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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?