happy fourth…

7 / 4 / 15

Happy Birthday, America – 239 years old today! The Fourth of July. A celebration of our red, white and blue. Flags flying high and proud. Displays of patriotism around every corner. Amidst the BBQ and fireworks, the tri-color jello molds and the stars and stripes fingernail art – I think we sometimes get too busy, so wrapped up in all of the preparation and planning (myself included) that we forget. We forget to stop… and say “thank you”.

As they say, “there is no land of the free, without home of the brave“. To our men and women , past and present, who have served this great country of ours… we are forever in your debt. Thank you, thank you; a million times… thank you.

That being said, I also 100% LOVE all of the wonderful family and friends traditions that we celebrate this glorious day. So many memories, going all the way back to my grandparents’ boathouse on the river when I was a little girl. Spending the day on the little “beach” with a picnic lunch, catching tadpoles and shooting the rapids. Returning, exhausted, to our tiny little river house to enjoy smokebombs, “snakes” and sparklers, before we crashed, 2-3 people per bed, underneath a bizillion stars, in the middle of nowhere – the chirping of the crickets almost deafening… Flash forward – Another vivid Fourth of July memory – exactly 25 years ago today. Pregnant with twins and confined to bedrest, I was feeling ~~overwhelmingly~~ a little “stir crazy” and decided to “sneak out” and watch the fireworks that night. Ha!! Let me tell you, there is absolutely NO WAY to “sneak” ANYWHERE when you are 36 weeks pregnant with twins. Never-the-less; we did it anyway. I went into labor exactly 10 days later…

I woke up this morning remembering the past 25 years with our kids… like a filmstrip of memories all jumbled up into a big ball of happy. Parades and popsicles, family and friends, petting zoos and jump houses, tattoos and water balloons, pony rides and decorating the bikes, neighborhood pool parties and family BBQ’s… I’m not gonna lie; I have felt a bit melancholy all day. Sigh…

fourth of july kyle

So I chose this beautiful pic and quote (at top) this morning as my inspiration for this year – July 4, 2015. Not a focus on our “rights”, as such… but, rather, our privileges. As Americans, we are so mightily blessed. As a nation we must reject prejudice and embrace honesty. We are called to do the right thing. Just because. As (a very wise woman) Ellen says everyday at the end of her show… “Be kind to one another”.

OK. I’m done. Tri-color jello, anyone…? Happy Fourth, friends xo

children are like kites

4 / 21 / 14

Morning came early today. And it’s Monday. Not just any Monday, though. It’s the first Monday of (yet another) brand new chapter in my life. I’m not even sure what to call this chapter just yet. And I’m not really sure how I feel about it either. Love it? Hate it? At the end of the day, probably a mixture of both.

My daughter left this morning on an early flight to the east coast. For business. After four weeks of training, this is her first official business trip. Of many! Wow. My arm felt like lead as I tried to wave goodbye. Her tail lights burned through the darkness, and then disappeared. Turning to come back inside, I saw “it”. THE poem. It has been on our refrigerator for a hundred years (give or take). I have shared this poem with many over the years. Mostly requested by other moms. When we got a new refrigerator we moved the old refrigerator out to the garage. The poem stayed intact. It’s funny though. I am in and out of the garage a million times a day, but never really “see” the poem. It’s just there as part of the refrigerator, I guess. But not this morning. No. This morning it was different. It was as if “THE poem” was covered in flashing neon lights, bells a’ringin… I stopped dead in my tracks to read it.

The garage door slammed shut. I felt the darkness all around me. It was quiet. So very, very quiet. The hum of the refrigerator seemed almost deafening. She is officially all grown up. Out the door and off to new adventures, challenges, experiences. It’s a solo flight for her; realistically and figuratively. Flights, rental cars, hotels… The real world; the unknown. Is she ready for everything? Definitely. She is a strong, smart, confident young woman who can handle anything. To say that I am proud – Well, that barely even scratches the surface of how I feel. Yes. I am VERY, VERY PROUD…!! But I am also a little sad. For me, not her. I am just not very good at this whole “letting go” thing. At all.

But… her time has come. “Time to soar, as she was meant to soar, free and ALONE. My job is done.”

“Children Are Like Kites”

“I see children as kites. You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you’re both breathless.
They crash.
They hit the rooftop.
You patch and comfort. You adjust and teach. You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they will fly.
Finally they are airborne…
They need more string and you keep letting it out.
But with each twist of the ball of twine,
there is a sadness that goes with the joy.
The kite becomes more distant,
and you know it won’t be long before that string will snap and the lifeline that holds you two together will no longer be the same.
A child, as a kite, must be prepared to soar, as they were meant to soar, free and alone, to the greatest extent possible.
And only then can we collectively say that we have done our job.”

– Author unknown

quiet time

4 / 18 / 14

Every Good Friday when we were growing up, my mom had a rule. Between the hours of 12:00-3:00, we were required to have “quiet time”, alone in our rooms. A time of quiet reflection during those hours when Jesus would die on the cross. As a mom of two adult children, I now have a new perspective.

First of all, you have to know my mom. She is funny. She has been known, at times, to maybe “stretch the truth” a little (?)… but it’s always funnier when she tells the story. She pulls her grandkids to the side and tells them outright, “Grandma lies.” They laugh. One of my brothers will roll his eyes (usually the dad of the one listening to Grandma’s story), and we move on. OK – So back to the subject… our “time of reflection on Good Fridays“.

Some of you may remember from earlier posts that I am the oldest of seven kids. When I was 10 years old, my mom was 29 and had five kids; me being the oldest. (Good news! Found a family pic from our church directory to capture just that moment in time… That’s me to the right of my mom – Ha!) So when Good Friday rolled around, off to our rooms we went. At 12:00. Until 3:00. To be really honest with you, I can’t really remember much of what we did during that time. My mom told us that it would rain at some time during that three hour stretch, so my sister and I (shared a room) would spend some of the time lifting the heavy shade on our window to peer out and search for those ominous, rain producing, clouds… One thing I DO remember (unfortunately), because she did it all the time. My sister always had more money than me; and she liked to count it. Out loud. Coin, by coin, by coin… She had me as an unwilling, yet captive, audience for three hours. Lucky her. Looking back, I have to laugh. I realized as an adult, that as kids, we actually had “quiet time” a lot!! Not just on “Good Friday”. You see, my mom was also very smart. And resourceful. She was merely attempting to maintain her sanity. That was why she would slip off to the bathroom with her coffee and a weeks worth of magazines. We would hear the “click” as the door locked behind her. The rule…? Don’t knock unless someone is bleeding. Bad.

I was (doubly) blessed with twins when I was almost 30, and they were, and still are, such a joy in my life!! In raising our kids, my husband and I made a conscious decision to pick and choose the pieces of our individual childhoods that we wanted to take forward with our own children. Kind of like combining really dark chocolate with… well; just about anything! It’s all about the mixture. “This” worked; “that” – Ummm… not so much. So guess what made the cut from my childhood? Yep. “Good Friday quiet time”. 12:00-3:00. They could read, work on puzzles, quietly listen to music (pre-appoved; by me!). There was no TV, radio, computer, phone or friends during that time. And they were fine with it really. The older they got, the more they understood why there were being asked to do it. It was a way for them to, hopefully, prepare their hearts for Easter Sunday.

So, Mom – if you’re reading this – you will be glad to know that I still, to this day, honor that quiet time every Good Friday. I usually plan a quiet “project”; something that I can do by myself, at home, without really thinking. Today is no exception. It is a beautiful day and the birds are chirping like crazy. Not a rain cloud in sight… I have selected a “project” (more on that later) and I am ready to put on some beautiful music and spend the time reflecting. Quietly. 12:00 until 3:00…