Our Little Red Wagon

Just the other day I was sitting at work, and I heard the cutest laugh coming from a three year old.  It was the kind of laugh that you hear on television commercials.  I don't remember exactly what I was doing at that time, but I remember smiling.  It sounded so sweet, innocent and honest.  Even though it was only for a few seconds, it was one of the highlights of my day.  

There are a lot of children and families who walk in front of my house everyday, and I get to hear and see some pretty cute stuff.  In these times, children have so many opportunities to spend all of their time inside the house, on a computer, in front of the television, on cell phones... you name it.  It makes me feel very good when I see these children out playing in front of their yards or out on their bicycles.  Thinking  about this makes me remember when I was little.  I asked myself, "What did we do for fun?"  I can tell you that we lived in an area where the summers were H-O-T!  There were some days when we could only go out side in the morning and in the late afternoon to early evening.  In any case, I remember my sisters and I playing together.  There were games that we made up which I still can recall the rules to.  There is one thing we loved to do, and talking about it will still make me laugh.  This activity we did was something that my mom did not like.  It had the potential of being dangerous, but my sisters and I were careful (as careful as 11, 7, and 4 year olds can be).  Our house was built on a slant, a hill if you will.  At the bottom of this slant is where my dad would pile the ashes from our fire place.  Before we did anything, my sisters and I would first go and check to make sure the ashes were cool.  Then we would get our little red wagon and pull it up to the top of the slant where the side of the house was.  Since I was the smallest, I sat in the middle with my legs hanging over the side.  My oldest sister (since she was the oldest and biggest) was in the front, legs straddling the black handle.  The handle would be straight up, and it was her job to steer.  My second oldest sister was the "caboose".  It was her job to get us started by pushing the red wagon and to hop on as fast as she could before it got away from her!  She was really good at it, and rarely missed the "window of opportunity" before we were off!  Imagine.... here I am, in the middle (with no job), my oldest sister in the front ready to steer, and my second oldest sister standing up behind the wagon ready to push.  Then, my sister starts to push.... we start gaining some speed, and before we make the turn to be in front of the house, she hops on in the back and is right next to me.  I'm squished between my two sisters, like they were my body seatbelts.  My oldest sister steers to the left to go down the hill in front of the house.  We dodge a plum tree, a big rock, and another big rock, and then we hit our brakes..... the ashes!  We run into the cool ashes, and most of the time tumble out of the red wagon with a feeling of such excitement.  Then, we would get up, dust ourselves off, and pull the red wagon up to the side of the house to do it all over again with big grins on our faces and laughing the whole way.

 I can completely understand why this would make my mom nervous.  Here we were, dodging a tree, rocks, and our only brake system was running into a pile of ashes and falling out of the wagon.  I am happy to report that no serious injuries took place, and it is a memory that I know made us laugh.  I wonder how we sounded to our neighbors.  Did our laughing and playing annoy them, or did it make them smile, too?  I know we had a good relationship with our neighbors, so I am sure (hopeful) that our giggles and playing made them smile.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

Lifting Each Other Up

I had two very different interactions which made me think of how important it is to encourage the ones we love and to "lift them up".  One of them is very positive and never ceases to put a smile on my face.  The other was something that happened to me on Sunday night that just made me shake my head in disappointment.  I am sure you get the picture that the positive story has to do exactly with what I am talking about, and the other story has to do with what happens when the opposite takes place.  I shall explain.  Let's start with the good one first, shall we?

I belong to a book club with ladies from my church.  I love it so much.  It is a great excuse for us to get together once a month, talk about our favorite books, visit, and have some yummy desserts, too!  I have to admit that although the desserts are such a treat (no pun intended), what makes me so happy is that I get to be a part of something so uplifting.  The talks, jokes, and laughter are all in good spirits.  We all care about each other and genuinely enjoy the time we spend together.  Every time I am there, and even after I leave, I feel so spiritually and emotionally uplifted.  These friends truly "lift me up".  Now, I am truly fortunate because I have many people in my life (family and friends) who do this for me.  I am surrounded by good, honest, loving people.  This example makes me feel so good inside, but something not so great happened just three days later that was the complete opposite.

As most of you know from my previous posts, I work at a hotel in my town.  Just a few days ago, a lady who seemed very unhappy, came to the desk and was just so mean.  She was complaining about an injured bird in our hotel parking lot, and complaining that no one did anything or called anyone.  It wasn't what she was complaining about, it was how she talked to me.  She talked to me like I was an uncaring person, like I was stupid.  Now... I know better then to believe that, but it sure doesn't feel good having to deal with these feelings in the moment.  I was pretty proud of how I handled it.  I told her I'd call a Humane Society.  I'm not so much proud of what I did, but how I did it.  As soon as her mean spirit came shooting at me, my face just got blank... completely serious... and I told her I would take care of it.  I didn't apologize for anything, I didn't make it sound like she was right in how she was treating me.  I was behaving in a way which she could not get mad at me.  I was trying to make her do some self reflection and to hopefully make her feel a little embarrassed for her behavior.  It worked....  When I would not argue with her, or even the opposite, figuratively "kiss her feet" and boost her ego, she said, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like a (bad word), but...."  I'll be honest, I was offended that she used that bad word... even if it was directed at herself.  I didn't need to hear it.  I said, "I never said that or meant to imply it.  I'm taking care of it."  Even though I was really frustrated in the moment with this woman, I am now feeling very sorry for her.  I had other interactions with her, and she seemed miserable.  It was as if she delighted in proving that she was right, which meant the other person was not only wrong, but "stupid".  As I mentioned earlier, I didn't believe it, but it sure is exhausting to have to deal with these type of people. 

I know that this was a very annoying thing that happened, but it reminded me of how fortunate I am.  What if I had these type of people in my circle of family and friends?  What would be even worse is: What if I was used to dealing with this type of person?  I am so glad I was able to have my book club last week to help balance out this unhappy woman.  It is so true that "misery loves company".  My question is, what do the miserable people do when they find that their "company" will not play their own "misery game" with them?  My hope is that they will reflect on their behavior and strive to want to be better.   

I feel like my family and my friends do a lot of "lifting me up" in my life.  I hope I do the same for them.  This reminds me of: "Love thy neighbor as thyself", and "Pray for your enemies".  It's easy to love your neighbor when they are wonderful, but how hard it is to not only love the people who are mean, but to pray for them, too?  That takes a lot of compassion and understanding.  I feel like dealing with negative and mean people is good practice for me.  It's settled, that is what I will do.  Each time I come in contact with someone who is so unpleasant, I am going to tell my brain, "Remember your blog!  This is practice for your development of compassion and understanding."  My first step is apply this thought about the poor woman who was just so unhappy.  I see now that her talking to me wasn't personal.  I just happened to be in her line of fire.  After writing all of this, I am feeling better already.

Thank you for reading.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

A Grocery Store is a Land of Luxury

I have mixed feelings about grocery stores.  I understand that this first sentence may be a head scratcher.  I will write exactly what I see in a grocery store: luxury.  I see thousands of items to purchase (food, accessories, etc).  Many of these items have expiration dates on them.  Where do they go when they get old?  Our society depends on companies to ship items to us so that we can survive.  I don't know how to grow vegetables, fruits, grains, etc.  I know how to go to a store and buy them. 

Within the last year, my community had a warning about a tsunami.  We were very fortunate and our area was not harmed.  It made me think about supplies I would want handy in case of an emergency.  I asked myself, "What if an earthquake or tsunami hit our town, and we didn't have any provisions?"  I went straight to work.  I now have an "emergency preparedness kit".  This makes me feel a little more secure, but I wonder if I have enough?  I am sure I don't, and it makes me feel as if I need to do more. 

I know that many of you who read this blog have had this experience going into a grocery store at some point in your lives: You go and look for a specific item, and get irritated if you cannot find it.  I have been seeing headlines the past couple of weeks of famine being declared in Somalia.  I saw a photo of a little boy who was so emaciated that it literally took my breath away.  I wonder how many people in the world die every day of hunger?  When I saw the picture of this young boy, it was in the evening after I had just finished a hearty meal.  This made my heart sink. 

I live in a country where some people who are considered poor still live lives of luxury.  You may disagree, but I will explain.  Some of these people still have roofs over their heads, food on the table; even a table.  They may even have a car and a television.  I think of these poor people in places like Somalia and think to myself, "These people are truly poor."  Even though they are poor in materials, I hope they do not feel poor in spirit. 

I am not trying to save the world with my little blog post, but I can't help but ask, "Why does it have to be this way?  How come I live in a country where, although our trials in recent years have been many, we still have so many luxuries?"  I am thankful for the time and place I live in.  I just wish we were able to share our everyday luxuries with others in the world in a more profound way.

Although this post had a bit of a melancholy tone,  I hope you have a:

Happy Tuesday to you and yours....

Learning By Example

I want to talk about my mom this week.  I noticed that when I have written about my childhood in recent months,  that I haven't talked a whole lot about my mom.  It dawned on me that a lot of lessons she has taught me was more of learning by her example.  I am so grateful for my mom and all she has done for and taught me.  I feel like my mom is one of my best friends.  She is someone who I can turn to for a listening ear, advice, a good laugh, and a sturdy shoulder for emotional support.  I remember at different points in my life having something that was fun to share with my mom.  What is making me smile right now is that some of these things we have always liked to do for different reasons.  For example, I love taking drives with my mom.  When I was little, it was because that was a sure fire way to make me take my nap; as I got into my teenage years, it was a way for us to enjoy listening to music and taking in some scenery; and as an adult, we have turned off the radio and have some really great talks.  Another thing we have always enjoyed are episodes of "I Love Lucy".  I grew up watching that show with my mom, but now, we can have lengthy and hilarious discussions of favorite quotes and episodes.  What a great way to pass the time...

There are a couple things I want to focus on how my mom has helped me grow into the woman I am today.  She taught me the following life lessons not only by having talks with me, but by living her life in these ways and showing me how.  The first one I can think of is my mom has the best way of giving me, what I like to call, an "ego check".  I don't consider myself to be an egotistical person, but I am human.  There were times when I would think that my situation (whatever it may be) was right no matter what.  Of course, there are times when I'm right, but there are also times for me to understand that I may have a chance to learn something (aka--a nice way of saying I'm wrong).  I remember having several talks with my mom when I was in my early to mid college years, and her telling me this sentence that changed my life, "Don't let your ego get in the way".  When she told me this, I remember saying, "Do you think I'm egotistical?"  Her reply was, "No, you didn't hear me.  I said, 'Don't let your ego get in the way'."  What she explained to me is that we are all human, and we all have moments when we don't think outside of the box.  I remember in the first circumstance of her telling me this, it had to do with my feeling wronged or inconvenienced my something or someone, and by my mom talking me through it, she made me see that I had a chance to learn a lesson.  It was her own gentle way of poking a needle in my head full of hot air, and deflating it.  It was very much needed, and I thank her for that.  She has the perfect way of bringing me back down to Earth when I need it, and not hurting my confidence or self esteem.  As a matter of fact, I always end up feeling better about myself in result of it.  I am happy to say that I think I have learned that lesson well because she hasn't had to say it to me lately.

My mom has been someone who continually does her own self reflection.  She has taught me that throughout our lives, it is our responsibility to look within ourselves to make any improvements in areas needed.  When I learned that I had Social Anxiety Disorder, it was so comforting learning some tactics of how to deal with it from her experience.  She has always been there to give me gentle guidance.  I don't remember her being forceful in her approach of giving advice, especially in delicate matters.  She seems to know how to say things in just the right way to get the point across without making it sound like she's telling me what to do.  That is truly a gift.  When I was in high school, she taught me, "What other people think of you is none of your business".  This threw me for a loop.  I said, "Of course it's my business because what they think about me is my business".  She explained that whatever someone thinks about you (especially if it's not favorable) is something they have already made up their mind about, and I wouldn't be able to change it.  They were the ones who have the ability to change their own minds, and all I had to do was continue being myself.  What other people think is their issue... is their problem....  I found that so freeing.  I still have to remind myself of that from time to time, but I love that.

The last thing I'll share is something that my sister brought to my attention.  As a matter of fact, a lot of these topics came up when we were talking about them yesterday.  She gave me some really great thoughts to think about, and one of them is that my mom knows when to have the "Mom Hat" on and the "Friend Hat" on.  Whenever we talk, she knows when we need to have mom talk and friend talk.  The funny thing is that they aren't that different from each other.  She is someone I feel I can always go to with whatever is on my mind.  I think of some people who may not have that closeness with their mom's, and I can honestly say that I can look at my mom and call her my best friend.  

I know that as I write, my sisters can read this and say the same things.  I appreciate the lessons and examples my mom has set for me.  I know I don't say this as often as I should, but she someone who is intelligent, compassionate, and funny.  These are traits I hope I get from her.

I love you, mom...

To Be Continued...

So... this is yet another Tuesday where I did not get my blog out on "Tuesday Morning".  If it is any consolation, it was because I was out of town visiting family  (and having a great time).  I plan on writing my blog tonight...

Until tonight!

My Grandmas

Today was another Tuesday which as I sat down to my computer, I was very unsure of what to write.  I decided to look into an old folder of mine.  This folder has poetry that I used to write.  For some reason, I don't write poetry anymore.  I got the itch to write about six to seven years ago, and it came flooding out of me.  It was very helpful and therapeutic at the time.  Then, a few years went by  where I didn't do it very much, and recently I have been bit by the writing bug again.  I guess you can say that this blog to me now, is what writing poetry was for me then.  As I searched through my poems, I have to admit that some made me laugh because I can hear my voice from back then.  I feel in some of my writings  from the past that my voice has changed, and it is somewhat amusing to compare the two.  Although, in some of them, I know that my voice will never change.  I wrote a poem about my grandma a few years ago, and it really captures my feelings.  My purpose for this post is to profile my feelings about both of my grandmas.  Here is a poem about my dad's mom.  **Author's Note: There is one part in here where my name is supposed to be printed, but I am going to leave it blank (even though most of you know who I am).**

Constant

Ever notice how a grandparents house never changes in your mind?

I walk up those same steps...

"One... Two, Three, Four" echoes in my mind.

I turn the old knob on that faded red door.

I peek my head in with my usual greeting of "Hello!" and,

I immediately hear the usual jovial response of, "Hey! (insert my name here)!"

The first person I always see is...

either in the kitchen working away,

or...

just around the corner in the living room with an almost completed book of crossword puzzles placed in her lap.

This person is...

someone so loving,

someone so caring,

someone so funny,

someone so modest,

someone ever so constant.

This very special someone is my grandma.

Each visit is always looked forward to.

Each visit is never long enough.

There is something so uniquely special about...

her presence,

her words,

her laugh,

her hugs...

Her hugs are always overflowing with sincerity, love, and care.

She gives the type of hugs that you are never ready to let go of.

When Grandma hugs, she holds you with all of her heart.

This special woman has done so much for me by just being her loving and constant self.

"How can I ever thank her for all she has done... for all that she is?"

This is a question that comes over me from time to time.

My realization is to...

Keep on traveling up those same four steps,

Keep turning that old knob on that faded red door,

Keep on visiting...

What is so refreshing is that I don't visit out of obligation.

I visit because I long for the warmth of home.

I visit not because I have to.

I visit because I want to.

There you have it.  I wrote about six years ago.  This is when I had recently moved from an area close to my home town, to much further away to what some of my family members now call, "The big city".  I was quite homesick, and thinking about my grandma.  From when I was thirteen years old, I spent every Sunday at my grandparents house, and we would all have "Sunday dinner".  They had to stop when I moved so far away, but I missed them terribly (both the visits and the dinner!).  As time has passed, I still miss my grandma, but I now have made a home of my own.  I am now lucky to be able to say that I feel the "warmth of home" in my home. 

I am now going to talk about my other grandma.  This would be my mom's mom.  My whole life, I can remember me and my grandma being buddies.  I know that if she and I were not related; were the same age, and lived in the same area... we would have grown up the best of friends.  Looking back at my life, especially the times that were the hardest, I remember looking at my Grandma as being a best friend (even if I didn't realize it at the time).  She lived right up the street from me for most of my childhood, and I loved spending time with her.  I have three memories to share that touch my heart.  

The first is when my sisters and I were very young, we would walk up the road for a visit.  This one day she had just purchased a new answering machine and needed our help setting it up.  We got to the part where all she had to do was record her voice, and she kept on messing up.  It cracked me up because we were all together in her den, and she would make it about half way through until she would get the giggles.  We would try to be as quiet as possible while she finished it, but we, too, were stifling our own laughter.  This process took about a half hour, but it was the best half hour of the day because we laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt.  This reminds me of how much my grandma is a kid at heart.

The second memory I have is when I was a little older.  I was going through a tough time in the beginning of my first year of high school.  For some reasons (which I touched base on in a previous post), there was a girl in my group of friends who told everyone not to be friends with me anymore.  These other friends followed her lead and example.  This can be one of the most painful things a teenage girl can go through.  It is important for a young person to feel the sense of belonging, and it was something I did not have.  There was one part of my school day that was becoming unbearable: lunchtime.  Our lunch period was a total of forty-five long minutes.  I tried to make other friends, but it was so difficult.  I was very sad.  One day, I had an idea.  Our school had what is called "open campus", and this means that during lunchtime, the students could leave the campus.  I was hoping to ask my grandma to come and get me every day for lunch so that I can spend that time at her house, but then she would have to bring me back.  I was afraid to ask her.  I wasn't afraid of her saying "No" because she didn't want to.  I was afraid because she may have been too busy.  My grandma had  a lot of commitments and spent a lot of her days in and out of the house.  I knew that she would feel bad if she couldn't, but I bit the bullet and asked her anyways.  Her response, to this day, brings me a sense of comfort... "Of course... what time do I pick you up?"  My grandma came every day... every single day... to bring me to her home for lunch.  Each day I got a respite from my anxiety at school.  Soon after, I made new friends and felt so much better, but I still would go to my grandma's for lunch... every day.

My last memory of her was when I was younger.  There are a lot of things my grandma has taught me, but I think the most important thing would be this: The power of prayer.  My grandma is a very religious and spiritual person.  With whatever cards had been dealt  to her, her faith never wavered.  You see... my grandma was a very good writer.  She was featured in the "Letters to the Editor" in her local newspaper quite frequently.  She definitely had a way with words and felt it was her duty to share them.  I remember being with her when she would run into people in town and they would give her all sorts of support and accolades about her most recent write-up.  I feel like I have her spirit of writing coursing through my veins.  I, too, wrote letters to the editor of certain topics which I felt the need to be presented.  It felt very freeing to know that my voice was heard and that others felt the same way I did.  The following story is something my grandma shared with me once, about the power of prayer.... My grandma was asked by a friend to write a little poem on a friends cake.  It was for some occasion which I cannot remember, but my grandma (always willing to help) said "Yes".  She went home, sat down, and realized that although she could write, she had never rhymed before.  She couldn't think of a single thing.  She then turned to God and asked  for His help.  She asked Him to help her think of a rhyme for her friend.  Shortly after that, she went for a little walk down the road.  It was then that she felt her brain open up and a thought dropped in.  Out of the blue she said a rhyme.  It had nothing to do with her friend, but she indeed said a rhyme.  Then, she said another, and another, and another.  She quickly went home and wrote them all down.  Later, she then thought of a very nice one for her friend, but from that day on... my grandma could write the most precious poems and rhymes.  She even showed me a book of them with little pictures she pasted in them.  It was with this story (and others she has shared with me) that I learned the power of prayer.  She taught me that if there is a problem you can't figure out or if you need help with something, just pray.  I am a firm believer that her prayer was answered because of her unyielding faith.  I now realizing that my strong faith was learned by example.

Looking back at this post, I see that I have written considerably more of one grandma.  I must share that this is not because I like her more.  I love them both very much.  When I write these posts, I let my mind run and my typing fingers try to keep up.  In today's post, my mind thought of a lot of specifics of one of my grandma's.  I admire them both.  They are both strong women who have showed me through example many life lessons.  I may pick up where I left of next week, but until then...

Happy Tuesday to you and yours....