are you ready?

Why do we frequently ask people, in December:  Are you ready for Christmas?

Yes, obviously, we ask for a few reasons.

We genuinely want to know.
We're making conversation.
Etc.

Yet I'm curious why we don't ask the same questions in regard to Easter.  Are you ready for Easter?  I realize we don't put the same effort in at Easter time.  There aren't the gifts to buy, parties to attend, cards to mail.  We don't decorate in the same manner.  Sure, if we have small kids we might buy them a new outfit.  We might decorate eggs.  We might plan a nice meal and we're more likely to attend church on Easter Sunday than any other day [at least I think we are....].

The last few years, I've put in an honest effort in preparing for Easter.  The Catholics and the more liturgical Protestant types call this season Lent.  People give up something, or try to focus on the sacrifice of Jesus and what the death.burial.resurrection really means.  I find this to be a good practice.

This year, I've decided to concentrate.  I want to practice the discipline of meditation, specifically focusing on gratitude.  Why gratitude?  Well, for a number of reasons.  Mainly though, because I've heard in the past from people I'm close to, that I'm not a very grateful person [ouch].  And because I want my kids to learn to show gratitude in a more deliberate way.  So I suppose they could use an example.  Also, I've recently been reading about gratitude and have learned studies show those who are grateful are healthier, happier and live longer than those who are not.

Meditation will not come easy to me.  I have a wandering mind.  My concentration is not the best.  I am rarely alone.  But, I pledge to give it a shot.  And I also pledge to not hold myself accountable to another's standards.  If I decide to meditate while walking around the neighborhood, so be it.  It might not be the text book example of meditation, but it will be mine.  And who knows, maybe I'll come up with a whole new theological.philosophical methodology and become a guru of sorts.  Doubtful.

I am also making myself listen to more worshipful music.  Truth be told, I had all but abandoned this genre personally.  Mainly because what's popular today seems to have a lot of personal commands [ie "lift it up, Church" and "shout it out" and "raise your hands" and on.and.on]  Too much yelling, or at least what I deem as pseudo yelling.  So I researched and now make myself listen to a few new.to.me groups.  I am particularly liking The Brilliance [they're related to Gungor, literally and figuratively] and All Sons and Daughters.  And my newest musical find is Rend Collective Experiment.  RCE is from Northern Ireland.  I like their style, again no yelling.  I'm also a big fan of good musicianship, as in musicians who are actually quite talented instrumentally.

My husband Chip is giving up a great deal of his social media outlets.  He is no longer utilizing Facebook.  While I'm not giving it up, I have decided to not connect my Tweets with FB.  While that might not seem a drastic measure to you, dear reader, I have grown tired of the constant Facebook looks throughout the day.  I don't need to keep up to date with a person I barely knew in high school or some guy who might or might not have had a crush on me in 1985 or even relatives that don't really care to truly keep in touch.  So, I will continue to check in on some close college friends and local people and the bakery down the road.  But I must stop updating and checking to see who's responded and looking at endless pictures of children I do not know.  I also cannot allow myself to waste thought energy getting annoyed at the purity author/specialist who insists I do not read Fifty Shades of Grey, but constantly has typos in her statuses.  So if you care, and I doubt you do all that much, follow me on Twitter.  I will continue to post my blog updates on FB for my compadres who do not tweet.

This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday.  I considered becoming a vegan for Lent, but I like my other plans better.  Besides, I'm already a vegetarian.  Now for 40 days I'll be a meditating vegetarian.  My workmates already call me a hippie.  Now they have even more reason to.  Except I wear cardigans from Ann Taylor Loft and own a J Crew denim jacket, which I don't think are typical hippie apparel.   Although they were either given to me or I purchased them at a thrift store.  Yes, my mind wanders.........

Happy Lent!  I hope it's a unique and uplifting season for you.  And me.  And I hope when Easter comes, we're ready.

02.02

First of all, happy Groundhog Day!  If you're a believer in a groundhog predicting our future weather, may the odds be {ever} in your favor.

Secondly, and more importantly, happy 18th birthday to my first born, Jamie!  I cannot believe he is now a legal adult.  That is way too crazy to comprehend.  But, mathematically it is so:

  2013

-1995

    18

Thirdly, today is an eventful day.  Not simply because it's a minor holiday or even because it's Jamie's 18th birthday.  Today Jamie and his dad will traverse to the University of Louisville for his auditions into their music department.  Specifically, he'll be auditioning on classical guitar and jazz guitar.

We will celebrate tonight upon his return.  We will celebrate tomorrow with an enchilada fiesta.

Today though, today will be a long day.  A good day, but a long day.

I read recently,

"The days are long, but the years are short." 

Oh, the truth in that statement.  Eighteen years can fly.

An infant, then a toddler, then a kid who can actually swim across a pool. 

He plays basketball.  He plays street hockey out front.  He knows every Russian player in the NHL by name. 

Then a fourth grader then a baseball catcher, and a kid who can play piano pretty well. He decides to try percussion, you realize he's pretty good, he can make a full meal for the family. 

You miss the bike rides and the magic shows and the comic strips he created.  There was the long hair phase and the percussion ensemble phase when he watched youtube snare drummers for hours on end.  You realize he has the self initiative to learn Chopin on the piano and think he might end up living in a Spanish speaking country. 

AP tests happen and he passes.  College looms ahead.  Good bye marching band, the years of drumming are drawing to a close.  A serious guitar student.  A call on a Thursday saying he'd made Governor's School for the Arts.  Meetings with professors and professionals and a week in Cincinnati at a conservatory.  Taking the ACT, retaking the ACT, retaking the ACT and BOOM!  Good enough.  Pomp and Circumstance in May gets closer.  A college decision will be made before that.  Life moves faster and faster.

Yes today will be a long day.  A nerve wracking day for the birthday young man.  And for the rest of us, because alas, not only is our James headed to his most important auditions to date, the weather is inclement.  It's snowing here, in Louisville, and in between.  All this makes it a day we'll never completely forget.  Then tomorrow, fun with the family, followed by a Super Bowl we don't care so much about. If you do, again, may the odds be......

We'll wake up Monday, get ready for school and work, with three adults now living in the house.  Mondays are generally long days.  But gosh, the years are short and few.

Happy 02.02.  Happy Groundhog Day!  Happy birthday to our James {best.son.ever}.

A boy and his guitar.

Jamie loves a cardigan.

Jamie looking tough, or at least trying to.

here's hoping

Today my daughter went on a field trip to our Kentucky State Capitol.  Apparently high schoolers take field trip just like first graders.  She had a great time, even getting to pretend she was the President of the Senate, complete with gavel.  I think it was a Leslie Knope moment for her [you'll only get that if you're a Parks & Rec fan].

I'm especially proud of daughter Allie today, not because of the senate situation, but because she went off the reservation a bit.  When the bus pulled into a McDonald's for lunch, she and her friends decided to ask if they could eat at the Mexican restaurant next door.  It's a small parental victory for me for a few reasons:
#1  I dislike McDonald's.  Allie and I are vegetarians, and how can a vegetarian be comfortable at McDonald's?  No offense if you are comfortable there, it's just they go through a great deal of feed lot cows, etc.  But that's for another day.  Anyway, Allie loves french fries, and I'm extremely surprised she didn't indulge.  I am happy for her stamina.

#2  I like Mexican food and would choose it over any other 98% of the time.  And Mexican restaurants always have something for a vegetarian.  The simplicity of beans and a tortilla is lovely.  But that's how I was raised [a stone's throw from the border, as I annoyingly like to remind my children].  Nevertheless [I love that word], I'm glad she was willing to do something different.

#3  I had sent Allie on this trip with $7 for lunch.  It's all I had in my wallet and I figured enough for a field trip lunch in Frankfort, Kentucky.  She eats a rather small packed lunch everyday at school, so I believed whole heartedly she'd be fine with this amount.  Well, due to the Mexican lunch, she ended up throwing in a few dollars of her own.  I think she ordered off the dinner menu.  I guess she's not familiar with a Mexican menu's a la carte.  Oh, and she also ordered a milkshake.  So, I'm glad she took along some of her own cash.  I think maybe, just maybe it helped her realize the reality of what things cost and our choices related to them.  [wilted salad from the McDonald's dollar menu or enchilada platter?]

Incidentally, after their lunch, the girls decided to visit a Goodwill store nearby.  Whether their teachers knew about this, I'm not altogether sure.  What brings me joy, is there was a day not long ago, when Allie strongly disliked thrift stores.  She didn't like to frequent them as I do.  I'm a thrift store junkie.  What's not to love?  Allie prefers mall stores and Target and the usual teen girl scene.  But lately, she's changed her tune.

There are things you hope your children pick up from you and things you hope they don't.  I've found that how we handle different situations depends on just that, different situations.  My views on raising teenagers are different today, because I actually have teenagers, than they were when I had toddlers.  While Allie agreeing with me that thrift stores are awesome is not a moral issue, I do realize that her making purchases there will save her money, compared to buying new at the mall.  

Basically, we raise our kids in hopes they'll eventually learn to make the right choices.  Whether it's  where to eat lunch today or where to attend college in the fall.  For years, we make most of the choices for them.  Where they'll live, what they'll wear, what we're willing to pay for.  And we don't always know if our decisions are correct.  I will never have a one hundred percent confirmation that our cross town move was the right thing to do.  Understandably, there are those who would say it was a ridiculous and even dangerous choice.  People can always question other parents' motives and reasoning.  And there are no guarantees.  There are proverbs and suggestions and stories to refer back to.  But nobody can offer you a sure thing.  Because there comes a point, no matter how perfect our parental choices, when the kids start making their own.

I've quoted him before in a blog post, and while he's a fictional tv character, he does offer truth:

"You fake your way through it. And hopefully you

don't raise a serial killer."

That, my friends, was said by Phil Dunphy of the program Modern Family, regarding raising children.

While yes, there are some guidelines in the bible, and there are books out there and child psychologists with sound advice, parenting can be a big, {here's hoping} experience.

Here's hoping.........
they don't get lost
they like at least one green vegetable
they don't become a bully or get bullied
they don't take themselves too seriously
they take you seriously
they don't get emotionally involved with a thug
and on and on

While we haven't "faked our way through it" all, I'll admit there's more faking than I'd prefer.  More than anything, there's a lot of {here's hoping} they learn to make the right choices.  And a lot of prayer.  And more hoping.

selling.the.church

My son Jamie and I traveled down to Danville, Kentucky last Friday evening for a concert.  I was excited to hear the New Century Chamber Orchestra at the Norton Center for the Arts.  Danville is quite possibly my favorite small Kentucky town.  It has a lovely downtown, is home to Centre College [where the VP debates took place] and to an outsider, appears to be a quaint place.

My husband and I visited Danville back in the fall because our kids participated in a marching band competition there.  Having a few hours to pass before our kids' next performance, he and I decided to enjoy some coffee type beverages at The Hub.  If you ever get to Danville, be sure and stop in and have a drink or light meal.

As we headed for our parked car, I noticed a church a ways down the street.  I decided to take some photos of it.

What we soon discovered, is this:  This church was for sale.  If you're interested in purchasing it,  follow this link.  {note the site lists the wrong date, I believe they meant 1789, as opposed to 1879}  Upon passing by last Friday, I found it's still for sale.

After researching on their website, I found the church basement flooded a few years back.  Now they meet down the road a bit.

While I don't know the entire story, and whether or not they could have repaired the basement, whether they'd outgrown their space, whether they simply wanted to move, etc., it did make me sad to see this beautiful, old, historic building for sale.  Imagine the weddings and funerals and potlucks that have taken place in this building through the years.  I'm not saying they should have stayed; again, I don't know the congregation's story.  I'm just forlorn that this space now sits empty.

Nine years ago this month my family moved here, to Lexington.  It was our third move to Central Kentucky, so we were familiar with the city and area.  Our purpose for coming back?  My husband accepted a pastoral position at a local church.  Upon reflecting, I realize that this particular congregation had at one point met downtown, most likely in an old building.  But at some point, in the 1960s, they decided, "Hey, let's sell the church."  And they moved to what at the time was the suburban type outskirts of town.

Sure, I don't know why they moved.  I've made a few educated guesses, but I wasn't present or even alive when the decision was made.

It's interesting to sometimes stop and think about how I got to where I am.  We ended up back in Lexington because we were part of a long string of events, that at some point included a group deciding to sell, and relocate. What if they never had?  Would we still have come back under similar circumstances?  Most likely not.  They would have been another type of congregation, heading a different direction, and ironically, probably a better fit for our family.  We're now "downtown" types, as opposed to suburbanites.

Nine years into this thing, and we're nearly empty nesters and just in case you don't know, no longer at the church we moved here to be part of.  Three more years.  If the Danville church is still for sale then, I might press my husband to buy it and we live in it.  He could be a Centre professor, I could practice the church organ all day and we could enjoy a coffee at The Hub on a daily basis......  He'll never go for that.  Or maybe it will be time to move on.  On to a bigger city [lately Lexington seems small] or downtown to a loft or maybe we'll grow old together sitting on our current front porch.

I just remembered.  The church I grew up attending was sold.  The congregation moved on, to the outskirts of my hometown.  You can work.work.work in a church, sometimes for years, and it might someday go up for sale.  Yes, I realize the CHURCH is more than a building.  But the PLACE, the actual, physical PLACE where we gather to worship, where we gather to sing and pray and eat together, can be sold.  Not made into a {new thing}, not recycled to be relevant, but sold so people can move on and move out and move away.  I find that not just a little odd and sad.

kind of ironic

Last night I finished reading The Happiness Project.   I really enjoyed the book and have joined the Happier at Home 21-Day Relationship Challenge.  So far I'm keeping up with my New Year's resolutions pretty well.   The projects I've set out to do this month are progressing well.  I've incorporated fruit into my breakfast everyday in January except maybe two days, and I believe I drank some orange juice at least one of those mornings.

Yet I awoke this morning with a dull headache and the sense that I really didn't want to leave my bed.  I'm sure this is normal, as it's January and extremely cold outside.  I did find this a bit discouraging though, as again I just finished reading a book on happiness. Why didn't I want to jump up and get moving with a zip in my step?

I drove to work, wishing I didn't have as long of a drive as I do.  [my commute isn't really all that big]

I almost started bawling as I drove, feeling emotionally down, but unable to pinpoint an example of anything seriously wrong.  [perhaps it's hormonal]

I went through the often over played in my mind situations of comparing myself to others and wondering why I wasn't more.........   [yes, I know better]

I was actually envious of a tv couple who were able to visit Hawaii.  [mind you, these people are not real, only characters on a program I watch]

I became angry at the drive of a pickup truck pulling a trailer that sped through the Transylvania University crosswalk on North Broadway, leaving a male student waiting dangerously in the middle of the road [as a parent of kids about to head to college, I don't appreciate this kind of driving]

After reading Rand Paul's lash out against Hillary Clinton in the paper this morning, I was actually ready to lash out at him [I'm not necessarily a huge fan of Hillary, but am confident she's much.much.much smarter and better informed and an all around better person than he is]

I'm not generally angry or sour yet maybe I often {pretend} to be happy more than I should.  I just find it ironic that I would feel so low on a day when I've just completed a self help book designed to motivate me toward success.  Go figure.......

I suppose it just goes to show that one has to work at being joyful.  There is planning involved.  It doesn't just happen.  Like the old song, some days are diamonds, some days are stones.  [my dad loves John Denver tunes so they are naturally stuck in the recesses of my mind]  There are days that are just plain hard, sometimes ridiculous, and we don't always know why all days aren't diamonds.

I'm moving onto another book.  This one's entitled simply, thanks!  The subject matter is, you guessed it.....gratitude.  Which is something I seemingly need to work on and from what I understand, happiness is a scientifically proven outcome of gratitude.  I'll see about that....and let you know.

Meanwhile, it's time for bed but first I'll report:

This evening I located my driving gloves which I'd misplaced [a small victory for one feeling blue]

I also baked a coworker a birthday cake [I like doing things for others]

I enjoyed a glass of Green Fin white wine I purchased at Trader Joe's [it IS Thursday, after all]

The family watched an episode of Modern Family [Phil Dunphy humors me] and a Parks & Rec [good for a few laughs]

So, the day is finishing out alright and I don't feel I have no hope at ever accomplishing my own happiness project.  Good night world, here's to Friday, weekends, and John Denver songs.  [Sunshine on My Shoulders, anybody?]

  Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine, almost always, makes me high

relationality

January 21 is an anniversary of sorts for my husband and I.  On this day in 1989, we had our first date.  We have been together ever since.  In case you're not so great at math, that 24 years.  IOW a long time.

Yes, this is how we looked in 1989.

Because of the significance of this day, the fact my son's birthday is in February and my husband's is in March, I find myself thinking of relationships the first quarter of the year.  Not to mention, there's also Valentine's Day.

I quite frequently dwell on friendship and the fact that I have fewer local, close friendships today than I've had in years.  Except for my workmates, I feel very withdrawn from the world outside my family.  I tell myself to branch out, join a few groups, enroll in a class, smile at the person next to me on the YMCA treadmill.....

Yet I come back to this:  This is my son's last school year at home.  My daughter wants to study abroad and very well might leave the country in a few years.  And I really like spending time with my husband.  Even if he doesn't want to do ceramics with me at Mad Potter.

My husband reminds me of these facts a lot.

I understand we, as people, are supposed to be relational.  We women are told we need female friends to go out to lunch with and coffee with and shop with.  I'm an introvert and despite enjoying a lunch outing with my fellow workers, I can't imagine who I'd even call and invite to dine with me.

I've considered an imaginary friend.  Why CAN'T adults have them too?  Actually, I have considered this as a book topic if I attempt to write another novel.  Another story for another day.....

In all the talk and books and tales of how we as people are supposed to be relational, I can't comprehend how I could possibly be close to a few women friends, enjoy double dates with other couples, plus be close to my teenage daughter, all the while making time to attend various musical events with my son, and most importantly, maintaining a vibrant marital relationship with my husband.  Honestly, I simply cannot.  Not while working full time, trying to keep my house clean, and visiting Kroger numerous times during the week.  And making time for myself, again, a self proclaimed introvert who needs time to read, write, craft and bake to fully function.

So, as I trudge onward through winter, I am trying to pay very close attention to my family relationships.  As Buddy, the Cake Boss would say, "mi famiglia".  Thankfully, my husband is my best friend, my son enjoys eating vegetarian food at Sav's Grill with me, and my daughter is willing to allow me the privilege of driving her to Target for a lovely shopping experience.

Happy 24 years since Balboa Park and Corvette's Diner in San Diego, Chip!  And thanks that all these years later, you take your daughter out for French food and watch hockey with your son.  I love mi famiglia, and as far as I'm concerned, that is, enough.

moccasins

The Indian arrived on Tuesday.  I know, I know.  The correct term is Native American.  But, beings I am 1/16 Native American, I feel it's okay for me to call him an Indian.  Plus, as long as the American League continues to refer to the baseball team in Cleveland as the Indians, why can't I use the label?

The Indian I am referring to is actually a piece of art.  A drawing of an Arizona Apache.  My parents have the same print in their home and have for years.  It was a gift given to my father and some of his fellow workers at a ranch where he did summer work.  He was a teacher in the days when teachers didn't make a lot of money and for many years worked a summer job.  But that's another story.

Today's story has to do with why we have the print and the thoughts it stirs in me.

My son Jamie took a liking to the Apache print so I asked my parents to try and locate another one.  After phone calls to quite a few people, they found a friend who had a copy.  It's numbered, signed and  was living in someone's storage room.  On Tuesday, it became my son's.  We have yet to frame and mount it, but we'll get to it.

You'll note the Apache is wearing moccasin type boots.  The mocs remind me of the saying,

Don't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins.  

I recently read about the "fundamental attribution error".  Basically we tend to judge people's actions and base them on what we deem are their character traits, as opposed to realizing their actions might in fact be due to their particular circumstances or situation.  In turn, we recognize our own personal actions' relation to our circumstances.  We are easier on ourselves, justifying our actions.

I've seen this on Pinterest a few times, and although there's much truth to it, it doesn't take into account the fundamental attribution error:

While we shouldn't act like a jerk, perhaps something absolutely rotten, beyond our control, has recently happened, and we just can't simply "be nice."

Another term for what I'm talking about is what author Gretchen Rubin labels, "cutting people slack." More famous than Gretchen, author Flannery O'Connor, called it, "find explanations for charity."

We live in such a reactionary society.  If someone does something we deem as rash, we're ready to jump all over them.  Maybe we need to find out what's making them tick.

I can be judgmental.  I can stereotype and assume.  Yet, I shouldn't.  To be generous and loving I have to cut people slack.  I have to be willing to walk a ways in their mocs.  We are in the season of Epiphany, which is the season of light.  I need to be willing to let Light [as in God's Light] shine on me and illumine what's dark and hidden, in turn bringing His Light to others.