Hooking It

I was bad. I played hookie today. I really, really meant to get my hiney out of bed and go to church this morning, but after waking up and having having breakfast at the crack of dawn, I let myself get back under the covers and sleep for another couple of hours. Not problem, since that's how I always do things on a Sunday morning before church. But this morning, I missed my alarm. Or rather, I caught it and told it to shut up. Which means that I missed my window of opportunity to get ready in time to head out to meet my parents and ride to church with them.
Which means I would have had to go to church somewhere else.
Granted, I'm not too shy to go to church somewhere new, alone, but this morning wasn't one of those mornings. This morning, I wanted MY church. 
Which meant I did't go to church at all.
Now, I know that church can be anywhere, anytime, with anyone...it's not about the building, but about the fellowship and the sense of connection you feel with God. But I still feel guilty for not going.
I still have those vestiges of tradition that tell me I'm supposed to go every week to an established house of worship, otherwise it doesn't count; but that's not really true––is it?
No. Christ would be the first to say that His church is anywhere we make it. It's about the heart of the worshipper, not about where they plant their rear-ends for an hour on Sunday morning.
With that in mind, I planted mine in my favorite seat at my favorite Panera and did the highly techno-geek thing of logging on to YouTube and watching a sermon online.
So yes, I missed church. Technically.
But I still took some time out to listen to what God was telling me. Ultimately, that I am His, no matter where I am.

It's Not Personal?

I sometimes feel––as a freelancer––that Mondays, Fridays, and holidays are a sort of non-days..days when I fall to the bottom of the list in the pecking order of other people's priority. While I am working (or trying to), others overlook me––my e-mail Inbox seems oddly-devoid of missives, my phone sits silent and lonely. It makes me feel a strange sense of loneliness and irrelevance. I am left wondering what is the cause of the silence...have they gotten my e-mail? Are they ignoring me? Do they have any intention of contacting me? When will they respond? How will they respond? Is this a true and accurate representation of my importance or lack there-of?

Really, if you sit down and take the time to think logically rather than emotionally, a silent phone or empty e-mail is no indication of anything beyond the fact that other people have busy lives, too. They're trying to get their business taken care of, much the same as you are. You are not necessarily the low man on the totem pole...it's just their totem pole is pretty stacked, and they just haven't worked their way through all those men––high, low, or in-between. 

Other people could be wondering the same thing about you right now. That phone call that came last week while you were on the other line...did you return it yet? Have you hit the Reply button on every e-mail that has come in over the past few days (or months, for that matter)? Even if the answer is No, that you still have to get back to whomever it was who is now possibly waiting with baited breath, it's not personal, is it? You've been taking care of other things. You've been living life and trying to get everything done that needs doing. 

I need to realize this more often in my own life...it's not personal. It's not all about me. There are only so many hours in the day, and so much time people can give. So if my own world seems a little too eerily quiet and lonely, I just look at the calendar and remember that tomorrow is another day. And the phone will ring again.

Finding the Frosting

Today was the day my mother came home from her trip to Virginia, the trip where she said goodbye to her mother. The trip where she watched the men in her family united to hoist a casket on their shoulders and carry a body that had once carried them. 

As I sat across from my mom, having lunch after picking her up at the airport, I found myself studying her face; memorizing the color-flecks in her blue eyes; taking mental snapshots of her smile; wishing I would never, ever have to think about saying my own good-byes to the woman I call Mama. 

I know that, in reality, we all have to say good-bye to the parents who raised us. We all face the eventuality of becoming orphaned, no matter how old or young we are. But if we're lucky, if we're blessed, we have memories to carry with us of the little things that made them special––the smell of the perfume that they wore, the sound of their laughter, the feel of the calluses on their hands. We find those memories sometimes in the most unexpected places––like the odd whiff of a flower that always adorned the kitchen table; or finding the last splatter of frosting, caked and dried while the very last batch of cakes were baked. They are sweet reminders of what once was, of the moments we were given as gifts, of the time we should treasure and savor. 

Saying Goodbye

A couple of months ago, I was asked to do something that I never thought I'd have to do...write my grandmother's obituary. I agreed, because my grandfather had asked, and he's never asked anything of me. I felt like it was the one thing that I could give to them, to show how much they meant to me. 

So I said yes. I didn't know where to start, and I really didn't know if I was ever really going to be able to do her justice. 

I was relieved when she started showing great signs of improvement before I could actually start writing, and I allowed myself to believe that I was somehow going to escape the task. Somehow, I allowed myself to believe that maybe she would be around forever. Maybe she would be herself again one day. 

Maybe.

Maybe didn't happen, and she started to go back downhill. So again I was asked to write her obituary, but this time I knew I would have to see it through to completion. So I wrote it, with every ounce of emotional energy I could focus, hoping that I would be able to capture her, to convey the love and the spirit of my grandmother. It was so hard to reduce her existence to such a small space of words, to confine what she meant to so many people in such a tiny boxed space. To boil her down to black and white print when she had always been such a vibrant woman.

She was truly a beautiful woman, even though she never felt it. She was my Grammie, and I hope that I  paid her proper tribute.

I'll always love you, Ricki Lindstrom. 

Fun in the Fall

It might night be fall just yet, but it's creeping closer and closer...Which means the leaves on the trees will be changing their colors and parading their autumn allure. But who says you have to wait to enjoy all the natural beauty around you? Whether it's August, October, or April, get out and explore all the glorious colors and shapes in the gardens, parks, and forests––and keep a catalogue of your treasured trees in the pages of Fall Walk! 

This hardcover children's book by Virginia Brimhall Snow (Gibbs Smith, $16.99, Ages 4 to 8, August 2013, ISBN: 978-1-4236-3261-0) is filled with beautifully illustrated pictures and a fun narrative of an exploration through the wonderful woods, showing identifying characteristics of 24 different types of leaves and giving easy, helpful instructions on pressing and rubbing leaves. 

Make it a family activity and see who can find the most different kinds of leaves...just remember to stay out of the itchy stuff! www.gibbs-smith.com

Fizzled, Drizzled, Fireworks

It's a gloomy 4th of July here where I live in the panhandle of Florida, the rain that saturated us earlier this morning having subsided for the time being. But still, it's an overcast day, the sky heavy with the possibility of more rain. This is Florida, though, and the weather here is as unpredictable as an unmedicated manic depressive...which means I could look out the window five minutes from now and be staring at sunny skies. Whatever the case may be, I'm sitting here in my booth at my favorite haunt, chugging coffee and wondering (in between working on writing assignments) what the very first Fourth of July looked like. Was is sunny? Was it threatening rain? It was a day of triumph, but did the weatherman's forecast reflect the optimistic future of a new country?

I always find it amazing how much the weather impacts my mood. I can't help but feel slightly melancholy on days like this, even though this is supposed to be one of those wickedly celebratory days on the calendar. Still, I have reason to celebrate. I live in a free country where I can pray and worship without worry, have an independent life and make decisions for myself even though I'm a woman, and savor the flavor of a good cup of coffee while I work to make a life for myself doing something I love. The weather outside may be gloomy, but I still have time to write a happy ending to this Independence Day. 

Maybe I'll even write a wish in the sky with sparklers.

The chicken or the egg...white?

If you're anything like me, you're always looking for fun, interesting things that are also healthy and yummy....so imagine my delight at getting to try these out: ips All Natural egg white snacks. Yup, you read that right––egg white snacks. They're ingenious, tasty, and convenient; and definitely something that everyone in the family can enjoy. Best of all, they're a packed with all kinds of healthy stuff. 

ips are the wickedly smart creation of a Los Angeles area dad, Sean Olson, who got the idea for egg white chips while he was making breakfast for his kids––major fans of those crispy edges on the egg whites.  So just what does ips stand for? Intelligent Protein Snacks, and here's the reason they're such an intelligent choice: 

Each serving contains 7 grams of protein (the equivalent of two egg whites per serving)
The snacks contain no trans fat and are gluten free
They're pressure puffed, never fried, and contain half the fat of leading fried potato chips
They're available in four flavors, including Sea Salt & Black Pepper, Aged White Cheddar, Barbeque, and Cinnamon Sugar

MMMMMMMmmmmmm!
For more infor, visit www.ipsAllNatural.com