I have been away for a short bit, preparing to head out of town and make the eight-hour trek down to sunny Orlando to fetch my Eldest from his stint circling the globe. We are home now. I'd say he has had quite the life-changing experience - he went to four countries, rode on an elephant through a river, washed the feet of some precious street kids, hiked down into a remote village and led sports ministries playing soccer in dusty fields. With each picture, my heart yearned for a similar pursuit.
I had a wonderful weekend with family, with much laughter and relaxation.
Left my laptop at home and enjoyed a much more disconnected but more connected existence.
Worked on perfecting my poolside 'Wobble'. If you look up the song/videos, try for the clean version...just sayin'.
So I'm back - and hope to settle into the more loose perimeters of summer days. That will include plenty of writing and hopefully more copious posts here in the hammock. The rhythm here is easy and the call to linger is oh so inviting, so I plan to be here more. More posts, more pictures, more poetry. '
To the more of life.'
May 28, 2012
May 23, 2012
No Way!
I am beyond astounded that I have received another award. Jarm Del Boccio over at Making the Write Connections bestowed this honor upon me today and I am ecstatic! We were fellow travelers on the A-Z Challenge journey, and found that we had common interests: writing, of course, love of travel, parent of teens, life-long learners, and sisters in Christ. Thank you, Jarm, for this encouragement!
The hard part for me is going to be the ten random factoids...There was a time when I would do lists with random facts about me for a couple of birthdays but then decided that, a) I didn't think I had that many interesting things to keep coming up with new lists, and b) it began to seem too vainglorious an endeavor, like I was sitting beside you, listing for you, one after another, things about me. I got over myself and quit that while I was ahead. In case you want to check this against my previous lists, you can revisit my two older posts of random facts about moi. That is, if you have nothing more fruitful to do with your time, or you need something to help you fall asleep. Here's the one for the year I turned FORTY and for my Last OFFICIAL birthday, there's that. You can check me and see if I duplicate anything. I'll give it my best whirl.
KREATIV RULES:
1. Thank and link back to the awarding blog.
2. Answer the seven questions
3. Provide ten random factoids about yourself.
4. Last but not at all least, hand this on to seven deserving others.
So, here are my questions (a melding of the two sets given to my predecessors) and Random thoughts:
THE QUESTIONS:
1. What’s your favorite song?
VERY loaded question because with literature or lyrics (music) I just can NOT declare A singular favorite. I usually pick some long-standing fave, and then maybe what just happens to be on repeat lately. As you can see if you have scoured on back through the pages of time on this blog, I post my 'favorites' of the moment ALL THE TIME. For now, I will put a few in categories and determine them either 'long-standing fave' or 'flavor of the moment':
Favorite hymn - 'It is Well' - long-standing
Favorite worship song - "You Won't Relent" (I really have lots of favorites here...) but this one declares a God Whose love is so jealous He has me sealed upon His arm.
Defining song - 'Far Far' by Yael Naim - long standing
Desire for life song - 'Beautiful' by India Arie - long standing
Current flavor on heavy rotation - Really into the group Stateless right now so anything by them or Alex Clare (you can find their videos in recent posts, or better yet search them on Google).
I could talk music for days. Really, I could.
2. What’s your favorite dessert?Weakness: ice cream - mint chocolate chip or anything coffee flavored. Not a big cake person. Love a GOOD key lime pie.
3. What do you do when you’re upset?
What kind of upset? There's 'can't-see-straight-I'm-so-mad' upset, 'disappointed' upset, 'need-a-pint-of-Ben-&-Jerry's' upset...this is the way it is with me...rarely simple. Rarely cut and dried. Okay, for the 'run-of-the-mill-wanna-good-cry' upset, I guess I would say, I probably retreat, think (too much), cry, pray and sit in quiet.
4. Which is your favorite pet?
Strictly a dog person. Not to say that other animals aren't cuddly, but I am partial to the pups.
5. Which do you prefer? White or whole wheat?
Neither, actually. I pretty much roll gluten-free, but will occasionally have a GF bread and the more whole and grainy the better.
6. What is your biggest fear?
Hmmm. I would say that I probably still have a healthy fear of heights. Bigger fear in life: of late, losing the health and vitality to live fully.
7. What is your attitude mostly?
Gratitude and calm
RANDOM FACTOIDS:
I once slammed my finger in my car door - and had to unlock it to open it and get it out. I have a high tolerance for pain.
I took off running down the hall crying as a toddler on Christmas morning at the thought that Santa Claus had been in my house.
I could very nearly be put in a trance by having my hair played with/brushed.
My hair is as long or longer now than it was at its longest in college. I am considering growing it longer and donating it to Locks of Love.
I've been to three countries so far. I aim to see many more.
Strange musical occurrence in my past - for some mysterious reason, EVERY morning when I stepped into the shower, this song would pop into my brain, without fail, for over a month.
Weird. Love me some Aerosmith but it was quite bizarre.
I have been awarded probably the most WONDERFUL title EVER yesterday, according to my sister-in-law's mother. She was spending the night over at my SIL's with the four boys (my nephews) and her other three grands, and Davis, the second nephew, said, 'Aunt Carrie is the TENT MASTER.' I regard this as a high honor. I believe it deserves a cape.
I tried alligator and kangaroo while in Chicago. Both were quite tasty and kangaroo tastes like CHICKEN!
My kitchen is quite frequently my own personal dance floor, but my favorite place to dance is a beachfront balcony.
At one point during my mid-later twenties, I wanted to be a wedding planner and began to look into ways to go about it.
Have a dream to one day slow dance under the stars beside the ocean.
7 AWARDS FOR 7 KREATIV BLOGGERS:
So, I’m passing the Kreativ Blogger award to the following deserving writers:
Ken at Ken-Inatractor
Jennifer at Completely Unoriginal Thoughts
Tracy at A2Z Mommy
Bethie at Creating Wordlenik
Brett at The Transformed Non-Conformist
The Sarcasm Goddess at For the Love of Writing
Danielle at Sweet Tea Reads
Enjoy, and pass on the torch to others!
May 21, 2012
Filler Post
There is no other purpose in this post than to make it my 667th post. I could NOT leave it at the previous number. I noticed that and shrieked, 'Aaaaack! Noooooo!"
Thank you,
The Management
THIS IS NOT FUNNY!!!
You may find this video Creepster McCreepy, but THIS is my world!!! This is what I am going through with the recent spider snack episode. This is how I feel climbing into the sheets at night. I wonder what lies in wait for my breathing to grow shallow so it can nibble my arm. I can SO relate to Robert Smith in this video/song (Loveth someth Cure!). I am NOT kidding - I was laying there last night, attempting that rumored nightly event called sleep, with my left arm extended out from under my pillow. This is a standard position of mine - left side, right arm tucked up under my chin, left arm out straight from under me and the pillow (this could be the problem...I am virtually setting out a buggy spread, an insect picnic on my arm when I sleep like this). Then I feel the ever so slightest tickle near the crook of my elbow.
You have never seen someone scramble so fast to get up into a sitting position. I grab my phone (because it doubles as a flashlight) and I shine it on the sheet where my arm had been. There was this little beetle-y looking creature, like a cross between a ladybug and an armored tank slurking across the bed. I did not scream but swiftly shooshed the thing off the sheet and sent it flying 'over there' somewhere. Great. He'll be back tonight, I am sure.
As for the spider bite(s) on my arm, I thought they were healing but the one on my forearm is looking really odd. I would take a picture of it and share it - but no...that's just gross. There are people on Facebook who have shared their toe blisters, rope burns and more (don't get me started...) and it is just NA-HA-STA-Y! So I shall refrain from sharing it, unless of course, you are a doctor and then I will send it to you in an email or something and spare the rest of the blog reader population in the event of any squeamishness.
Good news though, I am headed to one of my myriad of doctor's appointments today, and while there, I am going to stick my arm under his nose and say, "I know this isn't the normal region of the body that you examine closely, but could you look at this and see if you think I need to go see a dermatologist?" Who do you see, any way, for spider bites? An exterminator? An exorcist? I don't know. Hubs and I now joke that the spot is where my spider babies reside. "How's your spider babies?" Sick, I know.
It's always something, it seems. I have had, over the course of our 20+ years, a plethora of odd ailments and injuries. I am a circus side show. I just need to start charging admission to come see. Gah.
First order of business today - call an exterminator.
You have never seen someone scramble so fast to get up into a sitting position. I grab my phone (because it doubles as a flashlight) and I shine it on the sheet where my arm had been. There was this little beetle-y looking creature, like a cross between a ladybug and an armored tank slurking across the bed. I did not scream but swiftly shooshed the thing off the sheet and sent it flying 'over there' somewhere. Great. He'll be back tonight, I am sure.
As for the spider bite(s) on my arm, I thought they were healing but the one on my forearm is looking really odd. I would take a picture of it and share it - but no...that's just gross. There are people on Facebook who have shared their toe blisters, rope burns and more (don't get me started...) and it is just NA-HA-STA-Y! So I shall refrain from sharing it, unless of course, you are a doctor and then I will send it to you in an email or something and spare the rest of the blog reader population in the event of any squeamishness.
Good news though, I am headed to one of my myriad of doctor's appointments today, and while there, I am going to stick my arm under his nose and say, "I know this isn't the normal region of the body that you examine closely, but could you look at this and see if you think I need to go see a dermatologist?" Who do you see, any way, for spider bites? An exterminator? An exorcist? I don't know. Hubs and I now joke that the spot is where my spider babies reside. "How's your spider babies?" Sick, I know.
It's always something, it seems. I have had, over the course of our 20+ years, a plethora of odd ailments and injuries. I am a circus side show. I just need to start charging admission to come see. Gah.
First order of business today - call an exterminator.
It's Nearly Monday...what to do, what to do?
I have not abandoned my 'Weeds' series. Far from it - I am just going to have to scatter them about throughout all the other desultory musings. I hopped up into my real hammock, the one completely enclosed by honeysuckle and trees beside a creek, and started back on my God in the Yard pursuit, and wrote for the better part of two hours. I may select entries from that exploration from time to time. I figure I can have a few several 'themes' or focuses spinning at once here...can you stay with me when I change trains rapidly? I still haven't forgotten to document the rest of my Chicago experience here either. So much going on, so much I want to do...how can I possibly do it all?
You have to check out these photos of my hide-away. They don't do the place justice, but if I could, I would invite each of you to come take a turn swaying here in solitude for a time.
You have to check out these photos of my hide-away. They don't do the place justice, but if I could, I would invite each of you to come take a turn swaying here in solitude for a time.
These were taken the other day, closer to evening so the colors are more muted. The scene changes with the light and the time of day. It is so secluded I believe that I could probably get away with hiding there all day, and no one would find me.
This was from today's time out there. I am doing my research. The heart's stirrings to throw off the moorings from this life continue to grow stronger. Next step - learn Spanish. Might be fun learning to say fun things like, "Permitanme susurro en su oido."
So what to do on a Sunday night (oops...it's now Monday, in the wee baby hours)? Listen to chill dubstep and try to track all the books I want to read this summer. There is quite the extensive list - how will I ever find time to read them all? Here's what I have so far:
- Anything by David Foster Wallace
- Ann Dillard's books, particularly about her travels
- Radical Simplicity by Jim Merkel
- works by Thomas Merton, particularly The Seven Storey Mountain
- Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller
There are others. I'll take suggestions. I adore book recommendations. All this on top of a brand new text I adopted to revamp and completely restructure one of my courses. Yeehah!
What is dubstep you ask?
Dubstep - noun a style of mostly instrumental electronic music, originating in London, influenced by dub and characterized by syncopated rhythm and an emphasis on bass and drum elements.
Here is a sample dub remix of Fort Minor's Where'd You Go?
This has to be one of the most haphazard posts yet - but you may have learned something in the process! A new Spanish phrase! A book or two you might just want to read! And a musical style for certain moods! Excellent!
So book recommendations? Any that have impacted you so much that it became a part of your view on life and the world? Do share!
May 20, 2012
May 19, 2012
I Am Pulling Weeds
(I wrote this yesterday...and it may be long and rambling, requiring multiple parts. This would be part 1 in a series on 'weeds'.)
Today started like the last few - impossibly slow and unmotivated, somewhat listless and without direction. This state of being was getting old but I couldn't figure out how to snap out of it. A nagging suspicion began growing that this time, I was the cause of this spell of doldrums.
Then Hubs offered up the suggestion that I could go pull weeds.
Before you decry 'barbarian' and wonder, "How could she put up with the likes of him?!", let me explain. He knows me very well, and understands that when I get like this, when I get 'stuck' and overwhelmed, it helps me to get going by throwing myself into some physical task- one that reaps a visual benefit of progress evidenced and a job completed. Nothing feels more satisfying and can often spark more motivation than a cleared flowerbed containing only what was originally intended for the space, or a gleaming sink, empty from a soothing session of hand washing the dishes.
In fact, I sit here right now in the front yard, floppy straw hat and oversized sunglasses on, legal pad in my lap, writing and weeding, because this very act has opened a floodgate of cogitation and an analogy to some larger issues in my life.
And so I weed.
With each gratifying yank, I pull up a resolve and a strength to do what needs to be done. Talk about a strange meld of multitasking. I have some pruning to do in my life and it starts now. By the end of this day, I may very well be a sweaty, stinky, dirt-encrusted, tear-streaked mess but my yard, and my heart will be free of that which threatens to choke out what belongs there.
Forgive me if this feels a bit like a rambling weed runner that goes nowhere. This is what happens when you mesh yard work with writing and figurative heart surgery in the front yard for all to see. That, and I apologize ahead of time for all the gardening puns that might sneak their way into this post. Weeds and bad puns have the same tendencies.
The stirrings of this inner pruning began over a month or so ago when I started questioning my purpose in this blog. I was starting to wonder why I was doing it and if it benefited anyone anyway. I considered this because I do care that what I do here and in everyday life would impact others positively, even in my revealed weaknesses. Over the course of this time as well, I came face-to-face with the reality of the brevity of this life and began to question the use of my time.
Which brings me to Facebook. Today being a 'big day' for the site and all (Update: 5/19/12 - he only made 23 cents off going public!), I trolled a few of the news articles related to the event to learn more about its plan and intent in the move to go public. After all, my name and vacation pictures were attached. Apparently things are about to get better for Mark Z's bank account, and that's about it. For the average shmuck (that would be us), we're about to get....more commercials/ads. Yippee. It gets better - apparently, Facebook makes zilcho on its mobile version. Take notice: log onto FB right now from your phone and it is pleasantly devoid of any ads...
...for now. (cue impending doom music)
They're going to find a way to sell you useless crap from your mobile device soon, rest assured. I have remained highly suspicious as to why FB often asks me for my cell number to 'update its account information for greater security'. Security, by rump. I always and will forever click "NOT NOW". Reminds me of this comedy bit from Mad TV (click the => for a laugh...) Darrel, which my daughter impersonates impeccably (without the d**n). 'Can I ha' yo' numbah? Can I hab it?' No, FB, you can not. Go away.
So with a decided tap, I deleted my facebook app from my phone. One insidious weed gone from my life and I couldn't be happier.One of the many soon to be pulled. I warned you at the beginning of this post that it would be long, and most likely turn into a multiple part series. Weed eradication has just begun.
Why did I delete my FB app? It's funny, because I posted on FB that I deleted it (the app, not the account) and I got responses like, "Whyyyyyyy!?!" "Why would you do that????" Funny. Too funny. Honestly, as I begun to examine the use of my time, I was recognizing an alarming habit developing: I was logging on through my phone a lot when I found myself waiting, or with periods of down time. I had not become one of the oafs that check it in the midst of friends and family social gatherings, thankfully. Go back and read The Lost Art of Consideration again. I didn't mention this scenario but it is included. My Mama raised me better than that.
No, I just found myself on it quite a bit for no particular reason, scrolling, scrolling through....what? Someone's lunch plans? A picture of another person's dinner plate, half-eaten roll still on it? What was I investing my time and brain space to? It was getting old. More than that, I thought about all the myriad of better things I could be doing. Oh, I don't know, crazy, avant garde ideas like...making eye contact with people around me, maybe say 'hello' and offer a positive ray of encouragement. I could go all out and read a book - full pages of continuous thought in sentence form rather than snippets of various people's random musings. ('I just stubbed my toe!!!! OW!') An even more rare and absurb notion - actually take all those 'free' moments to relish the quiet and the pattern of my thoughts. Better yet, I could pray, talk to the One that knows me best, and more amazingly, loves me anyway. Most important of all, I could practice leaning in and listening better, without so much exoteric clutter.
Drastic? No, not yet, but like I said the shears are out and I'm on a tear and nothing is safe at this point. My aim is to de-clutter both yard and soul, and it might get ugly.
So what's next? Weed number 2 that went down - my wee baby Twitter account...more on that in the weed series, Part whatever. Also up - regrets. So stay tuned. I'll be here, floppy hat and legal pad, clearing away the chaos.
Today started like the last few - impossibly slow and unmotivated, somewhat listless and without direction. This state of being was getting old but I couldn't figure out how to snap out of it. A nagging suspicion began growing that this time, I was the cause of this spell of doldrums.
Then Hubs offered up the suggestion that I could go pull weeds.
In fact, I sit here right now in the front yard, floppy straw hat and oversized sunglasses on, legal pad in my lap, writing and weeding, because this very act has opened a floodgate of cogitation and an analogy to some larger issues in my life.
And so I weed.
With each gratifying yank, I pull up a resolve and a strength to do what needs to be done. Talk about a strange meld of multitasking. I have some pruning to do in my life and it starts now. By the end of this day, I may very well be a sweaty, stinky, dirt-encrusted, tear-streaked mess but my yard, and my heart will be free of that which threatens to choke out what belongs there.
Forgive me if this feels a bit like a rambling weed runner that goes nowhere. This is what happens when you mesh yard work with writing and figurative heart surgery in the front yard for all to see. That, and I apologize ahead of time for all the gardening puns that might sneak their way into this post. Weeds and bad puns have the same tendencies.
The stirrings of this inner pruning began over a month or so ago when I started questioning my purpose in this blog. I was starting to wonder why I was doing it and if it benefited anyone anyway. I considered this because I do care that what I do here and in everyday life would impact others positively, even in my revealed weaknesses. Over the course of this time as well, I came face-to-face with the reality of the brevity of this life and began to question the use of my time.
Which brings me to Facebook. Today being a 'big day' for the site and all (Update: 5/19/12 - he only made 23 cents off going public!), I trolled a few of the news articles related to the event to learn more about its plan and intent in the move to go public. After all, my name and vacation pictures were attached. Apparently things are about to get better for Mark Z's bank account, and that's about it. For the average shmuck (that would be us), we're about to get....more commercials/ads. Yippee. It gets better - apparently, Facebook makes zilcho on its mobile version. Take notice: log onto FB right now from your phone and it is pleasantly devoid of any ads...
...for now. (cue impending doom music)
They're going to find a way to sell you useless crap from your mobile device soon, rest assured. I have remained highly suspicious as to why FB often asks me for my cell number to 'update its account information for greater security'. Security, by rump. I always and will forever click "NOT NOW". Reminds me of this comedy bit from Mad TV (click the => for a laugh...) Darrel, which my daughter impersonates impeccably (without the d**n). 'Can I ha' yo' numbah? Can I hab it?' No, FB, you can not. Go away.
So with a decided tap, I deleted my facebook app from my phone. One insidious weed gone from my life and I couldn't be happier.One of the many soon to be pulled. I warned you at the beginning of this post that it would be long, and most likely turn into a multiple part series. Weed eradication has just begun.
Why did I delete my FB app? It's funny, because I posted on FB that I deleted it (the app, not the account) and I got responses like, "Whyyyyyyy!?!" "Why would you do that????" Funny. Too funny. Honestly, as I begun to examine the use of my time, I was recognizing an alarming habit developing: I was logging on through my phone a lot when I found myself waiting, or with periods of down time. I had not become one of the oafs that check it in the midst of friends and family social gatherings, thankfully. Go back and read The Lost Art of Consideration again. I didn't mention this scenario but it is included. My Mama raised me better than that.
No, I just found myself on it quite a bit for no particular reason, scrolling, scrolling through....what? Someone's lunch plans? A picture of another person's dinner plate, half-eaten roll still on it? What was I investing my time and brain space to? It was getting old. More than that, I thought about all the myriad of better things I could be doing. Oh, I don't know, crazy, avant garde ideas like...making eye contact with people around me, maybe say 'hello' and offer a positive ray of encouragement. I could go all out and read a book - full pages of continuous thought in sentence form rather than snippets of various people's random musings. ('I just stubbed my toe!!!! OW!') An even more rare and absurb notion - actually take all those 'free' moments to relish the quiet and the pattern of my thoughts. Better yet, I could pray, talk to the One that knows me best, and more amazingly, loves me anyway. Most important of all, I could practice leaning in and listening better, without so much exoteric clutter.
Drastic? No, not yet, but like I said the shears are out and I'm on a tear and nothing is safe at this point. My aim is to de-clutter both yard and soul, and it might get ugly.
So what's next? Weed number 2 that went down - my wee baby Twitter account...more on that in the weed series, Part whatever. Also up - regrets. So stay tuned. I'll be here, floppy hat and legal pad, clearing away the chaos.
Hilarious Discovery Pic
As some of you may have read, I was recently hors d' oeuvre for an eight-legged critter. (or at least I think that is what set out a picnic on my left arm this past week...). Let me preface this post by saying my thoughts and prayers go out to the two women battling for their lives in the rare bacteria infection that recently attacked them. You can read about it here. One is a beautiful, vivacious, strong college student that just wants to get well and get back to her thesis...what a fighter. The other is a new mom to twins. She is fighting to be there to raise them. I hope the article raises some awareness, but I have to say, all the talk about this flesh-eating bacteria had me more than a little alarmed when I woke one morning with a very ugly spot, raised, red and puffy on my left arm, with an accompanying patch six inches above it on my bicep. At one point, I thought about going to the doctor just to have it looked at to be sure, and I guess that, according to the article, waiting in the case of this tragic illness is not prudent. Then it started to get better. So when I joke about MY arm, please don't take it that I make light of the two women that are dealing with a horrendous situation. I joke sometimes when it's better to laugh than freak out and run screaming in a fit of panic.
So picture me yesterday, out in the yard, goofy big hat on, legal pad in my lap, alternately writing on it and swatting flying insects with it, and I find this embedded down in the monkey grass where I am weeding...
...a beat up plastic arm amputated from some guy doll, probably belonging to the two little boys that lived in this house before us.
And there I was out in the front yard guffawing, swatting bugs and writing, finding it hilarious that this 'extra' arm turned up in the event my left one met its demise from the spider poisons...bonus that this one is also a leftie...minus the thumb....but then there are many creatures that get along fine without an opposable thumb.
So picture me yesterday, out in the yard, goofy big hat on, legal pad in my lap, alternately writing on it and swatting flying insects with it, and I find this embedded down in the monkey grass where I am weeding...
And there I was out in the front yard guffawing, swatting bugs and writing, finding it hilarious that this 'extra' arm turned up in the event my left one met its demise from the spider poisons...bonus that this one is also a leftie...minus the thumb....but then there are many creatures that get along fine without an opposable thumb.
To Be Loved Like This
First I give you the lyrics because it is important to read them, and let them sink in deep. This is a love song from a Savior to a broken and hurting one. Find the line or lines that speak to you most. It is hard to choose, when this song is reaching me when I thought I was too far away, but
This chest is full of memories
Of gold and silver tears
I’ll give you more to own than
All of this
And I’ll give you more than years
For you were once a child of innocence
And I see you just the same
Your burdens couldn’t win or
Lose a thing
Oh, I’d tell you once again
But you’re always on the run
Slow your breath down
Just take it slow
Find your heart now, oh
You can trust and love again
Slow your breath down, just take it slow
Find your smile now, oh
You can trust and love again
If you leave I’ll still be close to you
When all your fears rain down
I’ll take you back a thousand times again
I’ll take you as my own
I would sing you songs of innocence
‘Til the light of morning comes
‘Til the rays of gold and honey cover you
In the sweetness of the dawn
But you’re always on the run
chorus-
You’re not alone
You’re now a part of me
You feel the cure
I’ll feel the toil it brought you
And now the song:
For you were once a child of innocence
And I see you just the same
Precious Jesus loves like this.
If you leave I’ll still be close to you
When all your fears rain down
I’ll take you back a thousand times again
I’ll take you as my own
When all your fears rain down
I’ll take you back a thousand times again
I’ll take you as my own
This chest is full of memories
Of gold and silver tears
I’ll give you more to own than
All of this
And I’ll give you more than years
For you were once a child of innocence
And I see you just the same
Your burdens couldn’t win or
Lose a thing
Oh, I’d tell you once again
But you’re always on the run
Slow your breath down
Just take it slow
Find your heart now, oh
You can trust and love again
Slow your breath down, just take it slow
Find your smile now, oh
You can trust and love again
If you leave I’ll still be close to you
When all your fears rain down
I’ll take you back a thousand times again
I’ll take you as my own
I would sing you songs of innocence
‘Til the light of morning comes
‘Til the rays of gold and honey cover you
In the sweetness of the dawn
But you’re always on the run
chorus-
You’re not alone
You’re now a part of me
You feel the cure
I’ll feel the toil it brought you
And now the song:
For you were once a child of innocence
And I see you just the same
Precious Jesus loves like this.
May 16, 2012
From the Remote Recesses of a Hermit's Quarters
It has been a couple of days where the introvert in the 'I' part of my personality kicks into overdrive and I retreat to the shadows for awhile. It's really okay. It's where I can sort a lot of things out and come back out with a renewed sense of purpose. A mini-solitude retreat, of sorts.
So what have I been doing whilst curled up on the figurative 'couch-in-my-pjs-with-a-jar-of-peanut -butter-and-a-chocolate-bar-for-a-spoon?'
So what have I been doing whilst curled up on the figurative 'couch-in-my-pjs-with-a-jar-of-peanut -butter-and-a-chocolate-bar-for-a-spoon?'
in case you want to read about all things peanut butter
For one, I have been Googling images of spider bites to identify what has opened up an 'all-you-can-eat' buffet on my left arm. Warning: DO NOT go Googling these images if you just made yourself a sandwich. Consider yourself warned. It is enough to make you want to live the rest of your life in a plastic bubble suit so as to never risk the possibility of a spider bite again. And NO - my minute little spot looks NOTHING like the ghastly images I found. Egads. Rest assured too, it is an urban myth that spiders lay eggs in human skin. (What? Haven't you ever wondered? So I was a little paranoid.)
Next, I have been mulling over various ideas for finding some kind of hobby or organization to throw myself into seeing as I am finding myself 'table for one' a lot these days. I could take up being a taphophile.....it's a person that has an enjoyment of cemeteries, people. Creepy as it may be, I do enjoy the sense of history and intrigue found among gravestones. Or maybe parkour. Nah, I'd just hurt myself. Actually, I have thought of a few local organizations that could use an extra person to help out. I may just have to step out and do it.
I have also been searching everywhere, including the couch cushions, for the motivation I seem to have lost somewhere. Tell me if you see it running around. It will most likely be small and covered with dust bunnies.
Last, but definitely not least, I have contemplated running away. Oh, I daydream of that often, but when I'm contained within the echoey walls of my turtle shell, I can almost taste it. No, my life isn't an unbearable cage. Quite the opposite. Yet, I always have this underlying desire to shuck it all and see the world. It is always there. More present when I recede within. Then I came across this article i'm a modern-day nomad by Sarah Wilson, and I nearly cried. This. This is what I feel. A lot. First of all, I am GOING to have to get the book that she mentions in the very first line of her post. I can completely relate to everything she shares about the feeling of gradual disintegration of commitment. I 'get' the idea of not liking to settle. She says:
I like that I feel at home in change. I’m not running away, I’m moving towards things. Belongings and home comforts don’t keep me bright and light; fending and navigating and being creative with the limited resources I have does. Being a nomad reminds me daily of what I want from this life. I can’t get comfortable…I have to be alive to my priorities. What a gift!
That line 'Belongings and home comforts don't keep me light and bright; fending and navigating and being creative with the limited resources I have does.'
Yes. What an 'a-ha' moment. I will blog more on this soon. This random post is not the place for a personal epiphany. Or maybe it is. Enjoy your day. Carry on.
Next, I have been mulling over various ideas for finding some kind of hobby or organization to throw myself into seeing as I am finding myself 'table for one' a lot these days. I could take up being a taphophile.....it's a person that has an enjoyment of cemeteries, people. Creepy as it may be, I do enjoy the sense of history and intrigue found among gravestones. Or maybe parkour. Nah, I'd just hurt myself. Actually, I have thought of a few local organizations that could use an extra person to help out. I may just have to step out and do it.
I have also been searching everywhere, including the couch cushions, for the motivation I seem to have lost somewhere. Tell me if you see it running around. It will most likely be small and covered with dust bunnies.
Last, but definitely not least, I have contemplated running away. Oh, I daydream of that often, but when I'm contained within the echoey walls of my turtle shell, I can almost taste it. No, my life isn't an unbearable cage. Quite the opposite. Yet, I always have this underlying desire to shuck it all and see the world. It is always there. More present when I recede within. Then I came across this article i'm a modern-day nomad by Sarah Wilson, and I nearly cried. This. This is what I feel. A lot. First of all, I am GOING to have to get the book that she mentions in the very first line of her post. I can completely relate to everything she shares about the feeling of gradual disintegration of commitment. I 'get' the idea of not liking to settle. She says:
I like that I feel at home in change. I’m not running away, I’m moving towards things. Belongings and home comforts don’t keep me bright and light; fending and navigating and being creative with the limited resources I have does. Being a nomad reminds me daily of what I want from this life. I can’t get comfortable…I have to be alive to my priorities. What a gift!
That line 'Belongings and home comforts don't keep me light and bright; fending and navigating and being creative with the limited resources I have does.'
Yes. What an 'a-ha' moment. I will blog more on this soon. This random post is not the place for a personal epiphany. Or maybe it is. Enjoy your day. Carry on.
"It's a Major Award!"
Imagine my surprise that when I crept out of my hermit existence turtle shell of the last few days, I find that I had won an award! I'm beginning to think that Ken must have ESP or some other mental telepathy to know just when a person needs cheering up. Upon notification, I have been awarded:
Liebster in German means Dearest, Beloved or Favorite. Dawwww.....that makes me smile. I first met Ken through someone else on the A-Z Challenge. I can not honestly remember how but I think he may have found me first, and commented on a post, or something like that. All I know is, the first time I 'met' him at his blog Ken-inatractor, he had his hand up in deep, dark places of a cow...yes, ponder. He is a farmer with a big heart and a love of words, beer and his wife, who he is apparently always chasing around the house when he's not planting or birthing calves. His comment to me about feeling at home here has stuck with me as one of the highest compliments I could ever receive about this humble little hammock adrift in the blogosphere - that it made someone want to stay awhile. So thank you, Ken, for affirming my Southern hospitality, for making me laugh often when I zip on over for a 'ken break' and for giving me this most auspicious award. I'll take you up on that cup of coffee one day, for sure.
I too, was tempted to run around the house like Ralphie's Dad in The Christmas Story when he won his major award. Instead, I'll play by the rules and pass it on to five blogs with 200 or less followers:
I too, was tempted to run around the house like Ralphie's Dad in The Christmas Story when he won his major award. Instead, I'll play by the rules and pass it on to five blogs with 200 or less followers:
- Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog. (check)
- Link back to the blogger who awarded you. (check)
- Copy & paste the blog award on your blog. (getting to it)
- Reveal your 5 picks. (drumroll.....)
- Let them know by leaving a comment on their blog. (last but not least...)
Josie over at Josie2shoes has become one of my fastest, most endearing blogger friends. Her posts are always thought-provoking and warm, like I imagine her to be in person. She routinely comments on my posts, which makes my day, considering I went roughly 3.25 years on this blog with zippo comments. So here you are, Josie, twice-awarded and grateful you're here in Blogville.
Then there's Justin - father extraordinaire and blogger to boot. His blog Blog of ISMs is noteworthy, award-worthy and deserving of getting the word out. I found him on the A-Z Challenge and we exchanged comments and encouraged each other on to finish the challenge. He has such a realness to him and his outlook on parenting a child with Autism. I admire him greatly. Check him out.
I also met Julie at From the Compound through the A-Z Challenge (and no, I didn't chose recipients based on whether or not their first names began with "J") and was drawn in my her beautifully designed blog, her early commenting on my blog and her wit. She is pretty cool, if you ask me.
(Geez, I really didn't plan this...) Meet Jenn. Just Jenn at Random Thoughts n' Lotsa Coffee. I don't remember how I came across her blog but I saw quotes and coffee and, did someone say coffee? So it is like hanging out in a coffee shop without having to get in your car. I really don't know how many followers she has because she keeps her entourage incognito but I award her, nonetheless. Her name starts with 'J' after all.
Last but not least, Melanie! She is the queen blogger of Sporkin' On Down the Road and she is funneh! I felt an instant comradeship in shared struggles and the will to triumph over them. I couldn't resist her play on words blog address and found that once there, I wanted to hang out a while and listen to her tell her stories. She also doesn't have her followers listed, so for all I know she could have a gajillion and I have deeply insulted her with an award for the 200 and under crowd, but while I'm begging forgiveness, stop on in and see what she's up to. You'll be glad you did!
Then there's Justin - father extraordinaire and blogger to boot. His blog Blog of ISMs is noteworthy, award-worthy and deserving of getting the word out. I found him on the A-Z Challenge and we exchanged comments and encouraged each other on to finish the challenge. He has such a realness to him and his outlook on parenting a child with Autism. I admire him greatly. Check him out.
I also met Julie at From the Compound through the A-Z Challenge (and no, I didn't chose recipients based on whether or not their first names began with "J") and was drawn in my her beautifully designed blog, her early commenting on my blog and her wit. She is pretty cool, if you ask me.
(Geez, I really didn't plan this...) Meet Jenn. Just Jenn at Random Thoughts n' Lotsa Coffee. I don't remember how I came across her blog but I saw quotes and coffee and, did someone say coffee? So it is like hanging out in a coffee shop without having to get in your car. I really don't know how many followers she has because she keeps her entourage incognito but I award her, nonetheless. Her name starts with 'J' after all.
Last but not least, Melanie! She is the queen blogger of Sporkin' On Down the Road and she is funneh! I felt an instant comradeship in shared struggles and the will to triumph over them. I couldn't resist her play on words blog address and found that once there, I wanted to hang out a while and listen to her tell her stories. She also doesn't have her followers listed, so for all I know she could have a gajillion and I have deeply insulted her with an award for the 200 and under crowd, but while I'm begging forgiveness, stop on in and see what she's up to. You'll be glad you did!
May 14, 2012
"It's Whatever..."
This is a well-known phrase in my house with a teenage daughter. It is an expression that connotates a sense of resignation, an accepting of the fates as they may be. A modern day, shortened version of the Serenity Prayer. "It's Whatever", or its shortened version, "Whatevs".
It has been one of those days, searching the most appropriate answer for those things that have no answers, looking for closure when there is none to be found...just piles of more questions. I have come to the conclusion that by taking the stance, "It's Whatever", this not only demonstrates an acceptance of the things by which we have no control, but an acceptance for the way things that weren't meant to be, in the grand scheme of things. It is a way of saying, 'It's all okay whatever may come my way.'
It can also give strength for the need to walk away. This is painfully necessary in this life - to walk away from circumstances that are beyond our control. We can not make anyone change. We can not force anyone to see the err of their thinking or ways. We can support only so long before it becomes enabling, and then no progress is made, no one gets better, nothing really changes.
So today, "it's whatever".
May 13, 2012
See How They Love
I am humbled daily by my two children, now both nearly adults, ready to step out into the world. They inspire me to be better. They push me to seek the good in others always. They are the reason I am thankful to be given the name 'Mom'.
Zach in Thailand
Courtney in Guatamala
She is near the middle - turquoise shirt, magenta bag strap on her right shoulder, short 'bobbed' brown hair
The Lost Art of Consideration
Absolute favorite photo of my Mom and me
Today I would be remiss if I didn't mention my Mom, for she is more than deserving of mere acknowledgement but she would be the first to shrug off any recognition. Moms are like that, aren't they? They would carry you on their backs through rushing waters without hesitation and want no honor for what they consider to be a part of their God-given role to do. Yet, it isn't the momentous or courageous act that makes our Mothers great. It is the mundane day-to-day provision, the little sacrifices, the repetitive guidance and instruction that make their place in our lives integral to the greater good of the world in which we live, all the while making us more independent, likable (or tolerable...) people.
I could write a book on the wisdom my Mom imparted on me in my growing up (and even my adult) years. She would be the first to admit she wasn't college educated, but the tutelage I received from my upbringing from her is the equivalent of a PhD in Common Sense with a minor in consideration. It still, to this day, confounds me how she married so young (as was more common in that day) and, having not really had any training in child development, instinctively knew to do some of the things she did with me as an infant, toddler and beyond. She knew that it was good for babies to have some 'down time' of low stimuli and would place me in a playpen by a window to explore the world on my own within those safe perimeters, to listen to music (I started very early) and to entertain myself. She knew to provide tactile experiences for me - playing 'guess the object' in paper bags, by touch, for giving me various textures to feel through sandpaper, shaving cream, string and cotton balls. She knew it was healthy for me to be outside. A lot. She didn't allow me to be underfoot, begging for snacks, begging for attention, begging to be entertained. I had to make my own fun, create my own imaginings and wait patiently at the screen door for a cup of water. I like to think that my ingenuity and independence were borne of this upbringing that made room for my own creativity and problem-solving. She knew in my middle school and high school years that it is quite good for me to hear the words 'wait' and 'no' and did not give in to popular opinion just to be 'liked' by me. She knew all of this, and so much more, without the first course in education.
One of the major credits to her that has served me well as a teenager, and then a young adult, and later as a parent was that of the priceless sense of consideration that she instilled in me. This is a lost art in this day of child-centered parenting and self-absorbed society. While she didn't necessarily espouse to the philosophy of 'children should be seen and not heard' she was very much a firm believer that children weren't the central focus of every situation or event. Gasp. I know. This is a modern-day parental statement of utter heresy nowadays. My brother and I were taught to mind, and to behave in public, to keep our voices down, or off, in an audience setting. We were guided to not impose when visiting someone's house ('wait to be offered food or drink - do not ask for it, and by all means, do not ask for something else when the dinner at hand is not a favorite'). We learned manners because we ate together every night (and so to this day, I can not stand to listen to someone smack and chew with their mouths open.....). I heard repeatedly over the years, 'leave it better than you found it', and have since passed on that bit of wisdom to my own two children.
I have been disappointed, appalled and dismayed at the sheer lack of consideration present today. I know this is a rather dismal outlook on society, and counters my usually wild crazy love of mankind, but it is an increasing state of affairs. Go to a family-friendly restaurant and you will see what I mean.
So I have my Mama to thank for giving me something that is becoming a rare attribute: consideration of others. You can thank my Mama that I probably won't try to get in the '20 items or less' aisle with 22 items, or that I will probably clean up the table (including under) after enjoying a meal out at a restaurant, I will NOT answer my phone in a public place, and conduct a loud conversation in said public place, and I won't entertain an in-depth conversation with you in a movie theater or during a speaker's lecture. It is an 'others' mentality that is at the heart of the Gospel. 'Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility, value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.' Phil. 2:3,4
Imagine a world where everyone considered someone else first.
Thank, Mom, for being hopeful in a world like that.
I have been disappointed, appalled and dismayed at the sheer lack of consideration present today. I know this is a rather dismal outlook on society, and counters my usually wild crazy love of mankind, but it is an increasing state of affairs. Go to a family-friendly restaurant and you will see what I mean.
So I have my Mama to thank for giving me something that is becoming a rare attribute: consideration of others. You can thank my Mama that I probably won't try to get in the '20 items or less' aisle with 22 items, or that I will probably clean up the table (including under) after enjoying a meal out at a restaurant, I will NOT answer my phone in a public place, and conduct a loud conversation in said public place, and I won't entertain an in-depth conversation with you in a movie theater or during a speaker's lecture. It is an 'others' mentality that is at the heart of the Gospel. 'Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility, value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.' Phil. 2:3,4
Imagine a world where everyone considered someone else first.
Thank, Mom, for being hopeful in a world like that.
Year of Firsts and New Beginnings
I am sure that I will have more to say in the coming months about my experiences as a new professor this past academic year. I will have longer stretches of uninterrupted (I am hopeful...) time to share many things, and will have more time to reflect on my students, my successes, my observations about the whole process. I have had the excitement (and frustration) of seeing a group of seniors through their final year to the end of their collegiate journey. That it is a tiny school, and my classes were small, I had the privilege of getting to know most of the students connected to my department very well. I thought it would be enjoyable to go back and hit the highlights of this year - this year of firsts and the beginning of what may prove to be an interesting path.
Let's start from the beginning...it was literally identical to my first job as first grade teacher, standing in an empty classroom but for the pyramid of desks piled in the center. Back then, I had gone to school, but I wasn't prepared. Fast forward to recent days, I sat frozen, many an evening trying to begin my syllabi ('What do I do?!') and scouring the internet for information and helpful hints for HOW to teach college students. I had planned lessons for six-year-olds - could have eight plates spinning at once to meet the needs of all the challenges of an elementary classroom. I could include manipulatives and interaction, group activities and multimedia. I had led professional development for adults, for my fellow colleagues. I could create agendas and outlines, plans for critical discussion and opportunities for working to learn. WHAT do I do with twenty-somethings? This resource was extremely helpful in its simplicity.
I recall that since the courses were all new to me, I spent MANY a night up late (or early, as in wee hours...) typing, reading, researching, planning, planning, planning. Admittedly, there were moments that I thought, "Can I really do this?!" Through paper after paper, case study after case study, I made my way through a first semester as professor.
Some of the highlights as I look back:
Let's start from the beginning...it was literally identical to my first job as first grade teacher, standing in an empty classroom but for the pyramid of desks piled in the center. Back then, I had gone to school, but I wasn't prepared. Fast forward to recent days, I sat frozen, many an evening trying to begin my syllabi ('What do I do?!') and scouring the internet for information and helpful hints for HOW to teach college students. I had planned lessons for six-year-olds - could have eight plates spinning at once to meet the needs of all the challenges of an elementary classroom. I could include manipulatives and interaction, group activities and multimedia. I had led professional development for adults, for my fellow colleagues. I could create agendas and outlines, plans for critical discussion and opportunities for working to learn. WHAT do I do with twenty-somethings? This resource was extremely helpful in its simplicity.
I recall that since the courses were all new to me, I spent MANY a night up late (or early, as in wee hours...) typing, reading, researching, planning, planning, planning. Admittedly, there were moments that I thought, "Can I really do this?!" Through paper after paper, case study after case study, I made my way through a first semester as professor.
Some of the highlights as I look back:
- Standing in our faculty
kitchenmop-closet-converted-to-a-place-to-heat-up-leftovers, I turned to hear one of my new colleagues say in his awesome Bahamian accent, "I just had to come see 'da bomb' myself" Me: (*quizzical look) "One of my students this morning said, "That new professor? She is 'da bomb!'" Me: (*sheepish, stunned grin) - When my fellow colleagues learned that I avoid gluten, one of those dear, sweet souls always made sure that she brought gluten-free fare to any gatherings that included munchies.
- Being approached at the end of my first class period one morning, early on - "Professor _____? Can we talk to you?" (I'm thinking, 'uh oh'). "Would you consider being our Barnabas leader for this semester?" (Barnabas is a small group concept on campus that meets every Thursday. They usually have some sort of focus or emphasis.) So I agreed, and for four months, my little motley crew crammed into my office where we laughed hysterically, cried some, shared and vented. We decided our group focus was Transitions, and we were in this together as they approached a new phase of life, and I too, was in one. They wanted to know the truth about teaching, and I was determined that they heard it. No sugarcoating it from me. They deserved to know where they were headed. They felt they could be open with me and told me their frustrations with their experiences in the department. I heard more than I should have probably, but they know their words are safe with me.
- Two memorable lessons in particular - The one I taught on blindness in my exceptionalities class. I partnered them up and took them all out into the Earl courtyard to take turns blindfolding each other to feel what it would be like to be depend on others to get around. I will never forget sitting on the rock outside our building, watching them. Next time, there will be videotaping involved. The other lesson was the one I did on ADHD. I had several noise producing mechanisms going, a flickering strobe on the promethean board (not the seizure-inducing variety), the temperature of the room adjusted to the extreme, and I was clamoring around the room making noise, shutting doors, and rustling papers as they entered the room. I had also handed them a short article to read while the shenanigans were taking place. Quality discussion ensued about trying to see from the perspective of each individual student.
- Partnering up with one of my fellow colleagues to go set up the electricity at one of our student's apartments. We'd learned she had been living there with no electricity because she couldn't afford the deposit. The temperatures were plummeting. She already struggled academically, and she shared with us that she tried to study by flashlight.
Spring semester brought a unique, but favorite aspect of my role: student teaching supervisor. I thoroughly enjoyed not only making my own schedule (for the most part) but getting back into classrooms as an observer. I recall a few instances that I met with some of my student teachers after a particular lesson taught, and after offering them some guidance, their growth and progress was evident in subsequent lessons. It was a tangible way to feel a difference had been made. I became very close to my group of girls. They became 'my' teachers even if I'd only had one year with them.
For National Teacher's Day last week, I sent them all an individual text messages wishing them Happy Teacher's Day. They had finished their student teaching, and they were one week away from it being official. In my book, they were already outstanding educators. Here is one of the replies I received:
Much to my surprise, like in first grade, my students gave me notes and a gift. My first professor notes and gift:
A high compliment paid here 'even (when) you were tough, it made us grow'. I consider this one of the best affirmations.
How did they know I have an affinity for brand-spankin' new crayons?
Another 'first' note
First attendance of a college graduation. Period. How is that, you ask? I had just had my son four days before my undergraduate ceremony and my Masters was in another state. This first graduation was especially poignant for me.
Our Eagle donning his graduation garb. The serendipity is not lost on me - I was an 'Eagle' for my undergraduate. Some things really do come full circle.
My first 'tassle turners'! They were all in the back three rows.
I had been invited to ball games, birthday parties, and baptisms. This particular invitation is unique to my new age bracket of students: my first wedding invitation! One of my sweet girls gets married this July in North Carolina. I will be there. Absolutely.
And so, what now? More to come on new insights, inspiration and new direction for the upcoming year. Strangely, I am energized and eager to look ahead. What is currently on my nightstand?
I desire to get better, to reach for more, and to be an instrument for sending forth teachers of excellence.
A high compliment paid here 'even (when) you were tough, it made us grow'. I consider this one of the best affirmations.
First attendance of a college graduation. Period. How is that, you ask? I had just had my son four days before my undergraduate ceremony and my Masters was in another state. This first graduation was especially poignant for me.
And so, what now? More to come on new insights, inspiration and new direction for the upcoming year. Strangely, I am energized and eager to look ahead. What is currently on my nightstand?
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