Friday, July 30, 2010

M is for Moving

Moving can be fun and exciting, but seriously, I hate all the "stuff" involved in moving. Every time we've moved I've wished we could throw out half of our stuff and not look back. I hate moving stuff.

Today my Mother-In-Law moved. She packed much lighter for a permanent move than I would for a week long trip. One suitcase. Everything she "needs" is in one suitcase. About ten days worth of clothes, shoes, a couple of pictures, her Bible, glasses. That's it. She doesn't even want anymore. Not much stuff.

Of course she needed clothes, but the only other things that were important to her were a few choice pictures of her loved ones.

I know she has Alzheimer's, so that makes this different. Still, she is able to say and is resolute, that those items are all she needs. I think that is really profound.

(Somebody is gonna have to move her household full of stuff though. I just hope it isn't me. I hate moving stuff.)

Thursday, July 29, 2010

L is for Love

Love, it seems, is much more about choices and commitment than about feelings.

Do I love my baby more when I kiss her or when I hold her for an hour in the middle of the night because she is ill?

Do I love my children more by saying "I love you" or by abandoning my needs to tend to theirs?

Do I love my husband more by by sitting next to him snuggling or by standing by him, day after day, during the most stressful days of his life.

Love is less about my feelings and what I get out of it and more about desiring to uplift, uphold and fulfill the person I love. In doing so, I will reap rewards for sure, but the doing never stems from desiring that outcome. I love, never expecting to receive, still, love always finds it's way back.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

K is for Kangaroo

Kangaroo Lake, that is.

That is the destination for a much needed vacation. It couldn't have come at a better time. My hubby and I have been so busy we hardly see each other and the kids have noticed we're never together too. We will have one whole week of us all being in the same place at the same time. Lately, one hour of that is a treat, now we'll have over 170 hours of our nuclear family in the same place.

It's beginning to seem like the holy grail! I know we'll all get on each others nerves at some point, but this vacation truly seems like it will provide us all with tank refills. Each family member may have varying needs (emptied tanks), but I predict we will be filling them all with joy, laughter, rest, love, snuggles, fun, recognition, affirmation, attention, calmness....

Kangaroo Lake, her we come. You are our Pu'uhonau.

Monday, July 19, 2010

J is for Jazz

I got into jazz music when I fell in love with my husband. He was a serious saxophone player in high school and very involved in the jazz band ensemble.

My interested first echoed my hubby's preferences, mostly smooth, modern jazz. I really started to appreciate the likes of Spyro Gyra, Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, Kenny G, David Benoit, and the sultry music of Rick Braun. (There were many, many more too. I really got into it... aaahhhh what love will do to a person.)

I had such a love for this new found music, I decided to take a jazz appreciation class at the local college. It was so enlightening. I was exposed to the broad world of jazz and had a chance to discover what I really loved about it. It turned out that my real affinity was for the more simple, old-style impromptu jazz. Give me a trumpet, sax, piano, drums and upright bass played by skillful hands and uninhibited musicians and I am loving it!

Jazz, in that format, has a raw, honest quality that is relaxing, invigorating, pure and intriguing.

It's been way to many years since I've enjoyed that in a live setting. I don't see time for it in the near future, but it is an experience I will have again and I'm really looking forward to it.

Friday, July 16, 2010

I is for Introspection

I've been doing that a lot lately.

I see that I have numerous faults. It used to be, when I young, that I was oblivious to most of my character faults. Now, I see so many of them. It can be disconcerting at times.

I am trying to recapture some of my youthful confidence, but this time, without the obstinacy. I am striving for a healthy balance between humility and pride. I want to remember that I am just one human among billions, so maybe not that special, yet unique and unlike any other, therefore valuable in this world.

I will be on a journey of character reformation for as long as I life, and I am determined to not lose momentum.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

H is for...

My sister felt like she whimped out with "H" on her alphabet soup blog challenge (though I thought hers was a strong entry), and I am kinda feeling that way about mine too. Seeing as I don't yet have an "H."
Mmmm... Heaven, Hell, Hope, Hippie, Hair, Hiccup, Happy, Horrible, Hmmmmm.... yes, Hair...

You know what? My last post, right before I started the alphabet blogs started with an "H" and it is very worthy of being in my Alphabet Soup.

H is for Haircut

I've given many hair cuts in the last ten years. All but 3 have been given to my boys, though my oldest won't let me cut his hair anymore. Autonomy, I suppose. One was a trim of my mom's curly locks. Not much room for error there.

Another was a little over eight years ago when I cut my sister's hair, or what was left of it. After several intense rounds of chemo, all she had left was a few straggles for a meager ponytail which she let stick out the back of her baseball caps. Half-way during the hair cut, she needed to take a break to lay, curled up, on the kitchen floor to manage through her severe stomach pains (related to the damage to her internal organs from the constant drugs and treatment).

What was wonderful about this... I can't, still can't, believe even now that I can use the word wonderful for this. What was wonderful about this was that I knew it would be a precious memory that I would never, ever forget.

I eventually finished cutting her hair and she replaced her tan baseball cap with no more ponytail spilling out of the back. Her always gorgeous, long brown hair was gone forever. She died two months later.

I've remember that day many, many times; but never as vividly as today. Today I cut my mother-in-law's hair. She's too afraid to go out in public these days, so no more beauty shop visits. Her Alzheimer's has taken center stage. She is suspicious and confused. She won't leave her house, but wanted a hair cut.

While I cut her hair, she wasn't anxious or confused or afraid. She was relaxed, and played with her 17 month old grand-daughter. I pondered her future, soon to be in assisted living, gradually losing her grasp on the awareness of her own life. The matriarch of my family is dying; at least as we know her.

My mother-in-law's haircut was a much different circumstance than my sister's, yet my heart bound them tightly together. There is something very organic and real when you cut the hair of a suffering person, one whom you love deeply.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

G is for Ginormous

Uh... No it is not! That is not a word. Gigantic is a word. Giant is a word. Enormous is a word. Ginormous is some crazy morphing of the above sufficient and healthy words. Morphed words are like genetic altering of crops and plants. They aren't the real thing. They are not pure. They are manipulated by people in the hopes of making something better; but it is not better. Something just doesn't feel right about them.

I reject morphed words. Ginormous, chillaxin', and the like. I will not use them and I wonder about the people who do.

I'm not a language snob. I use slang, ya know? I do have an appreciation for language though, and something feel wrong about morphing words with the same meaning. What's the point?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

F is for Forgiveness

If I do two things well in this lifetime, I want them to be love and forgiveness.

I've been hesitant to blog completely openly about my faith, as to not offend anyone. But I cannot even broach this subject without my faith taking center stage.

Stasi Eldredge writes about this topic in her book, Captivating:

“Bitterness and unforgiveness set their hooks deep in our hearts; they are chains that hold us captive to the wounds and the messages of these wounds. Until you forgive, you remain their prisoner.”

It is very easy to let resentment fester, thoughts of how wrong the people who hurt us were. We know we should forgive. But, first we have to want to forgive. Then we have to actually let go of our hurt and resentment.

Is forgiveness simply a conscious decision? I wish. I’ve tried that many, many times, only to be utterly disappointed in myself for not having the will power to make the forgiveness of an offense a reality. That has been a frustration my whole life.

I have come to realize that forgiveness has much less to do with the intent, for what is obviously the right thing to do, then I ever knew. It has much less to do with the person who offended me, than me. And it is very much related to my spiritual and emotional health.

Forgiveness seems to have much to do with me being okay with me. In my successful experiences with forgiveness, I've found I need a healthy relationship with my creator. Forgiveness is me freeing everyone else from the responsibility of making sure that I am okay, because that need is being met somewhere else.

I am okay. When I am secure in who God created me to be; when I am secure with all my own blemishes and faults; when I am reconciled with my creator and longing to be fulfilled in Him and Him only, I am free to forgive. Forgiveness comes not only with conscious effort; but forgiveness comes with security in and dependence on God.

That might sound wacky, but for me it is a very real truth. That might sound simple, but it is a long road. One I am still on. I had journeyed through over 30 years of living and trying to find my way, and calling on God for direction. Then finally... a huge challenge. In the face of thinking I could never forgive the most devastating offensive in my life, I gave not the offense or the offenders to God’s control, but me. I gave me. I gave my heartache, my pain, my resentment… to God. I made room for His patience, grace, and mercy to fill me.

And, guess what followed… a miraculous ability to forgive. Aha… forgiveness was never to be by my own volition. Forgiveness became a reality through God’s strength, power and love.

I'm sure I have much more forgiving to do in my days on earth. But if I can forgive, no offender will ever have a grip on me, my heart can be light and peaceful and free to love endlessly.

Stasi Eldredge, in “Captivating” also wrote,

“We acknowledge that it hurt, that it mattered, and we choose to extend forgiveness to our fathers, our mothers, those who hurt us. This is not saying, “I didn’t really matter”; it is not saying, “I probably deserved part of it anyway.” Forgiveness says, “It was wrong. Very wrong. It mattered, hurt me deeply. And I release you. I give you to God.”

Monday, July 12, 2010

E is for Elephant

Elephant Lamp that is...

When my husband and I were newly married, we went shopping for lights and fell in love with a floor lamp that was carved like an elephant. We've always regretted not buying it. We knew it was weird, but we loved that lamp, strange as it was.

Maybe I would hate it now, if it was really in my house. But, maybe I would treasure it. I think if we would have purchased it, it would have immediately become a keepsake that we would never have discarded.

Ah... what could have been.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

D is for Diapers

I've changed a lot, a la ha hot, of diapers in my life.

I have FOUR kids. Let's see, quick math. I think I've changed at least 21,000 diapers in my life. (That's my conservative estimate, yet I've checked the math 3 times because it seems unreal.) No wonder diapers is the first thing that comes to mind with the letter "D."

I always wanted 3 or 4 kids, but I never realized just how many diapers I'd have to change. And, I'm not done yet. I've got at least another 1,500 to go.

My mom used cloth diapers for me and my sisters. Uh... I've washed some poop out of underwear on occasion, rare occasion. It's disgusting! (Mom, I have a new respect for you.)

I've used disposables all along. I feel guilty about it too. I care about the environment, yet I've added 21,000 diapers to landfills. Still, I will not wash poop out of cloth diapers every day. I can't! I think I'd lose it. I am not Caroline Ingalls.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

C is for Connie

I have the best mother in the world. The reason my boys and I have such a great relationship (see B is for Boys) is because of my mom. She modeled it with me and my sisters. Her name is Connie.

I've grown up to be a little bit like her. My husband would say I'm a near carbon copy, except that I am about 6 inches taller than her, have freckled instead of olive skin and... well, that's about it.

We are song-writers, worship leaders, gardeners, coffee and tea drinkers. We enjoy the same food. We love the same reality TV shows, and discuss our matching opinions on the phone regarding them. Our spiritual outlook is the same. And so on, and so on.

My mom taught me how to be a good Mom, a loving supportive wife and my own person. She instilled in me the beauty of having a real, dynamic relationship with God.

My mom is always there when I need her. She makes time. She makes me feel like the most important person in the world and she does this with her husband and my sisters too.

I thank God for her all the time. I can't imagine who I'd be without her. I love you Mom! Thank you for being you and loving me and for the invaluable truths you have instilled in me.

Friday, July 9, 2010

B is for Boys

B is for Boys. I have three magnificent boys. My own personal version of "My Three Sons" (a show I watched religiously with my sisters as a little girl).
My boys are 11, 9 and 7. I adore them and they know it. And the best part is they adore me too. They come to me for snuggles and hugs. They tell me jokes and show me their inventions and creations. They know I am proud of them and always love them. I make it a point, especially during the difficult times for them like punishments and such, to say, "I always love you."

I have a goal for them, one common goal. I want them to grow up feeling valued, secure, loved and important just as they are so they can make their wives and children feel the same way. We all deserve that.

For now they are boys, but I plan for them to grow up to be magnificent men.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

A is for Alzheimer's

My little sister is doing an alphabet blogging challenge, so I will join her. Here we go...

A is for Alzheimer's

If you've read my blog, you know that is an easy one. My life revolves around my immediate family, our business and my mother-in-law, who has Alzheimer's. What other A is there right now?

Let me just be honest and raw this time. Alzheimer's is a terrible disease. It takes away your loved one slowly, not physically, but in every other way. The person you knew disappears from the inside out. I wish I could be poetic and inspiring about it, but I can't.

Alzheimer's forces you to grieve your loved one long before they physically leave you. She was a strong, independent woman conquered adversity and took on the world alone as a young lady. Knowing she couldn't have children, after marrying the love of her life, she fearlessly adopted a toddler and a 6-month-old boy. She raised her sons right and loved them unconditionally. She thought of me as her own daughter, but usually can't remember how I am related to her anymore.

Alzheimer's stinks. Boooooo! Hopefully B will be a little brighter. I apologize.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Hair Cuts

First of all... Party Foul! I haven't blogged for a month. I am sorry!

So... hair cuts. I've given many hair cuts in the last ten years. All but 3 have been given to my boys, though my oldest won't let me cut his hair anymore. Autonomy, I suppose. One was a trim of my mom's curly locks. Not much room for error there.

Another was a little over eight years ago when I cut my sister's hair, or what was left of it. After several intense rounds of chemo, all she had left was a few straggles for a meager ponytail which she let stick out the back of her baseball caps. Half-way during the hair cut, she needed to take a break to lay, curled up, on the kitchen floor to manage through her severe stomach pains (related to the damage to her internal organs from the constant drugs and treatment).

What was wonderful about this... I can't, still can't, believe even now that I can use the word wonderful for this. What was wonderful about this was that I knew it would be a precious memory that I would never, ever forget.

I eventually finished cutting her hair and she replaced her tan baseball cap with no more ponytail spilling out of the back. Her always gorgeous, long brown hair was gone forever. She died two months later.

I've remember that day many, many times; but never as vividly as today. Today I cut my mother-in-law's hair. She's too afraid to go out in public these days, so no more beauty shop visits. Her Alzheimer's has taken center stage. She is suspicious and confused. She won't leave her house, but wanted a hair cut.

While I cut her hair, she wasn't anxious or confused or afraid. She was relaxed, and played with her 17 month old grand-daughter. I pondered her future, soon to be in assisted living, gradually losing her grasp on the awareness of her own life. The matriarch of my family is dying; at least as we know her.

My mother-in-law's haircut was a much different circumstance than my sister's, yet my heart bound them tightly together. There is something very organic and real when you cut the hair of a suffering person, one whom you love deeply.