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

The 4 Keys to Finding Patience

Posted on February 19, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo courtesy of: http://iheart7.com/2011/11/giving-children-their-privacy-nablopomo/

WE were at a stand off.  I wanted her to do it, and she was refusing.  Resolution was nowhere in sight.  So I gave up, because this week of all weeks is not the week to stand my ground.  Because this week, I lost something very important to me.

I lost something I value greatly, something that helps me through each and every day, something I could not live without.  I lost:  my patience.

It happens.  (Often.)  It happens when I start picking up the house and realize I am pretty much the only one who picks up the house.

It happens when I can’t get my Excel spread sheet to print the way I want it to print.

It happens nearly every time I’m in line at the grocery store deli counter (seriously, can these sweet old ladies not move a little faster?).  And it happened this morning when my daughter refused to write a thank you note to her teacher for Teacher Appreciation Day.

It’s not that my daughter doesn’t like her teacher.  It’s not that my daughter isn’t appreciative or thoughtful.  It’s all because the paper the school designated for the teacher notes had the Cat in the Hat on it (it’s also Dr. Seuss week!).  As if, writing a note on this paper was an endorsement for Dr. Seuss, her apparent fear.

It’s times likes these when I should be flexible.  Creative.  Offer a different sheet of paper for goodness sake.  But the whole thing was so ridiculous that at first I chose to stand my ground.  And so did my girl.  And guess where we got?  Nowhere.

It’s what happens when we lose our patience, get mad, decide to stand firm in what we want, instead of seeking out a compromise.  When we get caught up in the moment and forget the big picture.

What to do in such situations?  How do we find the very thing we need desperately, our patience, when our week goes crazy, when our children won’t cooperate, when the pounds take so long to fall off even though we’re working so hard to lose them?

I’m obviously not an expert.  I don’t have a magic formula (and if I did, you might laugh since I shot my credibility on this topic three paragraphs up).  So instead, I’ll offer this.  When I am feeling impatient, angry, frustrated, I find it’s best when I:

1-Pause.  2-Breathe.  3-Let go.  4-Remind myself that it could always be worse.

Most of the things I get impatient about are small things.  Tiny irritants within my day.  Things not even that worth their weight in negative energy.   I could have forced my daughter to write a note for her teacher.  If I had there would surely have been tears and yelling and it’s possible I would have lost the battle.

So instead I thought to myself:  this won’t matter in a year.  A week.  A day even (her poor teacher, I’m going to have to step up the end-of-school-year gift!). In the grand scheme, most of what makes us crazy are small things.

My daughter is independent.  Opinionated.  Quirky.  She’s also funny, smart, and beats to the sound of her own drum, all qualities I respect.  So when I felt my frustration rising this morning, for her sake and mine,  I had to make the decision to pause, breathe and let go.

Once I did that, things got better. I told my girl I’d leave the decision to her. My daughter apologized for getting mad and got on the bus happily (sans a Cat in the Hat note).  And I remembered it could be worse.  I could be where I was a year ago today:  helping her with the final touches on her science fair board.  And that would have taken much, much more patience.

Perspective is key.  Let’s give ourselves a laugh today.  What have you lost your patience over this week and how could it be worse?  

Posted in Faith, Family Life, gratitude, humor, inspiration, kids, life lessons, parenting, trials, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Why We Need Friends, God & Wine

Posted on February 13, 2014 by thewritertracy

photo courtesy of: http://shaswa.wordpress.com/2011/04/09/help-yourself-by-helping-others/

“What can I do to help?”

It was a simple question, but one for which I didn’t have an answer.  The fact that my friend asked in the first place; this was enough.  Her gesture, her words, they showed me how much she cares.  That was what I really needed. But I got more; days later she brought me food, wine and conversation.

Last week was rough.  The skies opened up yet again to release 8 inches of snow on top of the 6+ we already have on the ground.  The day of the storm the temperatures dropped, the winds blew fiercely and travel was nearly impossible.   My mother found herself in the hospital and my father found himself sliding off an icy road and into a ditch.  All this in the same night.

The days that followed were spent at the hospital, where my entire family waited.  We waited for doctor’s reports, waited for test results and waited for my mom to get better.  Really, we were waiting for our lives to get back to normal.

In weeks like this one, weeks where everything in my life feels beyond my control, I reach out and hold onto my faith.  In all honesty, sometimes it helps, and sometimes it doesn’t. 

I blame no one but myself.  Because sometimes, I cannot let go of my circumstances.  I want so badly to take charge, to control my outcome, to fix things by myself.  So much so that I don’t perceive or accept the care, the peace, the help God offers me.  Instead, with my go-to attitude, I hold tightly to my burdens. And there I stand, my back aching from the weight, waiting for God to do things my way.  Never a good idea.

But in this week it was too much to carry.  This week, I gave it all to God right in the middle of that snowstorm and hospitalization and car wreck.  And guess what, as awful as my week was, I also felt a sense of peace.  I felt a preternatural sense of love and I knew I wasn’t alone.  And as strange as it is to say, I even saw beauty within that storm.  Because as I later pondered all that had happened, I saw how God had prepared for this time. The circumstances of my week weren’t pretty, but God gave me everything I needed to get through them.

God gave me words.  For months I’ve been searching for a new devotional.  Something I can read quickly and easily each morning.  But no…I’ve searched and searched and okay, maybe I’m picky, but nothing quite fit.  Too long.  Too short.  Too verse-y.  Too fluffy.  Too random.  But recently I ordered a book I found on Amazon.  It arrived just days before my mom landed in the hospital.  And from the day I got it, I’ve loved each day’s devotional.  The book, Jesus Calling by Sarah Young is simple yet profound.

Young writes her devotionals in first person; it is as if Jesus himself is speaking to you.  Teaching you.  Reminding you how much he cares.  The night my mom went into the hospital, I re-read the devotional I’d (naively) read earlier that day.  Here is part of what it said:

Accept yourself and your circumstances just as they are, remembering that I am sovereign over everything.  Do not wear yourself out with analyzing and planning… The best way to get through this day is step by step with Me. 

Words, delivered by Young but from God, to soothe my weary soul.

God gave me people who care.  Just two weeks ago, God allowed me a time of rest in a getaway with girlfriends.  In that weekend I realized this: we bond with others through sharing.  I’m an introvert.  I often keep my thoughts and opinions to myself.  I’d rather our conversation be about you, than me.  And this is okay, most of the time.  But when I am hurting, when I need the support of others;  I must risk sharing.

Why?  Because it helps.  We are not meant to carry our burdens alone.  The support of others is a blessing, it makes our load more bearable.  That trip prepared me to share, to risk letting others know things were rough.  And I learned that when I do, others let me know they care.  People care.  I am never alone. (That meal and wine helped too).

God gave me angels to intervene.   When my Dad left the hospital to drive home that night, he took a wrong turn.  He got lost and slid off a country road in the worst part of the storm.  It was dark, windy, and snowing and there were few vehicles on the road due to the travel emergency.

But a man with truck happened to drive the same road my father was on.  A man who was kind enough to stop when he found my father (who doesn’t use a cell phone) sitting in his car.  A man who then called 911 and stayed until the police arrived.  A man who also stayed until we arrived, and then towed my father’s car out of the ditch so we could get him home.

I believe God works through people.  And while this man may not be an angel by the true definition of the word, he is a man on earth doing God’s work.  He made a difference in the outcome of this situation, my situation; he deserves the title.  He was but one of many people who’s kindness made a difference in my week.

Words to get me through. 

Friends and family members offering their support and care. 

Strangers making a difference in my world. 

God, orchestrating it all. 

It is so reassuring to know that we are never, ever truly alone.  Have you ever felt God’s presence in a storm?

Posted in Faith, Family Life, God, gratitude, inspiration, life lessons, miracles, trials, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments