Week One: Be Happy

I know I'm slightly late getting this one out, but I wanted to do it justice. The first step in the video, which was easy to miss, was "Be Happy". It was easy to miss because it was on the first frame - a piece of tape with the words written on it.

Things I thought about during the week:

1. Odd that "Be Happy" would be the first item on the list. While it is, indeed, probably the most important thing on the list, it seems like it would have been saved for last . . .

2. "Be Happy" implies that being happy is a state of being. I pondered this one through the week.

After spending the time during the week focusing on being happy, I experienced many things - disappointment, failure, disillusionment, and fatigue. Through all of these things, though, I could always be happy. I think sometimes this is because of the trials I have faced through the years, the ones that almost killed me, and the ones I had to "fake it til I made it" through. Being happy is something I have a lot of practice with. During times that made me much less than happy in my life, I was always good at acting happy. Isn't that close to being happy?

As a result of the week of reflecting, I've come to realize that in this stage of my life, being happy means I am happy. My life has its fair share of unhappy moments, but when I take stock in my life, I truly have found happiness. I love my family, I love my husband, I love my job, and I'm proud of the person I have become. I choose happiness.

Next week: "Show Up."

Refocusing on what is real

Someone on my Facebook friends list posted a video that I really liked. As I watched it, I realized two things:

1. I have already done all of those things many times.
2. I need to focus on doing them more.

As a result, I've decided to do a series of blog posts, where I take one of the directives in the video and focus on it for a week, then write about my experiences in doing so.

Join me if you'd like - write your own blog, or simply comment to my posts each week. Stay tuned, and tune in to the video by clicking HERE.

Clicking my heels . . .

House where I grew up
Originally uploaded by laner65

I've had to travel to Kansas unexpectedly to attend the funeral of a family member. This is the first time I've been back home since my mom moved away. I no longer have family in this town, so spending a few days here is a little strange for me. I decided today to take a little drive around my old stomping grounds.

Driving around, I saw the church my girl scout meetings were in, my elementary school (hasn't changed), my high school (changed a bunch), the house I grew up in (pictured here), the house I lived in when I moved out, and the house I lived in as a newly married person. Driving through the streets, I felt like a stranger, even though the streets themselves looked familiar and many of the sights I saw are just as I remember them - I don't belong here.

My home now is Texas. I can drive through these streets and find it recognizable, but it is almost as if I'm taking a virtual tour through a camera - I feel no connection, no need to reminisce, no feelings of wistfulness for a day gone by.

The Kansas has been taken out of the girl.

If only it were that easy . . .

I've been Facebooking a lot lately and one of the people on my friend list, Brad Stephens, had a very thought-provoking question on his status the other day:

Q: You are sitting in a room on the table in front of you is a red button. You have 60 seconds, push the button and a cure to cancer will be found BUT you will die. Don't push and life continues as is. Do you push the button or not and why?

I answered it quickly. Yes, I would push the button.

As I went about my day after answering that question, it troubled me. Troubled me to the point that I was actually in tears some of the time, thinking about the question and my answer. I wondered why it bothered me so much and what kept coming to my mind was "If only it were that easy."

On this day, the lives of more than 30 families were forever changed when they found out one of their children - or their only child, or their grandchild, neice, nephew - has cancer. Great strides have been made in cancer research. Even so, at least 5 of those children will die from the illness or the treatment for it. Those children who do survive may battle new issues for the rest of their lives - lost limbs, decreased immunities, complications from the chemo drugs, insurance battles. Even if there are no lasting effects, they will forever be changed by having had to fight for their lives at such a young age.

If only it were as easy as pushing a button.

I'd push the button for the children who didn't make it.

I'd push the button for the ones who are missing an arm or a leg or both.

I'd push the button for the children who can no longer see because both of their eyes had to be removed to save their lives.

I'd push the button for the children who can no longer speak because their vocal chords had to be removed.

I'd push the button for the children who develop leukemia because of the chemotherapy drugs they are given to fight rhabdomyosarcoma.

I'd push the button for the little 2-year-old girl who died from a respiratory virus two months after she finished her last chemotherapy treatment for a brain tumor that was successfully removed. The same respiratory virus that my then 14-month-old baby was in the same hospital for after his first chemotherapy treatment.

I'd push the button because my son shouldn't have one leg shorter than the other. He shouldn't have tattoos (used to mark his skin for radiation treatments). He shouldn't need a prosthesis so that he can sit on two buttocks like everyone else. I'd push it because I shouldn't have a memory like the one I described in an earlier blog post (click here).

To me, it doesn't matter how small the inconvenience is for a child who has survived cancer - he or she shouldn't have to deal with it.

I'd push the button way before the 60 seconds was up.

Two Christmas Stories

Well, so much for keeping up this blog, huh? It seems as though I only write on it when inspired. Hopefully, if you are reading this, you've found what I have written to be worth your time. If not, I'm sorry, but it's all I can do :)

I was inspired to write today because of the holiday season. This holiday season has been different for me so far, because David (my husband) is out of town. He's been out of town since October and will be until close to the end of January. Going through the holiday season without a husband is not something new to me. However, going through a holiday season without a husband, when I actually have one, is. As I go through my day, feeling bad for him that he has to be totally alone through the holidays - I have the kids, so at least I'm not truly alone - I'm having a lot of difficulty.

Navigating through life with a partner is an amazing thing. Ordinary tasks, ordinary sights, ordinary experiences are experienced at so much depth when one has a partner with whom to share life. As I navigate my way through this Christmas season, I feel as though I'm a person with a shell for a body. A delicate shell that takes only one word, one hug, one knowing look to break.

Today, I tried to do some Christmas shopping. With David away, I have to make decisions about and purchases for the kids' Christmas presents. I used to get excited when David and I would walk up and down the aisles trying to find ideas. Now, I tend to focus on the fact that I'm doing this alone. Driving home is especially difficult for me because I find my thoughts straying to "as soon as I get home, I'll tell David" this, or "I wonder if David has done the dishes while I'm gone". As I turn on to our street, it hits me that he isn't home. That I can't tell him the interesting anecdote about the pickup truck I saw on the highway that was on fire, that we won't be sitting in front of the TV with a glass of wine and discussing our day with each other.

Tonight was a little different. I had spent part of my afternoon doing said Christmas shopping, which ended up cheering me up a little bit. Then I went to a committee meeting for my son's Cub Scout pack. Next, I went to a Christmas party for the Stephen Ministry at my church. When I came home, my kids were all excited. They told me there was a package on the porch when they came home from youth and they wanted me to find out what was in it and who it was from.

Let me segue here to another Christmas story . . .

This story is from the first year I was a single mom at Christmas. My ex-husband and I had an old fake Christmas tree we'd gotten from a friend that we put up every Christmas. A few years before the divorce, the basement the tree was stored in had flooded, leaving everything there covered in a thin layer of grime. He had insisted that the fake-snow-covered fake tree was still perfectly acceptable so for the first few years of our kids' lives, they knew Christmas trees to be smelly things that had brown "snow" on them. I wanted my kids to have a better tree. Spending the money on a real tree was out of the question. I was a full-time college student with no income and had to go on food stamps to keep my family fed. Buying a new fake tree was even more out-of-reach.

I was at the grocery store one day, several weeks before Christmas, but after Thanksgiving, and walking through the produce section. Tony, who was only 3 or 4 years old at the time, just had to go to the restroom, so I sent him through the double doors by the produce section to the restrooms. I waited outside the double doors for him to reappear. I waited and waited. I finally decided that I needed to go in and find out what was taking him so long. I pushed through the double doors and started walking through the "day old" and "clearance" section - that hidden secret that only the most savvy savers knew about. What greeted me there was unbelievable to me. In a shopping cart, in the middle of the clearance section, was a fake Christmas tree. Brand new. Marked $5. Complete with stand. I stood there, looking at that tree for awhile. Speechless. My eyes wide with disbelief. I inspected the tree. It was a nice tree - most likely one that had been purchased by the floral department for display purposes. Nothing wrong with it. Tony came out of the restroom and asked me what I was looking at. I told him "our new Christmas tree."

That night, as we put our tree up and decorated it together while listening to silly Christmas songs, I said a little prayer of thanks to God for the opportunities He puts before us, and I thanked him for the fact that Tony just had to go to the bathroom and that it took him so long. My little family got to spend the first Christmas of our new lives together around a brand-new Christmas tree, complete with stand.

Now, back to today . . .

I picked up the big gift bag while the kids were telling me they'd tried to find a card but were unsuccessful. I opened the bag and the sack that was inside the bag and was amazed at the gift that was within. Someone knew exactly what my kids needed this Christmas. I stood there, looking at the box -- speechless, my eyes wide with disbelief. I looked at Trevor, who was closest, and he stared back at me -- speechless, eyes wide with disbelief. As I glanced around the room, all my kids were both smiling and crying at the same time. It was just the right gift at just the right moment in the middle of a holiday season that none of us have been looking forward to, and that none of us have been enjoying. A reminder of the love that abounds in the world, and the wonderful gift that we've all been given - to love one another. A reminder of the mission we are all called to do - to give of ourselves selflessly. A reminder of the task we are all burdened with - to pay it forward.

To the mysterious gifter(s) - thank you. Not just for the gift, but for the message you've reminded all of us about. To love one another, to give with a cheerful heart, and to accept ministry from those who minister to us.

Christmas can be a season that instills dread or it can be a season that brings us joy. I wanted to share my two little Christmas stories so that we can all remember it's the joy that matters.

I'll close with a third little Christmas story. This time, it is Tony's first Christmas and we've just decorated the tree. I sat on the floor, cross-legged, with Tony on my lap as his dad turned off the lights in the room and turned on the lights of the tree. As soon as the lights in the room went out, there was a loud intake of air from the little guy in my lap and an exhaled, "Wow!"

My message? Encounter this season with and for the "wows"! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!!!

Old Blog, New Effort

So it's the new year and everyone is reflecting and making plans and promises for making 2009 the best ever. I also have been reflecting and I keep alternating between making promises to myself and giving up on myself.

I started this blog a couple years ago because I was proud that I had lost around 30 pounds and wanted to start talking about my "weight loss journey." I did end up losing a total of 60 pounds. Trouble is, over the past year and a half, I've put 40 of them back on.

Other trouble is that hubby and I have gotten ourselves into a manageable but ridiculous credit card debt.

So ....

I started to talk myself out of trying to lose those 40 pounds, saying, "self, you can be happy with your weight. You are too old to be trying to lose weight, just buy new clothes and move on."

Well, today I actually listened to what I was saying and realized how much it DIDN'T sound like something I would say.

So ....

My plan is twofold. First, David and I have made a commitment to ourselves and to our children to focus all our financial efforts on paying off the debt. I feel very optimistic about it. We have been in our plan for over two weeks and so far have done a great job of eliminating the excess spending out of our budget. We're actually kind of enjoying this sort of nostalgic walk down memory lane as we recall all the money-saving recipes and policies of our parents when we were kids. I believe that, although our debt is quite large and will probably take 5 years or so to eliminate, it will get done. Hey, maybe I'll finally finish that book, it'll get published, and all our worries will be over ....

Second, I'm going to stop kidding myself. The happiest I ever was with myself was when I had lost those 60 pounds. I haven't quite gotten to where I've gained all of them back - I need to lose 40-45 pounds to fit back into my size 8 clothes. I will start attacking the weight like I am the budget. Eliminate excess input -- no cheese, no bread, sensible portions, and the exercise which I truly do enjoy.

Stay tuned, I may even start updating this blog more often!

Thankful For Time ...

Before I get started on an emotional post, I'll put in a plug for my new favorite wine. It is called simply, Red. It is a perfect blend of Cab Sav, Merlot, and something else, I can't remember, but it is lovely. Smooth, dry, and spicy. Look for it - it has a black label and a splash of red, as though someone has slung paint at the label. There are several variations of splashes, collect them all! *smile*

Ok, here goes:

I lost my dad three years ago. I was driving home to Texas from having spent Christmas with him, my mom, my sister, and my nephew the day after Christmas when I got the phone call. Dad wasn't gone yet, but he would never come out of the coma he'd fallen into just hours after I'd left and he would die before the New Year could ring in.

Holidays are not as tough for me as one might think, but this year has been a little tougher than the last two were. Memories of my father stream in and out of my conciousness every day over the last two weeks. I feel like he is here with me and it worries me. It is almost as if he's come back to wait for someone. Will I lose my mother? Will there be complications in my own recovery from a recent surgery? Is Dad just visiting?

Whatever the reason, I have to say that, although I have indeed spent some time bawling like a baby the last few days because of it, my memories of my father mostly make me thankful. Thankful for all the years I had him. He was 73 when he died and had experienced a lifetime of medical ailments that included several brain surgeries beginning when he was only fifteen years old. I was always amazed at how intelligent my father was, even more so because I knew that 1/3 of his brain was gone. Permanently destroyed as a result of the many invasions over the years.

This month I am teaching a Sunday School class that my father would have felt at home in. This week I opened my lesson talking about my dad. Here's what I said:

I lost my dad three years ago over the holidays. About two years before he died, I was sitting at his table eating breakfast (my dad was the best breakfast cook - he couldn't cook much else, but his breakfast was IT!), and he said "Elaine, I think of all of my children, you know me best. I want you to write something to be read at my funeral." Of course, I was taken aback, but the day he went into the hospital, after I had turned my car around and driven through smoke-filled skies (Oklahoma was on fire that night, literally), and blurry eyes from the tears, I began to formulate what would become the words to be read at my wonderful father's funeral. I'm going to share the first paragraph with you. "Someone once compared my dad to a “broken vessel in the marketplace.” Dad always liked that comparison, seeing himself as a quiet, humble person, largely unnoticed by the masses. I never believed the comparison fit him. While Dad surely was as humble and unassuming as a broken vessel, he did not spend his life unnoticed, nor did he go through his life without touching the lives of those around him." Perspectives - that's what this class is about today.

I could go on and on about all the things my dad taught me over the years, but I won't bore you. What I will say is this - this season, I am most thankful for time. The time I had with my dad. The time I've had with my mom, my sisters, my brother. The precious time I've had with my children. The time I've had to truly live.