Coming and Going

19 years ago, I was hugely pregnant in the midst of one of the hottest summers on record in St. Louis. That summer, I barely left the comfort of my house. My husband did a lot of the errand-running for me that summer while I spent a lot of time cooling my big pregnant body in a blow up kiddy pool in our backyard.

19 years ago, my sweet girl Lauren was coming. A baby girl after two boys.

19 years ago, after two boys, her room was fully stocked with all things pink and frilly. A few dresses in her closet. The bottom half of the walls in her room were sponge painted in mint green, yellow and pink, the top was a cheery, lemony yellow, and a pretty watercolory wallpaper border wrapped around the room dividing the two. White eyelet curtains with pink gingham ribbon trim framed the windows. A white bookshelf between the windows held books, a squishy pink doll that was stitched with “My First Doll,” pastel stuffed animals and whatever other girlie trinket I could find. A bundle of pastel satin balloons hung on the wall above the crib that was waiting for her. A white dresser held more little ruffled socks than any baby would ever need, and a music box on top of that dresser played “You are my Sunshine.” She already owned her first pair of shoes—tiny black patent leather Mary Jane’s that I imagined her wearing on her first Christmas.

19 years ago, I was sewing my first ever (and only ever!) quilt, one that had rows of eyelet woven with pink ribbon and edged with a yellow satin ruffle.  At night after Brandon and Justin were tucked in their beds, I would go into Lauren’s room, rock in the rocking chair with my hands on my belly and talk to her. I talked to her about all of the hopes and dreams I had for her.  I envisioned dance recitals and gymnastics classes. I thought of myself as a little girl and all of the things I had wished I could do, and I promised her that not only would she always be cherished and loved, but that I would do whatever I could to make all of her dreams come true. That summer, Elton John, who is one of my all-time favorite singers, released a song called Blessed, and every time I heard it, I thought of the baby girl I was carrying:

Hey you, you're a child in my head
You haven't walked yet
Your first words have yet to be said
But I swear you'll be blessed

I know you're still just a dream
your eyes might be green
Or the bluest that I've ever seen
Anyway you'll be blessed

And you, you'll be blessed
You'll have the best
I promise you that
I'll pick a star from the sky
Pull your name from a hat
I promise you that, promise you that, promise you that

To this day, when I hear that song, I tear up and remember the summer that I was expecting Lauren.

19 years ago, my bags were already packed and waiting by the front door since I had preterm labor with Justin at 29 weeks, and I was worried it would happen again. One of those bags, I cute mint green and white diaper bag, held her coming home outfit--a sweet little pink and white onsie with eyelet and pink ribbon trim. Yeah, I liked eyelet.

19 years ago, though her birth was still a month away, I was ready.

19 years ago, I was waiting for Lauren to come.

Now, a day away, Lauren is going.

It’s not been a summer anything at all like the one I spent waiting for her arrival. It’s definitely not hot like that summer 19 years ago when I would sometimes go into the grocery store and leave my car running so that it would stay cool while I was gone. In fact, it’s been a rather cool and rainy, not at all a normal St. Louis summer. And I haven’t been as excited for her going as I was for her coming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for her. I love her school. I think she is going to thrive there. But waiting for her to go has been different than waiting for her to come.

I digress.

Lauren’s room is still fully stocked. Very fully stocked. Shelves of trophies have replaced the shelves of stuffed animals and dolls and books.  Her walls, that are now blue rather than pink and mint green and yellow, are almost completely covered with posters of Cardinals baseball players, photos of her friends and her artwork.

No more music boxes for this girl. But her room does have a drum set.

The drawers of frilly socks have been replaced with black Adidas basketball socks, lots of them, that cost $12 a pair. A PAIR!! No Mary Janes have graced her feet since she was four. No ballet shoes have graced her feet since she was four either.

But, she does have shiny black Nike basketball high tops. More than one pair.

She’s never done a back flip on a mat in a gym, but she has been elbowed in the nose, knocked around, gotten floor burns on her legs and worse burns on her ego.

Her closet no longer holds frilly pink things like it did 19 years ago. Instead, it contains a myriad of shirts with team logos and hoods and athletic symbols. There hasn’t been a dress in her closet for many years.

Her room, her life, is stocked with things and dreams I never imagined 19 years ago when I cradled her in my belly while I rocked her and talked to her about all of the dreams I wished to come true for her.

Her life is now stocked with the things that are HER hopes and dreams, not mine.

Our living room is stocked now, too. It is stocked with the things that she has loved and the things that will accompany her going.

No more frilly quilts edged with satin and eyelet. Instead, a thick warm lime green and turquoise comforter that is so soft, I want to wrap myself up in it.

As she brought the very last thing that is going to college with her downstairs this afternoon and plunked it on the living room floor, it reminded me of a cute little diaper bag that once sat in almost the same exact spot, ready for her to come into the world. Now, it’s a very large Vera Bradley duffel bag that she received as a graduation gift.

She is going.

The pile of stuff in my living room proves that she is. Just as a mint green and pink and yellow room brimming with stuff proved she was coming 19 years ago.

I started writing this post very late last night. I put it aside because it seemed too scrambled and unorganized. This afternoon, Lauren brought me a folder with all of the letters she has gotten from her college over the past months, and I found it very ironic that their motto is “Dream Up.” I knew that, but didn’t give it much thought until today, with thoughts of this post I started writing last night very fresh in my mind. Some of the things she has received from them say things like, “Dream Big!,” and, “Follow your Dreams!” And always, “Dream Up!”

She is doing all of those things, right along with me. I can’t help but think now of the dreams I had for her 19 years ago when I dreamed of a happy, confident girl who would find her way much easier than I did. Dreams of a girl who knew she could do whatever she wanted. Those dreams of mine, perhaps the most important dreams of all, have come true, even if they came true in ways I never imagined 19 years ago.

I still have the same dreams for her that I had 19 years ago when I was waiting for her to arrive. I still promise her she will always be cherished and loved.

Unlike 19 years ago when the words to that Elton John song resonated so much with my heart, she has taken her first steps. She has said her first words. She’s no longer just a dream. Yet the lyrics of that song still resonate with my heart. She is getting ready to take her first new steps. She is getting ready to find a new voice. Whatever her life is to be is now her dream. And that is just how it should be.

My only dream now is that she is happy and makes her dreams come true.

And I pray that she’ll always be blessed.

Whatever

No, I have not been possessed by a teenaged girl with an attitude. My home has possibly been possessed by a teenaged girl or two, and maybe a boy who is no longer a teenager with an attitude, but not me.

This post wasn’t inspired by teenaged girls at all. It was inspired by a wooden plaque in my bathroom.

I know. I sure am inspired by crazy things sometimes, aren’t I?

This really isn’t as crazy as it sounds though.

Last summer, I redecorated my downstairs bathroom in a beachy theme. It wasn’t a total renovation or anything—I just painted the walls a shade of blue that reminds me of the Gulf of Mexico on a sunny day. I also purchased a few accessories that fit with the theme and color scheme and framed a few of my favorite beach photos for the walls.

And while it has nothing to do with the beach, I bought this plaque at Hobby Lobby because I liked the quote and it matched.

I liked the quote quite a lot. But, while it’s been in the bathroom for almost a year, I never really gave much thought to the words or the sentiment until a couple of days ago when I reached for the towel hanging below it to dry my hands.

Whatever is true

Whatever is noble

Whatever is right

Whatever is pure

Whatever is lovely

Whatever is admirable…

Think on these things.

On that particular day, those words really resonated with me, perhaps because have been thinking a lot and talking a lot lately about happiness with Justin, how happiness can’t come from someone else, and we often have to make our own. I told him that sometimes, I really have to force myself to do things that make me happy, even when I really don’t want to, but at the same time, I don’t want to be miserable. I told him that he can’t let what someone else does, that is out of his control, make him happy or unhappy.

Yeah, I don’t always practice what I preach. Sometimes, I find myself saying things to him that make me go hmmmm….I used to be pretty good at forcing myself to think happy thoughts and do happy things, but I don’t always do the best at that anymore, and I told him that sometimes, we have to work harder at being happy than we do at others. I’ve told him that it is at the precise times when we are most unhappy that it is the most important that we do that hard work. When we do, it’s worth the effort it takes.  I told him that very often, it is much easier to focus on negative things than positive things, but sometimes, you can’t help yourself. I was also sure to tell him that sometimes, the more you think on the negative and bad things, the more likely it is that you will focus your attention on those things. It’s a vicious circle, one that makes you feel worse when you get caught up in it.  

That’s some pretty fantastical rambling right there, eh? That is where my mind and heart have been lately.

The timing was just right for that sign to catch my eye on that day. Those words really made me stop and think. And they made me want to write for the first time in quite a while.

I know, I haven’t written here for a long, long while. I haven’t written anything at all for a long while, and it’s making me feel very out of sorts because normally, I love to write. Most people who know me know that.

So why is it that when I have so much I want to say, so many things that have been happening, so very many feelings and thoughts I want to get out of my head, those are the times I have the hardest time of all actually writing? Aren’t people who love to write supposed to process things by, oh, actually writing about them?

Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I just sit down and write the things I want to write?

That is a question I have asked myself so many times over the past 6 or so months. I want the words to flow. On my knees in front of my computer, I beg them to. (Not really on my knees, but mentally, yes. I am ON MY KNEES. Begging.) But the words—they don’t come. 

Tonight, that plaque in my bathroom has inspired me. And a quiet house has inspired me. There is no one here who needs me to fix anything, cook anything, wash anything or clean anything. No advice needs to be given, no hurting hearts need to be soothed. All is calm and quiet. I don’t even have a light on in my house other than the small lamp on my desk. The only sound is the quiet hum of the dishwasher. I was sitting outside, but other noises—the hum of swarming mosquitos and the sound of my hand slapping them away--drove me indoors.

It’s been a rough few months around here. Really, really, incredibly rough.  No other way to say it. It’s been a bigger challenge than I thought it would be having Justin home. I naively thought that once he was home, I would stop worrying about how he is doing. I was wrong. So very wrong.  I’ve had worries weighing so heavily on me that the usual bag of tricks I dip into when I need a distraction or a knot dissolved from my gut hasn’t worked so well for me. I have tried. Really, I have. Although to be honest, some days, I’m so mentally drained that I don’t even try, and that is a new thing for me.

Hence the topic of this post. As I really noticed and paid attention to that quote painted on that small piece of wood in my bathroom, I realized that in my quest to force myself to focus on some good things in the midst of chaos, uncertainty and worry I have been focusing on those things without even realizing I was.

True, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable.

True:   authentic, genuine, sincere, dependable, not deceitful

While it’s been oh so difficult to do at times, I am being true to myself, even on bad days when I melt down and cry. I have given myself permission to be wherever I am on any given day. Mostly though, I am being true to the kind of mother I have always dreamt of being—not just the fun mom who takes her kids to do fun things and welcomes everyone into our home and bakes yummy treats—but the mom that my kids know they can count on, the mom that they come to when they are hurting, the mom they know will always be there and always love them no matter what stupid thing they have done or what they want to talk about. (Disclaimer:  While I have always strived to be that kind of mom, it’s not an easy thing to do. Some days, I think I would much prefer to bury my head in the sand and not know what is going on in their lives. But then again, at the end of the day, it’s nice to know I am “that kind” of mom that I always want to be). It is surely not easy  to sit and watch your son cry, but I’m so happy that he knows he can, that he knows he can depend on me when he’s having a rough time.

 

Noble: high minded, loftiness of character that scorns the petty or mean, suggests greatness of mind or soul, especially as manifested in generosity

Several things about my life lately fall into this category. For one, I have turned into the world’s greatest cheerleader. While I am often screaming inside and the Mama Bear in me wants to punch someone in the face, I am keeping those thoughts to myself and telling whatever child is involved at the time to take the high road, not stoop to someone else’s low level, give the person you really want to punch the benefit of the doubt, don’t burn any bridges, blah blah blah…

Something else I find myself doing a great deal of lately is focusing on doing something for someone else when I am feeling especially bitchy and grouchy. It really does my soul good to find a way to brighten someone else’s day. I find it especially fulfilling to do something nice for someone who is the cause of me feeling bitchy and grouchy. I figure it’s a much better use of my time and energy than dreaming of punching them in the face. J

Right: fitting or appropriate, in accordance with what is good, proper or just, to put in proper order, condition or relationship, appropriate, good, honest, deserved, honorable, moral, proper

See cheerleader paragraph above.

As for “putting in proper order,” I spend a great deal of time prioritizing what I should be doing, stressing about and/or worrying about. I spend a great deal of time asking myself, “Will this matter a year from now?” If the answer is no, I do my best to let that worry go. If the answer is yes, then it’s pretty high on my priority list to do what I can to take care of it and make it better if I there is any way I can.

Pure: free from extraneous matter, simple or homogeneous

I am definitely using my time to find simple things to enjoy:

Coffee in my favorite mug on my favorite porch rocking chair—the way I force myself to spend a part of the morning, even if it’s going to be a crazy busy day and I really don’t have time for that. I make the time. And while I am porch sitting in the morning, I try to banish all worries and negative thoughts and focus instead on the baby bunnies nibbling the grass.

Spending an early Sunday morning watching The Breakfast Club.
Teaching Lauren the fine art of porch sitting. She often will come sit with me at night, and even when we don’t talk and she is on her phone, I enjoy it immensely.

 

The mouth-watering aroma of overflowing pots of herbs on my deck. I got a food processor for my birthday that is patiently waiting to make oodles of pesto. Mmmmm….

Freshly picked blueberries.

 

Shopping for St. Louisy stuff for my brother.

Visiting sites around St. Louis taking photos of 250^th birthday cakes that are scattered around the city.

 

Decorating for Rachel's 16th birthday party.

Stopping on the way home from work to walk along the river.

Spending a weekend with my brother, who I didn’t see for almost 30 years.

 

A sweet birthday card, perhaps the best I’ve ever been given. So sweet in fact that I carry it in my purse and probably have the note written on the inside memorized. It was given to me by my boss and was so unexpected, and it makes me smile.

Lovely

As is typical for me, many of the things I do to distract myself, keep my mind off of my troubles, falls into the “lovely” category. Words I found that are synonymous with lovely are delightful, delicious, pretty, sweet, adorable, scrumptious, pleasant, pleasing. I love all of those words! They all have a delightful ring to them don’t they? And they have all filled my days with one pleasant sweet or delightful thing or another. Let’s start with delicious. Of course! Fortunately, I have not lost my desire to cook and bake! I haven’t taken any photos, but I cook up a storm. It is still my favorite of all time stress reliever.

Here are some other lovely things and thoughts:

 

Each May, I host a bracelet making night for the moms in our support group. It’s a fun night that everyone has really come to enjoy, most especially me! This year, I bought an assortment of sea glass beads and pearls for the bracelet, and wrote a little reflection about sea glass and how it begins as broken shards of glass that are tumbled and tossed about in the ocean and dashed against rocks to eventually become things of beauty. The evening was so enjoyable with lots of laughter amongst the tears, and I truly loved seeing the bracelets everyone created. I made my own jewelry, and I love it and wear it as often as I can. It reminds me that the difficult times in life are part of the beauty of life, even if I hate those times. Wearing it reminds me to think of other times in my life that were so challenging and hard and how those times shaped me into the person I am today.

I wrote before about how I taught myself how to crochet this past winter. I have enjoyed it so very much, and some days, sitting down with a basket of yarn and a crochet hook is the best part of my day. One of the gals on our Angel Ball committee loved my worry blanket so much that she is paying me to make her one. The interesting thing is that she crochets and knits like a wizard and could certainly make one because it has to be the easiest thing in the world to make, but she said she will treasure it more knowing that I made it for her. The only instructions she gave were to make it with less yellow than mine and more pink. I love how it is turning out.

The blue striped afghan is something I am so completely enjoying working on right now. I chose each of the colors based on some of my favorite beach photos: One from York Beach in Maine, one from Pensacola Beach in Florida, and one from Lake Michigan. I am in love with how it is turning out, and I love the memories it brings to mind as I am working on it.

 

Speaking of the beach…

I decorated my dining room table in a beachy theme. I love it, and it has inspired me to stop using my dining room as a dumping ground for all things I’m too lazy to put away or find a home for. I just pulled together some of my blue glassware and used some sand, shells and sea glass left over from my bracelet making night.

Working in the yard and bringing it out of the winter doldrums into its summery life.

 

 

Back in May, my boss, who knows I enjoy crafty endeavors, asked me if I would make a set of cards for special thing she wanted to do at our yearly all day staff meeting. She gave me instructions to make a set of cards with each person’s name on it, blank on the back. She wanted 9 cards with each person’s name along with a little decorated envelope to put them in. Each person was given a set of 9 cards, one with each person’s name on it. Then, we had to write something to that person on their card, then give them to each other. Each person ended up with 9 cards containing things written about them. It was such a lovely thing to read what each of my coworkers wrote on my cards. I’m sure it didn’t come as a shock to anyone that I ended up in tears. Not only did I have an absolute BLAST making the cards, my coworkers loved them.

Of course, no post from me would be complete without a beautiful sunrise photo now would it?

 

Admirable:  execellent, first rate, praiseworthy, valuable, wonderful

I will end this with a photo of something that could fit into each of these categories I have written about tonight.

 

I just love this photo and stare at it every day.  I’ve run out of steam and words for now. I think this photo says it all, though, with no other words needed. (Or, that’s a copout because I just can’t think of any!)

Until next time…I will embed these words in my brain and think on them as I continue to always try to dance in the rain.

 

 

 

Worry Blanket

When I was young, my Aunt Mary taught me how to crochet one summer when I was staying with her. Or rather, I should say, she tried to teach me to crochet. I remember I was always fascinated watching her fingers swiftly push that pastel metal hook through loops of yarn and having it all turn into something pretty. She made many fine-threaded white doilies that she soaked in liquid starch then stretched out and pinned to her spare bed with what seemed like hundreds of tiny silver pins, letting them dry until they were stiff. She made Afghans, so many Afghans, in every color that was popular back then—avocado green, orange, gold and magenta in rippled patterns, granny square patterns, and patterns I don’t even know what they were called. She also crocheted Afghans in what she called “afghan stitch.” Those were different—she crocheted long thin panels in a square pattern on long crochet hooks. Eventually, she stitched them all together to make a blanket, and to these blankets, she added cross stitch designs. She gave me this one shortly after Tony and I were married, and while I draped it over the back of our first couch in our first apartment, I didn’t particularly like it because it was stitched with a yarn that is not very soft or cozy. I think it is some kind of wool or acrylic and wool blend, and it is rather scratchy and stiff. It now lives in my linen closet upstairs.

 

Other items Aunt Mary crocheted for me, I do indeed use. Like this tablecloth that she gave to me not long after we moved into our new house almost 20 years ago.

 

I can only imagine how long it took her to make those 54 squares, sew them all together and then add a tiny scalloped border around the edge. It is made from a really thin cotton thread, and wow, she was 83 years old then! I’m only 50, and my eyesight ain’t what it used to be! It must have taken her forever, and every time I spread it out over my dining room table I can envision the love that she wove into every single tiny stitch. She also made this lovely white table runner that is almost always on the buffet in my dining room.

On that summer day back when I was somewhere around 10 or 11 years old, I asked her to teach me how to crochet. She tried, she really did, and she was so patient, but I never got past making a chain that was about as long as her couch while she watched one of her “stories” and crocheted away. I couldn’t get the tension right, and some of my loops were tight and knotted, some of them were large enough to poke a finger through. Even back then, I gave up on things too easily, and I quickly gave up on crocheting.

I never picked up a crochet hook again until a few years ago, and that was only because I wanted to crochet an edge around a gift I had knitted for a friend. Yes, I can knit, but with a crochet hook in my hand, I always felt like I was all thumbs.

Then, several months ago, I stumbled upon a really wonderful striped blanket while perusing Pinterest one Sunday morning. I thought it was so lively and fun and colorful, and I really wanted to try to make it. I went to the blog it was posted on, and unfortunately, it wasn’t knitted, it was crocheted. I was so disappointed. However, something kept drawing me back to that blog, to that cheerful striped blanket, and I decided I was going to teach myself how to crochet so I could make that blanket. I settled myself in front of my computer with a cup of coffee, a ball of yarn and a crochet hook, and spent the next hour or so watching you tube videos and following along. Soon, I had figured out the basics and had a little square of about 6 inches of perfect crochet stitches. Feeling pretty confident, I went to Hobby Lobby on my way home from work a few days later and stocked up on some really super-soft yarn in whatever colors appealed to me. I started my blanket that night, assuming I might finish it sometime in this decade, or…I might not, since I am THE QUEEN of unfinished projects. (I have a Rubbermaid tub of unfinished projects in my basement to prove it!) Thankfully, the pattern was very easy with row after row of the exact same stitch. It quickly became very mindless, and I found I could finish a couple of rows while watching a tv show.

It is called Granny Stripe Blanket. The blogger who made it popular crocheted it in random colors, no pattern, and while that method totally goes against the grain of who I am, I decided to try it that way. I’ll be honest—I fought it at first. My instinct was to pick a few colors, figure out a pleasing pattern, and stick to that pattern. That or use an array of colors yet arrange the colors into a ROY G. BIV rainbowish pattern. I was so torn as to whether I should just throw caution to the wind and make each row whatever color I felt like making it at the time or if I should be true to my orderly side and spend some time coming up with a pleasing pattern and arrange the colors just so.

I eventually chose to throw caution to the wind.

Well, sort of. While I did decide to not follow a set pattern and let my mood at the time determine which color I would add to the blanket next, I did make a few “rules” for myself.  

1.       I wouldn’t put two colors next to each other more than once or use the same pattern of colors more than once

2.       I would make sure the more bright/vivid colors were spread out somewhat equidistant from each other (but I wouldn’t count to make sure. J )

3.       I would use each color at least 3 times

I did follow my own rules for the most part, but there were times that I would jump ahead of myself and plan out the next 5 or so rows, arranging the skeins of yarn in rows on my kitchen table. I even took photos of them so I wouldn’t forget what I wanted to do next. I don’t think I put the same colors together more than once—if I did, it was an accident. And, I did use each color three times. Some colors I used more than others, like the yellows, pinks and blues, and there was only one color that I had to force myself to use three times.

Okay, enough about all the nitty-gritty probably boring details.

Why did I title this “worry blanket?”

That is a long and complicated story.

It has been a long and complicated winter. Long, stressful and complicated. Working on this blanket ended up being my saving grace. I spent many nights curled up in my favorite chair, a glass of wine or a cup of tea on the table next to me, soft light spilling out from the lamp onto my lap, the growing blanket warming me on cold nights as I slowly wove colorful yarn and my worries into this blanket. Probably a few cat hairs too since it quickly became a cat magnet.

This blanket became my therapy, and I may have a few less gray hairs because of it.

As I worked on my blanket, and again as I started writing about it, I thought about how crocheting was almost like a form of meditation. I even did some “research” into the therapeutic value of knitting/crocheting, and what I read didn’t surprise me. I read that research has shown that knitting/crocheting can reduce stress and burnout, lower heart rate and blood pressure, and distract you from worry and pain.

And there is more.

I read a Mayo clinic study that shows knitting is good for a person’s brain, especially as they age—that it helps keep your mind sharp. Another study pointed out that 60% of your brain is committed to the use of your hands and that using your hands, especially both of them in the same activity, actually stimulates and strengthens portions of your cortex.

My cortex must be super-duper strong right now.

I didn’t know all that while I was in the midst of making my blanket; all I knew at the time was that the rhythmic, repetitive nature of what I was doing was calming my soul and relaxing me. And most importantly, taking my mind from my troubles for a while. When I was crocheting away, sometimes long into the night, I really focused on only that and nothing else. I didn’t think about the worries that were weighing heavily on my heart. I only focused on what my hands were doing. I only focused on counting back every so often to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. I only focused on what colors I wanted to use next. Many nights, I crocheted until I was falling asleep.

As my worries grew, so did my blanket. I began to think of it as my worry blanket. And, I thought about some “life lessons” as I worked.

For instance, I ended up using a color that I really didn’t care for at all. What I thought looked like a pumpkin-y sort of orange ended up looking just yucky and brown and out of place among the rest of the cheerful colors. I was several rows beyond the first time that color appeared in the blanket when I noticed that it was really quite ugly. I thought about ripping out the rows that came after it so that I could take it out, but I decided I didn’t want to invest so much time in that, that I would just live with it and try to use other colors around it the next time that would make it look better.

Yeah. Nice idea, but that didn’t work either. No matter what color combination I used around that ugly orange/brown, nothing made it look any better. I almost became obsessed with it, but finally, I just let it go. I realized that nothing I could do would make me like that color in the blanket, and while I wished I would have left it on the shelf at Hobby Lobby, I was stuck with it. It was part of the blanket, and I began to think that when it was all finished, it would have its place in the overall scheme of the blanket. I hoped that when it was finished, while I might sometimes notice that ugly color that I would mostly focus on the overall beauty of the finished product, not that one color that I hated.

That ugly brown color in my blanket reminded me of life. Sometimes, or often, things happen that are unpleasant and downright ugly, things that we want to go back and change, but we can’t. Those things typically stand out in our lives as a glaring and awful in the midst of what is otherwise good. We may focus on them too much, not noticing the good things around us, before we finally give in and decide that while we wish that ugly thing hadn’t happened, it is part of our story, part of what makes us who we are. Just as that ugly brown is part of my blanket’s story. As I worked on the blanket, that not-so-pretty color began to bother me less and less. Once it was finished, those who have seen it probably didn’t even notice the one color that I hate so much. In fact, one person who saw it immediately said, “Wow, that is incredible! You must have worked so hard on that, and it’s beautiful!” She didn’t look at it and say, “Wow, that brown is one ugly color! It ruins the whole thing!”

My worry blanket is thick and heavy, huge. Much larger than I imagined it would be when I started it. Every time I thought I would only add a few more rows and be finished, I couldn’t stop. I was dusting one day and noticed the colors on the covers of a few of my favorite books on my bookshelf and thought those combinations would make a nice addition to the blanket. One morning, I glanced out my kitchen window at 6 AM and noticed the sunrise, and those colors inspired me to add yet a few more rows.

Finally though, a few weeks ago, I came to a point where I knew I was finished, and I knew it was time to stop adding rows and start adding the border. I chose yellow for the final color because it reminded me of sunshine and a quote I recently read that said to keep your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you. This blanket represents shadows--my worries, my fears…yet it also represents some of the good things in my life--favorite books, the colors of the beach, a beautiful sunrise...the border that finishes it off represents sunshine. It is supposed to be pointy, but for some reason, my points droop off to the side, which makes me think even more of sun rays. The last three rows before I started the border are the colors on the cover of one of my very favorite books—Simple Abundance. It is a book that reminds the reader to be grateful for all of the blessings in life and to take joy in simple things. I thought that was an appropriate ending to my worry blanket, that along with the sun ray border.

 This blanket, that I will keep draped over my favorite chair where I spent so much time this winter creating it, serves as a reminder to me that while I don't want to let the few "ugly" parts of it ruin the overall blanket, I also don't want to let the "ugly" parts of life ruin life overall. Just as a lot of hard work went into creating that blanket, so goes life. You work hard on it and hopefully, overall it is beautiful even with the less-than-pretty parts woven through it.

 

 

My worry blanket, 2 months after I started crocheting it on a dreary, cold February night.

 

 

 

 

Following my Heart

Over the years that I have been writing this little blog, my posts have at times been influenced by things I read on other blogs. Perhaps a title, or a quote, or a photograph, or sometimes just a sentence or two speaks to me and takes my mind down paths it might otherwise not have gone.  In fact, the title of my blog was inspired by a quote I kept reading various places at the time I was starting to write here. If a post I have written only came to be because of something I’ve read or seen somewhere else, I have always prefaced what I write with the inspiration behind it.

This morning, I was once again motivated to write based on something I read on a blog I have only recently started following. The author of the blog, Sarah, is someone I actually met many years ago when I first began attending national perinatal bereavement conferences with my coworkers. However, in the past year I have gotten to know her better since becoming part of the board of a professional organization that she is the past president of.  I have also gotten to know her in a different way through the stories she shares on her blog, and I so admire and enjoy her writing and the very eloquent way she shares her life and thoughts. Her blog, Small Points of Light, has not only become one of my favorite to read, but it has become one I check several times a week, hoping for a new post. One of the things I most appreciate about her blog is that she frequently has a similar thought process to mine, as in very routine things about her day can trigger thoughts and reflections that are much deeper than the event that prompted them. I love that, because my thought processes occasionally go the same way. Although, I do have to say that as a writer, she is definitely more “polished” than I am, and whereas I sometimes have a difficult time neatly wrapping it all up at the end in a way that makes some kind of sense and order from all of my rambling thoughts, she does so quite beautifully.

So, back to this morning when I read her latest post called, “Magnetism.” She started off by telling a story about how once long ago, she was leaving a conference on a Sunday and rather than head the direction she needed to be going to get home, she turned the complete opposite direction, even though she knew she should go home. She then wrote:

 Given a choice between what is logical and what draws my heart, though, my heart generally wins.

All I could think was, “Wow, that is SO me.” Not that I have ever thought of myself using those same words, but what my heart wants and is drawn to generally does win out over logic most of the time. Like this morning when I began writing this…logic was quite forcefully telling me that I ought to be doing a number of things on a beautiful Sunday morning, not sitting in pajamas when it was almost noon typing away at my computer while the dog sleeps  at my feet in the band of sunshine warming him (and my cold feet!) underneath my desk.

Logically, I should be:

a). finishing the daunting task of cleaning and organizing my pantry. I started doing that on Friday afternoon, and despite working on it in short bursts of time over the past three days, I am still not finished with it. Worse yet, because of that project, my kitchen is in disarray, and I need to get it all back in order before the work week begins tomorrow.

b). baking the banana nut muffins that I made the batter for, that is now chillin’ in the fridge because I decided to do some blog reading while I waited for the first batch to bake.

c). putting away the 5 baskets of laundry that I managed to wash and fold yesterday, but are still sitting here next to me.

d). cleaning up the mess I left in my kitchen after making banana nut muffin batter and preparing a roast to put in the crock pot for tonight’s dinner. Between all that and the mess from my pantry cleaning…well, trust me when I say that my kitchen is a DISASTER. 

e). getting dressed and ready to go do the week’s grocery shopping.

I’m sure I could think of more things, but those are the most important tasks I SHOULD be trying to accomplish right this moment. Obviously, my heart “won” in its desire to sit and write rather than do those necessary chores. They will just have to wait.

The ironic thing about reading that particular post from Sarah on this day is that I have been thinking a great deal lately about times that I have done something completely against what logically I thought I should be doing. I think that topic has been on my mind a lot recently because this month is the 10 year anniversary of when I started working at Share. When I was offered my job, it was totally unexpected. I had happily been a stay-at-home mom for nearly 13 years and volunteering at Share for almost two years. I wasn’t really sure if I wanted a job, and on a whim, after thinking about it for several days and being prepared to say no, I took it. I was terrified. I didn’t think I was cut out to be a working mom. I worried about how drastically my life would change, maybe not for the better…but I took it for the sole reason that I had grown to love the organization. That decision that I made with my heart instead of my head turned out to be an excellent one, one that led me to a very rewarding job that I can’t imagine not having, personal growth in ways I never could have imagined either, truly remarkable people, and best of all, a very dear friend who I can’t fathom not having in my life. I have accomplished things in the past 10 years that had never even been a blip on my radar.

After reading Sarah’s post this morning I have been unable to get that sentence above out of my head. I have learned that if I can’t get something out of my head, that is my signal that I need to put whatever is happening at the time on hold if at all possible and let whatever it is flow through my mind to my computer via my fingers and keyboard.

This morning, my flowing thoughts led to pondering other times when what drew my heart won out over what my brain said was the logical, maybe even “safe” thing to do. One big one happened when I was in college. At the end of my freshman year, at a family reunion, my aunt and uncle who lived in Colorado asked me if the following summer, after I had finished my associate’s degree at the local community college in Olney, if I would be interested in living with them and being a nanny to their three young sons so that my aunt could go with my uncle when he traveled for business. Without hesitation, I immediately said, “YES!!” I loved Colorado, and I had dreamed of attending Colorado State in Fort Collins, where they lived. However, I was paying my own way through college, and out-of-state-tuition was far beyond my reach. By living with them, I would be considered a Colorado resident after a year and would be able to attend CSU.

We made many plans that weekend, and the countdown to June 1983, when I would move to Colorado, was on! I talked to my aunt on the phone often, and through the winter, I excitedly thought about the adventure it would be. They owned a condo at Copper Mountain, and I looked forward to weekends spent there learning how to ski. They lived in a large, beautiful home nestled in the foothills of the Rockies; the mountains were a sight to behold from their kitchen window. Moving to Colorado was all I thought and talked about. Then, for some reason that I have still not ever been able to understand or figure out, in March of that year, I suddenly changed my mind, and everyone, most of all my uncle and aunt, were shocked. I quickly filled out an application for Eastern Illinois University, where several of my friends would be going in the fall. I found an apartment and moved to Charleston, IL in late August. I did second guess myself from time to time and wonder if I was making a huge mistake, but I quickly settled into campus life, made friends, became a little sister to a fraternity, changed my major from journalism to psychology and met my future husband at the end of my first year at EIU. It seemed I had my “answer” as to why fate stepped in and caused me to follow my heart at a time when everyone thought it was the dumbest thing I ever did.

Fast forward a couple of years, and I once again followed my heart rather than doing the “smart” thing. Tony and I were married in June 1986, six months after I had graduated from college with a bachelor in psychology and minor in sociology. Tony was still in school, due to graduate in August, and he had a job at the local radio station. I had been accepted into a graduate program and was working full time until classes started in the fall. We were married, we had a nice, furnished apartment near campus; our immediate future seemed to be settled and coming together nicely. Life was good, and one day, Tony came home and said to me, “What would you think about moving to Omaha after I graduate?” My first reaction was, “Why the hell would I want to move to OMAHA??” I knew his sister, brother and their spouses and children lived near there in Council Bluffs, IA, but that was all I knew about Omaha. I couldn’t imagine living there, but he was so excited about it that I gave in. I told myself, and everyone else told me too, how ridiculous our plan was. We didn’t have jobs lined up, we had nowhere to live yet--we literally left  Charleston with all of our worldly possessions in a 1982 blue Chevette. If you don’t know what a Chevette looks like, Google it. It is comparable today to a…well, I can’t even think of a car it’s comparable to. Bigger than a smart car, but smaller than a Ford Focus. We arrived at his sister’s house just after dawn the next morning. I spent most of the all-night drive through Illinois and Iowa wondering what the hell was wrong with me, why did I keep making decisions that defied all sense of what is “smart?” How could I have agreed to leave a safe, secure future for something so unknown? What if we couldn’t find jobs? What if we ended up back home within a short time, hearing everyone say, “I told you that was a dumb thing to do!?”

In the end, everything worked out. Within two weeks, we both had jobs, and within a month, we found a fabulous apartment, started buying furniture, began making friends, and settled into a life that again, I had never imagined for myself.

While those are two huge, life-altering examples of times I have followed my heart instead of my head, there are many smaller, more insignificant times, where my decision seemed to be a rash, not-very-well-thought-out one.

Like the time Tony and I decided on a snowy Saturday morning in March 1999 to take a trip to Florida, and by 5 PM two days later, we had packed the kids (who were 7, 4, 3 and 9 months) into our minivan and drove all night and most of the next day to Sarasota without even so much as a hotel reservation. What a grand adventure THAT turned out to be…I think that trip is what instilled a love for the beach in our children, and in me. We also discovered our very favorite vacation spot and hotel, one we returned to several years in a row. Our kids still talk about the Helmsley Sandcastle and want to go back there some day.

Or the time when my heart drew me to sit down at my computer one winter night and book a flight to visit my very dear friend, who I had spent the previous three years getting to know through hours of instant messaging and talking on the phone, but who I had never met in person. I will not ever forget the night I booked that flight, sent her the confirmation email, then spent the next 3 ½ months teeter-tottering back and forth between feelings of excitement and feelings of, “Oh shit, what have I done?” After spending a few minutes trying not to hyperventilate in the airport bathroom when the day finally arrived and I flew out to meet her, I spent a wonderful weekend getting to know a family who has become as dear to me as my own.

Or the time this summer when on a whim, I loaded up my girls and took a road trip to Minneapolis to go shopping at Mall of America. Again, so many people thought I was crazy, most especially my husband, but we spent a fun-filled five days driving, stopping when we wanted to stop, shopping, talking, eating whatever we felt like eating. I can’t wait to do it again, although I suspect it won’t have quite the same feeling of adventure as that first, so spontaneous trip when the girls didn’t even know where we were going until we got there.

There are many more “ors.”

Countless times throughout my life, I have been criticized for making snap decisions, and I have been told that I need to think things through more carefully. Mostly, I have agreed and wished I wasn’t so flighty at times. However, since reading Sarah’s post this morning, I have a new understanding for this very important part of the person I am. I realize that while it may seem as if I don’t think things through properly, indeed I do…and at the times when my heart and head are at odds, I usually go with my heart. For the most part, it hasn’t led me astray; I realize that when  I do follow my heart, things mostly work out. I’d even go so far as to say that there have also been times when I did follow my head instead of my heart, and things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to at all.

Near the end of her post, Sarah recalls the day when she followed her heart and went on an unknown adventure rather than doing what most people would do and head home after a long weekend of working:  She writes how she was drawn to  places of meaning in her life, and that each time something like that happens, it draws her closer to understanding why she is drawn to certain places at certain times.

As I try to wrap this up and tie together loose ends, which is what I always struggle to do no matter what I am writing, Sarah’s words are etched onto my brain. While at the time I may sometimes have seemed to be doing completely ridiculous things, I do eventually “get” why I was drawn to those things.  My decision to not move to Colorado all those years ago led me to my husband and the family I now have. My decision 10 years ago to take on a job that I wasn’t sure I wanted and was quite sure I wasn’t qualified for has enriched my life through people and experiences in ways that have profoundly changed me. Even the seemingly less important times that I have followed my heart have made me who I am and inspired me to be even more inclined to let my heart guide me. Even though I have “wasted” entirely too much time today writing this, I’m glad I read Sarah’s post this morning. During many times throughout my life, I have wished I could think more logically and use the sense God gave me in a better way. But, maybe I have been. Maybe the sense that God gave me is the sense to go with my heart when my heart and brain are at odds.

 

Photo Dump--aka Favorite Photos and Memories from 2013

This morning, as part of my effort to spend the coming few months organizing and purging my house and life, I started going through photos on my iPhone to clean them out and organize them in some manageable way. My phone is only a year old, purchased in early January last year, and I was shocked to realize how many pictures I have on it…1,394 to be exact. In only a year! I really enjoyed scrolling through them and reminiscing, and many of the photos I forgot I had taken.  While I wish I had been more organized with my photos all year, scrolling through them was like taking a stroll through the past year. I was able to delete many of them, but most, I kept, even if they aren’t the greatest photos in the world. 

 I thought it would be fun to share some of my favorite photos and memories from 2013.

These first two are some of my most treasured-- Justin’s graduation-from-boot-camp day. He had a really rough time at the end, and we wondered if this day would come. Watching him march in with his division was a sight I will not ever forget.

Lauren took this picture of a sunset in February when I was travelling home from a day at my parent’s. She took it from the car window looking out over a field near Auxvasse, MO.

 

I really love this next photo, even though it is a picture of snow that was taken in late April. I travelled to a conference in Minneapolis, and the city got dumped on with snow while we were there. It was so post-card pretty, but I don’t think I could ever enjoy living somewhere that it snows this much at the end of April. It was a great trip though, with lots of fun memories made.

A special evening making bracelets with the moms from our support group. I love being able to share something I love doing, and I know they all enjoy it just as much as I do.

Our new kitten. Who is about 10 times that size now. Maybe 20. He is a huge, hairy beast of a cat who we have all grown to love. Most of the time anyway. He is also an awesome snuggler on cold days, and for that, I think I will keep him around.

The girls having a homework burning ritual with their friends on the last day of school.

At the beginning of June, I spent a very peaceful weekend at a Franciscan retreat center in Springfield, IL. It was a work trip, but we had plenty of time to relax and walk around the beautiful grounds.

Also in June, I turned 50. When I came into work the day after my birthday, I discovered that all of my coworkers had decorated my office with balloons and streamers. Lots of balloons, and lots of streamers. I hated to take it down, and some of the decorations are still there. Maybe it’s time to dismantle them…(yes, my office is a cluttered mess. Don't judge. :) )

At the end of June, I was fortunate enough to take another trip for work...a retreat for an organization I serve on the board of…this time to a mountain home called the Belfry in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I took so many pictures that it was hard to pick a favorite, but for some reason, I especially love this one:

 

The next two photos were from July on a trip to Minneapolis with my girlies. The first one was taken in Hannibal, MO overlooking the Mississippi River; the second was taken somewhere in Iowa on our first night of travelling. I have developed a "thing" for taking photos of sunrises and sunsets, and I think this was the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen. Lauren said she wished our eyes could take pictures; it made me wish I own a better camera.  Again, I took so many photos on this trip that it was nearly impossible to choose a favorite.

This was taken in early August. We had a Keiffer family reunion, and this shot is of all of the cousin’s cousin’s kids. It was the first time some of them had met each other, and watching them all get to know each other was a priceless experience. By the next day, they were exchanging email addresses and friending each other on facebook.

 

I am kind of proud of the next few photos. In September, I helped decorate the tables at my boss’s daughter’s wedding reception that was held in a swanky downtown St. Louis loft. It was so much fun, and so different than anything I have ever done before.  There were 32 tables, and none were decorated the same; each centerpiece was unique with different flowers, herbs and succulent plants in milk glass bowls as well as glass and silver containers.  Shannon (the bride) absolutely loved how it all turned out. At the end of the day, the florist who provided the flowers and plants asked me if I would like to have a part time job helping her with weddings this coming spring and summer.

 

 I know, the next picture is a little bit weird. I added it because it was drawn by Lauren.  She has always loved drawing and painting (even on herself and the walls when she was little!) and I am completely amazed the way her talents have grown over the past few years. I can’t wait to see what she does with her skills in the future.

 

In September, we travelled to Omaha for our nephew Nick’s wedding. We haven’t been back there since Lauren was a baby, and we had a fantastic time. I only wish our trip would have been longer. Tony and I had a blast showing the girls some of our favorite places and haunts. They thought it was neat to walk across a bridge that spans the Missouri River between Council Bluffs, IA and Omaha and stand in two states at the same time.

 

This picture is from one of our favorite places to go when we were young and newly married. I so clearly remembered summer evenings sharing bottles of wine and laughter and camaraderie with friends.

 

Here are a few more random pictures taken in the Old Market area of Omaha.

 The next picture is a favorite for a couple of reasons…it is Rachel and her best friend before Homecoming. Her friend has had a really rough year. Right before Homecoming, she was in the hospital because of depression and suicidal thoughts, and only got out the day before. She was feeling down that she couldn’t go because she didn’t have a dress and she didn’t have anyone to go with as most of her friends have abandoned her through her troubled times. At the last minute, her dad took her dress shopping, and Rachel asked her friends, who didn’t even know Lindsey at the time, if she could go with them. Rachel has really shown a kind-hearted spirit and been a truly wonderful friend to Lindsay, and I am very proud of her because it hasn’t been easy. For that reason, I love this photo.

Glowing eyes and all, I love this picture. It is the first picture that was taken of me, all of my siblings, and my parents since 1982. I could write so much more about this, but it would be an entire long post all by itself.

I had to include this one because it is of me and all of my co-workers. Some days, I really don’t know what I would do without this crew. I feel very fortunate to have a job working with such wonderful people who make each day easier to get through. I love these ladies.

 

The next picture is probably my very favorite one of the whole year. It was taken just moments after I laid eyes on Brandon in the St. Louis airport for the first time in 10 months. No other words are needed.

 

We went to San Antonio when Brandon was home, and Justin joined us there. I have better, more “posed” photos of all of my children, but I love this one for the simple reason that is the first picture I have of all of them together since last Christmas. This was taken at the Alamo gift shop in November.

The next photo makes me smile. When we were in San Antonio, were shopping one day and stopped into a Restoration Hardware store. We wandered around for quite a while, and when we were ready to leave, we couldn't find Lauren. We finally found her, sleeping in this chair. Yes, my child took a nap in Restoration Hardware. We always tease her that she can sleep anywhere, and this is proof.

 

No special reason why I like this one, I just do. I looked out the window one night and noticed the reflection of the landscaping light on the freshly fallen snow.

 

I am ending with this photo taken on New Year’s Eve of Rachel and her boyfriend. Not only do I love this because they both look so cute in it, but I also love it because I am grateful beyond words that her first boyfriend is such a sweet kid who treats her well.