A Once in a Lifetime Opportunity

Good morning everyone.

A week ago today, I had an experience which I will always remember.  I got to go see my childhood home.  With  great and many thanks to my aunt for arranging it, I got to not only go back to the house, but I got to walk inside and outside.  

Leading to the day, I was so excited and a little nervous.  I lived in this home from when I was born until I was six years old.  My memories of this place are very vivid and wonderful.  I can remember what rooms looked like, where furniture was placed, what the yard looked like, and how I felt.  Whenever I think back, I am filled with fond memories and good feelings.  My aunt was driving, and as we turned down the street, the butterflies in my stomach became so much bigger!  I saw all the homes on the street, and remembered our neighbors and riding our bikes.  As we entered the driveway, it hit me, "I'm here... I'm finally here."  The owner of the home gave us a tour and talked about the upgrades they did and the ones that were completed before she moved in.  The very first thing I did was go to a special place where our family had poured cement, and I saw my sisters and my name.  I saw this three other times.  Anytime my family poured cement for a sidewalk or something, the name of the children who were born were written in, along with the date.  My name is only on one, but it was so sweet to see the others, the first with only my oldest sister's name; the other two with both of my sisters names.  It was like we were looking at a time line on the ground.  

My favorite part was walking on the deck and overlooking the beautiful view.  This house (for the past few weeks, I have lovingly been calling it my house), is on a dead end of a very nice street.  Since we were at the end, our view from the deck was beautiful field, rolling hills, and oak trees.  From this point, I could also look down upon the yard.  It was as if the memories of my childhood were playing in my mind... like an old home video.  

It was time to go.  I had taken many pictures, and felt very satisfied.  My aunt took a few pictures of me, and one is of me on the deck with the view behind me, and the second one is in front of the house where my sisters and I took pictures on our first days of school and on Halloweens (when we were all dressed up).  I am so glad I was able to share this special day with my aunt.

I came back home that night.  I felt terrific.  I kept on thinking how lucky I was to be able to have that experience.  How many people have the opportunity that I did?  I'm sure not enough.  I got home, downloaded my pictures, and as I saw them... even more memories (one's I have not thought about in a long time), came back for a much needed visit in my mind.  It dawned on me that when I think back on my childhood, I have so many wonderful memories.  I am truly blessed.  I just cried like a baby that night.  "Cried like a baby" you may think?  Yes... I did.  They were not sad tears, or tears of longing or disappointment.  They were very happy tears.  Happy to have had the childhood I did.  Happy to have the life I live.  Happy to know where I came from.  Happy to be where I am.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

A Story About a Girl...

There was a little girl who was about twelve years old.  She called her grandma one of her best friends... her buddy.  This little girl and her grandma were indeed quite close, and there were many lessons that the grandma had taught her little granddaughter.  One day, Grandma told Granddaughter a story that inspired her.  It starts out with Grandma washing the dishes.  Above the sink was a windowsill where Grandma would always stack her rings while she washed.  On this day, after the dishes were clean, Grandma forgot to put her rings back on (they were her engagement ring and wedding band).  She went about her day, then suddenly realized her finger was missing her precious rings!  She rushed to the windowsill.... nothing... no rings to be found.  She worried, then retraced her steps for the whole day.  She found nothing.  She went back to the windowsill, again and again... nothing.  At this point, she decided to pray.  She knelt down, prayed with full faith in her heart, and asked to receive help in finding her rings.  She felt prompted to look on the windowsill again, and there they were.  Her rings were stacked perfectly on the windowsill.  Her prayer had been answered.

Granddaughter loved hearing about the experience, and others which her grandmother gladly shared.  Granddaughter had little experiences in her life that were similar, but not to the degree of finding something as precious Grandma's rings.  Granddaughter found: homework assignments, etc.  These were things which were important at the time of an adolescent, but probably not in the grand scheme of things.

Granddaughter grew up and moved away.  She had one experience which she never forgotten, and didn't realize the importance of it until even more time had passed.  Granddaughter was having a difficult time in her personal life and felt like there was no one... no one... to turn to.  She felt sad, lonely, and was sure that no one would want to hear her story.  She couldn't even muster the courage to call a friend or family member.  It was an evening when she was working, and she had an hour for her lunch break.  She drove around, found a place to stop, put her head on the steering wheel, and cried.  She cried, and cried, and cried, and whispered... "I feel so alone, I feel so alone, I feel so alone..."  Without even realizing it, she was praying.  She started to get even more upset because she knew she had to go back to work soon, and she couldn't calm down.  The tears just kept coming harder and harder, and the prayer stayed the same... almost like a whisper.  Then, she felt a wave of comfort inside of her.  Her tears stopped, and she felt complete peace.  For a moment, the sudden shift in emotion almost scared her, but she knew it was going to be alright.  She knew that this shift which took place was not her... it was an answer to her prayer.  She felt such peace that even if she heard the saddest news, she couldn't cry anymore.  She dried her eyes, and drove back to work.  The wave of emotion that came over her was the most comforting feeling she had ever felt.  She felt very thankful.

If you have not gathered already, the girl in this story is me.  I felt like sharing this because it goes well with something I heard today.  I heard a talk which was given recently by a leader in my church (his name is President Dieter F. Uchtdorf), and he mentioned that in the eyes of God, we are all important.  Even if there are times when we may feel: small, insignificant, not special, not important..... that those feelings are not shared with God.  God know us and loves us.  I felt that this idea was true because of the above story I told, and other similar experiences which have happened to me.  I feel grateful for these thoughts and this understanding.  It has brought even more peace and comfort to my life.

I wish I could share these stories with my grandmother.  The thing is that I could, but her memory is not what it used to be.  What I am realizing right now is that I should share these things with her.  She always loved to talk about these things.  Just because she may forget about it a few seconds after the conversation is done, doesn't mean we can't have one of our fun talks again. 

I must be honest.  I was hesitant to write about this topic in my blog because of the subject matter.  I am a firm believer in God and Jesus Christ, but I am also worried of how I make others feel.  It is very important to me to be respectful of others.  I hope that what I wrote today is something that people who read it can understand that I am just writing from my heart, and I mean nothing but good intentions and feelings. 

Thanks for reading and letting me get this off of my chest.  I feel so good right now.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

27 on the 27th

I am going to make my blog a little shorter today.  Today is my birthday.  I am 27 years old.  I have been looking forward to today because I am 27 on the 27th.  When I was a little girl, I remember thinking, "Wow!  When I turn 27 on the 27th, I'm going to be so old!"  I do not think I'm old, but thinking about that memory makes me smile.  I always try to be awake on the exact time I was born.  My mom had me by cesarean.  I was a scheduled delivery.  My mom got called to jury duty, and her excuse to why she couldn't do it was, "I'm going to have my baby that day."  I tell people that I was born by cesarean, my husband says that I was stolen from the womb.  That comment always makes me laugh.  

I just thought I would write a little something about how my being born 27 years ago got my mom out of jury duty.  I love telling that story.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

Someone Very Special

It is late Monday night, and I am writing my blog a little earlier than usual.  I decided that I want to write about something that is on my mind this week.  My mind went straight to my husband's mother.  She was a very special woman who passed away three years ago this week.  I must admit that I have been sitting at my desk for the past fifteen minutes grappling with the idea of "Should I" or "Shouldn't I" write about her.  I was possibly thinking the "should not" because it can be very sad... but I decided for the "should" because she was so special.  Her wonderfulness outweighed my insecurities.

I think it is important to talk about and remember the one's you love, even if they are no longer with us in body.  There are a few memories that are very vivid which I cling to.  I have to admit that, sadly, through my own insecurities and anxieties, it took me awhile to let my guard down and feel comfortable and be myself around my husband's parents when we were dating in the beginning.  It was all me.  I remember my own negative self talk I would give myself, and I was so quiet and shy when I was with them.  For those of you who know me, that is very unlike me.  It was within the last year before she passed that I finally noticed my flaws, and I began to open up more and feel so much more comfortable.  Once I realized what I was doing, I was so happy to see myself change and feel relaxed.  The memories I truly love are when my husband and I would go to his parents home, and we would usually be in the kitchen talking: the four of us.  Somehow, my husband and his dad would make their way into the garage, and his mom and I would get a chance to talk... just the two of us.  There are a lot of things I learned about her.  I loved when my husband would come back in after some time and say, "Are we ready to go?"  And I'd say, "No, I'm not", because I was having such a good time with her.  I remember how happy I would get when I made her laugh.  She was an incredibly sweet woman.  She was the type of person you know would laugh at something, even if it was not all that funny... just to be polite.  But, I LOVED it when I made her laugh.  Her nose would crinkle and her teeth would show... I see that expression on my husband sometimes when he laughs, too.  Another thing I remember is that most holidays, I have been unable to go see my family because I had to work (most of my family does not live near me).  My husband's mom wouldn't ask "If" I was coming over for the holiday meal... it was "When".  She immediately made me a part of the family festivities.  It was being around her and the family traditions that made me remember how much fun the holidays were for me when I was little.  She helped me find that childlike wonder of the holidays... and to feel the sense of love and home I so wanted on that particular day (be it Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter... etc).  I have two more memories that are sticking out in my mind... I am thinking back to one day when she mentioned to me and my husband that both she and her husband had gone to a new restaurant nearby and she wanted to take us there.  We asked, "What is it called?"  She smiled and said in a coy tone, "I'm not telling."  She then gave us a hint and said that the city started with a "P" and the restaurant started with a "B".  We had a fun time trying to get it out of her where this mystery spot was.  As time passed, our busy lives were in full swing, and we forgot about it.  After her passing, my husband and I figured out what restaurant that was.  We have looked it up, but still have yet to go.  I am happy to report that we are planning to go there this coming Friday evening.  I'm looking forward to it.  It will be an opportunity to think of a happy memory of us badgering her for more information: "What's the next letter of the restaurant?  How about the city?"  I am happy we know which one it is and that we'll be able to enjoy it and think of her. 

My last memory is a special one that is close to my heart, yet very simply stated.  I will always remember that there were occasions when we would say our goodbyes, and she would tell me, "I love you".  This was always very special to me, but it is especially now.  I remember thinking, even then, she is an incredibly good and honest person, and she would only say something like that if she truly meant it.  I am glad we both got to say those words to each other.  They meant the world to me then, and even more now.  

She is someone who is missed dearly by so many... especially her family.  She had a very calm and sweet personality.  She was incredibly thoughtful and loving.  Her qualities are ones which I hope to attain and strive for.

I cannot help but think of how many questions and topics I wish I could talk to her about now.  It makes me sad to think, "I wish I could ask her about...." or "I would love to hear what she thinks about...."  What makes me feel better is that I know she is in heaven.  Even though I feel a longing to talk to her, I find comfort knowing that she is in a wonderful place.  It's not that I can't ever talk to her about these things... it's just that I will have to wait until we meet again.  I hope she makes a lot of time for me because there is already so much to catch up on.  I wonder if she and I could make our way into a kitchen in heaven and have one of our talks again... I hope so...

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

In Memory

When I was twelve years old, I had to do a book report on a book of my choice.  I found one about Abraham Lincoln.  For my report, instead of writing it, I acted it.  My mom video taped me on her camcorder.  I made a top hat out of construction paper, wore my mom's long black coat, she took her eye liner and colored in a beard on my chin, and I stood on a stool.  My dad introduced me, "And now, the honorable, President Abraham Lincoln!"  My dad and sister clapped in the background (the camera always on me), and I said the Gettysburg Address.  I think my dad still has that tape.  Since then, Abraham Lincoln has fascinated me.  He was a man who taught himself how to read by fire light, lived in a log cabin, became president of the United States in one of our countries most tumultuous eras of division, and saved the Union.  It made me think about how our political leaders are having such a difficult time communicating and getting things done today.  It also gives me hope because I remember my grandma saying that the United States is the only country who has had a civil war and still remained one country.  I am not sure of other countries histories of civil wars, but it really is amazing that ours was truly, truly divided, and that we later remained the United States of America.  Our history is inspiring.  The Revolutionary War was full of farmers who fought back the English Army.  There are many stories about  the Civil War where brothers fought against each other; one for the North and one for the South.  I can go on and on.  I think what I am trying to say is that I hope people are not defining our country on the recent squabbles that our leaders in Washington are having.  I hope that our country is defined by our history, and our ability to stand together as one in the face of tyrants.  I hope we are defined by our courage.

This past Sunday was the 10th anniversary of the attacks on 9/11.  There are no words that I can express that can pin down how I feel.  I can just say that it was a day which I reflected on my feelings of that day.  Some of those feelings felt very fresh and recent.  I understand that some people may not have wanted to watch the dedications and stories about it, but I found it therapeutic.  I shed some tears and remembered how on that day, and the days followed, I would walk down the street and see strangers as my brothers and sisters.  It is no secret that tragedy brings people together.  

I watched several clips of leaders, past and present, giving talks of the innocent and courageous lives lost on that day: the people going to work at the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and flight crews.  The firefighters and policeman, the passengers on the planes...  There are a few quotes that I think are worth sharing which were given during these dedications.  Here they are:

Vice President Joe Biden told people gathered in Shanksville, Pennsylvania a quote which his mother said to him, "Courage lies in every heart.  The expectation, Joey, is that one day it will be summoned."  He said this in regards to the courageous people on Flight 93.  He was talking about how ordinary people can do extraordinary things.

George W. Bush, too, was in Shanksville, and he recounted Abraham Lincoln's speech in Gettysburg.  He also was at Ground Zero the next day with President Obama, and he read a letter that Lincoln wrote to a mother (Mrs. Bixby) who believed she lost five sons in the Civil War.  I have included both documents below because I think they are both important for all of us to read.

The Gettysburg Address

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

 The Letter to Mrs. Bixby

Dear Madam,--

I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.

I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,

A. Lincoln

May we always remember that through our differences, we are all brothers and sisters...

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

A Lot of "Maybes" in My Mind

Labor Day was yesterday, and it was a gorgeous day.  My husband and I had a day off together and had a wonderful time.  One thing we did was go to an art fair.  Seeing so many unique artworks felt very inspiring.  Being in that type of environment gives me motivation to try new things.  There are some talents that I would like to try and hone, but I always feel like I don't have the time or the finances to pursue them.  For instance, I love the piano.  My grandmother taught herself how to play the piano, and she was the organist at our church when I was growing up.  I remember sitting at her piano and teaching myself how to play some songs by ear.  I would only use one finger at a time, but I felt so accomplished when I could play a whole chorus of a song!  Yesterday, I was at my father-in-law's house for a bit, and I sat at the piano.  Again, I played a song I taught myself, and it made me feel so good inside.  I am seriously considering looking into learning how to play.  I would have to start at square one because I don't even know how to read music.  I decided to put this in my blog so that I can somewhat hold myself accountable for at least doing research on it.  I can talk or even just think about it for days and days, but actually looking into it is a different story.  Usually when I learn a new thing, I like to be the best at it.  I know this is very unrealistic, but I get very frustrated when I am in the learning process of something and I need a lot of help with it.  With this thought of wanting to learn how to play the piano, I feel like I would be okay with being a beginner... even excited. I am now feeling more anxiety about actually calling a perfect stranger and asking them to help me.  When I start feeling anxious about something like this, these questions pop up in my head:  "What if I don't gel with them?"  "What if I end up hating it and have to tell them I don't want to do it anymore?"  I have to remember when these type of questions come up that it's not me talking, it's my anxiety talking.  When the time feels right, I hope I'll have the courage to pursue it.

I also have some other crafty artsy ideas that I would like to pursue, but I have a hard time when I do something and it doesn't look exactly like I want it to (aka "I am a perfectionist").  This is something I need to just jump in, try it, and get over the fact that I'm not Leonardo da Vinci. 

How exciting and scary it can be to learn new things.  I shall keep you posted.

Happy Tuesday to you and yours...

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...