Gratitude Adjustment

Well, I was in a rut.  I bored even me.  Thanks for this, thanks for that, yeah, yeah, yeah.  Boring.  [Am I really complaining that the world is so full of little miracles that I grew tired of liking it?] So I took a little break from writing.  I needed a gratitude adjustment.

Thank you for vacations.

Well, guess what?  Every minute of my I'm-done-with-gratitude time out was filled with [that's right] wonderful little miracles and joys to delight the soul.  Ugh, disgusting.  Let me catch you up on the current season of Love of Life.

Thank you for obscure allusions to a television soap opera that aired on CBS from 1951 to 1980 whose title is surprisingly apropos.  Thank you for Wikipedia searches providing insights into the history of daytime television programming.  Thank you for French words like apropos.

Trust me, it would be so cool if I could finally get this video link to work.

Episode 7,317 [seriously Love of Life aired 7,316 episodes]:  In which public school teacher Denise launches into summer vacation with daily hikes on unexplored trails in familiar parklands, [cue the alliteration] surprising several skittish coyotes and one irascible rattlesnake.

Thank you for Tandy and her remedy for stinging nettle.  Thank you for adjectives.

Episode 7,318:  In which mom Denise drives teenage daughter Lindsey to a Girl Scout camping trip and gets to stay all weekend with a terrific troop of leaders and girls in a lush, creekside campsite at the end of 12.8 miles of pitted dirt road then observes the girls go from annoyed to awed as they hike through a little-known grove of Giant Sequoias.  [Can you say "oldest living thing on earth"?]

Thank you for Ric who volunteered to take my place collecting tickets at the church fundraiser so I didn't have to drive back early.  Thank you for Lindsey wanting me to stay the entire weekend.  Thank you for the 13 teenage girls and 2 adults it takes to circle a Giant Sequoia.

Episode 7,319:  In which patriot Denise celebrates Independence Day with her family in Warner Park, listens to her friend Greg perform on trumpet with the amazing Los Angeles Pierce Symphonic Winds [see photo below], enjoys a fine picnic and fireworks, runs into pals Kristal and Tabitha, and contemplates the awesome accomplishments of our Founding Fathers who set aside their differences to join in a terrible act of treason and create a new nation. [Whew!]

Thank you for the Continental Congress.  Thank you, in particular, for the brave example of the staunch opponents of war and independence who declined to vote or abstained on July 2, 1776 to allow the vote for independence to carry unanimously.  Thank you, also, for author Jeff Shaara and his most excellent Rise to Rebellion (New York: Ballantine Books, 2001), the only book I have bookmarked with margin notes.

Now, here's Greg:

Episode 7,320:  In which naturalist Denise spends four days and nights with rock scrambling daughter Jeannette in the Tuolumne Meadows / Tioga Road region of Yosemite National Park covering roughly 8 miles per day on foot, hiking to and around [and putting feet in] five lakes in three days, hosting a young buck mule deer in our campsite at dinner time, observing a hawk dive headlong at full speed into the meadow and clutch a furry meal in its talons upon landing, watching the sunset on the distant horizon, waiting in the cold for the stars at night, and suffering acrophobic anxiety while Jeannette climbs to the very top of Lembert Dome.

Thank you for cruise control [after 35 years of driving, I've finally figured this out].  Thank you for dead phone batteries and no cellular coverage [there are better things to look at than my phone].  Thank you for beautiful Yosemite [exactly].  Thank you for John Muir and all the people who fought for its protection and preservation.  Thank you for campfires and constellations. 

What's that dot at the top of Lembert Dome?

It's Jeannette.

Episode 7,321:  In which blogger Denise returns home at the end of a six-hour drive from Tuolumne just in time to pick up Lindsey from Dance Camp, puts the camping gear away in a jiffy, enjoys an exquisite hot shower and shampoo, cooks dinner for the loving family, sleeps all night long in a real bed beside her wonderful husband, and wakes renewed and ready to write again.

Thank you for everybody who stayed home and off the highways.  Thank you for Edwin Ruud, inventor of the automatic storage water heater in 1889.  Thank you for Drew and Lindsey, who were happy to see us and wanted to see the pictures of our trip.  Thank you for renewal.

Episode 7,322:  In which dull Denise returns to her routine of visiting with good friends, dropping off children at school and work, attending committee meetings at church, preparing for Vacation Bible School, planning for the start of the new school year, and blogging about being thankful for the multitude of gifts with which she has been blessed [sigh].

Thank you for the people and the routines of daily life.  Thank you for the events, marvelous and mundane, that mark the passage of time.  Thank you for Katie and all the volunteers who worked and planned for VBS which begins next week at Northridge United Methodist Church.  

Epilogue:  We get tired, thirsty, and hungry, discouraged, frustrated, and cranky.  [We can't get a video link to function.]  We throw in the towel and storm off.  So, eat something, drink water, get some sleep, forgive yourself, and start again.  Renew, restore, refresh, rebuild, restart.  Take a break, do something else [pray, even].  See something miraculous.  And come back.  You don't have to go far.  Steve and Linda have six Coopers Hawks in their back yard.  Sharon had a bird's nest in the wreath on her front door.  Order shoes online from Zappo's on Sunday night and they'll be at your door on Tuesday [no kidding].  What do you see?  Who do you love?  Life is good.  

Thank you, God.

[The video worked!  It really worked!  Only totally AWESOME!  Woot woot! (dances)]

The Next Big Thing

I haven't posted since Rachel recovered.  Rachel recovering is, to me, this great, glorious, cosmic Tweet by a living, loving God moving with us.  [I almost wrote "moving among us," but I think now that among is almost too remote; among is detached, like strangers at a restaurant; with is connected, he's your date, he's your designated driver.]  How can I follow such a miracle?  What is left to say?  I've been waiting for the next big thing.

Thank you for Twitter, Facebook, blogging, and whatever means at hand to help us be with others, not simply among.

While I was waiting for something next and big, I almost missed the many things constant and small.  Miracles come in all sizes, and most of them, constant and small, go unrecognized.  How closely does my list of miracles resemble yours?

• The tax refund check arrived, despite the mail carrier's error.  A kind neighbor took the time to wedge the misdirected envelope into the intended mailbox.  [Wrinkled, still, money is money.]
• Following the Chorus Concert after school, Bryan, Laura, Francisco, and two of Francisco's friends stayed late to help set up the Science Fair for the next morning.  Together we put up all the tables, displays, experiments, and signs [as if we'd soaked those pennies and planted those lima beans ourselves].
• At Family Math and Literacy Game Night, co-workers Barbara, Aidee, Manny, and even student Genesis stayed after school to help set up all the play stations.  Then teachers and families came back in the evening and enjoyed playing games to help their children stay sharp all summer.  [Multiplication Bingo, anyone?]
• I didn't get a concussion when the huge "Smart Board" (an instructional "chalk" board that sends and receives information to and from your computer) fell over and struck me on the back of the head.  I fell/dove to the ground and a nearby table prevented the falling board from landing atop me.  I heard it hit from inside my head.  All noise, some pain, and no damage [that I can recall, anyway].
• I met all my deadlines at work.  When most teachers and all students are celebrating the approaching end of the school year, I am usually stressed and depressed under the pressure of grading, portfolios, report cards, updating student cumulative records, packing, sorting, and cleaning.  I have always been the last one to leave on the last possible day with things feeling still unfinished.  But not this year.  
• And while I'm on the subject of the end of school, Bryan, who could've been packing his own classroom, instead brought in a gallon of paint and a brush and retouched the peeling paint on all the closets in my classroom.  [I know, right? Wow.]
• Lindsey got elected as Treasurer of her Senior Girl Scout Troop.  It's a good thing when your teenage daughter seeks more responsibility for things that matter.  Need I explain how a parent sweats things like elections?
• Our Pastor isn't being reassigned.  This is a Methodist thing.  Our method, apparently, is to rotate the pastors like a great country dance:  when the music stops, we change partners.  We get to keep dancing with Steve, who is an excellent leader on the dance floor, btw.
• My husband conceded that he likes my new short hair cut better than when my hair is long.  He has always thought he liked it longer best, despite the fact that it was very short when he met me and fell in love with me over 25 years ago.  Now he admits he likes it short best.  [Yay, because so do I, so now we can both like my hair.]
• Fifty adults, youth, and children attended our picnic at the lake on Saturday.  We ate, played Frisbee and Hula Hoop [trademark police?], romped in the water, and relaxed in the shade.  Children appeared out of nowhere to play with the parachute and balls [if it weren't so cute, it would've been creepy the way they advanced mesmerized].  And Katie did the grocery shopping.
• Date night.  My husband still rocks.  We attended a concert with great music [and incredible musicianship] by Cheap Trick and Pat Benatar & Neil Giraldo.  Plus, the heated, angry interaction between the two drunk couples in front of us de-escalated before coming to blows.  [It's always nice when you don't have to call the police.]

I understand my list of miracles reads in part like a standard to-do list, mundane and mind-numbingly boring to anyone but me.  Check your own list.  How many of those tasks did you cross off?  Each check mark is another reason to give thanks.  Moreover, who helped you?  [Bryan, probably, if you know Bryan] Angels.  Thank God for them.  

Thank you for angels disguised as friends and coworkers who help.  Thank you for mesmerizing parachute games and kids squealing with laughter.  Thank you for emergencies avoided and successes achieved.  Thank you for work and play.

Is this where I tie up loose ends and close with a lesson learned?  Okay, well, stop waiting for the next big thing.  Don't spend your life like a morning at the Rose Parade on New Year's Day.  In anticipation of the most dazzling float still half a block away, you neglected to enjoy the music played by that high school band.  AND, by the way, you didn't see those 100 teenagers who spent months practicing those songs and working fundraisers to make this the very best day of their lives so far.  Now that was something worth noticing.  

Thank you for high school bands, even the ones with the ill-fitting pants and tilting hats with chinstraps.

You should still ooh and ahh when the floats come along; they are indeed awesome and beautiful, and they represent the work of countless volunteers [including many Girl Scouts and troop leaders I know].  Did my metaphor go awry?  Whatever.  Celebrate the big things, but don't forget to celebrate the everyday little things in between.  If we spent more time giving thanks for these tiny miracles, then every day would become the new very best day of our lives so far.  

Thank you, angels, for all your help with all my little projects and tasks.  Thank you, God, for the next big miracle and for all the daily miracles.  Thank you for the hearts and minds with which to recognize those little miracles as they go marching by.

Rachel Recovered

I've been praying for Rachel. A LOT.

Rachel is my daughter's best friend.  They met in high school.  Rachel is 22 years old.  She's a ballerina and an honor student at UCLA.  She is bright and charming, and I love that over the years and through long separations away at college, Rachel and Jeannette have remained close even after other friends have drifted apart.

Thank you for young women with great promise.

Rachel has spent much time at our house, and we love her joyful spirit and sense of humor.  Her own family, however, is very protective of their privacy and ever more so of their only daughter.  It is bittersweet for most parents to balance between keeping your children safe and preparing them for adult life on their own.  We celebrate their achievements and independence even as we miss their needing us.    For Rachel it was clear that her natural and deserved steps toward independence were hard fought.

Thank you for strength and perseverance in adversity.

She wanted the full college experience.  Several of her friends from high school had gone away to college and taken dorms and campus apartments when she was attending local community college part time.  She studied hard and worked hard and earned her place at one of the top universities in the nation.  She worked several jobs and saved her money, and she was ready to move closer to campus with her friends.  And while this sounds like absolutely perfectly normal American success story stuff, her success wasn't something her family could easily bear.

Thank you for normal American success stories in a world where little is normal.

Rachel made a normal, co-ed life for herself in Westwood for a little while.  Two weeks ago, this vibrant, lively young woman collapsed following a boat trip with her class and suffered a seizure.  Someone dialed 911, and Rachel was whisked away.  Her roommates and friends didn't hear from her.  She didn't attend classes.  She didn't answer her phone.  So Jeannette told me she was going to drive over to Rachel's parents' house to find her.  Jeannette was confident that Rachel was okay and resting at her parents' house, and I was inclined to let her go.  But I changed my mind and decided I needed to go with her.

Thank you for changing our minds.

We met Rachel's dad that day for the first time.  Jeannette knocked at the door and identified herself.  Then out came a father who'd spent the previous days at his daughter's hospital bedside in ICU.  His heart was breaking.  We heard unconscious, breathing tubes, responding to stimulus, some movement in her feet.  He said he felt glad when the doctors said they could expect her to remain in the hospital for a couple months slowly recovering, because it meant she would still be here in a couple months.  Jeannette and I cried with him.  I promised to pray for them all.  Private still, no visitors, no calls, please.

Thank you for unexpected visits with people who need them.

I've been praying ever since.  For Rachel.  For her parents.  For Jeannette.  I've seen my good friends Lacey and Matthew have to tell their daughter one of her best friends had died in an accident.  So many broken hearts!  How could Jeannette bear it?

Thank you for prayer.

Jeannette and her friends were asked to stay away and to respect the family's privacy at this time.  It's understandable.  But the girls couldn't help but feel that Rachel would want them even if the parents didn't.  You can't keep girlfriends away, it seems.  They are a persistent bunch and a positive force with a special bond [and Facebook].  A week later, it was time to "bust a mission."  The timing was perfect.  Rachel's mother had just stepped away.  One of the girls got through and talked to Rachel.  And Rachel woke up.

Thank you for perfect timing and the voices of friends.

How typical it is for a beautiful college co-ed to sit up in bed talking to her friends on the phone.  How wonderfully, perfectly, miraculously typical!  Now that Rachel's talking, she has asked for her friends.  And no one can keep them away.  Rachel's doctors are surprised by the huge and unexpected progress she's made in such a short time.  The girls aren't surprised; they never doubted the success of their mission.  I shouldn't be surprised; I never doubted the power of prayer.

Thank you, God, for the love of friends, for your healing spirit, and for the gift of Rachel.

[Hey, so Rachel's parents are still really private, so don't tell them about his blog, okay?  Cool.]

Feeling Grateful and Guilty

Why, me, Lord?  What did I do to deserve this?

Familiar words, familiar sentiment.  Usually one lets slip these words when overwhelmed with woes and troubles.  Sadness and trouble come to every life, deserving [whatever that means] or not.  Children fall ill, jobs are lost, bills come due.  We obey the law, we try to do what we think is right, we try to love others as Jesus loves us, and still $#!+ happens.  Bad things happen to good people [which, it seems, is easier to accept than when good things happen to bad people--we hate that].

Thank you for Justice.  Thank you for forgiving us when we humans think we know how to judge what is Just.

Have you ever wondered "Why me, Lord?" in the midst of great joy?  I have a wonderful husband and strong marriage.  I have two beautiful, smart, healthy daughters.  I work at a job I was called to do.  My knee stopped hurting.  I have awesome friends [oops, is awesome better than wonderful? sorry, Drew].  God loves me.  I am thankful for all these gifts and more.  But

Why, me, Lord?  What did I do to deserve this?

So, imagine you parked the car under a tree because you wanted to keep it cool in the shade, but when you returned to the car, it looked like birds had been taking target practice all day all over your windshield.  Do you have that image in your mind?  [yeah, yuck] Now, take that disgusting car directly through a carwash.  When you get home, your honey-bunch [sweet-cheeks, sugar-lips, insert cutsie nickname of your choice] gives you hugs and kisses and whisks you out for a nice dinner because you got the car washed.  It's like that.  Basking, as you are, in all those hugs and kisses and cheesecake [imaginary dinners come with cheesecake for dessert], you can't help feeling a little guilty.

Thank you for trees and birds, carwashes and cheesecake.

God's Grace is like that!  Like super-amazing vanilla bean cheesecake for getting the car covered in bird poop.  [I'm going to hell for this.]  What the heck, God?  You love even me.  Here's the thing:  I'm not special; I'm about as normal as normal gets, pretty dull stuff.  So, if I'm normal, and there are times when I don't feel lovable, logic holds that everyone else who's normal, too, has times when they don't feel lovable.  Here's Grace:  You don't have to feel lovable to be loved.  Maybe you don't even have to  be lovable to be loved.  How many of us have had to abandon our full grocery cart and leave the store with a two-year old mid-tantrum, loving him still?  It's like that.

Thank you for logic, which gives us the silly notion we have a handle on things.  Thank you for Grace and for really having the handle on things.

So, I feel guilty.  I'm blessed with joys I don't deserve.  I will never deserve.  All I can do is live and love and work and try to be worthy.  I feel guilty.  There are good people in the world who suffer ills daily that they don't deserve.  The "fixer" part of me wants to fix that, but the "helpless" part of me says "I'm just one person!" so the "worrier" part of me frets and then I pray.  I don't have any answers.  Pray.  Praying is the best place to start for answers.  I have no other advice except that the best advice will come to you when you pray.  And when you pray, remember to say "Thanks."

Thank you for the storm before the peace.  Thank you for answers to questions we're afraid to ask.  Thank you for prayer.  Thank you, God, for loving even me.

Call a Meeting

Between my work and church, I am on [counting...] ten committees, no I forgot one, eleven.  Then there are actually two more committees of which I am the only member [yes, that's a thing].  The pastor at our church gave me an award for being "Just a Gal Who Can't Say 'No'" [I am assured that there are no parallels being drawn here between me and the somewhat promiscuous character Ado Annie in "Oklahoma."]

Thank you for Rodgers and Hammerstein.  [If I have already thanked you for Rogers and Hammerstein, well, thanks again.]

We finish our work day, and then we get down to business.  We meet and get things done.  We make decisions.  We make lists.  We divide up tasks and responsibilities.  We celebrate successes and solve problems.  And we do it all in an hour [well, that's the goal, anyway].

Thank you for tangential conversations that are WAY more interesting than the business at hand.  Thank you for getting back to the business at hand.

I mention this here because I'm thankful for the people gathered around those tables praying, laughing, brainstorming, volunteering.  These men and women, unfailingly generous with their energy, experience, creativity, and time, are making a difference.  Some of them work to plan worship celebrations to lift people in faith and bring them into a closer relationship with God.  Some of them strive to lift up children, celebrating and praising their academic successes.  Some of them create opportunities to bring families together in Christian fellowship.  Some seek ways to bring families together to share a joy of learning.   I'm sensing a pattern, here.

Thank you for recognizable patterns of behavior and self awareness.

As much as I like and respect my committee companions, as much as I enjoy a well-planned event, I don't always want to stay after school or jump in my car in the evening and head to a meeting.  Can we change the world without getting off the sofa?  Can we make a difference in our pajamas?  I think this was the question that drove people to improve communications technology.  [Okay, maybe it had something to do with needing to work with people who were far away, but I like to think that they're in their pajamas.]

Thank you for pajamas.  Mmmmm so comfy.  Nice work.

So, here I am at the intersection of lazy and industrious.  And on the corner we find:  the conference call.  Certainly conference calls have been around for years in the business world.  But they're not just for multi-national corporations anymore.  Thanks to internet-based free conference call providers, folks like me can host a conference call and conduct meetings from our sofas in our pajamas [our sofas are not in our pajamas, just to be clear].  So I gave it a try.

Thank you for www.freeconferencecalling.com. [Not a paid endorsement.  Definitely no payment.]

To plan a large luncheon for a Sunday after church, the Family Ministries Team went home.  We kicked off our shoes and put our feet up.  We grabbed a snack.  We got comfy.  We picked up our phones and dialed in.  It was great.  The very novelty of the conference call made the event planning fun.  We were so fired up, we actually planned two events:  a Sunday luncheon and a Saturday picnic.

Thank you for feeling fired up about planning fellowship opportunities.

On some level, it is a superior technological advance years in the making starting with Alexander Graham Bell.  And it is a simple thing, a bunch of friends on a single phone call.  It is a sea change for church committees.  It's akin to wearing flip flops as an acolyte.  [Relax, it's no big deal, at least the kid's in church, right?]  Well, I'm thankful:  for all the genius and invention and work and time and people it took to invent this little thing; for the sofa and the footstool and the tall glass of iced tea; for the caring volunteers who called it in and accomplished just as much, if not more, than we would've in our Sunday best around a table starving for lunch and looking at the clock.

Thank you for ice and tea.  Thank you for kids in church--even in flip flops.  And Alexander Graham Bell [not in flip flops].

What will future meetings look like?  We won't forgo in-person, face-to-face all together meetings altogether.  We like each other too much to stay away [we'll spend true quality time together at that luncheon or picnic that we planned].  I suppose the next phase will include Skype or some such video component.  I'm not a great fan of videoconferencing; the camera on my laptop is always at an unflattering angle, and I have to make sure there is no mess behind me.

Thank you for "The Grammarist" website and its concise explanation of the difference between forego and forgo.

Try conference calling.  Get a bunch of friends or family to dial in and connect in a way you haven't tried before.  Expect some goofy silences while you try to figure out whose turn it is to speak or who just said that.  I'm sure we'll give conference calling another try.  But really, I can't wait to see my friends again.

Thank you, Lacey, Amybeth, Mike, Sally, Katie, Robert, Julie, and Elise for being a great team.  Thank you, God, for Lacey, Amybeth, Mike, Sally, Katie, Robert, Julie, and Elise.

Parents

I am having a hard time writing this one.  I have now tried to write it six [excuse me, seven] times.  I'm ready to scrap it entirely, but I think it's a topic worth the effort.

Parents, you can't live without 'em [literally, 'cause, like, without them you wouldn't be born].  And then you must.

I wore a polka dot dress to my father-in-law's funeral.  My nephew did a magic trick.  People laughed and clapped.  Nobody cried.  "Gar"--the name given to William Woerner years ago by a grandchild struggling to say "Grandpa"--was 93 years of age.  He loved stories and puzzles, riddles and jokes.  He would've been pleased with polka dots and magic tricks.

Thank you for long, happy lives worth celebrating.

How different was my mother's passing over twenty years ago.  She was only 69.  Drew and I had just been married two years, and our first baby was not yet a year old.  I loved Mom so much, and I had still much to learn.  She was ready to go before I was ready to part from her.  There was a long future ahead and so many things I  wanted to share with her.  I was distraught.  [Just a touch to that long-faded bruise and I can feel the raw injury all over again.]

Thank you for exquisite memories of people we love, memories pleasant or painful.

And while I am on the topic of parents, I want to tell you about my friend, Patty, and how she is my hero.  Patty is a woman my age, with one daughter in college and another who will be graduating from high school next June.  She and I were born the same year, got married the same year, have daughters the same age, and share a similar sense of humor.  Her mamma raised her right.  She knows how to love.

Thank you for girlfriends.

So when Patty's mother, still healthy and strong in body, began to lose her short-term memory, forgot she'd taken her medication and so took it again, forgot she put a pot of something on the stove to cook, Patty brought her mom home to stay.  It's a simple thing; I know many people do it.  How I envy her.

Thank you for time to give back to those who have given to us.

Patty's mom asks the same questions, not because she forgot the answer but because she forgot she asked.  Patty smiles and answers again.  Love is greater than frustration; Patty proves this again and again.  Patty is mom and daughter, both, excelling at both.

Thank you for role models of love.

Parents:  We have them, we are them.  We learn from them what to do [perhaps what not to do], and we try to teach our children.  That whole "circle of life" we hear [or sing] about is perpetuated.  What, then, do I say to my friends who've lost a child?  There are not words enough to console nor time enough to heal.  There is only God enough to carry you even as you rail against Him.

Thank you for unfaltering love that carries us into a future we never imagined.

Well, I think I said what I wanted to say about parents.  It only took seven attempts to complete.  [You'd think it would've turned out better or longer for all the trouble it gave me.]  There are some scraps and remnants lying around in the mess left behind.  There are still some thank yous that need saying.

[Drew flew home for a final visit with his father.]
Thank you for safe, fast air travel that brings us to our loved ones.

[Gar had a long life and a brief end.]
Thank you for caring medical personnel.  Thank you for Living Wills and peaceful ends.

[I'm thankful that Drew spent some time with his dad alone, watching an old re-run of the "Lawrence Welk Show," glad that Dad brightened and sang along to the old familiar songs.]
Thank you for favorite songs.

[I'm thankful that my brother-in-law, Keith, and his wonderful wife, Tamara, were there.  So much falls to the family members who make their home close to home.  There is nothing convenient about living or dying, and Keith and Tamara gave so much time and love, work and worry.]
Thank you for family back home.

Thank you, Keith and Tamara, for the care and aid you've given Gar and Jean.  Thank you, Gar, for your generosity of spirit.  Thank you, Patty, for your friendship.  Thank you, Mom, for whatever part of me that is good.  Thank you, God, for Keith, Tamara, Gar, Jean, Patty, and my Mom.

First Quarter Report

Well, the numbers are in for our first quarter, and it doesn't look promising.  

Year of Gratitude 2013 started off gangbusters, with a whopping 23 blog posts in the first month.  That number was reduced over 50% in February, which we attribute to the fact that February has fewer days than January [um, 3].  And in the final month of the first quarter, well our number of blog posts was cut in half yet again.  If this pattern continues, we can expect two posts in April and one final post in May before closing our doors and selling off the office furniture [um, you mean the sofa?]. 

The good news is, I made a bar chart in pink, and pink is pretty.

Thank you for pink.

Now, I have already written two blog posts in April.  Which means that this very post marks a turning point.  We have every confidence that we have passed the vertex and are on the upswing.  But as with swings, friends, it's helpful to have someone there to, well, push.  

Thank you for swings and the wind in your face.  Thank you for the friends who push you higher.

Thank you, Steve, Ric, Tandy, Greg, Katie S., and Micaela for your comments.  Those positive "pushes" have kept this swing in the air.  Thank you, Kathy; your email gave me a boost, too.  Thank you, Drew, for keeping the word of mouth going.  Thank you, readers everywhere, for reading my blog; your growing numbers encourage me to ride [write] on.

Thank you for readers and writers.

Okay, I have a lot of thankful to be if I want to see the bars on my chart show an increase.  I need to get thanking.  There's nothing like a bar chart to tell you what a miserable failure you are.

Thank you for visual aids.

I do have much to be thankful for.  Parents are at the top of my list, but I'm finding the topic difficult to write about.  It's coming.  Also, conference calls.  I'll tell you all about it soon.

In conclusion, the first quarter of the Year of Gratitude 2013 has had its highs and lows.  Just like all swings.  If you find yourself, as I have, slowing down or feeling uninspired, ask your friends for a push or a shove.  No one should swing alone.  Furthermore, if you know someone who has lost momentum and is just dangling, a gentle hand on the back and kind word from you could be all it takes to put things in motion again.

Dear God, thank you for support and encouragement.  Thank you for hugs and handshakes, high-fives and pats on the back.  Thank you for clapping and cheering and all the ways loud and soft that we show our loved ones that we are rooting for them.  Thank you for your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit encouraging, loving, and moving us always.

Happy Thangstgiving

Yeah, that's right:  Thangst-giving.

thangst • giv • ing:  (noun) The expression of gratitude while simultaneously feeling anxious or apprehensive.

We needed this word, so I made it up.  We do this.  We say "thank you" to our doctors who are giving us the worst news.  We say "thank you" to loan officers, auto mechanics, tax auditors, and dentists.  We say it at job interviews and performance reviews.  My students say it when I hand them a test.

Thank you for word play.

"Thangst" springs from our rote, automatic response to receiving something, even if it's bad.  The hope of a Year of Gratitude is that we discover that every moment of our lives is filled with the Lord's blessings, and that's cause to be joyful.  Moreover, letting the people around us know how much joy they bring us spreads the gratitude around.  So, how does thanks-without-joy fit into the year?  Is "thangst" [this is difficult to type with auto-correct fully operational] real?  Does it count?

Thank you for auto-correct and its many incorrect corrections.

Well, I am about to Give Thangst.  In 5 minutes from now, the driver training instructor will drive up and take Lindsey away on her first two-hour behind-the-wheel lesson.  Am I anxious?  Am I apprehensive?  Yes.  [For my readers in France, Germany, Romania, and Russia, that's oui, ja, and da].  And I'm thankful, as well.  I am thankful that someone trained will be responsible for teaching my daughter to drive.  I'm thankful that I will not.

Thank you for driving teachers around the neighborhood.  Thank you for readers around the world.

So, right now, Lindsey is out driving without me.  She is in traffic, not in an empty parking lot.  She is making left turns [I need to stop before my blood pressure goes through the roof].  And I'm here on my sofa, lifting them both up in prayer.  Worried as I am, I am still WAY more sane here than I would be in the passenger seat.  This is some serious thangst.

Thank you for wine.

You will find yourself about to say "thank you" for something you don't really want.  There will be a radiology technician pressing and squeezing you into a mammogram machine.  An insurance representative will explain how much your auto insurance will increase when you add your teenager to the policy.  The pharmacist will hand you a gallon jug of "cleanse" before a colonoscopy.  Go ahead and say "thank you."  In the midst of your angst, give thanks.

Thank you, service workers everywhere, who do the difficult jobs with understanding and empathy.  Thank you, God, for "thangst," the near-compulsion to be thankful in our darkest moments.

Dancing Queen

Yesterday my daughter, Lindsey, and her dance team competed in a competition and won First Place!

Thank you for hard work and happy rewards.

"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be available to drive me and some of my dance team friends to our competition?"
"When is it?" [I really do have to check my calendar, sadly.]
"Saturday, March 30."
[day before Easter, spring break, schedule wide open]
"Yes, I'll be glad to."

Thank you for teenagers including their parents in their teenage world.

She has spent hours upon hours in rehearsal.  They practice during and after school.  They meet at nutrition and lunch [instead of eating].  They go to school during Spring Break and practice some more.  Most Saturdays, too [this is not a sentence].  Competition day arrived [this is].

Thank you for passion.

"Where am I taking you?"
"It's at a high school in Anaheim."  [an hour-and-a-half, two hours or more in traffic]
"What time do we go?"
"The competition starts at 5, but we are leaving school at 2." [over at 10, home at 11:30]
"Okay, sounds good."

Thank you for knowing the drive is nothing when she wants you there.

So, for two hours [traffic after all] I had a car filled with excited teenage girls talking and laughing and changing the radio station, and I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.  They cast a kind of spell, and we adults can strap on our cantankerous gas masks and fight it, or we can breathe it in.  [My grandmother had a saying: "Scratch yer mad place and get glad."]

Thank you for teenage joy and exuberance, and for Mammo and her sayings.

We arrived at 4:00.  The competition got underway at 6:00.  The dancing went on for four hours.  Was the music loud?  Very very.  Were the bleachers hard?  The hardest ever.  And I didn't want to be anywhere else.

Thank you for ear plugs and portable cushioned bleacher chairs.

I watched kids from all over Southern California dancing for their lives.  It showed on their faces and in their bodies:  they lived for this.  They leaped and turned and popped.  They smiled sweetly or glared menacingly [hip hop looks tough].  They cheered for their competitors.  They restored my soul.

Thank you for dancing.

Drew tells our daughters their mother used to dance.  They half hear, or they're like yeah.  But I did, even he doesn't know how much.  Drew met me long after the years of dance classes, high school musicals, and recitals.  Tap ballet modern jazz ballroom disco [yup, disco].  Now, I pretty much just dance at weddings [somebody, please, get married].  There is a new dancing queen in the family.

Thank you for weddings.

Lindsey danced in the Hip Hop-Large Group category.  When her group was announced, I screamed and cheered and waved my arms.  I defied the NO FILMING rule [yeah, I'm a bad@$$], held my camera discreetly, and pressed record.  Perfect.  In the end [the VERY end, like, around 10 pm], her group won First Place in their category and Hip Hop Champion overall.  [Crown, please]

Thank you for cameras and winning, and for being there and no place else in the world.

Thank you, God, for these bodies that jump and spin.  Thank you for time with our children.  Thank you for your Son, Jesus Christ, who died for our sins and rose again to bring us new life.  

Happy Easter

Out of the Mouths of Babes

It's Spring Break.  This isn't Florida, or wherever college students are said to convene and carouse.  It's better.  It's my living room.  I didn't have to get up early, take my daughter to school, or head off to work.  It's my cup of coffee beside me, my laptop before me, and my daughter and the cat on the sofa close by.  I'm going to stretch and take a hike.  I'm going to the bank.  It'll be epic.

Thank you for days off from work that make trips to the bank seem special in their normalcy.

I didn't always enjoy Spring Break.  Spring Break, like summer vacation, meant babysitters and day camps for my kids, and just more work for me.  Fourteen years ago, that changed.  Here is my little story about how my daughter changed our lives and why I celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Thank you for new friends who haven't heard your little stories and for old friends who don't mind hearing them repeated.

In January 1999, I worked in marketing for a non-profit research firm, writing ads, catalogs, and book-jacket copy.   I had recently begun attending Northridge United Methodist Church with my two daughters, ages 8 and 3.  The pastor, Mark Ulrickson, had been speaking about Spiritual Gifts. 

Here is a snippet of what The United Methodist Church says about Spiritual Gifts (taken from UMC.org):

Every child of God is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, specially gifted to play a unique and valued role in the body of Christ.  No one is without gift or purpose.  Spiritual gifts are not our talents or skills.  They are the grace of God at work within us, empowering us to match our deep passions with the world's deep need.  The gifts are given to individuals, but they are given to build and strengthen community and to meet the needs of those around us.

Thank you for amazingly easy access to quotes from the internet.

So, I'd been wondering how I might put my gifts to work to "build and strengthen community and to meet the needs of those around [me]."  At the same time, 8-year-old Jeannette was wondering how she was going to spend Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  That January Sunday my daughter was silently dreading her school holiday.  She knew she would spend it at Phyllis's house with the babies.

Thank you for Phyllis, the loving, caring babysitter who loved my babies and kept secret all the first roll-overs and sit-ups and words and steps so that they were First for me.

"You know, Mommy," Jeannette finally spoke up, "if you were a teacher, we would have the same holidays."  There it was, the answer, boldly stated and directly to the point, as only a child can do.  

Thank you for the honesty of children.

I could've laughed it off or brushed it aside.  I could've said no.  But I didn't.  I was moved by her seriousness, and I took her seriously.  I told her, "Well, that's true, and when I was in high school I really planned to be a teacher.  I will find out what I would have to do to become a teacher now."

Thank you for taking children seriously.

There have been many things that I really intended to do that I didn't actually do [blogging daily comes to mind].  This wasn't one of those things.  I try to recognize signs for what they are.  Jeannette's words to me were a sign I couldn't ignore.  Here is a quick run-down of the signs that followed:

• Step One, CBEST exam--["I'll just take this test and see how I do, and then we'll see if teaching is in my future"] Aced that.  Sign Two.
• Step Two, MSAT exam--This test assesses specific knowledge covering every subject, and every test is different.  In addition to calculating the amount of cement and carpet needed to build and cover of a set of steps,  I was asked to describe my design for a costume for a "minimalist" modern dance [hel-LO, I took modern dance all through high school and every semester of college!]  Sign Three [Also, volume and surface area of the steps, no problem].
• Step Three, Credential Program and student teaching, a.k.a. End of Story.  I never could have proceeded if it meant quitting work and paying for college, but [Deus ex machina] providence led me to the Los Angeles Unified School District Intern Program.  I could teach class during the day and take classes at night, all while earning a paycheck.  [The obstacles just kept falling away, I tell ya.]  I signed up.  Sign Four.
• Step Four, One-Week Summer Intensive Training--Prior to the start of school in September, interns were required to attend something akin to boot camp.  [So, I'm still working at my job, btw.]  Well, I had a week of vacation time saved up.  Sign Five.

After that, it was just: got hired at Fullbright Avenue Elementary School and gave my two weeks' notice at my old job.  So, that's my story.  Everything was an obstacle, and nothing was.  I saw everything as a sign: "OPEN."  In September of '99, Jeannette started 4th grade, Lindsey entered Kindergarten, and I was in 5th grade.  We had the same holidays, including Spring Break.  Now I celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as an anniversary of the day Jeannette changed our lives again [being born was pretty life-changing].  

Thank you for boring tales that turn out to be allegories for life.

In review, then--

• Moral 1:  Listen to Children.  They speak honestly and from the heart.  [They would be far better at relationships than most men and women, if it weren't for the whole "cooties" thing.]
• Moral 2:  Read the Signs.  They all say "Open" [if you believe God holds the key].
• Moral 3:  Run hurdles.  Obstacles are not meant to stop you.  They provide you opportunities to hone your problem-solving skills.  [Good skills to have in a world full of problems]
• Moral 4:  Find your Spiritual Gift and start giving it.*

What has my story to do with A Year of Gratitude?  Well, I'm thankful every day that I go to work at something I was called to do. 

Thank you, Mark Ulrickson, for your message.  Thank you, Jeannette, for telling me you wanted more time with me.  Thank you, Drew, for supporting me through my career [and income] change.  Thank you, LAUSD, for hiring me.  Thank you, God, for Mark, Jeannette, Drew, and the LAUSD.

[This may actually be the first time God has ever been thanked for the LAUSD.]

*Check it out:  The United Methodist Church website has a way to calculate your own Spiritual Gifts.  If you're curious, give it a try.  [This is where I try and insert the link.]  Spiritual Gifts Assessment Questionnaire

Actions Speak Louder

Yeah, yeah, I haven't been blogging as often as I was at the start.  What can I say?

Thank you for making room in life to let some things slide when other demands intrude.  

I was reflecting on the idea of gratitude this afternoon.  I'm trying this year to accomplish two things:

• to live with a grateful heart every day [okay, I got this]
• to write thank you notes to people every day [I am an utter failure at this]

But these are both somewhat passive.  [I could be experiencing an amazing grat-attack* and you couldn't tell by looking at me.]  I wondered what truly active gratitude would look like.  And I remembered this:

Years ago, as a fifth grade teacher, I helped a concerned mother with some applications for middle school enrollment.  I was happy to help.  Her son was bright, capable of achieving in an advanced program.  His older brother had been in and out of trouble in secondary school, and Mom wanted her younger son to have different opportunities at a different middle school outside her neighborhood boundary.  I explained to her which forms to ask for and helped her fill them out.  I signed a recommendation.  And that was all it was.  She thanked me sincerely and repeatedly.  "Gracias."

As that school year came to a close, the mother received a letter informing her that her son was accepted for enrollment on permit.  At 8:00 a.m. on the last day of school [the REAL last day, when only the teachers are there packing up their rooms for summer], the mother brought her son to school and knocked on my classroom door.  "He help you.  He can clean, carry boxes, anything." [She was having a grat-attack.]

"Sam" was ready to spend his first day of summer vacation back in our classroom packing books into boxes and boxes into closets.  He uttered not one word of complaint.  I wouldn't say he was happy to be there.  In his face was a look not of joy but certainly of willingness.  He was willing to work, to help me on her behalf.  Their gift of help was a physical manifestation of sincere thanks [a gift for which I was truly amazed and thankful].

The End, I guess.  It's the end as I know it.  I don't know the real end.  I'd like to say the boy came to visit some years later to show me his acceptance letter to university, but that didn't happen.  I hope their hard work paid off.  Maybe he'll bring me his diploma.  From med school.  It could still happen.

So, I think that's what active gratitude looks like.  Paying back or paying forward, active gratitude demands you do something because you are thankful.  Given that definition, then, I'd say that anyone who serves in mission in areas of need is perfecting active gratitude.  You are my heroes.

What did I do because God loves me?  I can thank God, certainly.  I do it all the time.  But what did I do?  Honestly, I don't think blogging is what the Lord had in mind.  Or maybe it is exactly part of the plan.  Fine.  I'll keep blogging and hope it comes to some good purpose.

What did you  do?

*grat-attack: (n.) the sudden, overwhelming sensation of gratitude or thankfulness.

A Few of My Favorite Things

So, here are some things I like:

I like it when my cats both nap on the bed with me.  This almost never happens because I rarely take naps, and my cats barely tolerate each other.  Here is what it looks like when this comes to pass.

I like hiking in Southern California in early spring, after a little rain and sunshine have turned the hills green for a short while.  It will all be brown and fuel for brushfire in a few weeks.  But for now, it looks like this.

I like teaching.  I can't show you pictures of my students for safety and privacy reasons.  But here is one student's idea of what I look like.

I don't look like this anymore.  I got my hair cut.

I like my husband and my two daughters and Disneyland.  So just imagine how much I like my husband and my two daughters at Disneyland!  Here we are on the "Space Mountain" ride on Thanksgiving Day 2011.  Great time.  Awful photo.

Cheesecake, duh.

I like camping in Yosemite National Park.  So beautiful.  My photos don't do it justice.  But here is a pic of the sunset taken around 9:00 pm from a pull-out on Tioga Pass.  The sunset seemed to last forever.  And after that, the stars.

I like of a lot of other things, too.

Mostly, I like people.  There is not one person in my life right now that I don't like.  So, if you know me, I like you, and it makes me happy every time I see you.  If I haven't seen you in awhile, I'm thinking of you often.  If you have moved away, I miss you.  And I pray for your health and happiness.

If you don't know me, there is still time for us to become friends.  I look forward to it.

Dear God, Thank you for the things I like.  Thank you for the simple things and the amazing things.  Thank you for people near and far close to my heart.

The Downside to Looking on the Bright Side.

I used to be edgy.  I've lost my edge.  I had a sharp remark or quick quip [try and say that ten times fast] for every occasion.  I routinely zeroed in on absurd realities and held them up to ridicule.  I cracked me up.

Thank you for absurd realities.

As my rate of Facebook status updates shows a huge decline, I reflect on the possible causes.

• Is the world a better place?
• Are people in the news more intelligent, caring, or tolerant?
• Do I have a brain tumor?

Please, God, let the answer be that the world is a better place and NOT a brain tumor.

Well, the world is not a better place.  Basketball freak show Dennis Rodman visits North Korea, calls Kim Jong Un a "friend" and a "great guy," and Kim Jong Un promptly threatens to destroy Washington, D.C. with a nuclear missile attack.  [There is a snarky remarky just dying to be said, but I've gone soft.]  

People in the news are not more intelligent, caring, or tolerant.  The Voting Rights Act is under fire, with opponents claiming we don't need it anymore.  Am I the only one who remembers how conservatives actively tried to shut down extended early polling in an effort to prevent minorities from voting in the most recent presidential election?  [Anyone else?]

With all that's wrong in the world, with so much to complain about, why have I been silent?  [Brain tumor aside.]  I hear a lot of negativity.  I haven't seen any evidence that it makes problems go away.  On the other hand, ignoring the world's problems and focusing on the positive doesn't effect change either.  A life spent complaining can make you ill in body and spirit.  But insisting "life is grand" isn't realistic.

Thank you for struggles to find balance.

This "Year of Gratitude" is changing me.  In my effort to see the silver linings to each gray cloud life blows my way, I find myself praying more and "Facebooking" less.  That should be good.  But if I was the person with the sarcastic comments, and I'm not that person anymore, then who will I be now?

Thank you for redefining self in middle age.

Jesus asked the blind beggar, "What do you want me to do for you?"  What do I want?

• I want to acknowledge and appreciate the gifts God sends [even the ones disguised as trouble].
• I want to understand my role as observer or actor [and to know when to do one or the other].
• I want to be positive [not just my blood type].
• I want to fix what I can, rather than complain about what needs fixing.

Thank you, Jesus.  When you put it like that, it really brings things into focus.

And if my blogging helps anyone else clarify what's important to them, well, that's cool, too.

Thank you, God, for personal, professional, and spiritual growth throughout our lives.  Thank you for clarity.  Thank you for change.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy

Sunday night was a big night for Thank Yous.  Movie stars and directors, writers and cinematographers, composers and producers dressed in designer fashions, walked the red carpet before the cameras of the world, took their seats, and hoped for a turn to come to the stage and give thanks.  Around the world, people got cozy in front of their televisions, their Twitter feeds afire, and tuned in to learn the winners.

I'm not a huge fan of the Academy Awards, to be honest.  Most years, I haven't seen all the nominated movies.  Some years, I don't watch the awards at all.  But this year, after four days spent sick in bed with the flu, I was just happy to be sitting upright and was thankful to have something to distract me from the absence of "Downton Abbey" since its heartbreaking season finale last week.  

I sat through all the speeches.  There were hugs and smiles and kisses.  They thanked mom and dad.  They thanked their wives who stood by them through it all.  They thanked their creative teams and film crews.  They thanked the other nominees.  They thanked their costars and directors, their agents and lawyers.  Yes, they thanked their lawyers.  They thanked the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences for acknowledging them and the Academy membership for voting for them.

You know what they didn't say?  Three and a half hours of awards and thank yous, and I didn't hear anyone thank God.  The inspiration behind the stories, the genius behind the cinematography, the music in the mind of the composer, the Divine is in the Details.

Well, I'm not surprised.  Hollywood is a temple built to self-promotion, and at the altar hangs a great gilded mirror.  Popularity occupies such an important role in the religion of movies.  It takes a braver, humbler person to stand before the world and say, "Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow."  These gifts we have, the talents we employ, the career we love, are blessings from God.  That would be so good to hear.

I do not mean to say that these artists don't deserve praise for their amazing achievements.  They most certainly do.  Movies have the power to uplift and educate the world, to inspire service and promote change.  So give them credit, absolutely.  But when the credits roll, Thank God.

Thank you, God, for the brilliant and talented individuals who bring us the movies.  Thank you for the inspiration and genius that drives them to do it.

Getting Well Soon

The good news is it wasn't laryngitis at all! [Yay for having my voice!]  The bad news is it was the flu.

I could tell you all kinds of bad things about the flu.   This is the Year of Gratitude Blog, however, and I am surprisingly grateful.  So I will tell you all the good things about my experience going viral.

• Water is good; I drank a lot of it.
• My bedroom is within walking distance of the bathroom.
• I got to stay in bed, and it is piled with comforters and blankets.
• Urgent Care told me it would be 45 minutes before the doctor would see me, but I didn't really have a sense of time, so it wasn't a problem.
• My two cats, who usually avoid each other, languished on the bed with me night and day.
• My husband and friends texted me helpful reminders to drink and sleep.
• Applesauce feels good going down.
• After all the threats and false alarms, I never actually threw up.
• Shivering with fever and chills burns calories.
• Sensitivity to light and sound spared me from watching terrible daytime television.
• I could trust the world to get on without me for a couple of days.

So you see, it's all good.

Thank you for long lists of good things to celebrate.

For the healthy, being sick is a temporary setback.  Work you planned to do gets pushed back.  Fun activities are shelved for another day.  Each day spent ill is a day closer to being well.  Knowing this makes it tolerable.  

Thank you for saving another beautiful sunny day for me to enjoy someday soon.

And now this.

Illness isn't temporary for everyone.  For many, maybe me someday, the weeks, months, or even years winding down to the very last are spent in bed.  Back aches.  Boredom.  Isolation.  So I'm going to think about ways to send joy into those rooms.  I hope my readers will hold the infirm in your prayers and consider visiting someone you know who is hospitalized or homebound.

Thank you, God, for your healing love at work in sickrooms both temporary and longterm.

A Bad Mood Turned Good

Okay, I'm falling behind.  So far behind that I'm teeny tiny in the distance.  [Hey! wait up!] I haven't written a thank you note in awhile, and the blogging is more like slogging.  I'm sick, and I'm SUPER BUSY like you don't even know how many things I'm supposed to be doing right now and blogging is HARD because  I have to think think think and rite gud werdz.

Thank you for venting.

I'm not done.  [Oh.]  I thought blogging about being thankful 365 days a year would make me a better person.  Oh, I'm going to be so thankful that everything and everyone I see will be a blessing, each cloud will flash its silver lining with blinding brilliance, and I will be humbled and overawed by all the miracles dancing around me.  I don't really feel that way, as it turns out.

Thank you for surprising realizations.

I'm not all sunshine and rainbows, you know.  I'm dark.  I could be sucked into a black hole of envy and self loathing at any given moment.  Fortunately, something always pulls me to safety.  Today, it was a cat video Drew sent me.  [This is where I see if I can copy a link to the video...o.k. click on the "Thriller Cat" link, click skip the ad, watch the video, then come back and finish reading.]

Thriller Cat

Thank you for the silly things that pull you back from the brink.

You know you laughed at that.  If you didn't laugh, you didn't wait long enough to see the cat do the Thriller walk.  Go back and watch again.

And now I'm feeling thankful.  When your mood is dark, it's difficult to see all that's going on for which you should be grateful. When your mood is light, the light reflects off the shiny good things in your life, making it so much easier to take notice.  I WAS grumbling about all the work I have to do, but now I'm thankful that I recently completed a large portion of a huge project.  I was cranky because I had to do extra planning and preparation for my substitute tomorrow, but now I'm thankful that I can spend tomorrow focusing on completing report cards.  I was miserable because I feel the tightness in my throat that signals laryngitis, but now I'm thankful that Lindsey prepared me a hot cup of chamomile tea.  I was annoyed that the toaster wasn't working [well, that is annoying].  

Thank you for toast.

So, what do you do when you're cranky?  Take a nap, sleep it off.  Go for a run.  Watch stupid cat videos.  Or better yet:  Count your blessings.  Turn your foul mood fair simply by turning your attention to the things that make you glad.

Thank you, Drew, for the video.  Thank you, Lindsey, for the tea.  

I will keep trying to be a better person.  I will keep trying to be thankful.  I feel a little goofy always going on and on about happy things.  I feel like I'm repeating myself, and that's boring.  Just remember, I'm dark, too.

Thank you, God, for the light and the dark.  

In Memoriam

Dear Norm,

Thank you very much for all your help on the Special Events Team.  Your tireless work has helped raise much needed funds for the church year after year.  I particularly appreciate your support of our efforts to offer online ticket sales for our events through Eventbrite.  And although I'm a relative newcomer to the team, you make me feel like a valued and welcome member.  Your energy and sense of humor keep our meetings pleasurable as well as productive.  Thank you so much.  

Well, that's what I would've written, but time ran out.

Saturday was Norm's memorial service. I left feeling so sad.  I listened to the stories from his children and his dear friends.  I came to understand that I'd been in the presence of a great man and never known it.

I wasn't sad for Norm or for those who mourned him.  He lived his life well, worked hard, listened closely, loved deeply, believed firmly.  They were blessed to share their lives with him these many years, know his kindness, wisdom, generosity of spirit.   Wherefore should they be sad?  I was acquainted with Norm.  We met in committee.  I never really had a conversation with him.  I missed an opportunity.  I was sad for me, because Norm might've been a friend to me [he would have made room for another friend in his life].  And I would have been a better person for knowing him.

Then the thin, perfunctory thank you note above would have said more and meant more.  It would have been worthy of the man.

Dear Norm, Thank you for everything.  

I can't go back and spend more time and listen more closely to Norm.  But I can take this lesson with me:  Spend more time and listen more closely from now on.  

Dear God, Thank you for Norman Wendler, whom I didn't know, and for all the great people I will know.

Short Form 2.1 Thanks Made EZ Again

Date:  2/14/13

Thankful for:

• Wonderful pancake supper with hot maple syrup on Shrove Tuesday at NUMC
• Completing two tedious administrative tasks ahead of deadline
• Another three-day weekend coming up and time to get over my cold

Thanks to:

• Family Ministries team and Soul Food Crew for a great Shrove Tuesday event
• My amazing friend and fellow nerd, Patty Sciortino, for the lovely Valentine 
• My husband, Drew, for the perfect Valentine's Day dinner at home

Thanks Income:

• Two cards received this week.  That's so sweet!

Sum:  Yeah, this is still happening.  Happy Valentine's Day, readers!

Material Girl

Not long ago, one of my readers [rhymes with Mike] expressed surprise that I often write about thankfulness for things as opposed to people.  I see his point.  The Year of Gratitude theme calls us to write thank you notes to people each day this year.  You wouldn't write a thank you note to your fluffy blue blanket.  [I really love that fluffy blue blanket.]

Thank you, rhymes with Mike, for the wonderful work you do to help our Youth Missions and Family Ministries programs, and for inspiring this post.

But you can be thankful that you have a fluffy blue blanket.  You can be keenly aware that people in the world are cold, and you have the great good fortune to be warm.  You can thank the people who gave you the blanket as a loving Christmas gift last year and sometimes sneak off with it into their own rooms.  [Yes, the blanket is that good.]

Thank you, Lindsey and Jeannette, for the fluffy blue blanket; now can I have it back, please?

Moreover [who uses words like "moreover" anymore?], I am thankful for everything and everyone who had a role in the creation of the aforementioned [the same people who say "aforementioned"] blanket.  Weaving was a great forward step.  Turning a plant into thread!  Talk about BRILLIANT!  You've seen cotton balls; you've heard fairy tales about spinning wheels; and looms--looms are great.  God created cotton and God created people and made them AWESOME!  Human creativity and invention, the outer expression of the Divine within, with roots dating back millennia, have had a part to play in the creation of my fluffy blue blanket.

Thank you, Edmund Cartwright, for inventing the power loom in 1785.

So when I am thankful for things, I hold in my heart everything and everyone it took to bring that thing about.  And ultimately, God is the source of all our gifts.  So, whenever you observe or hold some material object, be it useful or beautiful [or fluffy blue], and you think, "I'm so glad I have this thing,"  be thankful:  Some person made it, and God made that person.

Dear God:  I'm so glad I have this thing--Faith.  Thank you.

Sick and Tired, Literally

TODAY'S CHALLENGE:  BE THANKFUL WHILE FEELING ILL

Okay.

I have a cold.  I have a sore throat and runny nose.  Plus I'm sneezing.

But I also have Advil for pain and Vitamin C and Zinc for a healthy immune system.  And I downed it all with a nice glass of orange juice.  I'm already in my warm comfy bed with a [just sneezed twice] down comforter and my blue fluffy blanket.  I'd say I have a lot to be thankful for.

Thank you for access to nutrition supplements

It could be worse.  I'm thankful it's not worse.  It could still get worse.  I don't have a fever, yet.  There is still that to possibly look forward to.  But even so, I have my family to help me; I'm not alone.  I know the fever will abate because of the wonders of Ibuprofen or Acetaminophen [wait, I'm looking up the spelling of that one].  I know the virus will run its course and I'll "get well soon," as the cards command.

Thank you for pain relievers and fever reducers

And if you have children, and if they've ever been sick with fever, you know Children's Tylenol is a gift from God.

Thank you, God, for medical miracles large and small.  Thank you for the healing benefits of sleep.  Good night.

Reviled Richard Revealed

Thank you for alliteration

Well, no one I know is talking about this, but I LOVE this:  [turn your imaginary posh British accent filter switch to ON] The remains of King Richard III of England, lost these 500 years, have been discovered and identified beyond doubt beneath a car park in Leicester, where once stood the Grey Friars' monastery.

Thank you for archaeology

Years ago, I was browsing aimlessly through our local Borders Books [it's a DSW temple to shoes now].  I didn't have a plan, I was just looking at all the pretty books.

Thank you for all the pretty books

I finally just asked myself, "What do I really want?"  And I admitted, "I really would like to find a big, fabulous novel about England's Richard III from a different perspective." [Yes, I was that specific.]  I had never read Medieval historical fiction in my life.  I don't know what came over me.  A stroke, perhaps? [A stroke of GENIUS!]  At that very moment of self-awareness, I walked straight to a shelf in the middle of the Literature section and found myself holding Sharon Kay Penman's The Sunne in Splendour.  So began my adventure with Edward of York and his little brother Richard as they beat all odds to reclaim the crown from the Lancasters and fail to maintain it.

Thank you for history and fiction and the excellent writers who combine them

Now, I've read all of Penman's novels, from King Stephen's and Empress Maude's civil war through the Plantagenet monarchs [She skips Henry IV and V, those Lancastrian bastards].  She didn't write them chronologically, btw, so my understanding of England's history at the time of the Wars of the Roses is a disordered jumble of flashbacks.  [It's a good thing those kings have numbers.]

Thank you for numbers both Roman and Arabic

I suppose I hoped, along with the Richard Society members, that Richard III wasn't hunchbacked and didn't have a withered arm.  This is how Shakespeare depicted him in a Tudor world and for all time.  Richard had to have the appearance of evil for Henry VII, Elizabeth's grandfather and first Tudor monarch, to appear good by comparison.  The "truth will out," as Shakespeare tells us in The Merchant of Venice.  The king's bones reveal he'd had scoliosis since puberty.  Scoliosis, NOT the physical manifestation of inner evil.  Two long, fully formed arms, but a slightly raised shoulder due to the spinal curvature.  There you are. A real person.  Real life.  And real death.  His bones also expose the mutilation suffered in death on a Medieval battlefield at the hands of enemies who reviled him.

Thank you for perspective.

So, this may be my least interesting and least popular post to date, but I'm a nerd and I don't apologize for it.  I had a little crush, there, I'll admit.  I'm glad to know what really happened to Richard III.  I'm glad someone kept looking.  His story made very interesting reading for me over the years, and his truth is a fitting close.

Thank you for Philippa Langley, the amateur leader of the search, and her passion for the truth

What am I thankful for?  It's a long list today, actually.

Thank you, God,  for Sharon Kay Penman.  Thank you for quiet hours lost in reading.  Thank you for Shakespeare, despite his imagery.  Thank you for Democracy [a brilliant notion].  Thank you for this chilly Saturday morning in bed with toast and coffee and leisure to write.  

Now, for my readers who enjoy the pictures:

 

P.S.

Concerning the Princes in the Tower:  There is no real proof Richard had his nephews and heirs to the throne murdered.  Henry Tudor needed them dead, and his own mother was a high ranking member of Richard's court who plotted ruthlessly against Richard to hasten Henry's usurpation.  Just sayin'.

If You're Happy and You Know It

The Good is out there.  Is anyone paying attention?  The Bad is like a brat having a tantrum in the breakfast cereal aisle monopolizing everyone's attention.  Everyone goes home from the grocery store talking about the Bad.  I'm no different.  We talk on and on about the metaphorical brat in the cereal aisle.  It's unavoidable.  He's all over the internet and the evening news.

Thank you for instant communications technology.

And the good child, independent, trustworthy, and responsible, is paid little heed.  [I mean, why would we take notice; he (or she) requires nothing from us.]  The Good is quietly going about life out in the world but seldom makes headlines--not even a link on CNN.com "Around the Internet."  If the Good is not shocking, celebrity, morbid, Bad, or a cute cat you'll be hard pressed to find it in your newsfeed.

Thank you for cute cats, btw.

It is not easy, but I try to see Good.  It takes some effort. Take, for example, Tuesday.  Tuesday Jeannette had Drew's car.  I had to pick him up at work.  We had to wait for Lindsey to get out of dance practice.  We picked up dinner on the way home.  It was almost 7pm by the time we got home.  That could be Bad.  But

• Jeannette spent the day doing what she loves on an archaeological dig at the La Brea Tar Pits
• I got a TON of work done in my peaceful classroom long after the students had gone
• Drew and I got to see five fire trucks drive up, sirens blaring, and just park [very odd]
• We were all home and dinner [and paper dishes] finished by 7pm and I didn't have to cook

You see?  IT'S ALL REALLY VERY GOOD.

Thank you for the Good that is there, if we look for it.

So, here are some headlines NOT on CNN.com:

• Betty is out of surgery and up and walking around [prayers answered]
• Cindy and June had birthdays, and we've been eating cheesecake all week [yummy]
• The Soul Food Crew served Biscuits and Gravy with oven fried chicken for dinner at church last night [reminded me of my dad]
• "Person of Interest" is on tv tonight [James Caviezel kicks bad guy @$$ as Mr. Reese]
• Katie S. said she read my blog because she wanted to start her day with a positive message [I'm exhausted from all my happy dancing]
• British MPs voted 400-175 in favor of same-sex marriage [let's do that, too]

Thank you for surgeons, cream cheese, memories of Dad, Jim Caviezel's suits, Katie, marriage equality, and happy dances.

There will be days, even weeks or months, when you feel like it's all bad news.  There is a lot of it.  The media has redefined the saying, "No news is good news."  Like, literally, NO news is Good; if it's Good, it's not news.  So make your own news.  Celebrate your own headlines.

Thank you, God, for the happy headlines.