{merry Advent}

New year resolutions are generally made at the end of December/beginning of January.  I'm not sure why, but this year a bunch of {resolution} type thoughts hit me right after Thanksgiving.

It strikes me as odd I have come to think of the precursor to Easter season as important.  We have a name for it, Lent, and many of us give up something or make allowances during it.  Yet, what we've named the {holiday season} rolls around, and I don't change my lifestyle for the better.  On the contrary, I often stress out when faced with gifts to purchase, goodies to bake, and the general rush-about the holidays bring.

Lest you think I'm being a bah humbug........I'm really not.  I'm simply coming to realize this season, the supposedly happiest time of the year, has a name:

{Advent}

There's a formula to follow if one desires.  There are significant scripture verses to study.  There are definitely ideas to ponder.  And I'm hoping this year to make it important like I did Lent in February, March and April.  

I came across this prayer the other day:

Lord, just as your love knows no bounds and finds endless ways to reveal itself, so help us to express a gratitude too deep for words. Help us to learn to reveal our thanksgiving in the countless ways there are to love others, to provide for those in need, to serve where service is rare. Amen.

As I navigate between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I want to make this my daily prayer.   I want to meditate on these words.  I especially want to:

serve where service is rare.

Where is service rare?  Probably not too far away from where I'm at.  I'll let you know when I find it.

thanks and/or muchas gracias

I've noticed people on Facebook mentioning one thing each day they're thankful for.  It's a nice gesture and reminder.  It's the time of year when we focus on thankfulness.  I happen to prefer the Thanksgiving holiday over many of the others.  It's simple.  It revolves around a meal.  The color scheme is earthy.  What's not to like?

This year I'm trying to be less general with my thankfulness, and really focus.  In other words, I'm trying to not just list out names and things.
For example:  husband, kids, house, cars, food, job
Yes, I'm thankful for those things.  But why?
Sure, it's nice to have a husband.  But what about him am I particularly thankful for right now?
My kids, sure they're great.  But what hits me right now, today, about them that makes me grateful they're in my life?
Get the idea?

My husband
Chip has taken an extremely focused approach to helping our son pick out a college.  Chip has emailed university professors, attended open houses, and arranged his schedule in order to assist Jamie as much as possible.  Because Jamie's college major will be very specific, not every school offers what he needs.  Chip has investigated options and walked along with Jamie the whole way.  I'm glad they've had the experience together.  I'm glad Chip has kept up with it all.  It would probably be overwhelming for Jamie to do alone.  Tomorrow they head to the University of Louisville to meet with a classical guitar professor, as well as a jazz professor also.  No matter how it ends up, I'm so happy they will share the time.

My son
I'm thankful my son is who he is.  In other words, he's comfortable with himself and confident in his abilities.  There are people much older who are not.  They pretend to be something or someone they are not.  He is who he is.  He's not a faker.  He's his own person.  He has some interesting habits and points of view and ways of doing things. I'm thankful for his uniqueness.

My daughter
My daughter has the strongest will of anyone I've ever been close to.  And I wouldn't trade that quality in her.  She can take charge and she can get things done.  She is stubborn and unrelenting.  And I believe these qualities will take her far.  She might hack a few people off along the way, but she wants the world to be fair and don't we need more people like that?

Today
I'm thankful for today because this is the last Thanksgiving before the homecomings begin.  Next year Jamie will return home for holidays.  The following year Allie hopes to be in England, where I doubt Thanksgiving is celebrated.  I'm thankful for a few days away with my husband and kids.  I'm thankful I'll get to see my grandmother, because she is 87 and has dementia and you never know when the end will come.  I'm thankful for the opportunity to visit with my mother and father, sister and family.  I'm thankful for time to read in the car, laugh at our beagle, and eat my mom's German chocolate pie.

Faithfulness
I'm thankful that God is faithful.  It's one of my favorite characteristics of God.  Whether I have health insurance, whether I live on the south side of town or the north, whether I'm afraid or sad or happy, God is the same.  He's faithful and that's a pretty cool concept in a world where most things are day.to.day. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Doing the Right Thing

Last evening my husband Chip and I watched a movie, Nothing But the Truth.  It's the story of a female reporter who writes an article for the Washington DC newspaper she works for. When ordered by a judge to give up her source, she refused.  I won't give away all the details, but basically it came down to this:

She decided doing what she felt was right was the most important thing.

She ended up jeopardizing her relationship with her husband and son.  She stressed and inconvenienced others who fully supported her.  And in the end, she still adamantly held onto her belief that she should under no circumstances give up her source.  It was a really good movie.  I recommend it.

It left me wondering about Rachel's [the main character] reasoning and decisions.  How far should I take the right thing?  At what cost does one draw the line?  While I'll most likely never come across information pertinent to national security like she did, I have been involved in situations where I or we [as in our family] have given up instead of pushing for what some might construe as right.

Ministry can come down to that.  What personal cost are you willing to pay in order to minister to others?  While something sounds biblical and appropriate to those wanting to uphold the gospel, I've found that often little long term change is made in other's lives, while meanwhile, one's family is left in a quagmire and/or mess.  I shutter to think at the number of people I've witnessed do this, in the name of ministry, and am grateful that although sometimes contrary to my ideals, my husband pushed to free our family from this lifestyle.

This national election period has brought to light how staunchly some support the idea of black and white, all in or all out way of seeing the world.  In many people's eyes, there seems to be a right way and a wrong, allowing no compromise or in-between.  Recently, our family's dinner conversation went to talk regarding pro life issues and various politicians' views on whether rape was a valid reason to acquire an abortion.  Mind you, I worked in pro life ministry for many years.  And I'd come to the conclusion that taking a life is wrong.

Yet, one's ideals can take on a different pattern when sitting across the table from your 14 year old daughter.  She didn't ask in so many words, but I know her thoughts were of this nature:

So, if I was raped and became impregnated, would you expect me to carry the baby?

Oh gosh!  That's horrible to even consider, and God help us if we ever have to.  But I had to explain that, though I've believed for years it's wrong to take a life, I could not possibly make her suffer in this way.  Not against her will or against what we might surmise would be best for her life as a whole.  I told her way more details than she probably cared to hear, about how the police handle such incidents and hospital visits and basically the nitty gritty of this type of situation.

I'm not a [Hey! Let's all take sin lightly] kind of person.  And I believe that Jesus is the way, truth and life.  But I've grown tired of people declaring the correct outcome of difficult circumstances, simply because it's their opinion, or they're in a place of leadership and believe they've been given the wisdom [by whom, I'm not sure] necessary to make sure declarations.  It seems these folks are often males speaking about female bodily processes or people who have financial resources beyond the average and have no clue or care of what it's like to live in financial struggle.

Someone reading this might come to the conclusion I've become a relativist.  My response would be that I don't think I have.  Or actually, it might be that really we all are to some extent.  Maybe?  Answers to impossibly difficult questions don't come as quickly when I'm considering the people I love with everything I've got.

Dear James on Senior Night

Dear James,

It's Senior Night for the marching band students.  I can hardly believe you're at this point.  When did you get to be so old?

It seems just yesterday you were the self assured eighth grader with a bunch of long haired friends.

Then you joined the marching band and I learned not to serve you oatmeal on contest days.  Especially the contests held at Papa John's Stadium.  Those can be stressful times.

After many.many.many hours of practicing on that crazy drum pad, you became a marching snare drummer.  I like to think of you as the quarterback of the band.  

  You drummers have your own lingo.  Thankfully, you have cell phones in which to communicate that special language.

 

I've watched you grow into a leader.  You've grown in many ways and you've been stretched beyond what's comfortable.  You've learned to lose with grace and you've learned how to relate to lots of different people.

And thankfully you know just enough Spanish to fall back on, just in case you get thrown in a Mexican jail by the federales while on a guitar tour of Latin America.

You've rehearsed and performed and rehearsed and performed and I am so proud of you and your accomplishments.   I hope you realize what a gifted musician you truly are.

 Your senior year has been especially great, seeing you perform not only on snare, but also on guitar.  Your solo was wonderful and again, I was so proud every time I saw the show.

Thanks for pouring into your sister, inspiring her to continue the fine Monck percussion tradition.  You are a patient teacher.

I know you'll be missed amongst the BSHS Marching Defenders.  Next year won't be the same.  [especially if there's no drum line]

I'm glad your future is in the guitar.  It's a much better solo instrument than the snare.  Nonetheless, as you walk on, into your musical future, I thank you for four [mostly] great years of marching band.  It's been an experience and you've hung in there.  I love you, James.  I couldn't ask for a better son.  Happy Senior Night!

♥

Mom

no.complain.november

My daughter had an incident this week.  Actually it was more of an accident.  She fell, while in her school's auditorium and cut a gouge out of the bottom of her chin.  The wound required five stitches.  It also meant she missed a biology test and I missed an afternoon of work during a very busy week.  But, daughters come before work and school and all of the less important stuff, so I picked her up, took her to urgent care, and got her taken care of.  Afterwards, she returned to school for a 3 hour band rehearsal session.  I was proud of how she handled the entire incident, and she even told me thanks repeatedly for taking time out of my day to assist her.

Meanwhile, back at her school, it seems her band director decided to make some sort of odd remark about the incident, reminding the band students to be careful, because a female had been reckless and got hurt.  He was referring to my young female, who, according to her story, was not being reckless when the accident happened.  She simply tripped, fell, and gouged her chin on the floor.  She is not a reckless female.

I've pondered the comment sent Tuesday evening, wondering if I should address the director or ask my husband to.  I have done neither and most likely will ignore it.

Mainly because I keep thinking about Malala, a Pakistani girl who was shot by the Taliban because she insists on receiving an education.  Simply put, she goes to school so they shot her.  She's 15 and I imagine her parents are proud yet worried sick.  My daughter returned to school when done at urgent care, and faced no violence or persecution or scorn.  Just a smart mouthed instructor who didn't witness what happened.  We can ignore him or address him or report him to school administration.  Malala cannot ignore the Taliban.

My kids have recently expressed I complain a lot.  My husband has too.  My parents, in the past have voiced I haven't always been grateful.  When I think about my conversations with others, whether family, workmates or even strangers at the post office, I realize I do complain often.  I'm a grade A griper.  And I need to stop.

I follow A Couple Cooks and read their latest blog entry this morning: Gratitude.  I'm taking their idea, and modifying it for myself.  I'm self proclaiming November to be no.complain.november.  I pledge not to gripe, tweet irritating things, complain my workplace only has one restroom for 13 staff plus clients, and though I cannot guarantee I'll succeed, I pledge to not yell at irritating people while driving.   Whoo!  That last sentence was way too long.  But I'm not complaining.

It will be hard not to whine about my own misgivings.  I find I often self disrespect:  my hair's yucky, I need to take off a few pounds, I always burn toast, etc.   I have what I need and much more.  Plus I don't live in fear, which I am so thankful for.

I'm going to start practicing today, so hopefully I'll be more prepared come November 1.

no.more.complaining

Rejoice always,  pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; 

for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

I Thesalonians 5:16-18

a series of good-byes

I'd say I know a thing or two about parenting.  Not that I know it all because I don't.  But....I've been a parent for nearly 18 years and if I'd had one vocational job that long, I'd most likely be considered an expert in that particular field. 

If asked what parenting is all about, I think I'd answer it like this:

Parenting is a series of good-byes.  

There's the good-bye when you leave the hospital and realize you've been given charge of this newborn and things just might get dicey.

There's the good-bye when the parents and sister pull out of the drive way leaving you and your husband alone with an infant and you're not exactly sure what to do.

There's the good-bye that happens at daycare and/or the babysitter and/or the first day of preschool.

Then there's the monumental first day of kindergarten good-bye.  I still remember Jamie wearing an orange shirt [which he hated].  We went to Sonic for drinks after school.

Jamie's first day of kindergarten [August 2000]

There's the different sort of good-bye that occurs when you watch your child play catcher and you're confined to the bleachers.  You realize he's alone out there and he's touching every single pitch.  His role matters to the outcome of the game, and you won't converse until the game's over.  You hope an idiotic dad doesn't yell at him.

There's the good-bye when he or she enters the room at all district band try outs.  You have an idea about the level of ability your child possesses.  But, comparatively, when faced with competition and judges, you're just not sure.  You say a few words and the door closes for what seems like an hour even though it's only 5 minutes.

There's the middle school drop off good-bye, leaving you wondering what adolescent life will entail.

Then there's the biggie.  The good-bye on the first day of high school.  Cliques?  Bullies?  School cafeteria lunches?  A wave of fear as you remember the 1980s and high school and Madonna on MTV and drive in theaters and parties and how everything is so much worse now [although it's probably really not].

In between there's summer camps and times away at the grandparents' and band trips.  And a couple times a Haiti bound airport good-bye, wondering if he had a clue what he was in for.

While I realize there will always be good-byes, even way into my children's adulthood [holidays and summer visits and phone calls], there is one good-bye with some finality.  It's the one I remember distinctly from my youth.

The college good-bye.  

It's the bridge between childhood and grown up-ness.  It's a drop off with a realization that things will never ever be quite the same.  Sure, he might be back for the summer.  We'll see him in a month or at least at Thanksgiving.  But he's on his own from here on out.  Yes, we'll provide money and food and assistance.  But, at the end of the day, we are not there.

Saturday we attend our first college open house.  We'll say hello to the University of Louisville, realizing it could very well be, in less than a year, where we'll share that all important, life altering good-bye.  I'm not ready for this.  I don't know if I ever will be.  My first child off to college.  While I'm awfully proud of the young man he's become, I desperately miss that little blond kid in the orange shirt, happy to drink a giant Sonic drink. 

Our daughter, three years younger than her brother, wants to study abroad.  As in England.  She desires, quite seriously, to be a foreign exchange student her junior year of high school.  Another good-bye.  This time a longer distance and more than a short drive away.  I'm sure if she goes, she'll be ready.  Will I be....That's yet to be determined.  But knowing now she's independent enough to consider it, I feel like I'm in the midst of a job well done.

think [beyond] pink

It's October, which means Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Lexington's Race for the Cure was yesterday.  Friday evening as I drove home through downtown, I noticed all the hoopla being set up for the festivities.

I realize breast cancer is a big deal.  First of all, I'm a middle aged female.  Second of all, I've had multiple mammograms.  Third of all, I've had to go the extra mile and have an ultrasound done on my breast, due to a large cyst.  While it wasn't cancerous, or even really that dangerous, it was a nerve wracking situation to deal with.  Plus it made my health insurance premiums go up.  While I haven't been diagnosed with breast cancer and haven't lost a close relation to it, I can relate.  I can understand the bleakness and trauma of the situation.  I comprehend the [sisterhood] and the [think pink] mentality that bands us together in a common cause.

Yet, earlier in the day Friday, before the Race for the Cure folks were busy downtown, I encountered a woman who faced other issues.  This woman lives 3.6 miles from me.  I met her Friday morning at a prayer walk.  She wasn't invited, though the group is certainly open.  She had never met any of us gathered there that morning.  Yet she saw us, parked her van on the street, and approached.  She wasn't even wearing shoes, despite the chilly morning.  She openly shared her concerns.

She lives in an unsafe apartment complex.  She's raising [I didn't catch the exact number], I believe 6 children as a single mom.  Because of recent violence in the complex, she doesn't allow her kids to play outside.  There were other situations- the typical single mom living in a rough neighborhood stuff I've heard over and over.  But this was the kicker.  This is what got me.  Whether she was exaggerating I don't know.  But I feel no compulsion to not believe her.  After all, I don't live in her complex.  I certainly cannot relate.  She said,

"I can't go to the complex laundromat at night, because I'll get raped." 

What in the world?  She has to arrange her laundry schedule in order to not get sexually assaulted?  A woman, living 3.6 miles from my home?  She's not in the Congo.  She's not in a village somewhere.  She's here in the city limits of a university town.

Fortunately, a friend/fellow female worker of mine was able to connect with her and get contact info.  We're hoping our workplace can help make a difference there.  Hopefully others will too.

I'm curious as to where the [sisterhood] is when women in our own community struggle like this.  Why are we über concerned about cancer, which yes, is horrible, but turn our heads when women fear getting raped when doing their everyday chores?  Isn't that also horrible?

What if today the NFL took all the money spent on [pink] uniforms and accessories and helped women in communities and situations like the lady I met on Friday?  I'm not saying don't support breast cancer research.  I'm not minimizing the grief and tragedy of a woman losing her life to a disease.  I'm just hoping we can expand our horizons and consider kids are getting shot, women are getting raped, and kids can't play outside, 3.6 miles away from our house.  Maybe even closer.  That's a cycle that needs to stop.  Why aren't we racing for a cure for women like I met Friday?