Someone blessed me today, offering something my brother's car (my only means of transportation) needed desperately, for 1/4 the price I would've expected to pay. Her generosity came with a smile miles-wide, illuminating her kind spirit. Thank God for people like her, and would that I would make more of an effort to adopt her attitude.
A very different me, roughly some decade ago, emerged during my 8 1/2 years lived in Tampa - a coarse, rude, obnoxious, overbearing, loud person I'd very much like to forget. Sometimes, I see glimpses of her returning and do my best to banish those aspects of me, but I'm sure at times I don't even know it's happening, and I feel sorry for those of you subject to that me when it does. What a monster, she, and good riddance if I manage to banish her forever. What are generosity or kindness or acts of mercy when accompanied by scathing sarcasm, razor-sharp tongue, or pitiful negativity? I think they're like sweet, delicious candy that shocks you with a nasty aftertaste, lingering on your tongue long after the sweetness is gone. If you think I'm too sweet for the sarcasm, sharp tongue or negativity, you don't know me very well.
When in counseling, I described once how it felt to be in that period of my life - I was facing myself truly for the first time and shedding light on all my faults at once, or so it seemed. It was like being in a cluttered room, looking around frantically, frustrated because I didn't know where to even begin at cleaning it all up. Now, some 18+ months later, I wonder how much of it I've simply let slip into the darkness again. But my counselor advised me at the time, just to say to God, "Thank you for pointing that out to me. I'll get to it, but I'm working on this right now." I suppose that was pretty sound advice. Perfection's not within my grasp, and I will probably only do a half-hearted job at self-improvement if I give every fault and flaw, bad habit and weakness just a little attention. Better to attack one or two at a time head-on, show 'em who's boss, and then (if the battle's won) move on to the next. I have been doing that with a few of them, but find too often that, soon as I think I have them well in hand and turn toward the next, they rear up their ugly heads and bite me again. :) Thank God He's not done with me yet, and that I don't have only myself to lean on or only my strength to walk in.
Off to bed with me, as I welcome in another Saturday sat freezing alone in my living room. Blessings on all my dear readers, and goodnight.
-V
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Friday, December 2, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Why
At heart, I'll always be a poet. Here's one I wrote late last night and would like to share. Much love to all those parents out there who'll read this and get it...I hope. :) And much love to all those considering parenthood someday. It's never easy, but so worth it. Blessings, V
My Whys
At my feet, dissolved in fit,
Covered in food, ink or vomit,
Tangled up in sibling fight or
Keeping me up half the night -
Even at their worst, they're why.
When nothing's left for my next step
When shoulders sag and mind's inept,
Those little bellies needing fed and
Young, open minds needing led
Walk me on and keep me strong.
But, elated giggles upon my knee
And joyful cheers of "Mommy, see!"
Lighten the step and stretch the smile,
Making the next, extra mile
Seem like minor stuff and never enough for
My three precious, little why's.
My Whys
At my feet, dissolved in fit,
Covered in food, ink or vomit,
Tangled up in sibling fight or
Keeping me up half the night -
Even at their worst, they're why.
When nothing's left for my next step
When shoulders sag and mind's inept,
Those little bellies needing fed and
Young, open minds needing led
Walk me on and keep me strong.
But, elated giggles upon my knee
And joyful cheers of "Mommy, see!"
Lighten the step and stretch the smile,
Making the next, extra mile
Seem like minor stuff and never enough for
My three precious, little why's.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Marveling
At home tonight, out in the cold beneath darkened, cloudy sky, I creaked open the Buick's front passenger door to pull out groceries, and froze. As the dome light flooded the faces of my three, sleeping children in the backseat, I couldn't help a long, marveling stare at the lovely little lives I've aided in creating and bringing into the world. Not just that, but in getting them to this point, healthy, strong, clean, and lovely as they are. It's a job I'll never feel equal to or good enough for, or wise or smart enough to do justice to, but it's one I'm very privileged to have, anyway.
A pastor I've long respected said something in a sermon once that set me aflame with silent fury, about mothers who leave their kids with strangers to go pursue money. I understand he spoke of materialistic greed in those who don't need the second income but choose the benefits of it over staying home to care for their own. But it boiled my blood, nevertheless, because I wondered if he had any inkling of how it rips out my heart to walk away from my girls every morning, especially when they're ill or sad or clingy, etc. Knowing it'll be some 9+ hours until I see them again. Knowing how much of their little lives I'm missing out on. A couple weeks ago, while headed to my son's playground to fetch him from after-school childcare, I stopped short in the hall outside his classroom and swallowed down some unshed tears. So much of his life I know nothing of; so much of his daily growth and experiences go unnoticed by me...the fresh realization flooded me with feelings of failure and grief. Of course, I ask about his day each evening, but a minuscule percentage of what happens actually gets verbalized then. And when I learn of the torment and teasing, loneliness and exclusion that he endures, I'm overwhelmed with a desire to do whatever it takes to shield him from the feelings that made me suicidal and severely depressed in my late elementary years.
Still, this is only a season and it too shall pass. Still, my children are wonderful little people, adored and enjoyed by many, so something must be going right. And still, I look at many alternatives for what's happening in their lives and see they're very blessed, and so am I. Thanks for reading.
Blessings,
V
A pastor I've long respected said something in a sermon once that set me aflame with silent fury, about mothers who leave their kids with strangers to go pursue money. I understand he spoke of materialistic greed in those who don't need the second income but choose the benefits of it over staying home to care for their own. But it boiled my blood, nevertheless, because I wondered if he had any inkling of how it rips out my heart to walk away from my girls every morning, especially when they're ill or sad or clingy, etc. Knowing it'll be some 9+ hours until I see them again. Knowing how much of their little lives I'm missing out on. A couple weeks ago, while headed to my son's playground to fetch him from after-school childcare, I stopped short in the hall outside his classroom and swallowed down some unshed tears. So much of his life I know nothing of; so much of his daily growth and experiences go unnoticed by me...the fresh realization flooded me with feelings of failure and grief. Of course, I ask about his day each evening, but a minuscule percentage of what happens actually gets verbalized then. And when I learn of the torment and teasing, loneliness and exclusion that he endures, I'm overwhelmed with a desire to do whatever it takes to shield him from the feelings that made me suicidal and severely depressed in my late elementary years.
Still, this is only a season and it too shall pass. Still, my children are wonderful little people, adored and enjoyed by many, so something must be going right. And still, I look at many alternatives for what's happening in their lives and see they're very blessed, and so am I. Thanks for reading.
Blessings,
V
Monday, October 31, 2011
Fully
This blog entry translates from my back of menu scrawl over dinner alone, this past Sunday evening:
Surrounded by idle teenage chatter, dusty fake plants, marked and scratched furniture and the scents of various Chinese dishes being cooked, served and consumed, I melted into the moment and tried to ignore the empty chair across the table. After a few peaceful minutes spent absorbing "China One's' decor and the swaying autumn trees, soaring birds and strolling people outside, I turned my attention to a giant photograph of the Great Wall of China (a section, anyway) hanging on one wall. After a period of silent observation and contemplation, I decided that although the idea of hopping into the photo and standing amongst the tourists, snapping pics of the Great Wall seems exciting and exotic, the experience at this moment in my life, would seriously lack something. That's because my memories of Chinese history are foggy at best. To appreciate fully the significance and grandeur of the place, I'd have to know (again) the who, where, when, what and how of it. Who lived here, died here, fought here, walked here? Who built this, and how, and with what and why?
This line of thinking snapped me back to where I sat and what surrounded me. I considered then that every place shares this truth - to fully appreciate and enjoy it, you have to know its story. This is true of people, too.
That elderly, stooped lady slowing down a shopping trip may have once sung an opera in front of a sold out crowd, or won medals as a track star. That obese man coming by on his cart might have won his college's championship as MVP. That person in the wheelchair who's clearly lost his mind may once have cured a disease or written a popular screenplay. Would you treat them differently if they had? Would I? Would our respect of their humanity soar, upon knowing their stories? Here's my point: I should care to learn the stories behind the people, and to give each person and place a chance to be fully appreciated and enjoyed. Food for thought, anyway.
By the way, the Kung Po Shrimp was spicy and delightful, in my opinion.
One thing to add (from today, Monday): Today an elderly man paid his bill at my counter, as I stared admiringly at his hat, which bore the words "Purple Heart" on it. I mentioned it to him and he simply said, "That was a long time ago, a very long time." I thanked him for his service and wondered as he walked away, what incredible stories he would probably rather forget, and what ones he'd enjoy sharing.
Thanks for reading, and for humoring my simpleminded discoveries. :) Blessings, V
Surrounded by idle teenage chatter, dusty fake plants, marked and scratched furniture and the scents of various Chinese dishes being cooked, served and consumed, I melted into the moment and tried to ignore the empty chair across the table. After a few peaceful minutes spent absorbing "China One's' decor and the swaying autumn trees, soaring birds and strolling people outside, I turned my attention to a giant photograph of the Great Wall of China (a section, anyway) hanging on one wall. After a period of silent observation and contemplation, I decided that although the idea of hopping into the photo and standing amongst the tourists, snapping pics of the Great Wall seems exciting and exotic, the experience at this moment in my life, would seriously lack something. That's because my memories of Chinese history are foggy at best. To appreciate fully the significance and grandeur of the place, I'd have to know (again) the who, where, when, what and how of it. Who lived here, died here, fought here, walked here? Who built this, and how, and with what and why?
This line of thinking snapped me back to where I sat and what surrounded me. I considered then that every place shares this truth - to fully appreciate and enjoy it, you have to know its story. This is true of people, too.
That elderly, stooped lady slowing down a shopping trip may have once sung an opera in front of a sold out crowd, or won medals as a track star. That obese man coming by on his cart might have won his college's championship as MVP. That person in the wheelchair who's clearly lost his mind may once have cured a disease or written a popular screenplay. Would you treat them differently if they had? Would I? Would our respect of their humanity soar, upon knowing their stories? Here's my point: I should care to learn the stories behind the people, and to give each person and place a chance to be fully appreciated and enjoyed. Food for thought, anyway.
By the way, the Kung Po Shrimp was spicy and delightful, in my opinion.
One thing to add (from today, Monday): Today an elderly man paid his bill at my counter, as I stared admiringly at his hat, which bore the words "Purple Heart" on it. I mentioned it to him and he simply said, "That was a long time ago, a very long time." I thanked him for his service and wondered as he walked away, what incredible stories he would probably rather forget, and what ones he'd enjoy sharing.
Thanks for reading, and for humoring my simpleminded discoveries. :) Blessings, V
Friday, October 7, 2011
Spectacle
This past Wednesday night I at last made it to my church for dinner, fellowship, and parenting class again. Herding 9 year old who was pestering almost 4 year old to the stairs, covered in bags and sweaters and carrying my toddler, I heard my cheery little ring tone croaking from somewhere inside my purse. Not now, I told it silently and continued herding kids down the stairs to dinner.
On my way back up the stairs, some half hour and lots of calories consumed later, I mentioned to a kind friend who voluntarily helped bear some of my burden, that being a single parent feels like a social handicap. You're always seen as different, as making a scene, as a spectacle, or so my perception tells me. People stare and wonder and theorize and some criticize, and some sympathize. The really nice ones offer aid to an overburdened and clearly exhausted parent trying to grow 7 arms and 20 eyes and perhaps an extra brain to control them. Forget saving Metropolis - if I had laser vision, the ability to freeze things with my breath, super strength, invincibility and the power of flight, I'd see to the other side of the house to be sure my kids were ok while I fixed supper, instantly cool hot soup and freeze water bottles, bring all my bags, groceries and toddler to the house in one trip, and save a lot of money on fuel! And then I suppose people would stare even more. :) I'm still trying to learn the lesson of not caring what they think.
Funny thing is, I've bemoaned all my life that I fit nowhere and remain an outsider, but that's the way a messenger of God is supposed to feel. This is just my newest reason for feeling different.
The message on video Wed. night was a parenting class that spoke well to me of helping my kids see themselves in a godly light. Maybe I need to learn that lesson first.
Blessings,
V
On my way back up the stairs, some half hour and lots of calories consumed later, I mentioned to a kind friend who voluntarily helped bear some of my burden, that being a single parent feels like a social handicap. You're always seen as different, as making a scene, as a spectacle, or so my perception tells me. People stare and wonder and theorize and some criticize, and some sympathize. The really nice ones offer aid to an overburdened and clearly exhausted parent trying to grow 7 arms and 20 eyes and perhaps an extra brain to control them. Forget saving Metropolis - if I had laser vision, the ability to freeze things with my breath, super strength, invincibility and the power of flight, I'd see to the other side of the house to be sure my kids were ok while I fixed supper, instantly cool hot soup and freeze water bottles, bring all my bags, groceries and toddler to the house in one trip, and save a lot of money on fuel! And then I suppose people would stare even more. :) I'm still trying to learn the lesson of not caring what they think.
Funny thing is, I've bemoaned all my life that I fit nowhere and remain an outsider, but that's the way a messenger of God is supposed to feel. This is just my newest reason for feeling different.
The message on video Wed. night was a parenting class that spoke well to me of helping my kids see themselves in a godly light. Maybe I need to learn that lesson first.
Blessings,
V
Monday, July 11, 2011
Looking
So, today I gazed up while trudging under blazing sun across the parking lot at work, into a blue sky much like the one that just a few months ago framed giant snow drifts, and smiled. Strange how those smiles take more effort for me in such bright light and oppressive heat. No longer am I picking my way slowly in heavy boots, gingerly choosing one patch of icy ground after another, and yet, somehow still there's non-stop complaining all around me. All anyone can talk about (substitute snow or cold here just months ago) is the heat or humidity!
Together, shall we search high and low for a silver lining? Wonder how much time humanity has wasted on complaining about unchangeable conditions. How about...
"What a perfect day for a nice long swim."
"How convenient, driving on well-lit, dry streets!"
"This will really make me appreciate the fall and the rain."
Still, preachy as this may sound (apologies!), I'm always preaching at myself. Maybe I'm not saying it, but there's plenty I'm internally griping about or allowing to pull me down and it's all so selfish and indulgent. Dr. Valetta prescribes (to herself) a healthy dose of other people's problems, leading me to a fave quote from the late Vernon Roth: "There's a difference between sticking your nose in other people's business and your heart in their problems."
My dear friends James and Anna will be today's medicine. They with their large batch of offspring scrape by on very little this month under the Ugandan sun after rebuilding the roof on their church and purchasing a much-needed vehicle large enough for their family. Here I sit with a full, satisfied belly before my fan, hanging out on the net...yep, that does it for me. Outlook uplifted. Smile restored. :)
But...one more dose, for good measure. My dear, new friend, Julie, just lost her husband in a sudden heart attack. I was there the night she lost him and witnessed that look on his face when he realized something was terribly wrong. Still she handed out Kleenexes and offered comfort days later, holding her composure, peace and obvious strength like a queen. What are my problems compared to such devastation and what excuse have I to frown when Julie smiles?
I've taken my medicine; now I'm sure you have some of your own. Lord willing, you're sunny already, but if you need a dose, look around.
Happy Dreams and lots of Love to all my Readers. Many apologies for these long silences.
-V
Together, shall we search high and low for a silver lining? Wonder how much time humanity has wasted on complaining about unchangeable conditions. How about...
"What a perfect day for a nice long swim."
"How convenient, driving on well-lit, dry streets!"
"This will really make me appreciate the fall and the rain."
Still, preachy as this may sound (apologies!), I'm always preaching at myself. Maybe I'm not saying it, but there's plenty I'm internally griping about or allowing to pull me down and it's all so selfish and indulgent. Dr. Valetta prescribes (to herself) a healthy dose of other people's problems, leading me to a fave quote from the late Vernon Roth: "There's a difference between sticking your nose in other people's business and your heart in their problems."
My dear friends James and Anna will be today's medicine. They with their large batch of offspring scrape by on very little this month under the Ugandan sun after rebuilding the roof on their church and purchasing a much-needed vehicle large enough for their family. Here I sit with a full, satisfied belly before my fan, hanging out on the net...yep, that does it for me. Outlook uplifted. Smile restored. :)
But...one more dose, for good measure. My dear, new friend, Julie, just lost her husband in a sudden heart attack. I was there the night she lost him and witnessed that look on his face when he realized something was terribly wrong. Still she handed out Kleenexes and offered comfort days later, holding her composure, peace and obvious strength like a queen. What are my problems compared to such devastation and what excuse have I to frown when Julie smiles?
I've taken my medicine; now I'm sure you have some of your own. Lord willing, you're sunny already, but if you need a dose, look around.
Happy Dreams and lots of Love to all my Readers. Many apologies for these long silences.
-V
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Storm
In the wake of waves of tragic storms, the level of compassion and generosity displayed by surrounding communities inspires me to say something here. Sorry I've been silent for so long - busy life and blog blocker at work so no lunch blogging allowed anymore - but here's a quick little hi to my past readers and a Praise God! for all the love poured out on the Joplin tornado survivors by my friends, family, co-workers, etc. After 9/11, stories of courage and heroism inspired in many a spirit of togetherness and sense of joy in our country and its unity in the face of unspeakable horrors. Now I see this again, and hear stories like that, and joy again. My heart goes out to all those suffering loss. Please remind us, down the road as life pulls our attention away, that you still need our help rebuilding your city. Thank you for new hope in humanity. Blessings on you all,
V
V
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Kind
Tonight I ponder: Does declaring a day "bad" or "off" destine it to be so?
Today, after plaguing people at work incessantly with mistakes and forgetfulness that only added to their work loads, after tripping over boxes and platforms and things I normally walk around with ease, I answered the above question at least in part with, "Staying upbeat can't overcome every problem." Mind-numbing exhaustion still numbs the mind, low-blood sugar still slows and weakens, and chronic clumsiness still results in bruises and flaming cheeks, no matter how wide the smile or how loud the declarations of "My day is getting better by the minute." A friend recently observed to me, "You're not very kind to yourself." Often I associate such simple things as a long soak in the tub or an extra long sleep or a taste of chocolate as selfish things I must pay a fair amount of guilt for if I indulge in, but perhaps, being kind to yourself isn't the same as overindulgence, selfishness, or pride. It's treating the body and life God gave you with a fair amount of respect for its human needs.
Recently, I saw a Facebook friend's post on her guilt over getting a haircut now and then and recalled all the times I'd thought the same. Our bodies, the temple of God, should be cared for and presented well - part of finishing with excellence every day. On that thought, I leave you, Dear Reader, and off to bath and bed I go. Night night,
Blessings,
V
Today, after plaguing people at work incessantly with mistakes and forgetfulness that only added to their work loads, after tripping over boxes and platforms and things I normally walk around with ease, I answered the above question at least in part with, "Staying upbeat can't overcome every problem." Mind-numbing exhaustion still numbs the mind, low-blood sugar still slows and weakens, and chronic clumsiness still results in bruises and flaming cheeks, no matter how wide the smile or how loud the declarations of "My day is getting better by the minute." A friend recently observed to me, "You're not very kind to yourself." Often I associate such simple things as a long soak in the tub or an extra long sleep or a taste of chocolate as selfish things I must pay a fair amount of guilt for if I indulge in, but perhaps, being kind to yourself isn't the same as overindulgence, selfishness, or pride. It's treating the body and life God gave you with a fair amount of respect for its human needs.
Recently, I saw a Facebook friend's post on her guilt over getting a haircut now and then and recalled all the times I'd thought the same. Our bodies, the temple of God, should be cared for and presented well - part of finishing with excellence every day. On that thought, I leave you, Dear Reader, and off to bath and bed I go. Night night,
Blessings,
V
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sticking
An unfortunate byproduct of my life as an MK (missionary kid) will likely be my companion to the grave: Inconsistency. In many areas of my being I would hope those who know me can look and say "She's reliable, trustworthy and honorable; a woman of her word." Along with my stubborn will comes a strong determination to do what must be done and do it right. But plenty of things about me change constantly, and much that I wish and want and hope for, quickly drops away. For me I suppose the question to ask is: "Is this a negative or positive trait?"
The root cause, from what I can tell, is years of my development spent frequently moving from place to place, meeting new people, seeing exciting places and things, working and growing and learning in ever-changing circumstances and surroundings. It was wonderful and never dull, at least for me. These experiences stretched and strengthened and challenged me in valuable ways, and I wouldn't trade a-one for anything. But every lifestyle has its cons, and one of the cons here is the above-listed weakness.
I tried, a few years back, to start using a mother's organizer book, complete with calendar, address book, and many categories, pockets, etc. for keeping all my stuff in one easy-to-access place. It was a fantastic resource and smart idea (someone gave it as a gift), but lasted all of about 6 months to a year. Then I set it down and have rarely picked it (or a similar resource) up again. So so often I hear an idea and even try it but rarely does the passion that carried me there, stick around for all that long. Of some things, important things, this is not true. And I think there's my answer. Maybe it's not so bad to have trouble sticking with a lot of resolutions, ideas and impulses, because ultimately, those things aren't all important to my existence. Maybe this trait helps the unimportant drop away, frequently decluttering my mind and leaving it free to absorb something new.
My desk at work is so clean! I love having a place for everything at work - life without clutter is heavenly! One of the drawbacks to clutter is, there's insufficient space remaining for what really matters.
Still, when considering such vital things as training and disciplining my children, balancing my checkbook, or studying to increase in wisdom, my weakness of perpetual inconsistency won't pass as an excuse. These are things that cannot afford to drop away or be cast down by the wayside. Along every stretch of my life road, identifying and sticking with priorities is vital to a healthy and purposeful journey.
My mind begins to muddle more with each minute spent awake. So, I go.
Blessings,
V
The root cause, from what I can tell, is years of my development spent frequently moving from place to place, meeting new people, seeing exciting places and things, working and growing and learning in ever-changing circumstances and surroundings. It was wonderful and never dull, at least for me. These experiences stretched and strengthened and challenged me in valuable ways, and I wouldn't trade a-one for anything. But every lifestyle has its cons, and one of the cons here is the above-listed weakness.
I tried, a few years back, to start using a mother's organizer book, complete with calendar, address book, and many categories, pockets, etc. for keeping all my stuff in one easy-to-access place. It was a fantastic resource and smart idea (someone gave it as a gift), but lasted all of about 6 months to a year. Then I set it down and have rarely picked it (or a similar resource) up again. So so often I hear an idea and even try it but rarely does the passion that carried me there, stick around for all that long. Of some things, important things, this is not true. And I think there's my answer. Maybe it's not so bad to have trouble sticking with a lot of resolutions, ideas and impulses, because ultimately, those things aren't all important to my existence. Maybe this trait helps the unimportant drop away, frequently decluttering my mind and leaving it free to absorb something new.
My desk at work is so clean! I love having a place for everything at work - life without clutter is heavenly! One of the drawbacks to clutter is, there's insufficient space remaining for what really matters.
Still, when considering such vital things as training and disciplining my children, balancing my checkbook, or studying to increase in wisdom, my weakness of perpetual inconsistency won't pass as an excuse. These are things that cannot afford to drop away or be cast down by the wayside. Along every stretch of my life road, identifying and sticking with priorities is vital to a healthy and purposeful journey.
My mind begins to muddle more with each minute spent awake. So, I go.
Blessings,
V
Monday, February 14, 2011
Smiling
Today toddled past my office door two adorable little blond girls (apparently sisters), grinning and starry-eyed. Above glowing cherub faces swung perfect ponytails, adorned with bows. Brief, their journey past my door yet tremendous, its effect. Such light encompassed me, in that otherwise darkened moment. A personal saying of mine: "Never trust someone who can't return a child's smile". My cheeks stretched and eyes crinkled. And all my problems momentarily melted away.
Today found me feeling a bit...unlovable. Ever taken a glance down or inward at yourself and, wagging your head, sighed hopelessly? Such was my experience, numerous times throughout the day. SO overweight. SO haggard, worn, and frumpy-looking. SO fatally flawed, or so I feel. But internal verbal punches won't solve those problems. Minute by minute, the reminder to stay in the present and out of my head will do more good than any amount of negativity, whether it be self-criticism or tearing down someone else, ever could.
Once again my writing's disjointed and tiresome and hard to decode. A long night with Kaylee struggling for comfort meant no sleep, followed by a long day muddles my mind and puffs my eyelids. So, goodnight, my dear readers. Today's encouragement: Smile at a kid, and live in the moment.
Much Love,
Blessings,
V
Today found me feeling a bit...unlovable. Ever taken a glance down or inward at yourself and, wagging your head, sighed hopelessly? Such was my experience, numerous times throughout the day. SO overweight. SO haggard, worn, and frumpy-looking. SO fatally flawed, or so I feel. But internal verbal punches won't solve those problems. Minute by minute, the reminder to stay in the present and out of my head will do more good than any amount of negativity, whether it be self-criticism or tearing down someone else, ever could.
Once again my writing's disjointed and tiresome and hard to decode. A long night with Kaylee struggling for comfort meant no sleep, followed by a long day muddles my mind and puffs my eyelids. So, goodnight, my dear readers. Today's encouragement: Smile at a kid, and live in the moment.
Much Love,
Blessings,
V
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Silently
Today I made the (if you'd like to call it that) mistake of setting the adorable picture I snapped outside this summer, of Kaylee grinning, on the side table in my office at work. Such a flood of motherly longing and stabs of pain enveloped me. Guilt over not getting much time with her threatened to prevail but I managed to silently regain composure with the reminder that she's in the best of hands...her Father and mine watches over her, and her childcare provider cares for her so lovingly. And the same for each of my children.
Frequently I hear complaints about the cold and after awhile just want to shout, "What does all this negativity and griping change? Smile! No matter how hot or cold, you're breathing, walking, healthy enough to get out, have a job (if a co-worker) and a vehicle (probably-if a customer), and I'm fairly sure you're not about to starve to death. Life's fairly good, isn't it?!" But my reindeer nose and ruddy cheeks surrounding silent, smiling lips will tell a sweeter story than such a rant ever could. My plucky Irish blood and Italian fury keep me warm enough. :) Silently I gaze into the stinging wind and grin. It's not so much snow as they said. I'm loved and know divine love. Life's great. I am so blessed.
Sorry this is so disjointed, but I'll post it as is because I must get to work.
Blessings,
V
Frequently I hear complaints about the cold and after awhile just want to shout, "What does all this negativity and griping change? Smile! No matter how hot or cold, you're breathing, walking, healthy enough to get out, have a job (if a co-worker) and a vehicle (probably-if a customer), and I'm fairly sure you're not about to starve to death. Life's fairly good, isn't it?!" But my reindeer nose and ruddy cheeks surrounding silent, smiling lips will tell a sweeter story than such a rant ever could. My plucky Irish blood and Italian fury keep me warm enough. :) Silently I gaze into the stinging wind and grin. It's not so much snow as they said. I'm loved and know divine love. Life's great. I am so blessed.
Sorry this is so disjointed, but I'll post it as is because I must get to work.
Blessings,
V
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Interrupted
Knee-deep drifts of sparkling, powdery snow have nearly every local Facebook friend on my list snapping pictures, complaining about harrowing hours of digging out vehicles, shoveling walks and freezing off their heinies, and marveling at this rarity in winters of late: the blizzard. Those octillions of unique snowflakes make gorgeous panoramic photos, but they're also the reason I've lost two days of pay and at the job I love, no less. Lest you think this is yet another whine or rant about the weather, read on. They're also the reason I helped my kids with a puzzle marathon, sat in on two family movie nights in a row (Last night: "Ice Princess," tonight: "Treasures in the Snow"), concocted highly-rated baked potato soup and eggs, tomatoes and rice, amongst other dishes, for my family, and had a heart-to-heart talk with my son on days I'd normally only get a rushed 2 1/2 - 3 hours with them. How unbelievably blessed I feel! I even had a chance to battle this cold I've been fighting with the parries and thrusts of vitamins and naps, neither of which I have time for (or am allowed to do, on the latter!) at work. I've given Mom a little break on household chores and worn my much-neglected 'round the house clothes.
So, what a gift from God, this massive interruption! Whether I'll be saying that tomorrow when I'm likely back at work and freezing in my lovely chilly office, remains to be seen, but if I'm not, pay me no mind. People are maddeningly fickle. Hope if you're a resident in warmer places, you're reading this in thanksgiving, enjoying all the pictures from afar. And if you're surrounded by (soon to be) -10 degree, frightful weather outside along with me, you'll find the blessings in your own life and turn into bed with a smile.
"For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper [in the thing] whereto I sent it." Isaiah 55:10-11
Blessings,
V
So, what a gift from God, this massive interruption! Whether I'll be saying that tomorrow when I'm likely back at work and freezing in my lovely chilly office, remains to be seen, but if I'm not, pay me no mind. People are maddeningly fickle. Hope if you're a resident in warmer places, you're reading this in thanksgiving, enjoying all the pictures from afar. And if you're surrounded by (soon to be) -10 degree, frightful weather outside along with me, you'll find the blessings in your own life and turn into bed with a smile.
"For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper [in the thing] whereto I sent it." Isaiah 55:10-11
Blessings,
V
Friday, January 28, 2011
Awake
Take a look at the beings surrounding you, if you will, and today, see how the love of Christ in you can make their lives better. Surely some word spoken from your lips or some smile in response to a frown, or some touch on the hand or arm or shoulder of a friend could enrich them. I speak to myself, really. It's not something that comes naturally from our flesh - our minds constantly wish to absorb and occupy themselves with our own problems, concerns, fears, etc.
But look outside and smile and let the Son shine out. My challenge to myself today. Join me if you like.
Blessings,
V
But look outside and smile and let the Son shine out. My challenge to myself today. Join me if you like.
Blessings,
V
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Observation
One of my favorite aspects of my new job is the endless opportunity to observe human behavior. Yesterday, I chatted for awhile, rather animatedly, with a customer - an aging farmer - about fish, ponds, breaking through ice, grandkids, weather, etc., while he waited for his wife to return. We'd been having a good ole, chuckle-filled time when his wife finally showed up, looking miffed and broody. Granted, anything could have just happened to create that mood, but my immediate assumption (always a mistake to make those, I know) was, she felt uncomfortable with a much younger woman chatting and laughing so comfortably with her husband. Of course, I can talk with anyone that way and there was no flirtatious element at all, but it took me several moments of chatting with her about her grandkids while I finished her transaction to lighten the mood again. Funny how territorial we all are, and quite often, threats only exist in our perception.
Being back in the public arena in this way and constantly taxing my brain has so enlivened and refreshed me. It's rejuvenating to touch the lives of others, to coax a smile from a glum countenance, to bear good news to someone expecting bad, to drop someone off in a better mood than I picked them up in, and just generally to be light and salt to the beings surging through my small space in the world.
Lunch ends again. Back to work - yay! :)
Blessings,
V
Being back in the public arena in this way and constantly taxing my brain has so enlivened and refreshed me. It's rejuvenating to touch the lives of others, to coax a smile from a glum countenance, to bear good news to someone expecting bad, to drop someone off in a better mood than I picked them up in, and just generally to be light and salt to the beings surging through my small space in the world.
Lunch ends again. Back to work - yay! :)
Blessings,
V
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Fork
At last, another entry. There's been so much to say and not all my reasons for not saying them here can be attributed to busyness, but a great many can. Around the end of 2010, I still stood at this fork in my journey's road, and took a fresh new look around. So much weight in every step taken here, that I have had to carefully analyze each one. But I finally, despite how torn at times I've been about taking them, have edged slowly forward, turning on my road, moving ahead. Funny how big changes happen all at once, and at the turning of the year, no less. All sorts of opportunities and pieces have fallen into place, prayers answered, directions made clear.
A few major landmarks in this portion of my journey: A new job I so far love and am well-suited for, a childcare provider with excellent reputation and whose price, credentials, facility, etc. fit just what I hoped for, new programs at church that speak to my present needs, and a change of phone and soon, address (moving in with my little brother into my other brother's house by next weekend, I hope). Aglow with renewal and excitement, I face this stretch of life knowing I'm so very blessed, and firmly believing my heavenly Father has patted my head and kissed my cheek, nudging me gently on.
I'll make it a new goal to do this more often. Now, back to work (lunch break just finished) I go.
Blessings,
V
A few major landmarks in this portion of my journey: A new job I so far love and am well-suited for, a childcare provider with excellent reputation and whose price, credentials, facility, etc. fit just what I hoped for, new programs at church that speak to my present needs, and a change of phone and soon, address (moving in with my little brother into my other brother's house by next weekend, I hope). Aglow with renewal and excitement, I face this stretch of life knowing I'm so very blessed, and firmly believing my heavenly Father has patted my head and kissed my cheek, nudging me gently on.
I'll make it a new goal to do this more often. Now, back to work (lunch break just finished) I go.
Blessings,
V
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Taste
When I, the endlessly curious adventurer, nibbled on my first (and only) lobster tail at Chili's, years ago, I did that dead crustacean a great injustice. Because at that time, for some inexplicable reason, I suffered from a lifelong dislike for the taste of butter. And having dipped the soft sweet meat into a bowl of melted butter sauce, I gave the lobster no chance at winning over my taste buds.
But one day, having awoken from the same bed, with the same legs and arms and eyes and ears and even tongue that I had for many days and years before, I tasted butter and said to myself, "This is really awesome!" Perhaps the newly manufactured skin cells or blood cells or hair follicles in my body contained and infected me with a butter-biased message. I don't know. Whatever the culprit, I thank it gladly. My waistline does not, but ah well. Butter truly is awesome.
If trusting a skinny cook is eternally forbidden, maybe you should trust flabby old me, who offers you today a little list of other foods that in recent years have shed my negative view of them and wowed me, finding their way onto my table increasingly more often.
Brussel Sprouts: Laugh if you like, but shake these babies, cleaned and stemmed, up in a bag with a bit of olive oil and a few sprinkles of salt and pepper, then roast them on a cookie sheet at 400 degrees for 25-35 minutes (depending on size) and you may find you love them too. The "chips" that separate from the main heads and blacken during roasting really steal the show with these.
Artichokes: Just a year ago, I would have declared "I hate artichokes," quite firmly to anyone who asked. But fish one out of a jar of oil now and I'll chop it into my pasta salad or slide it onto a relish dish and serve it up gleefully to you. If you haven't lately, give one a shot.
Fresh Parsley: Grandma used to serve this on every relish dish and before long, I despised even the smell. But in recent years, I've started chopping it up and roasting it with wedged potatoes, stirring it into mashed or hashed taters, and adding it to my soups and red pasta sauces. Even my kids love it.
Mrs. Dash: When my husband discovered he had high blood pressure, nearly all of my specialties and favorite dishes required immediate transformation to a low sodium alternative. Having used Mrs. Dash (the traditional blend) as a salt substitute for my Uncle Clinton years before and strongly disliked it, I had misgivings about the product. But in the spirit of fairness, I tried out their table blend and now (when we can afford it) use it all the time! It's fantastic, in my opinion, as a versatile, sodium-free seasoning, good for cooking soups, burgers, casseroles, veggies, steaks, fries, and much more. But (again, when we can afford it) Italian dishes such as pasta sauces, easy chicken marinara (stuff a bit of provolone or mozzarella under the skin of some bone in breasts, sprinkle with it some of the following season, bake it at 400 degrees until no longer pink - about 35-40 minutes - place it on some cooked pasta with marinara sauce and taste easy, juicy triumph), and even pizza and breadstick doughs go much better with Mrs. Dash Basil, Garlic and Tomato (may have messed up the order there). Just don't be timid with these - generosity is key. A few hearty shakes and you've got flavor.
Frozen Bananas: Although this tropical fruit has never been a personal fave, I can't say I've despised it either. But using an inexpensive kit from the store, I got hooked on frozen chocolate bananas, which in my opinion elevate them to a much more delectable flavor profile. If you have chocolate chips or chocolate shell sauce and craft sticks at home, no need for a kit - just insert a craft stick into each banana half (starting with 3 or 4 halved bananas makes a decent batch), freeze for an hour, melt your chocolate by microwave in a bowl - 30 seconds on high, stir, 30 more, stir, repeat until smooth - then dip and roll the bananas in the sweet goodness until covered and return to freezer. Butterscotch or peanut butter kits or chips work fine too, and some stores carry strawberry flavor. They're all delicious.
I promised a little list so that's all for now. Perhaps you can sense my passion for food. Personal motto: If you're going to eat it, enjoy it.
If variety is the spice of life, don't be bland. Be bold! Unless you're face to face with a plate of blowfish.
Blessings,
V
But one day, having awoken from the same bed, with the same legs and arms and eyes and ears and even tongue that I had for many days and years before, I tasted butter and said to myself, "This is really awesome!" Perhaps the newly manufactured skin cells or blood cells or hair follicles in my body contained and infected me with a butter-biased message. I don't know. Whatever the culprit, I thank it gladly. My waistline does not, but ah well. Butter truly is awesome.
If trusting a skinny cook is eternally forbidden, maybe you should trust flabby old me, who offers you today a little list of other foods that in recent years have shed my negative view of them and wowed me, finding their way onto my table increasingly more often.
Brussel Sprouts: Laugh if you like, but shake these babies, cleaned and stemmed, up in a bag with a bit of olive oil and a few sprinkles of salt and pepper, then roast them on a cookie sheet at 400 degrees for 25-35 minutes (depending on size) and you may find you love them too. The "chips" that separate from the main heads and blacken during roasting really steal the show with these.
Artichokes: Just a year ago, I would have declared "I hate artichokes," quite firmly to anyone who asked. But fish one out of a jar of oil now and I'll chop it into my pasta salad or slide it onto a relish dish and serve it up gleefully to you. If you haven't lately, give one a shot.
Fresh Parsley: Grandma used to serve this on every relish dish and before long, I despised even the smell. But in recent years, I've started chopping it up and roasting it with wedged potatoes, stirring it into mashed or hashed taters, and adding it to my soups and red pasta sauces. Even my kids love it.
Mrs. Dash: When my husband discovered he had high blood pressure, nearly all of my specialties and favorite dishes required immediate transformation to a low sodium alternative. Having used Mrs. Dash (the traditional blend) as a salt substitute for my Uncle Clinton years before and strongly disliked it, I had misgivings about the product. But in the spirit of fairness, I tried out their table blend and now (when we can afford it) use it all the time! It's fantastic, in my opinion, as a versatile, sodium-free seasoning, good for cooking soups, burgers, casseroles, veggies, steaks, fries, and much more. But (again, when we can afford it) Italian dishes such as pasta sauces, easy chicken marinara (stuff a bit of provolone or mozzarella under the skin of some bone in breasts, sprinkle with it some of the following season, bake it at 400 degrees until no longer pink - about 35-40 minutes - place it on some cooked pasta with marinara sauce and taste easy, juicy triumph), and even pizza and breadstick doughs go much better with Mrs. Dash Basil, Garlic and Tomato (may have messed up the order there). Just don't be timid with these - generosity is key. A few hearty shakes and you've got flavor.
Frozen Bananas: Although this tropical fruit has never been a personal fave, I can't say I've despised it either. But using an inexpensive kit from the store, I got hooked on frozen chocolate bananas, which in my opinion elevate them to a much more delectable flavor profile. If you have chocolate chips or chocolate shell sauce and craft sticks at home, no need for a kit - just insert a craft stick into each banana half (starting with 3 or 4 halved bananas makes a decent batch), freeze for an hour, melt your chocolate by microwave in a bowl - 30 seconds on high, stir, 30 more, stir, repeat until smooth - then dip and roll the bananas in the sweet goodness until covered and return to freezer. Butterscotch or peanut butter kits or chips work fine too, and some stores carry strawberry flavor. They're all delicious.
I promised a little list so that's all for now. Perhaps you can sense my passion for food. Personal motto: If you're going to eat it, enjoy it.
If variety is the spice of life, don't be bland. Be bold! Unless you're face to face with a plate of blowfish.
Blessings,
V
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Walking
Down the street, just a few blocks' walking distance from the place I've lived in now for 5 months and visited my whole life, stands a vibrant, rich haven of natural beauty in someone's backyard. White trellis boasts abundant dark green ivy, with white benches beneath. Nearby, long, intertwining lines support more vines, gorgeous and flowing. Brilliant arrays of flowers bloom and everything about that yard beckons unbidden visitor walk its paths and breathe its glory. What intensive, sweaty labor on the part of its owner(s) such a garden boasts. What caring design and diligence.
I wonder what visitors felt when viewing my backyard, when I had one of my own. Certainly, not having in my adult life lived longer than 4 years in any one dwelling, I haven't had the stability for a long term establishment of plants and trees and landscaping, but that's no excuse for the fact that none of my backyards, save the farm's (very little of which I planted or am responsible for the design of) beckoned so. And my grandpa and dad such avid gardeners; my grandma and mom such gifted flower growers, all hardworking at their gardens and passionate about passing on that appreciation to their kids.
No surprise, I suppose, that a metaphor for the soul surfaced in my mind at this contemplation. A front yard, a statement to the world of welcome or repulsion, of care and high standards or neglect and low ones, admits all: Flyer-wielding politician, wagon-pulling girl scout, needy traveler, angry neighbor, beloved friend, returning loved one...for the human being, it's the clothes and hair, expression and body language. But the backyard, a whole other story. For the average person, a certain intimacy and familiarity or invitation is assumed in entering there.
Many a soul has returned my smile, opened their heart to me, accepted my warm hug or firm handshake, and been drawn to eagerly enter the door to my bizarre inner world, only to emerge later disappointed, having visited the backyard and found the once brilliant blooms of wisdom, righteousness and spiritual faithfulness faded, wilted, or choked out by weeds. It's easy to neglect the pursuit of excellence in those areas that matter most, to let the mundane grassy lawn overtake everything else, obscure the unique stepping stones that draw one into a lengthy walk, examining this intricate detail or that symmetrical shaped hedge. Translated from Valetta's late night, muddled mind, I'm referring to the glory of deep and meaningful conversation once abundant, overtaken by gossip, foolish spouts of nonsense, and mundane recollections not worth the breath to say them or energy to recall them. Guilty, so many times guilty. But another shameful tendency I've had has been to seat a visitor on comfy bench and leave them there, having taken them on the tour and then, after a cup of lemonade and promise of some new attraction to come, not returned. The phone call never made, letter or email unanswered, intention to send this picture or that file or make that CD or send that thank you card, never materialized into action. Perhaps the sensitive, perceptive or wise have already risen and fled through the gate, but if you, dear reader, are still on a bench somewhere in my "backyard," please send me an email or comment here and kick me in the rear a little for being such an unworthy friend. Let's renew acquaintance and give this unemployed mom one more chance, if you think I deserve it, to live up to all you hoped you'd find in our friendship, be it strong, supportive shoulder, listening ear, advice giver, helping hand, encouraging word, babysitter or...you name it.
It's late so hope all that made sense! Actually, I'd even settle for 75% lucidity. :)
Blessings,
V
I wonder what visitors felt when viewing my backyard, when I had one of my own. Certainly, not having in my adult life lived longer than 4 years in any one dwelling, I haven't had the stability for a long term establishment of plants and trees and landscaping, but that's no excuse for the fact that none of my backyards, save the farm's (very little of which I planted or am responsible for the design of) beckoned so. And my grandpa and dad such avid gardeners; my grandma and mom such gifted flower growers, all hardworking at their gardens and passionate about passing on that appreciation to their kids.
No surprise, I suppose, that a metaphor for the soul surfaced in my mind at this contemplation. A front yard, a statement to the world of welcome or repulsion, of care and high standards or neglect and low ones, admits all: Flyer-wielding politician, wagon-pulling girl scout, needy traveler, angry neighbor, beloved friend, returning loved one...for the human being, it's the clothes and hair, expression and body language. But the backyard, a whole other story. For the average person, a certain intimacy and familiarity or invitation is assumed in entering there.
Many a soul has returned my smile, opened their heart to me, accepted my warm hug or firm handshake, and been drawn to eagerly enter the door to my bizarre inner world, only to emerge later disappointed, having visited the backyard and found the once brilliant blooms of wisdom, righteousness and spiritual faithfulness faded, wilted, or choked out by weeds. It's easy to neglect the pursuit of excellence in those areas that matter most, to let the mundane grassy lawn overtake everything else, obscure the unique stepping stones that draw one into a lengthy walk, examining this intricate detail or that symmetrical shaped hedge. Translated from Valetta's late night, muddled mind, I'm referring to the glory of deep and meaningful conversation once abundant, overtaken by gossip, foolish spouts of nonsense, and mundane recollections not worth the breath to say them or energy to recall them. Guilty, so many times guilty. But another shameful tendency I've had has been to seat a visitor on comfy bench and leave them there, having taken them on the tour and then, after a cup of lemonade and promise of some new attraction to come, not returned. The phone call never made, letter or email unanswered, intention to send this picture or that file or make that CD or send that thank you card, never materialized into action. Perhaps the sensitive, perceptive or wise have already risen and fled through the gate, but if you, dear reader, are still on a bench somewhere in my "backyard," please send me an email or comment here and kick me in the rear a little for being such an unworthy friend. Let's renew acquaintance and give this unemployed mom one more chance, if you think I deserve it, to live up to all you hoped you'd find in our friendship, be it strong, supportive shoulder, listening ear, advice giver, helping hand, encouraging word, babysitter or...you name it.
It's late so hope all that made sense! Actually, I'd even settle for 75% lucidity. :)
Blessings,
V
Friday, September 10, 2010
Legacy
This is my first post in quite some while because every time I've gone to write one, either I've been interrupted or my itching fingers could not find the right keys to type. If you've been victimized before by one of my mindless rants or over-tired outbursts, you know I'm rarely speechless. But I've resolved not to let this blog become an outlet for either of those.
Recently, on my 14th anniversary, Grandpa's body fell permanently to sleep and he found the freedom he's sought since Grandma's passing. Upon first seeing his lifeless body in the casket, Dad commented, "That's the most peaceful I've seen him look in a long time. You're not going to suffer anymore, Daddy." When people tell me that they're sorry to hear of his passing, I think, They just don't understand. In his final days, septic and already oblivious to the world around him, Grandpa had, in our eyes, already gone. Yet still he suffered. He's home now, and at peace. Thank God for His mercy. That's how I see it. The day we laid his body to rest was one of rejoicing over his full, fruitful life and lasting, meaningful legacy.
This leaves me wondering: "What have I done to honor that legacy?" When examining my children, would they be confident in their success as parents, to have produced in the third generation down, these precious ones I've birthed and begun raising? Have I, in my daily goals, routines, habits, projects and ambitions, honored all they sacrificed to offer me? How short I fall. I can't stop there. The next logical step for me is to question deeper. What have I done to honor the legacy of eternal life, of wisdom, love, understanding and freedom that my heavenly Father has given me? Even shorter yet I fall.
Lately, that moment by moment presence of God, goading me on has so shined in my life as to cast in nearly unbearable, stark light how much darkness still remains in me. How much work must be done to cleanse away the filth left over from years of neglect. And me, without excuse for why this was not done years ago. What a rotten time to start getting round to it. So much going on, so many directions possible, so many responsibilities and distractions calling for my focus, tearing me away from the never-ending task of cleaning up the monstrous mess within. But every time I bite my tongue rather than gossip or lash out, every instant in which I speak softly, patiently and kindly whilst boiling inside, and each underlined verse of Scripture that reveals a vital, soul-altering truth to me, infuses me with hope.
Nearly into the wee beginnings of Saturday, in my green pajamas, I try a third time to write this and hope to send it out and inspire, at the least, myself to honor the life I've been gifted with. Blessings,
V
Recently, on my 14th anniversary, Grandpa's body fell permanently to sleep and he found the freedom he's sought since Grandma's passing. Upon first seeing his lifeless body in the casket, Dad commented, "That's the most peaceful I've seen him look in a long time. You're not going to suffer anymore, Daddy." When people tell me that they're sorry to hear of his passing, I think, They just don't understand. In his final days, septic and already oblivious to the world around him, Grandpa had, in our eyes, already gone. Yet still he suffered. He's home now, and at peace. Thank God for His mercy. That's how I see it. The day we laid his body to rest was one of rejoicing over his full, fruitful life and lasting, meaningful legacy.
This leaves me wondering: "What have I done to honor that legacy?" When examining my children, would they be confident in their success as parents, to have produced in the third generation down, these precious ones I've birthed and begun raising? Have I, in my daily goals, routines, habits, projects and ambitions, honored all they sacrificed to offer me? How short I fall. I can't stop there. The next logical step for me is to question deeper. What have I done to honor the legacy of eternal life, of wisdom, love, understanding and freedom that my heavenly Father has given me? Even shorter yet I fall.
Lately, that moment by moment presence of God, goading me on has so shined in my life as to cast in nearly unbearable, stark light how much darkness still remains in me. How much work must be done to cleanse away the filth left over from years of neglect. And me, without excuse for why this was not done years ago. What a rotten time to start getting round to it. So much going on, so many directions possible, so many responsibilities and distractions calling for my focus, tearing me away from the never-ending task of cleaning up the monstrous mess within. But every time I bite my tongue rather than gossip or lash out, every instant in which I speak softly, patiently and kindly whilst boiling inside, and each underlined verse of Scripture that reveals a vital, soul-altering truth to me, infuses me with hope.
Nearly into the wee beginnings of Saturday, in my green pajamas, I try a third time to write this and hope to send it out and inspire, at the least, myself to honor the life I've been gifted with. Blessings,
V
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Tunes
Reexamination of my life and its most charmed moments brings to forefront the enriching part music plays in it. Its absence sometimes leaves a dull, depressing silence, a gaping hole in my history. The soundtrack of my life, as is true of many, is quite rich, extensive and varied.
Realizing the power of music in my past to persuade, uplift, heal, empower, endanger, influence, etc., recently unlocked a measure of happiness for my present which for a few months I'd missed out on. I'd stopped using my CD players, tuning in on my satellite TV, or really listening to any music at all beyond a bit of radio in the truck. Then new friends reawakened that dormant, incredibly potent part of my world and measure upon measure of joy returned. In my opinion, no music utilizes this power better than sound spiritually themed, acoustic or orchestral pieces do. A peppy "get up and go" number moves my feet for about the length of the song, but a sweeping symphony, classic hymn or A Capella praise chorus resonates through my soul sometimes hours or even days later, impressing its glorious memory into the fabric of my spirit.
My kids ran about my home, cantankerously sparring and playing, filling that childish need for noise and busyness. When music returned to my life, harmony arose and those same children spent time hand in hand, dancing and crying out "Play it again, Mom!" Tickling and smiles increased. My house got cleaner as my feet moved to dishes and mopping, laundry and polishing much more readily to a favorite tune. The shower tiles sat through countless serenades.
Of late, my desire for enrichment and uplifting much increased, I've added new titles to my soundtrack and given my parents the gift of its return to our collective home as well. If you're a Facebook friend of mine, you can find some of these in my profile's music tab and perhaps even share enjoyment of a few together. Life's calling me away again. Hopefully my toes will tingle, skip and shuffle in answer. Many happy tunes to you.
Blessings,
V
Realizing the power of music in my past to persuade, uplift, heal, empower, endanger, influence, etc., recently unlocked a measure of happiness for my present which for a few months I'd missed out on. I'd stopped using my CD players, tuning in on my satellite TV, or really listening to any music at all beyond a bit of radio in the truck. Then new friends reawakened that dormant, incredibly potent part of my world and measure upon measure of joy returned. In my opinion, no music utilizes this power better than sound spiritually themed, acoustic or orchestral pieces do. A peppy "get up and go" number moves my feet for about the length of the song, but a sweeping symphony, classic hymn or A Capella praise chorus resonates through my soul sometimes hours or even days later, impressing its glorious memory into the fabric of my spirit.
My kids ran about my home, cantankerously sparring and playing, filling that childish need for noise and busyness. When music returned to my life, harmony arose and those same children spent time hand in hand, dancing and crying out "Play it again, Mom!" Tickling and smiles increased. My house got cleaner as my feet moved to dishes and mopping, laundry and polishing much more readily to a favorite tune. The shower tiles sat through countless serenades.
Of late, my desire for enrichment and uplifting much increased, I've added new titles to my soundtrack and given my parents the gift of its return to our collective home as well. If you're a Facebook friend of mine, you can find some of these in my profile's music tab and perhaps even share enjoyment of a few together. Life's calling me away again. Hopefully my toes will tingle, skip and shuffle in answer. Many happy tunes to you.
Blessings,
V
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Perception
At present my son has a very difficult life. Witnessing his 88 year old great grandfather drift painfully toward the end, he's juggled weekly back and forth between parents and homes, and with that comes instability in every aspect of his life. Uncertainty plagues him. Confusion, fears, doubts. He experiences dramatic mood swings that evidence a constant unrest in his soul.
And yet, my son has a wonderful, easy life. We sat together two days ago, watching videos, reading blog entries and looking at pics from a friend visiting orphans in mainland China. He and his wife have already adopted two and cannot hardly wait for a precious little boy to join them. While watching the videos, we saw children who have deformed faces, serious illnesses or birth defects that endanger them, and such and soon my son begged me to close the tab and make it all go away. He teared up at the sight of a friend near his age, lying post-op in a hospital bed. My son's never spent a day since his postpartum stay, in a hospital room, except to visit someone. The most serious diseases he's had were a mild case of measles and bronchitis. For this I am so very thankful. He sleeps, eats, plays, learns and generally exists in relative comfort and deep, unconditional love. His family teaches him to know God and love others. But nothing I can say to him about his blessings in life have the impact that brief glimpse into those other priceless lives did.
Would that such adjustments of perspective had a lasting impact! Seems two seconds later, I turn from a book on the Great Depression and Dust Bowl to another poor me complaint. There sits a single mom with a flimsy tent to her name and hungry mouths, barely surviving on pea farm picking wages and I have the nerve to silently whine about Dad putting too large a chicken breast on my plate or one of my kids acting up because they've had a little too much sugar. She would have, most likely, amputated something to enjoy my kinds of problems. Yes, I live in a high stress situation with an uncertain future but God has abundantly poured out His love in my life, every day of it, and that would be true even if I were homeless and hungry tomorrow. Thanks for reading and putting up with my petty worries and fears.
Blessings,
V
And yet, my son has a wonderful, easy life. We sat together two days ago, watching videos, reading blog entries and looking at pics from a friend visiting orphans in mainland China. He and his wife have already adopted two and cannot hardly wait for a precious little boy to join them. While watching the videos, we saw children who have deformed faces, serious illnesses or birth defects that endanger them, and such and soon my son begged me to close the tab and make it all go away. He teared up at the sight of a friend near his age, lying post-op in a hospital bed. My son's never spent a day since his postpartum stay, in a hospital room, except to visit someone. The most serious diseases he's had were a mild case of measles and bronchitis. For this I am so very thankful. He sleeps, eats, plays, learns and generally exists in relative comfort and deep, unconditional love. His family teaches him to know God and love others. But nothing I can say to him about his blessings in life have the impact that brief glimpse into those other priceless lives did.
Would that such adjustments of perspective had a lasting impact! Seems two seconds later, I turn from a book on the Great Depression and Dust Bowl to another poor me complaint. There sits a single mom with a flimsy tent to her name and hungry mouths, barely surviving on pea farm picking wages and I have the nerve to silently whine about Dad putting too large a chicken breast on my plate or one of my kids acting up because they've had a little too much sugar. She would have, most likely, amputated something to enjoy my kinds of problems. Yes, I live in a high stress situation with an uncertain future but God has abundantly poured out His love in my life, every day of it, and that would be true even if I were homeless and hungry tomorrow. Thanks for reading and putting up with my petty worries and fears.
Blessings,
V
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