If you give a girl a paintbrush....

She’ll use it to paint her living room a beautiful shade of dove gray and the ceilings and baseboards a pristine white.

Then, she’ll realize that the freshly painted, pristine white baseboards and ceiling make the white spindles on the stair railing look dingy and dirty, so she’ll decide to paint those, too.

 But, she is lazy and she won’t want to paint around the wooden railing, so she’ll just paint the whole darn thing white.

 When the stair railing becomes a crisp white that matches the baseboards, she’ll notice that the front door now looks dingy and not very fresh, so she’ll paint that next. Only, she will be sick of white paint by this point, so she will want to paint it red.

 After many coats of red paint, she will love the new door, but she will think, “Hey, this door would look even better with a colorful wreath hanging on it,” even though she has never before had a wreath hanging on the inside of her front door.

 So, off she will go to Hobby Lobby to purchase a wreath and flowers.

 When she has covered the wreath with a spray of colorful fake flowers,

she will realize that the table that sits inside the front door is looking very shabby and not quite up to the standards of the rest of the room,

 so she will paint it black.

Once it is spray painted black, it will need some new knobs on the drawers, so she will go back to Hobby Lobby to buy some pretty red glass knobs.

When the living room and hallway are brand spanking clean, it will hit her one day that while the walls in the kitchen don’t really need to be painted, the white trim and doors in that room look awful and scuffed and dirty. (And she will not want to show a picture of THAT!).

 So she will scrub them clean and paint those next.

Next, she will decide to paint the walls in her son’s bedroom since it is the only children’s room that hasn’t been painted recently.

If the walls are going to be freshly painted, then she will know that of course, the baseboards and doors must be freshly painted as well.

 When the room is finally finished and the walls are a soothing shade of blue that evokes memories of warm Gulf of Mexico waters and the furniture has been returned to the room, she will want a new bedspread for the bed, even though the old one matches just fine.

 So she will buy a new bedspread.

 She is frugal however, so she will buy a $40 bed-in-a-bag set from Walmart that includes a comforter, set of sheets, and a pillow sham.

Once the new bedspread is placed on the bed, she will suddenly realize the white blinds covering the windows look terrible against all the new white trim, so she will go to Home Depot to buy 2 new blinds.

 When the room is finished with all new and old things back in place, she will pour herself a cold glass of wine, stand outside the room and admire all of her hard work. She will think to herself, “Whew, everything is finished now!”

And then...she will sigh a big sigh, wipe the sweat from her brow, glance into her bedroom and realize that she really is very tired of the yellow paint and green flowered wallpaper border in her bedroom that have graced it’s walls for the last 14 years.

 THEN...she will go pour another glass of wine, grab a stack of Better Homes and Gardens magazines, settle into her favorite rocking chair on the front porch, and scour their pages for bedroom paint color ideas.

And then she will realize that if she is going to paint her bedroom, of course, the doors and trim and ceiling will also need to be painted. And so will the bathroom walls, doors and trim….and then the bathroom will need a new curtain...

Emptying the Nest

Saturday, a plastic electrical outlet cover made me cry.

 Let me explain since that sounds totally loony tunes.

 This past weekend, I decided to tackle a renovation of Justin’s bedroom, and I was not expecting to feel as emotional as I did. The room hadn’t been touched for about 11 years, so it was long overdue. We have a student from France coming to spend 3 weeks with us later this month, and one of the requirements is that he must have his own room. We don’t have spare bedroom, so Justin offered to give his up since he is the one who begged me to have a French student spend 3 weeks with us. It seemed like the perfect time to spruce up the room because quite honestly, it was an embarrassing mess. (NO, I will not be showing photographs!)

For some dumb reason, probably because the world is full of procrastinators and I am the Queen of ALL of them, I waited until now to take on this project, even though I have known for months I was going to do it. And I paid mightily for my bad habit of putting things off. The last few days of June were the hottest June days on record here in the St. Louis metro area, and Justin’s room is the hottest room in the house. Since I had put it off for so long, it had to be done now, hot or not. But let me tell ya…steaming 12 year old wallpaper from the walls on a 106 degree day is most definitely NOT my idea of fun, and I hope I never have to do any such thing ever again.

While sweating in that hot room that was a hot mess is what I was expecting when I got started Saturday morning, what I wasn’t expecting was the flood of emotions I would experience as the day wore on.

The emotional waves rolled in when Tony took Justin’s bed out of the room. Behind the bed was an electrical outlet cover that is still speckled with the pink, yellow and light green paints that had once covered the bottom third of the walls in that room. Tears welled up as I remembered how I lovingly decorated the room when I was pregnant with Lauren.

After having two boys, I was making her room as girly as I possibly could, and I painted the top of the room a sunshiny yellow, the bottom a sponged mixture of bubblegum pink, minty green, and the same yellow the upper walls were painted with. When I was expecting Lauren, I made my first-ever quilt…white eyelet threaded with pink and yellow and mint green ribbons. It was trimmed with a white eyelet ruffle and backed with a soft flannel pastel print fabric. More white eyelet and pink ribbon topped the windows

I digress…those were my initial thoughts when I saw that silly outlet cover. In a just a few short minutes, I vividly remembered how much fun I had decorating the nursery for my first baby girl 17 years ago this summer.

As the day wore on, perhaps the extreme heat in that room affected my brain, but the tearful waltz down memory lane continued.

I thought about how 3 of my 4 children had used that room as their nursery. We moved into this house just a few weeks before Justin was born, and I was so very excited to prepare a room. I had done nothing at all to get ready for our new son’s arrival…not only were we waiting for our new house to be built, but I had just been released from 8 weeks of bed rest the day before we closed on it. My doctor knew we were moving and gave me explicit instructions that I was to do nothing but sit on the porch and boss people around. I had no problem doing that, but I also couldn’t wait to prepare the room that our new baby would soon be occupying. I did not have the time to really decorate the room, but I bought new bedding in primary colors, filled his dresser with new baby clothes as well as those passed down from Brandon. I hung a very special framed cross stitch print on the wall…special because I had passed the time during my scary weeks of bed rest stitching it. I have saved it all these years:

 

 The day after the room was ready, Justin arrived.

That room was his little haven until he was 13 months old. By then, I was expecting Lauren, and I was ready to turn it into a room fit for a little princess. As I scraped yesterday, I got to one corner of the room that still had the little brass hooks in the ceiling that once hung a mesh sling full of her stuffed animals and dolls. I uncovered patches of that old yellow paint…and uncovered more memories…

 Rachel was the next and last baby to make that room her home. As I happily prepared for another little girl, I made a new quilt and bought a new dresser and bookshelf and painted a new “big girl” room for 2 year old Lauren to move into. When Rachel was 3, she and Lauren wanted to share a room. The boys, who had been sharing a room, wanted to have their own rooms, so I turned the nursery into a little boy room. I took down the water-colored pastel border and painted over the pink/yellow/mint sponge painted wall. I painted the walls a boyish tan with a red stripe in each corner, and I put up yet another border that was full of baseball gloves, basketballs and hockey sticks. I found a rug that looked like a baseball, bought a St. Louis Cardinals bedspread, and I once again had so much fun decorating that tiny room.

It remained untouched until Saturday. Now, I am readying it for a 17 year old boy from France. While it is still Justin’s room, and he wants to pick the new wall color (navy blue!), I told him it has to be a color that I like since in a few months, he will be leaving for the Navy. I envision turning it into a proper guest room. We have never had one, and over the years, any guest we had either slept in one of our beds or on a couch. It’s kind of ironic that now that I can have a guest room, we never actually have overnight guests.

In a few months, half of my children will be leaving the nest, so perhaps it is only natural for me to reminisce the way I did. After all, each one of my children except Brandon has spent their entire lives in this house. I have given them something I never had…a childhood home they can remember always. We moved so much when I was a kid, and I had many childhood homes. One thing I always told Tony I wanted for my kids was stability in one home and school while they were growing up, and while it is nice for them, I guess it makes it more likely that I am going to have a hard time when they leave here. We were having a conversation with the girls this weekend, and I told Lauren about how I remembered decorating the room for her and how much fun I had. That led to her asking “what are you and dad going to do when we all leave?” Tony jokingly said, “Buy a condo!” and Lauren and Rachel both looked horrified. Lauren said, “You can’t! I want to have this house to come home to!”

Tears…

I’ve done what I set out to do, and soon the process will begin—the process of my children leaving the nest that I have done my very best to make cozy and loving for them.

I discovered two things this weekend…one…any overnight guest I do have in my first real guest room will sleep in a room that has held many happy memories…and the laughter, tears and paraphernalia of 4 wonderful children. Two, I realized that if a cheap plastic outlet cover makes me cry, I’m not going to be a very good empty nester.

Soaking up June

My goodness, it’s been a long time since I’ve written here. Not because I haven’t wanted to, because I have. Not because I’ve had nothing to write about, because I have. Not because I haven’t had time, because, yes indeed, I have. So why haven’t I? I don’t know.

I have started to write several times, but each time I do, my thoughts and words veer off to a path that I don’t really want to go down in such a “public” way. Not that many people read this, so it’s not all that public, but still. I’ve started to write about many things that do not fit the purpose of my blog, which is to force myself to look on the bright side of life even when life is feeling very dark.

So…I have really wanted to write. I have really NEEDED to write. I have so many unfinished posts I have written over the past month or more. I have become quite good at starting things I don’t finish, and I’m really not sure why I keep beginning to write and then putting it aside, yet I do, and I now have a black hole of unfinished writings.

But, here I am, writing now. It’s going to be a post longer on pictures than on words. Anyone who is reading this can shout hallelujah right now. I’d really love to write more, but I’m procrastinating on work writing I really should be doing right now. I am hoping that getting a few things out of my head via my fingers will help some much-needed creative juices to start flowing through my brain.

Back to soaking up June…

June has always been my favorite month. Maybe it started when I was little because my birthday is in June, and when you are a kid, your birthday is all that is wonderful and happy and you look forward to it all year long. Now that I am pushing 50, I don’t look forward to my birthday all year long, but I do still look forward to June. In the midst of winter when the world is dreary and gray and cold, I mentally drool over the prospect of sunshine, the sounds of birds singing and lawn mowers and the ice cream truck and the smell of freshly cut grass. I think I love June so much because it is typically a glorious month of spring waiting for summer to arrive. It’s normally sunny and warm without the oppressive humidity that envelops and sometimes ruins July and August. In June, I watch the flowers that started out as tiny seedlings from the nursery 6 pack blossom into cascading waterfalls of color that spill over pots and railings. In June, I can begin my days drinking coffee and reading in a rocking chair on my front porch, and I can do so without sweating profusely. In June, my lawn is still green. In June, I buy strawberries from local produce stands, keep them in a big bowl on my kitchen counter and eat them sliced on everything from peanut butter toast to salads that are drizzled with poppy seed dressing. In June, the summer is new and fresh and winter seems a long way off. Each June, I do everything I possibly can to squeeze every last drop of warmth and summer and sunshine into my daily life.

While I have so many different things I could and want to write about right now, I’m going to fill this post with pictures of all of the many ways I am enjoying June of 2012.

**What better way to enjoy June than at the beach? IS there a better way? I think not. While it’s not my beloved Gulf of Mexico, Lake Erie is pretty darn nice too. We took a two-day trip their earlier this month, and stayed at a beautiful grand old hotel that was built in the early part of the 20^th century. Being there felt like a step back in time.

If one is going to spend a few June days at the beach, what better perch to view that beach from:

While my family spent their time at Cedar Point, I spent MY time with my butt parked on one of these beautiful chairs. I watched the sunrise

Isn’t that amazing? Watching the rising sun paint a new day is one of my favorite things to do, even at home from my kitchen window. It’s even more amazing when you can watch the sun rise over the beach.

I also sat in one of those chairs two evenings in a row with a book and a glass of wine.

Speaking of enjoying the beach in June, check out this beach:

We took a one day trip to Lake Michigan on our way home, and wow, I had NO idea how beautiful Lake Michigan is. I almost felt like I was at the Gulf of Mexico. Well, until I stepped into water that almost instantly numbed my toes that is. But isn’t it breathtaking?

**One of the best ways I soak up and celebrate June is with two of my children’s birthdays. Justin turned 18 on June 15, and Rachel turned 14 on June 26. I don’t have pictures from Rachel’s birthday, but here is my favorite from Justin’s:

When Justin was a little boy, his favorite thing in the world was Scooby Doo. One of my fondest memories from his childhood was how he used to crawl into bed with me early each morning after Tony got in the shower. He would lay his little blonde head on the pillow next to mine and snuggle with me under the covers to watch Scooby Doo when I was still half asleep. So I thought it would be fun to get him a SD cake for his birthday. He loved it, and his friends thought it was hilarious. His best friend Sam said, “Awww…you don’t want your wittle boy to grow up.” Justin smacked him.

**If the beach and my children’s birthdays are the two best ways to celebrate June, then tooling around in a convertible has to be third on the list.

The girls and Rudy and I went to visit my dad for Father’s Day, and we decided to drive the whole way there with the top down. It was a 90 plus degree day, and I was a sweaty, windblown mess by the time we arrived, but it was so worth it.

 **This past weekend, I visited my mother in law. She loves to garden, and has always had beautiful flowers and plants. Unfortunately, her health doesn’t allow her to do much of it herself these days, but she does have a few people who work for her and help her keep up with the planting and watering and such, and while her gardens aren’t what they used to be, they are still pretty, and the house is surrounded by large shade trees. Each morning, I enjoyed sitting on her patio reading and having coffee. My inlaws live on the outskirts of town on 2 acres of land, so it is nice and quiet and peaceful there.

**I don’t plant as many flowers as I used to simply because I don’t have the time that is required to keep them alive during the heat of July and August. I do still plant pots of flowers on my deck and front porch, and this morning, I took this photo of some of them:

I planted them just a few weeks ago, but already, they are spilling over the pots. I love how they are thriving and growing.

So that is the month of June in a nutshell.

Joyful Simplicities... 

While I haven’t kept up with my Joyful Simplicities posts the way I envisioned I would, I have been keeping track and taking photos of simple little things that make me smile. It’s a long list since I’m so far behind, but here goes:

**I took a week-long trip to Miami in May with my boss, and while we worked our butts off, we did manage to find some time at the end of the week to visit the beach, eat some Cuban food, and drink mojitos as the sun set.

**The highlight of our trip was spending time with some old friends who used to live here in St. Charles and now live in West Palm Beach. They treated us to lunch at one of the most magnificent places I have ever been, The Breakers hotel. I felt like I was hob-nobbing with the rich and famous.

 **My red front door. Back in the winter, I decided on a whim to paint the inside of my front door bright red, and I’m so glad I did. I love it, and it makes me smile.

**New kitchen utensils. I adore these things…I love to cook, they are awesome, and I enjoy them so much more knowing that I won them in the silent auction at Angel Ball…I paid $30 for all of them, and they are worth $12-18 each. I smile every time I unload them from the dishwasher.

 **A quiet early Saturday morning with the sun streaming through the windows of my family room.

**Branches of honeysuckle I found growing wild in my yard one morning.

**A pitcher of iced tea, made in my Aunt Mary’s crystal pitcher. One afternoon, I decided I might as well use it and enjoy it rather than save it for special occasions and let it gather dust in my china cabinet.

**My kids have miraculously been getting along famously lately. Oh, they do have their bratty moments, but we had so much fun on our mini vacation, and it warmed my heart to see them all having fun together. They rode rides at Cedar Point, played Frisbee in the lake, had a blast playing a round of miniature golf and just generally enjoyed being with each other.

Last week when Brandon and Justin enlisted in the Navy, Rachel was sooo excited and wanted to make posters to hang on the garage door that they would see when they arrived home. She had her good friend Emily over, and they did a great job making posters.

**This is silly, but I loved these lamps that lined the boardwalk outside our hotel in Ohio.

**I also am in love with this blue house we spotted in St. Joseph, Michigan, right across the street from Silver Beach on Lake Michigan. I totally want a blue house now…with black shutters and a yellow front door. It would stick out like a sore thumb in my neighborhood, but I almost don’t care. I can’t imagine ever coming home in a bad mood if I pulled up in a driveway that led to blue house with a yellow front door.

 **Flowers:

I have been buying myself flowers once every week or so. My favorite grocery store sells colorful bouquets for only $5, so how can I resist? The rocks in the bottom of this vase were gathered on a walk I took on the shores of Lake Michigan at Indiana Sand Dunes State Park. This picture was taken there as well:

It was so beautiful there, but I quickly learned that hiking up a sand dune is no easy task. You also can't do it wearing sandals. You can't do it barefoot either. Trust me. I know these things.

Finally, the biggest joyful simplicity of all!

I love this girl! My sweet niece Jean flew in and spent last weekend with us. More on that in another post, but for now, here is a picture of Jean and my kids. We all cried when she left Sunday evening.

I have run out of photos and words. Thank goodness, huh? For now anyway. I actually have a post about something really profound churning around in my brain…we shall see if it actually makes it to my blog.

LAME. O. And B.O.R.I.N.G.

It’s official. I am old. I am lame. I think that sitting in a hotel room in MIAMI, by MYSELF is nice.

Yes, that is correct. I am in Miami. Away from my family. It is 8:30 at night. And for the second night in a row, I have been in my room, in my red-flowered flannel pj pants and a sweatshirt, by myself, at 7:30 PM. And savoring every minute of it.

(Shouldn’t I be in a South Beach bar buying fruity drinks at a thatch-roofed hut during my breaks of salsa dancing in a swirly skirt and bikini top while an episode of “Girls Gone Wild” is being filmed?)

If being in my hotel room at 7:30 wearing pjs doesn’t make me lame, I don’t know what else will. To quote some kid I don’t remember the name of from the movie “The Sandlot,” I am officially an L7 WEEEEEE-NIE.

My self-esteem may never recover.

I’ve been in Miami since 9:30 yesterday morning, and the highlight of my trip so far is that I have discovered that The Big Bang Theory is a damn funny show. Maybe I think it’s funny because the guys are really lame and nerdy, and I can relate. I had lots of time last night to figure out that I can relate since I watched 2 hours straight of that 30 minute sitcom.

Yes, I am in Miami, and I watched 2 hours of tv before falling asleep around 9:30. And I am extra lame because tonight, I turned on the tv hoping to find another Big Bang Theory marathon, and there isn’t one.

Other reasons I am lame: (as if the above reasons aren’t more than enough)

*My only outing from the hotel was yesterday evening…to make a ½ mile drive to CVS to buy trail mix.

*We have a cute little white Chevy HHR that is obviously wasted on me and my boss. Folks way hipper and less boring than us should be driving it. When we picked it up at the airport yesterday, we both said, “what a cute little car to tool around Miami in!” Who knew “tooling around Miami” would mean driving ½ mile away to CVS to buy trail mix

The other highlight of my trip so far was the oh-so sweet relief I felt in my back and arm and shoulder after I took 2 Aleve last night. The Aleve was needed after the hour long walk from the airport terminal to Enterprise to pick up that cute little car while dragging two 50 pound suitcases and lugging my carry-on bag over my shoulder. I think that powers that be at the Miami airport are sadists. They have to be to have decided that placing the car rental area 2 miles from the baggage claim area was a good idea.

What the hell has happened to me??

Though it’s not like I really have any choice and it’s not my fault that I am stuck in a hotel room, by myself, in Miami. With a cute little HHR sitting all lonely in the parking lot of the Homewood Suites—Blue Lagoon. The car is in Cathi’s name, she is the only one who is allowed to drive it, she likes to retire and relax early, and the closest attraction to our hotel is Miami International Airport.

It is however, totally my fault that I am really not all that upset about being stuck in the Homewood Suites—Blue Lagoon hotel. I’ve had a lot of quiet time to relax and unwind and read and watch The Big Bang Theory. It would be nice if our hotel was on the beach instead of across the highway from the airport so I could at the very least go for a walk and listen to the soothing sound of waves lapping the shore. Instead, I am making do with reading a book in my comfy hotel suite.

By this time next week, I’m sure I will be longing for all of this quiet time, but for now, I will dream about frosty drinks and bikini tops and swirly skirts and warm sand under my feet. But for now, I am going to go eat some trail mix and watch the news while gazing out over the intercoastal waterway.

If my friends could see me now, they'd be so jealous.

Faith and Fear

Faith and fear cannot occupy the same space.

I have been writing this post for so long that it could be a small book by now rather than a blog post. I have sat in front of my computer many times and written nothing more than a few words and re-written other words because I really struggled to pull this all together. Working on this reinforced my belief that while I love to write, I could never do it for a living on any kind of deadline because I definitely write at my own snail-slow pace most of the time. Besides that, I’m sure it’s obvious to anyone who reads this blog that I also would have the most difficult time complying with a word limit. J

I read that quote above early in the summer on a Facebook friend’s page. His name is John O’Leary. John is a remarkable man, one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. I met him through my boss--he is married to her niece. What is so remarkable about this man is that when he was a child, only 9 years old, he was playing with matches and gasoline, started a fire in his garage on a snowy Saturday morning when both of his parents were out, and was burned over nearly 100 percent of his body. The only thing that saved his life was the deep snow in his front yard that his older brother and sister rolled his body in, dousing the flames that covered him. The only part of his body that was not burned was one side of his face and neck. He nearly died and spent months in the hospital undergoing painful treatments and therapies. A saving grace for him was that an announcer for the St. Louis Cardinals, Red Schoendienst, happened to attend the same Catholic church in St. Louis that John’s family attended. He shared with the Cardinal team the tragic story of a little boy in his parish who had suffered severe burns to most of his body.  A very special and “famous” Cardinal announcer on KMOX, the radio station that once aired Cardinal games, heard about John O’Leary and began visiting him in the hospital. As John slowly began to recover, this radio announcer started bringing him baseballs autographed by Cardinal players, telling him he would only bring another once he’d written a thank you note to the previous signer.

That announcer who took a burned and scarred little boy into his heart and under his wing was Jack Buck. Anyone who is a Cardinal fan knows who Jack Buck is. Jack Buck is something of a legend in St. Louis. He was a legend to little John O’Leary, too. John O’Leary credits Jack Buck with saving his life and giving him a reason to go on. He was determined to keep writing those thank you notes even though he had no fingers left after being burned. Years went by, John slowly recovered, and Jack Buck kept in touch with him and became a good friend. When John graduated from college, Jack gave him the crystal baseball he received when he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. John married, had a son, and named him Jack. He now is the father of 3 boys and a newborn little girl.

John is an internationally known motivational speaker—a job which suits him perfectly. I’ve been so privileged to meet him on a number of occasions. He sometimes attends the Share golf tournament, and I have heard him speak at two different conferences. If John O’Leary can’t motivate a person and inspire them to look on the sunny side of life, I doubt anyone can. My coworkers and I were lucky enough to be on a flight home from DC with him, and we spent several hours with him in the airport and then chatted with him on the flight, and I can’t say enough what a truly lovely man he is.

One thing that will be forever etched in my memory is something he said the first time I heard him speak. At the end of a keynote address in which he talked about his burns and the struggles he still has all these years later, he said that he was so grateful for the life and opportunities he has had, and that if he was given the chance to do his life over, he wouldn’t change a thing. I remember how shocked I was when he said that…that he wouldn’t change such a horrific event….that even in the midst of such terror and pain that he has lived with, he has managed to be grateful, not only for the wonderful things that have come about in his life because of what happened to him, but that he is also grateful for what happened to him. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around that at the time, and five years later, I still think of it, and of him, in awe.

So back to that quote…”Faith and fear cannot occupy the same space.”

 I have been thinking about this and trying to write my thoughts about it for months now. To be honest, reading those 8 little words has been rather life changing for me. I have thought about the many times in my life when I have been fearful of something. Looking back on them, I can see that way too often, I let my fears take over and prevent me from doing something I may have really wanted to do yet was too afraid to. In those cases, faith and fear really could not occupy the same space and fear won. I have also thought back to times when I did take a leap of faith, yet the fears were still there, and I never really quite let go of them enough to truly shine, enjoy, or appreciate something. It was less obvious, but faith and fear still could not occupy the same space. While there have been numerous times I have tried my hardest to overcome a  fear, I look back and wonder if the fears that I had directed how I handled situations that may have had a completely different outcome if I had banished the fear and relied solely on faith that everything would work out. I’m having a difficult time putting these thoughts into words still, but I have wondered if my fears made me act in such a way that made it more likely that those fears would indeed become reality…if I created a self-fulfilling prophecy so to speak.

One situation that comes to mind is many years ago when Tony and I were newly married and living in Omaha, I was the assistant manager for a women’s clothing store. I loved the job, and I loved my boss. A couple of years after we began working together, she was given a promotion within the company and moved away to open a new store. I was offered a promotion and given the job managing the store I worked in. At first, I turned it down because I didn’t think I was ready. However, I let my boss and our district manager talk me into accepting it. They both assured me that I was more than ready, that I would do a fabulous job. They both told me that if I wasn’t ready, they would never have offered it to me, and that I was the unanimous choice among those who decided these things, right up to the owner of the company. Wow, I was speechless. He owned around 75 stores, so it came as a shock to me that he even knew who I was. I didn’t have much faith in myself those days. Hell, I still don’t most of the time, but I was even worse back then!

So, I accepted the job. But that nagging fear didn’t go away. A few days before my boss’s scheduled departure, we were working together on some details about managing the store, and I had a bit of a meltdown. Actually, a “bit of a meltdown” is probably a huge understatement. I ended up a sobbing mess of tears, and she told me that if I didn’t get my head together, I would never be a successful manager, that if I didn’t believe in myself, no one else would either. That no one would take me seriously as a manager if I didn’t at least pretend as if I was the best damn manager out there. I tried. I really and truly did. I worked my butt off. The store looked amazing all the time, and I started to think I would really like to go into visual merchandising as I really seemed to have a talent for it. I remember the owner’s first visit after I had become manager…he raved about how fabulous the store looked, and how creative and beautiful the front window displays were. And for the most part, the store continued performing well over the next few months. But that fear that I wasn’t good enough just wouldn’t go away. The store had grown and thrived under the previous manager. Before she took over, it had been one of the lowest performing stores out of the nearly 80 stores across the country, ready to be closed, and by the time she left, it was one of the top performing stores. I had some mighty big shoes to fill, and I did not believe in my heart that I was up to the task. And in the end, I wasn’t, and I ended up leaving that job nearly 2 years after taking it, a stressed out wreck of a person on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

I always have looked at that job as one of my biggest failures. The blow my self esteem took back then was huge. But, after reading that quote, my eyes were opened…I couldn’t help but wonder  if my own fears contributed to the  way I did my job and pretty much ensured that I was going to fail? What if instead of assuming that I could never fill my boss’s shoes, I had had enough faith in myself to put on my own shoes and not worry about filling hers? Of course, I will never know the answer to this, and it doesn’t even matter any longer, but thinking about that situation led me to think about other situations, and I definitely have discovered a pattern.

I have thought of friendships I have had over the years, that I never really had much faith in them being lasting friendships…almost like I knew they wouldn’t be, so why bother putting myself out there too much? Did I act in a way that ensured they wouldn’t be? Did I not let myself really become close to people because of my fears? Again, I’m not going to go into details here, but I now realize that more than likely, I have. Reading that quote was a real eye opener to me, and I definitely can see things I have done and ways I have reacted that again, make it more likely that my fears will come to be.

I have thought of issues within my marriage and how I have acted certain ways based on my fears. I’m not going to go into details on this subject either because I don’t want to depress myself, but about 18 months ago, something happened that knocked the wind from my sails, and things have only gone downhill from there. I can’t help but wonder if the fears I have had these past months have made me act in ways that I may not have acted otherwise, which has only made it more likely that my biggest fear will come true.

It’s been a vicious circle of wondering.

This subject began to fascinate me to the point that I Googled “having faith in the face of fear.” I came upon an article that for the most part, reinforced my thoughts and reinforced John O’Leary’s quote. The author of that article wrote:  fear is all about our thoughts—where we focus them. If we think about the possibility of danger or of negative outcomes or of unwanted futures we make ourselves afraid. If we focus on our faith, or on the fact that we are okay—safe and sound—in this moment, we do not make ourselves afraid. Instead, we give ourselves courage to take a step forward on the bridge called life. He also wrote that that fear stops you from living your life fully and creating the life you desire. Fear prevents you from achieving your highest potential and immobilizes you on the path to your dreams.

How true that is. I have tried to not look backwards and beat myself up for the many times that I let fear rather than faith rule my life…not think about the times when I have focused  my thoughts on my fears, but wow, it is hard to not do that. I have tried not to think about all of the times when fear stopped me from having the courage to live life the way I wanted to. I have only written about a few examples here, when I could write about many, many more. Like I said, I could probably write a book. At the same time, while I can’t help but looking back on those situations, I don’t WANT to think about them and depress the hell out of myself.

I put this blog post aside months ago, and just came across it on Saturday when I was cleaning out and going through documents on my computer, and I was glad that I had never posted it. Like I mentioned already, I struggled with it every time I tried to write something. But finding it then was just what I needed. Once again, I am facing something that I have worried myself sick over, and I know that I have been acting in ways completely out of character for me, which has made me feel even worse. Again, that vicious circle has taken over, spinning me out of control at times. As I read these words I have anguished over the past many months, it brought to mind another quote:  Worrying doesn’t empty tomorrow of its troubles, it only robs today of its joy.

So, Saturday morning, as I downed too many cups of coffee, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt, and told myself rather emphatically that I am not going to change whatever may be happening by worrying about it, so why spend so much effort and brain power on it? I’m not quite to the having faith it will all work out part, but I am trying. Even if I never get there, at least I can say for now, I’m not fearing doomsday. If I have to tell myself a thousand times a day, “right now, this moment, I am okay, things are okay, life is okay,” that is what I will do.

I have also been thinking a great deal about someone I learned about recently who for a year has been battling a rare cancer that is inoperable. She is someone I briefly met in college, and I doubt she would even remember me at all. I found her blog, and the first night, I spent hours reading about the past year of her life and all of her challenges and struggles. One thing she wrote sticks with me now. One day, she shared that she doesn’t fear what is ahead for her because she has faith that no matter what happens, God is with her, and that faith is enough to sustain her and keep her going through whatever she must endure and banish her fears. I really wish I had that faith so strong. It is one thing I have always been envious of in people who do  have it as it something I have wrestled with for many years.

To wrap this up….one last thing the author I mentioned above wrote is that when we have faith, we simply don’t focus on the thoughts that make us afraid. It sounds simple, eh? Simple in word, but not in practice. Oh, if only things were as simple as they seem when we read them! However, while I can’t say I have complete faith that things are going to work out…that my life is going to stay on an even course, at least I can feel as if by banishing the fear, I am leaving room for faith to fill the empty space at some point, and I will pray that it does.

A Desperately Needed Day Off

I am off today. My first real day off with no work obligations or projects hanging over my head in several weeks. And oh boy, is it needed. Desperately.

While I am very tempted to spend it on the couch watching movies and sleeping, I am not going to let myself do that. So, I thought what better way hold myself accountable for doing other things besides being lazy than to put them in print. This post will be my to do list, and it will hopefully inspire me to move and groove today rather than sit and nap.
First order of business:
Turn all that into a spring wreath to hang on my front door. I bought it all weeks ago, but I haven’t had the time to actually put it all together.




Next:




Bake. Of course! I have been craving white chocolate chip brownies. I may even toss in some Easter M & M’s.




Take myself and Rudy for a walk at the park. Maybe then I won’t feel guilty for eating brownies.

Turn this junky table into something pretty. (Hopefully, anyway!) I’ve got the spray paint ready to go and will be heading to Hobby Lobby to buy some new knobs for the drawers.




Laundry. (Not showing a picture of that!)

The television is off, a fresh, cool breeze is blowing through the open windows, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, a pot of coffee is brewing, and I have a stack of my favorite oldies CD’s ready to go.




Hopefully, James Taylor, Fleetwood Mac and the Moody Blues will keep me going. And if I accomplish everything I hope to today, I will treat myself to reading on the porch later.

Here’s to a great day. I hope.

Seeing things as we are

Almost every morning, I check an application on Facebook called Message from God. I know, it’s kind of silly, but some days, whatever comes up really does give me something to think about, and quite often, it deals with something I have been thinking about or struggling with anyway, which makes me wonder if God really does have some really sweet deal worked out with Facebook. Hang on…don’t call the men in white coats just yet…I’m joking about that! But it is a little freaky to me how it works out sometimes.

This morning, I read this when I clicked on “See your Message from God:

”God wants you to know that you do not see things as they are. You see them as you are. When you look, you see reflections of your being. When you listen, you hear echoes of yourself. If you don't like something about what you see and hear, no point in smashing the mirror, change who you are becoming."

This made me do a double take for a couple of reasons, but I’m only going to talk about one of them. Or maybe 2. No more than 3.

I promise.

Yesterday, my cousins and aunts and I had a get-together to celebrate my wonderful Aunt Chris’s 60th birthday. It was a fabulously fun afternoon filled with lots of laughter and hugs. We all get together way too seldom, and we don’t even have distance as a reason; we all live within 3 hours of each other. So yesterday was extra fun. My cousin Chrissy was there with her 3 sweet little kids…5 year old identical twin boys Keiffer and Kooper and almost- 2 year old Lola Grace, and my cousin Tiffany had her adorable little boy Sailor, who is almost 3. I took Rachel, and my cousin Mandy was there with her husband and girls. We went to TGIFridays and had a private room for the party, which made it easy to let the kids run around and play and give lots of hugs to everyone.

Since we don’t all get together that often, we made a point of taking pictures. We took family group photos. Sister photos. First generation cousin photos. Second generation cousin photos. I couldn’t wait to get home and load them onto the computer. I thought they all turned out great, even though I couldn’t help but think “UGH!” at how I looked in them. I had promised everyone I would post them on Facebook, so I did.

And then a funny yet sort of sad thing happened. Nearly every one of us began writing mean things about ourselves in the comments. My absolutely adorable cousin Chrissy wrote things like “YUCK!” and “Double YUCK!” and “I look like I’m possessed!” on photos she was in. She wrote to me how she was glad I took the pictures, but she was thinking of untagging herself in them because she looks so bad. My aunts told her if she did, they were going to come kick her a$$. But, those same aunts joined in the “let’s say how horrible we all look” game too. Even my Aunt Chris, who I think is beautiful and in no way looks like she is 60, wrote under one picture: “Unlovely me with my lovely sisters.”

When I read all of the comments this morning, I was going to post how now that we had the beating ourselves up for how we *think* we look out of the way, we needed to stop and focus on the fun day we had instead. And then I read that Message from God and laughed at the timeliness of that message. I posted it for my cousins and aunts to see, but then I really did some thinking about it, and in fact, I haven’t stopped thinking about it all day.

I can’t help but wonder: Why are we as women so hard on ourselves? Why do we pick apart every little thing we don’t like about ourselves, usually every little thing we don’t like about our appearance, and turn molehills into mountains? I am just as guilty, if not more guilty, than anyone. My recent bad, no horrific, haircut had me near tears every morning when I tried to get ready for work. My less than flat stomach disgusts me on a regular basis. I could go on, but I won’t…you get the picture. I often wonder why we are so able to love our kids in such a way that their faults are nearly invisible to us—would we ever look at one of our children and say, “Wow, you look horrible in that picture!” or, “That shirt makes you look so fat!” I know that I wouldn’t, and most caring mothers wouldn’t either. Yet we say those things about ourselves; we put ourselves down for how we look, when our appearance is the least important thing about us.

Most men are just the opposite. I can’t imagine a group of men writing things like, “Wow, my ass looks fat in this picture!” Or, “I HATE my hair in pictures!” My husband has been known to say things such as “Look at that STUD!” when commenting on pictures of himself.

Yesterday, we obviously had all taken care with our appearance. We were all dressed nice, had on make up, had curled and sprayed our hair, put on jewelry, etc. Yet all we did once we saw the photos was berate ourselves and say thing like “YUCK!” and I can’t get it out of my mind. I look at those pictures and think, “What a bunch of beautiful women! I look at those pictures and think how not one of us in that room yesterday (with the exception of the little kids) has lived a life unscathed by sadness and difficulties and tragedies. As a group, we have suffered the loss of many babies during pregnancy, cancer, deaths of parents, husbands and siblings, life-threatening diseases, divorces, financial hardships, alcoholism and childhood abuse. Not one of us women in that private room at TGIFriday’s in Fairview Heights, IL yesterday have lived a life untouched by more than one of those struggles.

Yet we are all strong, beautiful, loving, caring women who have so much to be proud of. The oldest generation of women have every reason to be proud of the daughters they have raised in spite of the things they had to deal with when they were being raised…they have every reason to be proud of the women their daughters have become, the mothers they have become. And, I know that they are. They also have every reason to be proud of the personal struggles they themselves have overcome. I know that the women of my generation are proud of our mothers for those same reasons. Yes, we all have our faults. Everyone does. But we need to treat ourselves more kindly and not focus in silly things such as how our hair looks in pictures or if we are smiling enough. We need to focus on how lucky we all are because our lives could have turned out so much differently. We need to be proud of ourselves as women and as mothers because we all have much to BE proud of, no matter what goofy look we have on our face when the camera snapped a photo.

I know, I am a fine one to talk as I am probably one of the worst offenders. I never like how I look in pictures. Yet, I do keep letting myself be photographed anyway. I try to tell myself that someday when I am gone, my children and hopefully grandchildren will love having pictures of me, even as imperfect as they are. I absolutely treasure the photographs I have of my grandmothers and my aunt Mary. When I look at them, I don’t give a thought to their appearance other than a beautiful smile or sparkling eyes. I think about the times I spent with them playing cards and learning to crochet. I think about the delicious food they cooked. I think of my grandmother feeding squirrels from her hand in her front yard and telling me the "secrets" of growing beautiful annuals. Mostly, I think about how much I miss them and how fortunate I am to have photographs. I pray that someday, my children and grandchildren will feel the same about pictures of me that I look at now in disgust because I think I look fat.

Instead of hating our smiles or our hair or flabby stomachs, we should all vow to pat ourselves on the back. We should channel our inner dude and look at photographs of ourselves and say, “Wow, look at that amazing woman!”
Because we ARE amazing! And I am blessed to have so many amazing women in my life.
I’ve written enough for one day, so my joyful simplicities list is going to be brief. Quite frankly, it’s been a very long and challenging week, and honestly, I’m just feeling joyful that it’s over. But, I do have a few things that deserve a quick mention.

The biggest thing that brought me joy this week was finishing up a big writing project I’ve been working on and having my boss tell me “I love love love it! You did a great job!” That was music to my ears considering the past couple of weeks, I have been a bundle of broken-out-in-hives stress over it.

Speaking of hating your looks…I finally had my hair “fixed” from the horrible cut I had at the hands of bright pink hair girl a couple of months ago. I got back in touch with the gal who did my hair for years, who I have lost touch with the past 2 years, and this week, she fixed my choppy, short layers and highlighted my hair for the first time in 2 years. I feel like a new woman!

I’m sure I could come up with more, but I’m tired, my brain cells are fried, and I need to go do some laundry. That is NOT a joyful simplicity I will ever write about unless it’s to say laundry is caught up!