W, a dude ranch in Whitefish, MT. For me, it was a dream vacation; a bucket list item I’ve been considering for over 10 years. Was it expensive? Yes.  Did it measure up to my long held expectations? Yes.

There are so many reasons this was a great trip. For one, it was a wonderful ranch in a beautiful setting and we had great weather. The staff, food and lodging were top notch. Secondly, my family and I had the opportunity to try new things: fly-fishing, skeet shooting and river rafting to name a few. But really, for me anyway, the joy was in the setting.

 I seem to find myself in nature. It is here than I can stop thinking about everything and focus solely on the trees, the wildflowers, the colorful stones I find upon the path I’m walking. I loved being able to get up, throw on a pair of dirty jeans and head out for a morning ride (so much better than waking up to check email, Facebook and the news). I loved getting to know my horse Cody (sweet but grumpy, with a penchant for wildflowers).  I loved waking up in the middle of the night, peaking out the window  and being rewarded with a multitude of stars. 

I think I could have been a cowgirl. I could have been happy growing up in a small town in the west where riding, rodeos and line dancing aren’t a novelty, they are just what you do. I could be okay with crawling out of bed, sliding my feet into my boots and spending the day getting dusty and dirty with the horses.  Maybe.  I mean, I will say I was sore in all kinds of strange places by the end of the week.

It doesn’t matter if I could or couldn’t.  The chances of me chucking my life and becoming a cowgirl at this point are slim to none.  Instead I’ll make sure I make time for nature in my city girl life.  I’ll take walks in the park, watch the sunset from my patio and take full days to unplug, completely.  It won’t be quite the same, but hey a (cow)girl can try.

Thanks Montana, you’ve helped me find my happy place.  Friends, where is yours?