Family: Stuck for Life

Posted on June 17, 2014 by thewritertracy

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“Ah, no worries,” he wrote in his text, “I’ll take care of it, it’s all good.”  It was the perfect response, what I needed to hear.

Because in this instance, like most instances, I was worrying about something which was definitely not worth my worry.  It is what I do, and my brother knows this.  

We are born from the same parents, come from the same gene pool, and grew up in the same house yet, my brother and I are very different people.  I am grateful.

My brother Kent is three years older than me. In my earliest memory, I see him, crooked grin upon his face, bangs in need of a trim. He has on a striped t-shirt, Toughskins jeans and Keds tennis shoes. He is whispering something in my ear, trying to make me laugh, and he is succeeding. We’re in a restaurant, eating fried chicken, and we’re about to get thumped on the head from our father, his quick and quiet way to discipline us when we acted up.   It is one scene, one memory in my bank, but it represents the essence of our entire childhood.

My brother always added a certain element of fun to our household. He was a tease, often cutting up and making everyone laugh. Growing up, we couldn’t have been more opposite. He was outgoing, popular, played in and excelled at sports. He was fun to be around (still is) and thus people gravitated toward him. I on the other hand, was quiet and shy and while I had friends, it took me a long time to grow into myself. I often stood in the shadows of his gregarious personality.

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So while I spent my time doing exactly what I was supposed to, Kent was doing exactly what he wanted to do.  While I did homework and earned Girl Scout badges and kept my room clean, Kent took life for all it had to offer. He quit the Boy Scouts and got a paper route. He saved up enough money to buy a mini-bike (which he bought without consulting with my parents).

At age eleven, he cooked Thanksgiving dinner, even making Baked Alaska for dessert.  When he was a teen, he brought home a puppy, giving my parents some lame story about how he’d rescued him from being used in a research study for a drug company.  Nobody believed the story, but we ended up keeping Max; he was the best dog we ever had.

The thing about my brother is this:  he’s always walked to the beat of his own (somewhat rebellious) drum.  Growing up, if he was having fun, then our parents’ rules and curfew limits became optional. If he didn’t like his teachers, he simply wouldn’t do the homework.  If you were a bully picking on an innocent kid, well then he just might have beaten you up.  Half the time my parents didn’t know whether to be proud or appalled by my brother’s behavior. In the end, I believe they’ve always respected him for being true to his beliefs, no matter the consequences.

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As kids we had plenty of fun, but we weren’t exactly close. In fact, I’d say like most siblings, we spent the majority of our time fighting. But no matter, I always knew if I ever got into a real jam, my brother would be there for me. And now, some forty-years later, he still is.

In our adult years we’ve had many a memorable time together. We’ve had family camp outs where he makes up campfire stories to scare our kids, we’ve gone on vacations to the  beach each year (where he makes us all write down our favorite memories and then buries these notes in a jar for us to dig up the next year) and we also tailgate together before the Colts games (breakfast burritos, homemade soup, brats-the food is always fabulous!).

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My brother is funny, can make anyone laugh.  My kids affectionately refer to him as Crazy Uncle Kent.

But lately our time together and conversations have been more serious. It’s what happens when you lose a parent. There are decisions to be made, details to contend with, financial plans to be considered.  And so in this we are a team; we bounce things off on one another, talk through issues and determine next steps. We also talk through our grief. It is a new stage in our relationship.

I love that I have my brother to walk with me through these trials. But most of all, I just love my brother for who he is; a funny, caring person who doesn’t take himself or his life too seriously.

A while back he sent me a text, he was offended that I was unable to attend a cookout he hosted. I kept explaining why we couldn’t be there.  Turns out he was just teasing, trying to get a rise out of me (which he did).  The other day when I called, he answered the phone by saying, “Taco Tim’s, how can I help you?”  He repeatedly acts as if he cannot remember my youngest daughter’s name, calls her Karen.   Last week after reading my blog, he asked if I was ever going to write about him. He’s asked this last question for about a year now.

Well brother: Yes, I am and here it is. Thanks for always being there, teaching me to lighten up and enjoy life, and for always, always making me laugh.

 

 

 

Posted in Family Life, gratitude, humor, In the Beginning, inspiration, kids, life lessons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments

Seven Things To Love About Summer

Posted on June 6, 2014 by thewritertracy

All you have to do is take one look around my house and you’ll see it’s true: summer has arrived.

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You can tell by the pool towels draped across my patio chairs, the novels lying about my family room, and the flip-flops scattered across the floor of my entry.  But despite the mess, I’m feeling a bit giddy. Because I love summer, and not just for the weather.

Nope, there’s more to this season than sunshine, lightening bugs and family reunions.

For me, summer is the season of promise. These 12 weeks hold within them what I long for all year round: possibility, hope, and best of all: fun.  I love to have fun. Below are the top seven things I love about summer.

1-Fewer Commitments + More Flexibility=More Time. Like most people, I have set volunteer and social obligations. But guess what? All my commitments cease during the summer months (except for work but I have a flexible schedule). This leaves me with free pockets of time. In addition, with the kids out of school, I’m free of school meetings and activities (and helping with homework!). Free, free, free; are you getting that I like my freedom? A break from commitments for these few precious weeks, it’s a blessing.

2-Longer days=more outdoor activities.
I think I’m like a bear that hibernates.  In the cold winter months all I want to do is sit by the fire and sleep or read (not that bears read).  But in the summer I come alive.  I’m more apt to get up early and walk the dog and get out in the evenings.  In my book, longer days warmer temps and sunshine make for better living.

3-Summer Concerts, Picnics, Fairs and Festivals, oh my! What can be better than a picnic in the park? I’ll tell you: one with family and friends while listening to a free concert and watching tiny ones dance around in the green grass.  Add a glass of wine and I’m even happier.  Another summer favorite pastime for me is berry-picking at Spencer’s Farm.  I’ll admit it: I can eat berries by the handful.  Picking strawberries, blackberries and blueberries off the vine: heaven on earth and time well spent on a warm summer morning.

4-Less TV=More Time to Read.   I’m not a huge TV person, but I do love the shows I love: Mad Men, Nashville, Parenthood, The Good Wife, Amazing Race and Shark Tank to name (quite) a few. But with a summer full of re-runs or less-than-appealing reality shows, I turn the TV off and indulge in my reading habit. Such a more satisfying way to spend time, I don’t know why I bother with TV at all.

5-More Time Spent with Family and Friends. There’s just something about a good old-fashioned cookout. And the grilled burgers and corn on the cob aren’t the half of it. For me it’s the laughter and lingering that I love. Whether it’s around the fire pit on cooler evenings or hanging out on the porch on the hotter ones, it’s all a good time.  Life often gets in the way of connecting with the people we care about. But with a relaxed schedule and longer days, summer finds me more eager to entertain.  And this always fills my bucket.

6-Travel, travel, travel!  I am one of those people who enjoys getting out and seeing the world.  Be it Paris or Southern Indiana, to me it’s always an adventure.  So I love nothing more than going on vacation or getting away for a weekend.  I find it exhilarating to explore new places. Summer is the perfect time to do so.

 7-Being Spontaneous.  I’ve got one kid in college, one in high school and one who will enter middle school in the fall.  Because of the differences in their ages, everyone comes and goes at different times.  But occasionally, in the summer, I’ll find a day when everyone is home at once.  This is when I decide to blow off my to-do list and sneak away for an adventure with my girls.  In the past we’ve hit Conner Prairie, biked the Monon Trail or snuck away to Brown County for the day. Somehow my soul knows this is important to do from time to time. I think it’s about choosing life over chores.

There are so many things to love about this season.  Everyone has their favorite summertime rituals, what are yours?

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, gratitude, inspiration, kids, life lessons, travel, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Lessons Learned

Posted on May 29, 2014 by thewritertracy

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If God had put me in charge of the great outdoors, it would not be a pretty sight. Because the truth is, I have tried and failed at growing many things.

Plants.

Flowers.

Tomatoes.

Strawberries.

So about two years ago I gave it up. I gave it all to Glen. Little did I know then how much I’d learn from this man.

Glen takes care of our yard. He’s not quite a landscaper, not quite a gardener. He’s just a guy who makes his living working on yards.

I spotted him in my parents’ neighborhood years back. It is not a designated senior neighborhood, but it’s a small, tight knit group of older folks who look out for one another. Everyone who lives there is over age 60, and almost all of them contract with Glen to handle their yard work.

One day, after planting and killing yet another hydrangea, I drove to my parents house, walked right up to Glen and told him I needed help with my yard for an upcoming party. And that was it: the party came and went, but two years later Glen is still mowing our grass, planting flowers and trimming our shrubs.  In that time I’ve come to know this man. I’ve learned a great deal from him. Not about gardening (there’s no help for my brown thumb), but about life.

It’s amazing what we can learn from those around us. But in this social-media-saturated, never-be-bored with instant-access-to-entertainment-world we live in, lessons from the sidelines are easy to miss. So I’m glad that over the years I’ve taken time to stop and chat with Glen. Today I want to share what he’s taught me.

1-Love what you do and you’ll be happy. Glen drives a regular pick-up truck, it’s not wrapped and there is no logo on the side panel. He does not advertise, his business comes word of mouth. If I happen to be home when he’s here, he will chat with me about our yard. He’ll point out how our grass is coming along, how our holly bushes survived the winter, how the shrubs in our backyard are thriving. I think he cares more about our yard then we do. But isn’t that how it is when you love what you do?  Work is not just work, it’s also pleasure.

2-Don’t waste time on meaningless activities. Recently I had to show Glen where our cable wires were buried in order for him to complete his work. It was then I learned he doesn’t own a computer.  As I was saying I couldn’t live without the Internet, Glen was saying he doesn’t bother with it. WOW. This seems unheard of to me; I can’t imagine how out of touch he must be. But then I thought about what I do when I’m on my computer.  Outside of work, most of my time spent there is of little value.  What are we missing out on when we give our time to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram? The answer?  A lot.

3-Value People, not things. I don’t know much about Glen’s personal life, but I know he values people. He works with his son and he knows all his clients by name. And I saw the sadness in his eyes when I had to tell him my mom passed away. I’ll never forget what he once said to me, “It’s the worst part of my job,” he sighed, “When I get to know people and then they pass away, or have health troubles, it’s terrible.” Something tells me Glen isn’t worried about losing a client so much as he is saddened by the loss of another human being.  Putting people first, work second; it’s a good reminder for us all.

4-Take Time Off. In the spring, summer and fall, we see a lot of Glen. He’ll stop by to seed or check on plants or mow the grass. But every winter he heads south and enjoys some well-deserved time off.   Time that I’m sure renews him, gets him ready for the hard work that awaits in the coming months.   A recent article on ABC News states Americans work more and take less vacation than anyone in the industrialized world. The question is, why? Do we really want to put that accomplishment on our tombstone? We too need to rest.

I don’t know Glen all that well. I don’t know where he’s from or where he went to school or what his favorite sports teams are, but I do know a lot about his character.  I must say it makes me wish I were more of a gardener.

 

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, gratitude, inspiration, life lessons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Join the Club: When it’s Time to Pay It Forward

Posted on May 16, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo source: http://community.sparknotes.com/2010/08/19/blogging-wuthering-heights-part-10

The older woman looked down into the stroller and smiled, “How old is she?”

“Eight weeks,” I answered. We went on to chat about babies and sleep and 2:00 am feedings while she rang up my clothing purchase. She was so much older, wiser, had already done this thing that was so new to me. It felt good to talk to her.

She was someone who understood.

And then it happened again when I went to the grocery. The bookstore.  The gym. Finally I realized; there’s something about having a child that bonds women. I thought to myself, I’m in a club now, The Motherhood Club.

Because never before had older women in department stores stopped and talked to me. They didn’t ask personal questions about my life, my family or my sleep habits. But once I got pregnant, once my belly began to reveal itself, everything changed.

Those ahead of us in the game of  life like nothing better than to share. They share their experiences, their advice, their war stories. Sometimes they share too much.

And thank God. Because if I didn’t have their stories to make me realize I’m not alone in my circumstances, then I surely wouldn’t survive.

Because whatever it is I am going through, it’s the people I go through it with who help me get to the other side.

When my daughter was three months old, I went back to work. It’s hard to be a working mom. Hard to show up on time when your two-year-old throws a tantrum over pink socks. Hard to be on your game in the boardroom when you’ve been up all night.

So it was then that I bonded with other working moms. Together we commiserated about how there aren’t enough hours in the day and the guilt of missing our child’s first step, first word, first lost tooth.  We also taught each other how to make dinner in a flash, make the most of the moments we had with our children and how to Let. The. House. Go.

I became a full-fledged member of the Working Mothers Club. But not for long.

Because when I had daughter number two, I quit my job and became a stay-at-home mom. This too, was an adjustment. Because while I loved being with my children, I also loved coffee breaks and satisfying work and adult conversation.

Being at home alone with little ones was sometimes lonely. So I joined a real, live mom’s club, and it literally saved me. This club was full of women who could relate to being up all night, being thrown up on, and being home all day but still getting nothing done. They had empathy, advice, and knew better than anyone how to get purple nail polish out of white carpet.

Life is about stages.  About experiencing  joy, difficulty and adjustment to new and different circumstances.  How do I best I get through these stages? I join a club. In other words, I bond with people like me, people in the same place I’m in, people who can guide me through.

Currently I’ve joined a new club. It’s called the Grieving Club. It’s not a physical club like my mom’s club, but it is a club. Most of the members have been through what I’ve been through. They empathize. They reach out. They send me a text or a card or just call to check in.

I am grateful.

For most of my life, I have wanted to keep my struggles, my adjustments, my fears and sadness to myself. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, don’t want to bother other people. Sometimes I just don’t want to face my feelings, don’t want to be…vulnerable.

But the older I get, the more I realize this: God did not design me to be a solitary creature. He does not want me to go through my trials alone and in fact, he reminds me that I’m never alone.  He is with me always.

But it’s nice to have some physical companions too. So he gave me family, friends, and complete strangers who exhibit empathy and compassion. What a blessing.

There’s a lot I don’t understand about how God works.  But I do know this:  God created each of us with an empathetic heart and when we feel the pull we are meant to act. 

So I guess when it’s my turn, when I’m ready, it will be my job to pay it forward in the Grieving Club.  To be that person who commiserates, reaches out, calls or sends a text or card just to check in.  I’m not there yet, haven’t felt the pull, but when I do, I’ll be more than ready to complete the assignment.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, God, gratitude, humor, inspiration, life lessons, miracles, parenting, trials, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Why I Risk Disappointment

Posted on May 7, 2014 by thewritertracy

 

photo courtesy of:  http://swimwearandlingerie.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/cheerleaders-large-jungle-cats-and-lingerie/

Here’s something you may not know about me: I am rooting for you. I root for (almost) everyone.

I want people to achieve their dreams. To overcome obstacles.  To learn, grow and live a happy life.  I guess you could say I’m a cheerleader at heart.

But I’m also realistic. Pragmatic. Sensible. I know the odds are not (forever) in your favor (yes, I am lame enough to make a play on this infamous Hunger Games phrase!).  So while I’m hoping against hope that dreams are achieved, addictions are overcome and lotteries are won; in truth, at times, I end up…disappointed.

It’s discouraging.

But then I remember; sometimes dreams really do come true. Some people overcome. Some people beat the odds.  Victory happens.  It inspires me.  

Author William P. Young is one of those people. Perhaps you’ve never heard of him. Or, if you’re like me, perhaps you read his 2008 bestseller, The Shack. I had the opportunity to hear Young speak at Grace Community Church last week.  The topic:  Where’s God When.

Even if you didn’t like the book, keep reading this post. Young’s story is a fascinating one. All I can say is, wow.

First, a bit about the book. The Shack is a bit out there. The story starts with the reader finding Mack, the main character, shrouded in anger and misery over the events in his life. He is unhappy, hopeless and yet doing nothing to change. This married father of three cannot see anything good about life, he is stuck. He is angry.

Then one day he receives a letter in the mail. The letter is an invitation to come visit Papa for the weekend. Mack, who grew up in an abusive home, no longer speaks to his father. And the place he is to being asked to visit is an abandoned shack where his young daughter’s bloody clothing was found after she was abducted and killed. So the question is: who sent the letter?  Who exactly is Papa?

Mack isn’t sure. The note could be from his father, could be from his daughter’s killer, or he wonders if perhaps it is from God. Out of curiosity he decides to go to the shack. Indeed, the note is from God who in this story is portrayed as an African American woman named Elousia. Over the weekend he has many conversations with Elousia. He also meets Jesus, a carpenter of course, and Sarayu, an Asian woman representing the Holy Spirit.   The entire story is about Mack coming to terms with his daughter’s death and other disappoints in his life. It’s a story about finding hope, about where God is when bad things happen.

Whether you found the book gripping or as some say, heretical, here’s what I think: the story of William P. Young’s life is even more compelling than the book he wrote.

Young was born to missionaries and moved to Africa with his family as a baby. Here he grew up in the wild with an African tribe. Unbeknownst to his parents, tribe members sexually abused him regularly; it began before he turned six. In addition, his father, repeating the cycle his father had taught him, abused Young for most of his childhood.

At age six, Young was sent off to a boarding school for children of missionaries. Here he spent nine months of every year away from the only family he’d ever known. The school, which was run by missionaries, was not the safe haven one would think it to be. I am horrified to report that here again, the school children were abused regularly.

Young’s upbringing seems not to have deterred him from his faith, however it did cause a myriad of issues for him as an adult. He admits to being obsessed with pleasing people and God, of succumbing to sexually addiction, having an affair and at one point, being so broke that he had to sell his family’s home.  He tried to keep his issues hidden but once the facade fell, everything in his life fell apart.  In his worst moments, he thought suicide to be the best option for himself and his family.  He had a plan, a place, and luckily, someone to stop him from going through with it.

Young says it took over ten years to turn his life around. Ten years. For ten years, he kept trying, kept praying, kept striving to heal his brokenness. I’m not sure I could last that long.  He worked hard to tear down the walls he’d created in his life, to learn to love himself, and to become brave enough to ask others for help.  Ten years it took.  It wasn’t until after he’d healed that he wrote The Shack.

He wrote the story to give as a Christmas gift for his children when he couldn’t afford to buy them anything else. Having a few extra copies, he shared these with friends. Word of mouth led to increased readership.  Eventually demand led to it being published.  At present The Shack has sold over 15 million copies and is currently being made into a movie by Forest Whitaker.

A difficult childhood. A messy addiction-filled adult life. A broken man who was once shrouded in shame is now telling his story to the entire world.  That’s what God can do. That’s what faith can do.  That’s why I’ll never put away my pom-poms or give up hope. It’s worth a little disappointment here and there.

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, Goals, God, gratitude, inspiration, life lessons, marriage, miracles | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

How I Keep My Memories Alive

Posted on April 30, 2014 by thewritertracy

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At first, I thought it was overkill. But now, I’m so glad she did it.

Last weekend was my middle girl’s prom. A big ordeal for all teens everywhere, but an even bigger one for my girl. A girl who’s been looking at dresses “just for fun” for a good two years now, who’s jokingly called her love life “hopeless” for a few months now, a girl who loves Nicholas Sparks books and is a romantic at heart.

So when the boy asked and the dress was bought and the hair appointment made, I felt nothing but excitement for my daughter. Next up? Pictures.

“We’re taking them at the park. One of the moms hired a professional photographer. So you can take your own, or order some from him.”

Really? A park? A professional photographer? For prom? It’s not a wedding for crying out loud. My mind went here, because this is where my mind goes as a seasoned parent in this over-the-top world of ours.

A world where many of us are climbing up very high into our children’s affairs.

A world where parents keep tabs on their child’s every move, worry about his every mistake and praise his every achievement.

A world where parents are knocking themselves out to make their children the center of their lives and attempt to give them a pain-free childhood (impossible to achieve of course, and perhaps we’re damning them with our efforts-did I just write that?!).

But I digress; let’s save that one for another blog post.

Of course I wanted pictures. So off we went to the park that night to snap a few shots of our girl and her date as well as her group of friends.

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It was then that I realized something pretty vital: dances no longer offer professional photographers to take pictures.  This is why we parents and kids gather together for school dance photos; otherwise there wouldn’t be any.

Technology has changed so much about how we live and do things in the past few years.  Taking a photo and sharing it is about as easy as breathing.  We can snap and post and share and save, and we can do it all for free.

But for all the photos we take, we rarely print them. We click, we post, we view, we enjoy. Then we are done.  Said photos remain in our phones, on our computers, in our Facebook albums forever.  But my question is this: what happens when we grow old and weary of the technology?  When we no longer get on Facebook, use a cell phone or access the Cloud?

I happen to be old school. I’m one of those people who takes pictures and prints them and then shoves them in a photo album. But I am of a dying breed. My kids, they snap more pictures in a day then I do in a year, but they never print them.

It feels alarming to me.

For my entire life, I have loved looking at old photos. Give me a good rainy Sunday afternoon with not one interesting show on cable and I’ll dig through an old photo album. Inevitably I’ll drag my kids into the room, asking them to guess which sister is in this or that photo.

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I laugh and point out my big ‘80’s style hair from my college years.

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I show them the photo of Grandpa Orma and Grandma ‘Cille smiling and remind them how they put on a dance show for them that one Thanksgiving, Grandpa’s last.

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Recently I was digging through old boxes in the attic, looking for records from the last high school reunion I’d planned a few years back. What I found instead was a box of old photos from high school. Pictures from my prom, spring break trips, and the homecoming parade.

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What a trip to see myself from another time and place.  A young girl who had no idea what lay ahead in her life. 

But what about my girls?  How will they go down memory lane?  Will they pull out an old phone and recharge it? Page through old Facebook photo albums? Will the Cloud or Dropbox last forevermore?  It’s a small thing but also a very big one.  Digital photos are wonderful but I’m not sure they are eternal. 

So I’m grateful to this mom who thought ahead. This mom who probably isn’t an over-the-top mom at all, but just someone who wanted to document an important moment in her child’s life with an actual, physical photograph.

As for me, I guess when I am old and gray (guess I should say older and grayer) I’ll at least have my own photos for reminiscing.

Posted in Family Life, gratitude, humor, inspiration, kids, life lessons, parenting, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

Why It’s Good To Be Irresponsible

Posted on April 18, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo source:http://www.cafepress.com/jackthelads/6755005

I’m just going to say it, and believe me; it’s hard to admit:

I’m such a Martha. And this is not a good thing.

The Martha I’m referring to is the one in the Bible. You know, the one who scurried around the house getting everything ready for Jesus’ big visit? There she was cooking, cleaning, getting things just perfect while her sister Mary helped her not at all. Some sister!  Yet when Martha complained to Jesus, guess who got it?  Here’s a hint: it wasn’t Mary.

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but only one thing is needed.. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41-42, NIV). 

What is better? This verse always gets me. I mean, if the world were full of Marys, people who sit at the feet of Jesus all day, nothing would ever get done, right? The house would never be clean, dinner would never get made and the dog would surely go unfed. Somehow it feels unfair for Martha to be dissed.  After all, she’s the one thinking ahead, trying to make sure Jesus would have a pleasant evening in their home.

Yet this is just my cantankerous side. And of course I trust the words of Jesus.  Martha was so focused on the tasks at hand that she forgot to stop and visit with her savior.  She was missing out: on his lessons, his wisdom, on the experience of sitting with the messiah. Sometimes dinner can wait.

What a mess I’d be if I the Marys in this world didn’t exist.  I need them to remind me to stop.

Stop running around.

Stop worrying about inane stuff.

Stop doing, and start enjoying.

I’m a taskmaster at heart. I love it when my house is in order, my work is done, my bills are paid and I’m all caught up. The only problem is this never happens.

With age comes a full life. And a life rich with family and friends and pets and work and hobbies is in constant motion. Each day is but a step toward where I’m going next. I never arrive at my destination, never get done with life.

If all I’m focused on is checking tasks off my never-ending to-do list, well then I am missing out. Missing out on family, fun, precious moments that make the other moments worth getting through in the first place.

It sounds so silly but this has always been a struggle for me. In high school, I needed my best friend to remind me to let loose and have some fun.  When my kids were little I needed a mom’s group to motivate me to leave the house and socialize with other mothers.  And a couple years back I needed an intervention.

Busy with family and work,  I found myself in a place of constant craziness. I was volunteering too much, invested in too many clubs and organizations, and working too many hours. All this while still trying to keep my family alive, clothed and somewhat fed.  And guess what that meant? It meant I wasn’t happy.  I was doing too much and enjoying very little. Such a Martha am I.

It took my wise husband and a few friends to remind me I was the only one in charge of my life and schedule. No one else on earth was asking me to maintain an overloaded existence. This chaotic lifestyle was of my own doing.

So I did some simple things to begin a path of change. My first step was to designate Sunday as a no work day (I know, I know, I never should have been working on Sundays in the first place). A few weeks later I began to leave Sunday as a free day, no plans, no schedule (beyond church and running kids around). Guess what that meant? It meant I had time. Time to hang out with my family, take a walk, watch a movie, time to enjoy life.

It didn’t take long for me to embrace these changes and add more.  I quickly rediscovered the simple pleasures of life.  I rested, nurtured my soul  and found joy. Joy!

As many of you know, my mother just recently passed away. Along with grieving, a death in the family also means there are new tasks that need my attention. Lately I have found myself going down the Martha path once again. But then I remember.  Remember my mother’s words to me just a few weeks before she died.

We were talking about my day, what I had to do and when I would pick up my father so we could go visit her in the hospital. There was a slight pause in our conversation and then mom suggested we not visit her that day. Her words struck me, “I’m okay, you don’t have to come so often… You don’t have to be so responsible.” At the time, I blew these words off, thinking how mothers never quit worrying about their daughters.

But now that she is gone, I can’t get these words out of my head.  They are a gift from my mother, a woman who knew me well.  How many mothers tell their daughters they don’t need to be responsible?  The words remind me my Martha tendency does not always serve me well. So back I go to working on being irresponsible.  Think I can do it?

I’m sure I could use your input.  So I’ll just ask.  How about you, are you a Mary or a Martha?  How do you to make sure your life is in balance, what do you that brings you joy?

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, Goals, God, gratitude, humor, inspiration, life lessons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

Choosing to Live Your Best Life

Posted on April 9, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo source: http://bestcookingoilswallpaper.blogspot.com/2012/08/lasagna-pan_31.html

It was Sunday and we were having lasagna, food a friend cooked for us, something others often do when you lose a loved one. It was then that I did it.

I reached into my pantry and pulled out the bottle. And I drizzled a liberal portion of truffle oil atop my serving of this delicious Italian dish.

This is what I will do now: I will use my truffle oil.

To me, it is a prized purchase, something I bought at a 17th century winery during our trip to Italy years back. For those who aren’t familiar, truffle oil is enhanced with the flavors of rare mushrooms; it is considered a culinary delight. This particular oil is infused with the essence of white truffles, found sparingly in the hills of northern Italy. Delicate and rich, it is thought to enhance a dish’s natural flavor.

The mushrooms themselves sell for thousands of dollars per pound.  And while I can’t imagine paying that, I did manage to pay $50 for this bottle of oil (a splurge!). And you know what that means, don’t you?  It means I have used it rarely, sparingly. I have been saving this oil for special meals, special occasions.

No more.

2014 has brought its full share of sadness for my family. My mother struggled with her illness (pulmonary arterial hypertension).  We made many an emergency run to the hospital.  My father, who has Parkinson’s, has been plagued with worry and stress-induced confusion. And in the midst of all that, my brother had a stroke, and later carotid surgery. As for me, I’ve been walking in a fear-filled fog for weeks, dominated by worries over how to best care for my family members. Not to mention my struggles to cope with all that was going on along with maintaining my normal life.

And now, my mother is gone. My father has moved into a facility where he can be properly  cared for.  And my brother is out of the hospital with a new lease on life.

Everything has changed.

Am I Grieving? Yes.

Am I Raw? Yes.

Am I Hopeless? No.

Truth be told, I think I still may be in shock.  But I am coping.  I am leaning on my faith and really, really don’t understand how those without faith get through.  The events of the past three months have certainly changed me (how could I not be different?).

So last night, I did it again.

The menu? Stir-fry. Not an Italian dish, but who cares. Slowly and carefully I drizzled my precious oil over brown rice, vegetables and pork. It tasted good. It felt…liberating.

No longer will I wait. No longer am I going to hesitate to try new things, live life fully, go after what I want.  I guess it takes getting through a storm to truly realize just how quickly the landscape can change.  Life is short. I will use my truffle oil.

But even I know using an expensive oil isn’t going to alter my circumstances.  The bottle will eventually run dry. I may buy another, and I may not.  Either way my mother will still be gone. My father will be in a facility.  My heart will still have a gaping hole.

This leaves me with a choice.  Lie in my pool of grief (and I may do this for a while) or move forward, learn to accept my new circumstances.  For me, the oil is simply a declaration of my choice.  I choose to relish the good.  To move forward despite my pain. To live with abandon.

I will try to fill this gap in my heart.  I will celebrate sunny days, spring flowers, small victories in my writing and time with my family.  I will fill that hole with all my wonderful  memories of my mother and father.  Good memories from when they were both at their best, not these last years when their bodies and minds betrayed them.

It’s what my mom would want me to do, it’s how she lived her life.  Unlike most from her generation, my mother had a bold streak. She graduated college in three years.  She went on to get her masters degree and became a college professor, facing a good amount of sexism along the way.  She was extremely independent, lively, feisty.  Never did she hesitate to go after what she wanted (something I excel at).  And she encouraged others to do the same.  Often, when I would contemplate (hem-haw?) about doing something for myself, she’d always say, “I think you should do it.”

This week I’ve been going through old photos, putting together a video for the funeral. It’s been…therapeutic. The light in her eyes, this is something I will never forget. And in these old pictures, I see it.  My mom holding her babies.  My mom traveling to Stratford-upon-Avon with her own mother, checking out Shakespeare’s old haunts.  My mom on the ski slopes of Vermont with my dad and their oldest friends.  Her eyes simply danced when she was excited.

I know without a doubt, cook that she was, my mom would have never hesitated to use her truffle oil. And I will follow in her footsteps.  Cheers, mom.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family Life, God, gratitude, humor, inspiration, Risk, trials, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

The Best Way to Go

Posted on March 12, 2014 by thewritertracy

It was an impulsive move.  But somehow at the time, it felt right.  Later though, I experienced a smidgen of regret. 

photo source: http://www.qcveterans.com/Veterans_Funeral_Plan.html

We were sitting in our lawyer’s office, my husband and I, going over our will.  All the papers were signed and ready to be filed away, all except for one.  One I’d forgotten to fill out.

Not wanting to hold up the entire process, I quickly signed this last paper with very little thought.  All was well, until later…

Later, on the drive home, I realized I’d made a huge decision in a span of 10 seconds.  Later I realized that with nary a thought, I’d checked a box to donate my body to science.  Later I realized exactly what this meant.

If I donate my body to science, there will be no burial.

If there is no burial, there will be no me resting in a cemetery.  There’s no gravestone, no me lying under a huge oak tree with the sun setting over the horizon. And worst of all,  there’s no me to come visit.

HMMMM…

If I donate my body to science, there is no place for my kids and grandchildren to come ‘see’ me (will they even want to?).  I realized that if I donate my body to science, once I’m gone, I’m gone. There will be no trace of me left in this world.

HMMMM…

But in January, everything changed.  Because in January I made another impulsive move.  

One cold day, on my way home from picking up my daughter, I made a quick stop at Barnes & Noble.  In the span of maybe 25 seconds, I picked up and purchased a book to take with me on a an upcoming trip.  The book, Stiff  by Mary Roach, has been enlightening to say the least.

What’s it about?  Well cadavers of course.

Stiff explores the ‘life’ of cadavers.  In the most respectful of ways, Roach tells the history of body snatching, explains the ways in which cadavers are used for scientific research and even touches on embalming procedures and human decay.  That she can tackle such a morbid subject with both wit and respect is a credit to the author herself.  All in all, for a curious mind like mine, it’s fascinating stuff.

I’m not yet done with the book, but I can’t help but share with you a bit about what I’ve learned thus far.

FUN FACTS ABOUT CADAVERS

*Humans have dissected their family and friends since 300 B.C.  But back then no one donated their body to science.  The human body was to be honored, and thus dissection was mostly frowned upon. This led to a shortage of cadavers for aspiring scientists, and ultimately led to the practice of body snatching.  It’s safe to say many a gravedigger earned a decent living back in the day.

*Surgeons in residence aren’t typically given the opportunity to practice operations on donated cadavers.  You know what this means right?  A surgeon’s first surgery is on a live person (with guidance from other surgeons of course).  In other words, surgeons learn on the job.  Yikes!

*Cadavers are often dissected and the various parts are utilized separately (versus a one-time use of the entire body).  This is done in an effort to reduce waste (apparently fresh cadavers are hard to come by).  It’s also done because it’s harder to separate emotionally from an entire person than it is objectify say a hand or foot.

*Embalming is temporary and it took a lawsuit for mortuary services to stop advertising eternal preservation. Yes, it is true that one man tested the claim by opening his mother’s casket every six months.  Needless to say, he won the lawsuit. Sounds eerily like something Norman Bates would have done.

*Humans make the best crash test dummies.  For every cadaver that rode in a crash sled to test seat belts, 61 lives have been saved per year.  For every cadaver that took an airbag in the face, 147 people per year have survived otherwise fatal crashes.  For every corpse whose head hit a windshield, 68 lives per year are saved.  Because of cadaver testing it is now possible to survive a head-on crash into a wall at 60 mph.  Impressive. Though I’d still prefer not to crash.

*Many medical schools hold memorial services for their cadavers.  Medical students attend these services as a way to show their respect and gratitude for those who’ve given their body  so that they, as students, can improve their craft.   Family members are often invited to the services (at least my kids have this).

Because of Stiff, I’m now re-thinking my regret.  Perhaps giving my body to science is the way to go.

Perhaps my kiddos don’t need the guilt of thinking they should come visit me when I’m no longer actually here.  After all, they will be busy with their own lives and just maybe they’d  prefer to remember me for what I was like when I was alive.  And besides, if I donate my body to science, I think my after-life just might be more exciting than my current life.

 

Posted in Family Life, gratitude, humor, life lessons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Tom Petty, Dominoes & Lessons I’m Learning

Posted on March 5, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo source: http://www.insidesocal.com/tomhoffarth/2013/04/30/books-were-just-going-to-have-to-wait-for/

I think Tom Petty nailed it. 

Because truly, when the stakes are high, when our hearts are invested, when we want to know what the future holds oh so badly, the waiting is the hardest part.

The song The Waiting, written and released by Petty in 1981, is about achieving dreams.  For so many of us, when we discover a dream within our hearts, we strive to attain it.  We pour out our souls, we dive into our aspirations, and we discover this: part of the process is to wait.

Wait to see what happens.  Wait to see if our dreams will come true.  There are never guarantees; it’s always a risk.

But I tend to take the song a step further.  Because no matter what we’re waiting on-dreams, paychecks, love, bucket list achievements or even biopsy results, the same is always true: waiting is indeed hard.

I am currently in a place of waiting.  Waiting for difficult circumstances to end.  Waiting to see what will happen next.  Waiting for God to reveal his greater plan.

I don’t like it. 

Because in the space of waiting, I have so many questions.  Thoughts starting with  ‘What if’ and ‘How’ and ‘Why’ float around in my brain.  Un-answerable questions lined up like a row of Dominoes; each game piece dependent upon how the others fall.

And so I find myself thinking about this particular Tom Petty song often.

Over and over, the chorus plays in my brain:

The waiting is the hardest part

Every day you see one more card

You take it on faith; you take it to the heart

The waiting is the hardest part

Why do we have to wait?  It’s a reasonable question; one I’ve been pondering as I find myself in this place.  And here’s what I think…

Whether we like it or not, waiting changes us.  Teaches us.  Strengthens us.  When we are forced to wait, we grow.  It is in the waiting that we learn how to:

Trust.  When we don’t know what will happen, we have two possible ways of thinking: we can fret or we can trust.  If we fret, we choose the path of worry, we give in to fear, think that everything is going to fall apart.  If we choose to trust: we can believe circumstances will work out, all will be okay. We can take solace in the fact that things will fall into place. No matter where life takes us, we must trust it’s where God wants us.

Persevere.  When we can’t see the forest for the trees, we have two paths of action: give up or keep moving.  If we give up, we succumb to fear, fall apart, make things more difficult for ourselves in the long run (no growth, no lessons learned).  If we keep going, we find our own strength, gain courage, become stronger individuals. We always survive.

There are numerous verses in the Bible on perseverance (Romans 12:12, Galatians 6-9, Romans 5:3-5 to name a few) and for good reason.  Giving up is easy, forging ahead in times of adversity, this is the more difficult path.  We can always look to scripture for reassurance.

Rely on God.  When we don’t know what the future holds, when fear or worry or even excitement grip us, it’s easy to get caught up in our thoughts.  But this can be exhausting.  So much of life is beyond our control.  We must accept that God has our best interest in mind, even when it doesn’t make sense.

So while I’m in a place of waiting, and while I don’t really like it, I know it is good, necessary, part of the process.  I will sit back, take things day by day and wait. And one day soon these circumstances (as well as winter!) will come to an end.  And I will be okay.  Maybe even better.

Posted in Faith, God, gratitude, inspiration, life lessons, Risk, trials, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments