Patience is a virtue. Patience is a good virtue that is handy to have in your arsenal. Patience is a necessity when you have children and can be most rewarding when you let patience have its way in trying times. Patience is something I used to think I possessed in great quantity but have realized in recent years that I lack often. I'm working on it.
Last Tuesday, exactly one week ago, I had the privilege of discovering how much patience I had on that given day. It should have been simple: wake the children, take the boys to school, take Nyssa to the doctor, come home, clean, get the boys from school, play with the kids, make dinner, clean up, go to bed. Of course, if it had turned out as outlined above, it would not have made an interesting story, and therefore I would not have written about it except to say how refreshing it would have been to have a "normal" day. It was not the easiest of days as within minutes of my waking, the trials began.
It was Nathaniel's second day to ride the car to school, and he remembered that he had been banned from the regular school bus. This was not particular pleasant information for him to recall, so he got frustrated. After a small meltdown, he changed tactics and tried to beg his way on the bus. Once he realized the bus had already passed by our street, he was fit to be tied for the next 30 minutes.
Since it was obvious Nathaniel was having trouble, my husband and I decided it was best to drop Benjamin off to school first and then take Nathaniel. The only problem was that by time we got Nathaniel belted into his seat, it was already after 9 am and Nyssa had a doctor's appointment at 9:30. After dropping off Benjamin, Nathaniel was still borderline but had not eaten breakfast yet. I figured the best thing to do was to pick up some food for Nyssa, Nathaniel, and Gabriela, and take him with us to the appointment.
After the urologist examined Nyssa and took a couple ultrasounds of her bladder, kidneys, and bowels, she declared Nyssa had a healthy, though rather stopped up system. She gave us some medication to help move it along as well as some instructions on how to help Nyssa stay dry and train her brain to work with her muscles. Around 11:30, she sent us on our way, along with a specimen for the local Children's Healthcare of Atlanta satellite facility.
Since we had to get the urine sample to the lab within a limited amount of time, we had to go straight to the center. Due to this, I recognized the fact that Nathaniel would not be attending school that day. He continued to have some difficulty, but for the most part was more relaxed than I had seen him since before the weekend. We were told it would be about a 30 minute wait, not quite long enough for me to grab some lunch for the kids, before lab work time.
The lab technician in charge of drawing Nyssa's blood had some difficulty with the orders, as they did not seem to make sense. Fortunately, I was prepared for this possibility. The doctor had already told me that they would probably call her to ask why she was ordering some of the tests, so I was not to be alarmed if they were uncertain. Unfortunately, that turned the 30 minute wait into an hour and a half.
The children were losing their patience. They couldn't run or jump. They couldn't make any loud noises. They were all used to eating before noon. They had long since eaten the snacks I had brought. Gabriela was rubbing her eyes something fierce and begging to be held while complaining of hunger. The others were restless, whiny and hungry as well. The intake nurse had compassion and pulled out some goldfish and apple juice while we waited. That seemed to help their dispositions.
When they finally called her name, Nyssa was ready to get her blood drawn and get out of there. She was an absolute trooper! Of course, it really helped that the nurse put some numbing solution at the puncture site and a vibrating bee machine above the site for fun effect. She was done with nary a fuss within 10 minutes!
The rest of the crew did well, also. Gabriela sat in my lap while I read a book. Nathaniel, though it was rough on him also, did very well. He hates when any of his siblings get a shot or stuck with a needle because he literally feels the pain with them. For this reason, he sat in a corner facing the wall, eyes shut tight and hands over his ears until I touched him on the shoulder.
We were done! It was 2:00 and I had 30 minutes to grab them something to eat and pick up Benjamin from Kids R Kids. We drove through McDonald's and picked up some grub, got Benjamin, and headed home. Once there, I allowed the kids to run free for a while while I decompressed.
It's amazing how taxing just waiting can be at times. We waited to see the doctor. We waited for the results. We waited and waited and waited for the lab work. We weren't allowed to really do anything during that time except watch the cartoons, study the fish, talk, or read a book. And we had to do it all on our best behavior, with no excessive movement.
When life does that to me, I have to fight the compulsion to get up and move. I like the action, doing something engaging, feeling productive. Sometimes I'm not allowed to do that and I have to just wait. It's not always comfortable for me to do, but sometimes it is not only the best thing, but the one thing that I can do.
Nathaniel has taught me that. When he has a meltdown, I can comfort him, soothe him, talk to him, and give him positive affirmation until I'm blue in the face, but sometimes the best thing to do is to just wait patiently until he gives a sign that he is ready to deal with the world around him again.
I don't always necessarily gain any great physical accomplishment from being patient. More than once I have discovered that if not for a delayed appointment I would have ended up on a pile up on the highway. Sometimes I get nothing but just know that I had to wait. But I do learn from time to time how far I have come and how far I have yet to go. It's also interesting for me to note that just when it seems I can last no longer, something happens to give me the opportunity for respite. I am given a chance for a slight refreshing, such as when the nurse brought me some snacks for the kids when they started going bonkers. It was just the amount of lift I needed to be able to hold on, to wait.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Quick update more later
Ok gang, so I am so terribly excited! I turned my blog into a BOOK!!! It's why I've been a little random the last few days. But most of the stories in my blog and a few new ones are in my book now on sale online, including the most recent one, Duck, Duck, Goose!
My Own Little Palace is on sale in the following manners if you would like to purchase it:
Paperback at http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/my-own-little-palace/16671581
Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/My-Own-Little-Palace-ebook/dp/B005IMQ7JS/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1314127628&sr=1-1
You can use my search engine on the right to find my book at Amazon. I hope to have it available in paperback at Amazon.com by the beginning of September and in the istore and other readers by then as well, though it depends on how long it takes met to figure out this EPUB format. It seems that every publisher and e-reader use different formats, fonts, and files, though I know it's not quite that insane.
Thank you to all who have suggested it to me, for it is something that I have only dreamed about doing in the past, and you have given me the courage to go through with it. The last few months have been and now continues to be a wild ride for me!
When I lay Gabriela down for her nap, I'll return to type my latest stories. Coming next is an adventure from Tuesday as well as another posting on yesterday's new discoveries revealing my blunders and a greater understanding of my children.
Love and peace!
My Own Little Palace is on sale in the following manners if you would like to purchase it:
Paperback at http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/my-own-little-palace/16671581
Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/My-Own-Little-Palace-ebook/dp/B005IMQ7JS/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1314127628&sr=1-1
You can use my search engine on the right to find my book at Amazon. I hope to have it available in paperback at Amazon.com by the beginning of September and in the istore and other readers by then as well, though it depends on how long it takes met to figure out this EPUB format. It seems that every publisher and e-reader use different formats, fonts, and files, though I know it's not quite that insane.
Thank you to all who have suggested it to me, for it is something that I have only dreamed about doing in the past, and you have given me the courage to go through with it. The last few months have been and now continues to be a wild ride for me!
When I lay Gabriela down for her nap, I'll return to type my latest stories. Coming next is an adventure from Tuesday as well as another posting on yesterday's new discoveries revealing my blunders and a greater understanding of my children.
Love and peace!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Duck, Duck, Goose!
Some days are completely exhausting. These are the days we can't wait to get home, eat, and crawl into bed until morning. We are just too tired to deal with anything more. But those may be the very days we need to endure to the end in order to received a fulfilling reward.
All the kids had a good day. Nobody received a check mark (the symbol for some needed character adjustment), and the homework was completed before we arrived back at the house. Last week, the only difficulty we had was Nathaniel's sensory issues on the bus, and class time went well for them all then as well. I was trying to come up with a good reward for them when Nyssa thought of it for me.
"Mom, since I did all my homework, can we take a walk to the pond and feed the ducks?"
What a splendid idea, I thought, but the baby had just fallen asleep.
"I'll tell you what. When Gabriela wakes up from her nap, we'll all go down there and maybe have a picnic for dinner."
The kids all hoorayed and everyone was set for a fun time. Nyssa helped me pack sandwiches, napkins, and cups while I got the milk and the fruit. I had called Richard at work to give him a heads up, but he had already left the office. So we bid our time awaiting him. The children played with the Lite-Brite and traipsed in and out of the house while I worked on my book, looking every couple of minutes to check on them.
When Richard first came in the door, I momentarily considered calling off our outing because he looked so worn. having given them my word, however, I started to suggest we drive instead of walk or that I take them and let him rest. Beat though he was, my love was a real trooper and said we could all walk down together.
We had a blast! The ducks and the geese were literally eating out of our hands. Gabriela's right pinkie was once mistaken for a piece of bread by a Canadian Goose, but even that bite was a gentle nibble. She did say, "Top!" But when the goose started to walk away, Gabriela protested, "Come back!" She proceeded to feed it more.
The children ate their sandwiches and drank their milk. Richard tossed the remaining bread into the pond. We watched as the fish, turtles, and water fowl fought for tidbits. Finally, it was time to go back home. On the way, Benjamin summed it up for us.
"That was a great adventure!"
He was right; it was a fun experience for the family as a whole. Richard could have refused to go or accepted my invitation to drive to the pond. It was well within his rights as tired as he was. But he chose to go with us on the little walking expedition, allowing the family some quality memory making time. That is the kind of man he is.
He was the perfect example of one who does not give up in well-doing. He was weary but he persevered. In doing so, Richard brought joy to his children and reiterated to me one of the many reasons I love him. He put the desires of his family before his own. The children will remember him for this day and will one day realize the immediate sacrifice he made for a better bonding experience with the family. As he proved, when we do not weary of doing good things, even when we are exhausted,to the bones, we will receive the abundant harvest.
All the kids had a good day. Nobody received a check mark (the symbol for some needed character adjustment), and the homework was completed before we arrived back at the house. Last week, the only difficulty we had was Nathaniel's sensory issues on the bus, and class time went well for them all then as well. I was trying to come up with a good reward for them when Nyssa thought of it for me.
"Mom, since I did all my homework, can we take a walk to the pond and feed the ducks?"
What a splendid idea, I thought, but the baby had just fallen asleep.
"I'll tell you what. When Gabriela wakes up from her nap, we'll all go down there and maybe have a picnic for dinner."
The kids all hoorayed and everyone was set for a fun time. Nyssa helped me pack sandwiches, napkins, and cups while I got the milk and the fruit. I had called Richard at work to give him a heads up, but he had already left the office. So we bid our time awaiting him. The children played with the Lite-Brite and traipsed in and out of the house while I worked on my book, looking every couple of minutes to check on them.
When Richard first came in the door, I momentarily considered calling off our outing because he looked so worn. having given them my word, however, I started to suggest we drive instead of walk or that I take them and let him rest. Beat though he was, my love was a real trooper and said we could all walk down together.
We had a blast! The ducks and the geese were literally eating out of our hands. Gabriela's right pinkie was once mistaken for a piece of bread by a Canadian Goose, but even that bite was a gentle nibble. She did say, "Top!" But when the goose started to walk away, Gabriela protested, "Come back!" She proceeded to feed it more.
The children ate their sandwiches and drank their milk. Richard tossed the remaining bread into the pond. We watched as the fish, turtles, and water fowl fought for tidbits. Finally, it was time to go back home. On the way, Benjamin summed it up for us.
"That was a great adventure!"
He was right; it was a fun experience for the family as a whole. Richard could have refused to go or accepted my invitation to drive to the pond. It was well within his rights as tired as he was. But he chose to go with us on the little walking expedition, allowing the family some quality memory making time. That is the kind of man he is.
He was the perfect example of one who does not give up in well-doing. He was weary but he persevered. In doing so, Richard brought joy to his children and reiterated to me one of the many reasons I love him. He put the desires of his family before his own. The children will remember him for this day and will one day realize the immediate sacrifice he made for a better bonding experience with the family. As he proved, when we do not weary of doing good things, even when we are exhausted,to the bones, we will receive the abundant harvest.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Action. Consequence.
I think I may have mentioned before that I am a sucker for science fiction and other shows previewed at Comic-Con type conventions. One problem with that aspect of my personality is that I tend to like shows that get cancelled due to low ratings. Observe the following:
The Cape, Life, Now and Again (no, NOT starring Sela Ward; that is Once and Again), My Own Worst Enemy, Journeyman, and Undercovers: Do any of these ring a bell? If yes, then yea! If not, why did you help get these shows cancelled? They all have great messages behind them. One of the best life messages I have gleaned from such television shows came from Day Break.
The premise of Daybreak is that a character, played by the very talented Taye Diggs, wakes up the same morning repeatedly. For those of you familiar with Groundhog Day, it is similar, yet very different from that movie. Day Break is a police action drama, a mental show, one that does require deep thought. At one point, the character is told by an enemy, "Every action has a consequence. Action. Consequence." Any wound he received is still there the next time he wakes up, though any bodily harm done to others is undone. His actions, however, on one day affect those around him the next day, even they have no recollection of having lived it already. Something he does subconsciously affects the way his girlfriend sees him the next time around. Action, Consequence.
My family has been dealing with that over the last couple of days. I was on the phone yesterday, dealing with the consequences of some of Nathaniel's actions. We are having to rearrange our morning and afternoon schedules. Action. Consequence.
We knew riding the regular bus to school would be a challenge to Nathaniel. Dozens of children, loud voices, no seat belt to give him a sense of security; each of these individually was a situation that could encourage him to lose control. However, the school authorities as well as us, his parents, mutually decided to give Nathaniel the opportunity to experience the regular bus as a manner of integrating him into the normal school system. He did very well for three days.
We dont' know what set him off the first time, but we do know that biting his tongue was the final straw. Thursday afternoon, he jumped out of his seat and refused to sit back down. Instead, he crawled along the floor of the bus and screamed, "Leave me alone" repeatedly in spite of the bus driver's attempts to talk him back into his seat. Obviously, this was unacceptable. Action. He was written up for disorderly conduct. Consequence.
Friday morning, he refused to get off the bus. He thought I had forgotten his snack, which I had already sent to school with him for the week, but he did not remember. Again, he had a fit; he screamed and yelled, and the bus driver had to call for assistance. It took two teachers 10 minutes to get him off the bus. Action. The bus driver was late for the next run and had to write him up again and he and I had a lengthy discussion. Consequence.
Friday afternoon I received both reports. Of course I understood the driver's point of view as well as my son's. I called the transportation department. Once she realized I was clearly on their side regarding Nathaniel's behavior, the official positively spoke with me regarding alternatives. We are working together to see if we can get a special bus to pick up Nathaniel, as had been done for the previous two years.
During the interim, I will take him to school in the mornings and pick up all three children in the afternoons. Unfortunately, Nyssa also has to live with the consequences of her brother's actions since I cannot pick up three children from three different locations during car pool times within 15 minutes of each other with an adamant time set smack dab in the middle of them for the bus. Ironically enough, it may end up being the solution to that after school timing issue period. For now, however, his actions on the bus had consequences. His ride on the 350 has been cancelled, just like Day Break.
Fortunately, I have the entire 13-episode series on DVD. Fortunately I was able to see a positive end to the original story arch although not everyone escaped unscathed. I also saw the start of a new season's worth of plot line unfold in the last episode which I will never see resolved.
Fortunately, we will find a good solution to Nathaniel's transportation problem. Fortunately, we have thus far been able to come through all the trials with Nathaniel's Autism. We see new ones surfacing, but we have the opportunity to daily take part in writing aspects of the script and to watch our son's world unfold in the journey of life. We have the ability to work with him to reinforce positive actions that will result in rewarding consequences.
The Cape, Life, Now and Again (no, NOT starring Sela Ward; that is Once and Again), My Own Worst Enemy, Journeyman, and Undercovers: Do any of these ring a bell? If yes, then yea! If not, why did you help get these shows cancelled? They all have great messages behind them. One of the best life messages I have gleaned from such television shows came from Day Break.
The premise of Daybreak is that a character, played by the very talented Taye Diggs, wakes up the same morning repeatedly. For those of you familiar with Groundhog Day, it is similar, yet very different from that movie. Day Break is a police action drama, a mental show, one that does require deep thought. At one point, the character is told by an enemy, "Every action has a consequence. Action. Consequence." Any wound he received is still there the next time he wakes up, though any bodily harm done to others is undone. His actions, however, on one day affect those around him the next day, even they have no recollection of having lived it already. Something he does subconsciously affects the way his girlfriend sees him the next time around. Action, Consequence.
My family has been dealing with that over the last couple of days. I was on the phone yesterday, dealing with the consequences of some of Nathaniel's actions. We are having to rearrange our morning and afternoon schedules. Action. Consequence.
We knew riding the regular bus to school would be a challenge to Nathaniel. Dozens of children, loud voices, no seat belt to give him a sense of security; each of these individually was a situation that could encourage him to lose control. However, the school authorities as well as us, his parents, mutually decided to give Nathaniel the opportunity to experience the regular bus as a manner of integrating him into the normal school system. He did very well for three days.
We dont' know what set him off the first time, but we do know that biting his tongue was the final straw. Thursday afternoon, he jumped out of his seat and refused to sit back down. Instead, he crawled along the floor of the bus and screamed, "Leave me alone" repeatedly in spite of the bus driver's attempts to talk him back into his seat. Obviously, this was unacceptable. Action. He was written up for disorderly conduct. Consequence.
Friday morning, he refused to get off the bus. He thought I had forgotten his snack, which I had already sent to school with him for the week, but he did not remember. Again, he had a fit; he screamed and yelled, and the bus driver had to call for assistance. It took two teachers 10 minutes to get him off the bus. Action. The bus driver was late for the next run and had to write him up again and he and I had a lengthy discussion. Consequence.
Friday afternoon I received both reports. Of course I understood the driver's point of view as well as my son's. I called the transportation department. Once she realized I was clearly on their side regarding Nathaniel's behavior, the official positively spoke with me regarding alternatives. We are working together to see if we can get a special bus to pick up Nathaniel, as had been done for the previous two years.
During the interim, I will take him to school in the mornings and pick up all three children in the afternoons. Unfortunately, Nyssa also has to live with the consequences of her brother's actions since I cannot pick up three children from three different locations during car pool times within 15 minutes of each other with an adamant time set smack dab in the middle of them for the bus. Ironically enough, it may end up being the solution to that after school timing issue period. For now, however, his actions on the bus had consequences. His ride on the 350 has been cancelled, just like Day Break.
Fortunately, I have the entire 13-episode series on DVD. Fortunately I was able to see a positive end to the original story arch although not everyone escaped unscathed. I also saw the start of a new season's worth of plot line unfold in the last episode which I will never see resolved.
Fortunately, we will find a good solution to Nathaniel's transportation problem. Fortunately, we have thus far been able to come through all the trials with Nathaniel's Autism. We see new ones surfacing, but we have the opportunity to daily take part in writing aspects of the script and to watch our son's world unfold in the journey of life. We have the ability to work with him to reinforce positive actions that will result in rewarding consequences.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
No Bus
Ever since last Christmas, Benjamin has been begging to go to school. I worked with him at home, but he wanted to go to class like his big brother and sister. We thought he might have been able to go this past spring, but things didn't quite work out. So, impatiently, he had to wait until this school year.
Excitingly for our family, this year Nathaniel and Nyssa are finally able to attend the same school, riding the same bus. Benjamin, however, just going into Pre-Kindergarten, is attending a child development center that houses a Georgia Lottery funded program. Since his birthday is in October, he is one of the oldest in his class, and he is ready to do everything big brother and sister will be doing.
All summer I have tried to prepare him for school. I have told him of circle time and recess, class reading and snack time. It's done wonders for his potty training! But there is one thing missing from his school that the other children have. He has been longing to ride the bus like them, but I have tried to prepare him for the fact that there will be no bus for him this year. I will be taking him to school. O course, he was focused on all the fun and heard what he wanted to hear.
Sure enough, the time came this past Monday morning. It was the first day of school! N & N put on their backpacks, so he put on his a swell. He knew he was going to a different school than they, so he was content to walk to the bus stop with the three of us and let them climb aboard the school bus without him. He waved good-bye and walked back to the house with me.
He was content as I went into the house to grab my keys and my purse, but when I moved toward the minivan, he turned into a different child. Jr. Mr. Hyde took over my dear little Benjamin.
"What are you doing?" he yelled, horrified.
"I'm unlocking the door to take you to school."
"But I want to ride the bus."
"Benjamin," I began calmly, " There is no bus for you, Honey. Remember?"
"But I don't want to ride the minivan. I want to ride in the bus!"
At this point, he went into full temper tantrum mode. He flailed his arms and kicked and started whining even more. " I. I. I want to ride on the bus. I want the bus, not the car, the bus!"
Now, this boy is getting too old for this, so I wasn't about to put up with this lack of control, though I did understand his frustration. So I took a breath, kept my voice low, and rubbed his shoulders gently for just a moment.
"Benjamin, there is no bus coming for you. If you don't get into the minivan, I guess you can't go to school."
Faced with that possible inevitability, my son immediately straightened up and decided he could ride in the minivan after all. I was very proud of the way that he managed to gather his control and climb sweetly in the vehicle. We had a nice conversation about a good way to treat others and how to be willing to handle new situations. We talked about how much fun the day would go and, indeed, he had a wonderful first day of school.
Sometimes when we embark on a new journey, we have certain expectations. When we come to situations where things aren't going the way we expect, we have to choose how we will respond. We can kick and scream, throwing our tantrums, or we can just sit and enjoy the unexpected. Sometimes the journey itself is as meaningful as the destination...and once we get there, we can smile, because we will have composed ourselves with dignity and integrity along the ride.
Excitingly for our family, this year Nathaniel and Nyssa are finally able to attend the same school, riding the same bus. Benjamin, however, just going into Pre-Kindergarten, is attending a child development center that houses a Georgia Lottery funded program. Since his birthday is in October, he is one of the oldest in his class, and he is ready to do everything big brother and sister will be doing.
All summer I have tried to prepare him for school. I have told him of circle time and recess, class reading and snack time. It's done wonders for his potty training! But there is one thing missing from his school that the other children have. He has been longing to ride the bus like them, but I have tried to prepare him for the fact that there will be no bus for him this year. I will be taking him to school. O course, he was focused on all the fun and heard what he wanted to hear.
Sure enough, the time came this past Monday morning. It was the first day of school! N & N put on their backpacks, so he put on his a swell. He knew he was going to a different school than they, so he was content to walk to the bus stop with the three of us and let them climb aboard the school bus without him. He waved good-bye and walked back to the house with me.
He was content as I went into the house to grab my keys and my purse, but when I moved toward the minivan, he turned into a different child. Jr. Mr. Hyde took over my dear little Benjamin.
"What are you doing?" he yelled, horrified.
"I'm unlocking the door to take you to school."
"But I want to ride the bus."
"Benjamin," I began calmly, " There is no bus for you, Honey. Remember?"
"But I don't want to ride the minivan. I want to ride in the bus!"
At this point, he went into full temper tantrum mode. He flailed his arms and kicked and started whining even more. " I. I. I want to ride on the bus. I want the bus, not the car, the bus!"
Now, this boy is getting too old for this, so I wasn't about to put up with this lack of control, though I did understand his frustration. So I took a breath, kept my voice low, and rubbed his shoulders gently for just a moment.
"Benjamin, there is no bus coming for you. If you don't get into the minivan, I guess you can't go to school."
Faced with that possible inevitability, my son immediately straightened up and decided he could ride in the minivan after all. I was very proud of the way that he managed to gather his control and climb sweetly in the vehicle. We had a nice conversation about a good way to treat others and how to be willing to handle new situations. We talked about how much fun the day would go and, indeed, he had a wonderful first day of school.
Sometimes when we embark on a new journey, we have certain expectations. When we come to situations where things aren't going the way we expect, we have to choose how we will respond. We can kick and scream, throwing our tantrums, or we can just sit and enjoy the unexpected. Sometimes the journey itself is as meaningful as the destination...and once we get there, we can smile, because we will have composed ourselves with dignity and integrity along the ride.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Resounding Choir
I love how things come together beautifully sometimes, especially when I feel that what I have done feels more like clean up duty rather than a wonderful piece of music or a Monet masterpiece. Those moments when the different aspects of my life blend into one another in such a magical way inspire me to be greater than I am. They help me keep my corner of the world in perspective, not only in thinking of myself as more than I am, but also in not selling myself short.
I simply love music! I have been playing the flute since I was 12 years old and I love to sing. When I am at my lowest points, I tend to feel better by turning on a favorite CD and belting along with the music until my mood is lifted. It's very therapeutic for me, and there is nothing like the right songs to put a pep back in my step.
I'm involved in choir at my church and thoroughly enjoy learning all the music that we sing. Since I am a second soprano, I often enjoy being a part of the melody of the songs. It's easy to keep in step with the soundtrack because usually I just have to listen for that melody in order to memorize the songs. We have a rule: listen to the music 3 times and sing along with it once. In other words, just listen in order to get the parts down correctly.
Right now, we are working on our Christmas music. And, as is customary, a few of the songs are simpler for me to learn. There are, however, currently a few songs that we are working on in which my part has a harmonic background. Those songs do make for interesting rehearsals for me, and they give me a sense of how some of the other parts may feel sometimes.
As those with a musical background may know, the notes to a harmony don't always sound right when done alone. In fact, they may sound downright awkward and flat or sharp. It can sound almost like fingernails on a chalkboard and discordant to the ears, quite unpleasant. But when blended with the other harmonies and with the main melody, a wonderful choral sound is achieved. That sound cannot come to pass unless some voices are willing to lend themselves to a part that seems less appealing than others.
The same is true in life itself. Music is a wonderful example of how beautiful diversity can be when everyone works together to make a work of art. For there is no greater work of art than life itself. But life itself would be boring, less fulfilling, if everyone did the same thing. We need that diversity in order not only to have beauty, but also to survive.
Think about it. If everyone was a doctor and focused on the human body, then we would have trash piling up to our ears. We need the sanitation workers. We need the janitors and the coaches and the teachers. We need the computer programmers and the farmers, the waiters and the busboys and the cooks, the window washers, the secretaries and the water conditioning plant workers. We need the police officers and the firefighters, the bailiffs, the attorneys, and the judges.
Some of these professions are looked at with envy. Some are seen as a blight in the eye of the upper crust. But they are all, as are many others, necessary for the environment in which we live here. We all give something to society. We must not take each other for granted or look down on another because their musical part doesn't sound as appealing as ours. Nor should we see ourselves as less important because we are nannies, housewives, or dog walkers, an apparently minor voice in the world. For I guarantee you, that it may be that very profession, that very voice, who gives the song of everyday life that special sound that causes the cacophony of this world to suddenly sing like a host of angels.
I simply love music! I have been playing the flute since I was 12 years old and I love to sing. When I am at my lowest points, I tend to feel better by turning on a favorite CD and belting along with the music until my mood is lifted. It's very therapeutic for me, and there is nothing like the right songs to put a pep back in my step.
I'm involved in choir at my church and thoroughly enjoy learning all the music that we sing. Since I am a second soprano, I often enjoy being a part of the melody of the songs. It's easy to keep in step with the soundtrack because usually I just have to listen for that melody in order to memorize the songs. We have a rule: listen to the music 3 times and sing along with it once. In other words, just listen in order to get the parts down correctly.
Right now, we are working on our Christmas music. And, as is customary, a few of the songs are simpler for me to learn. There are, however, currently a few songs that we are working on in which my part has a harmonic background. Those songs do make for interesting rehearsals for me, and they give me a sense of how some of the other parts may feel sometimes.
As those with a musical background may know, the notes to a harmony don't always sound right when done alone. In fact, they may sound downright awkward and flat or sharp. It can sound almost like fingernails on a chalkboard and discordant to the ears, quite unpleasant. But when blended with the other harmonies and with the main melody, a wonderful choral sound is achieved. That sound cannot come to pass unless some voices are willing to lend themselves to a part that seems less appealing than others.
The same is true in life itself. Music is a wonderful example of how beautiful diversity can be when everyone works together to make a work of art. For there is no greater work of art than life itself. But life itself would be boring, less fulfilling, if everyone did the same thing. We need that diversity in order not only to have beauty, but also to survive.
Think about it. If everyone was a doctor and focused on the human body, then we would have trash piling up to our ears. We need the sanitation workers. We need the janitors and the coaches and the teachers. We need the computer programmers and the farmers, the waiters and the busboys and the cooks, the window washers, the secretaries and the water conditioning plant workers. We need the police officers and the firefighters, the bailiffs, the attorneys, and the judges.
Some of these professions are looked at with envy. Some are seen as a blight in the eye of the upper crust. But they are all, as are many others, necessary for the environment in which we live here. We all give something to society. We must not take each other for granted or look down on another because their musical part doesn't sound as appealing as ours. Nor should we see ourselves as less important because we are nannies, housewives, or dog walkers, an apparently minor voice in the world. For I guarantee you, that it may be that very profession, that very voice, who gives the song of everyday life that special sound that causes the cacophony of this world to suddenly sing like a host of angels.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Out of the Mouths of Babes
I am constantly amazed by the things my children say. Whether little cute sayings or profound words of wisdom, I am moved beyond compare at what comes out of their mouths. In order to be fair, though, I will not just say this is limited to my own children, at least not just to children who I birthed. There have been others before and since, especially one group of 24 children as a whole.
During my second year in Jerusalem, my 2nd grade students decided to play matchmaker between myself and another teacher who the elementary school had delightfully dubbed "Dr. Smiley." No, he was not their dentist. He was their art teacher. It got so ridiculous that they started bringing it up a s a prayer request in the morning. They were so determined that even the kids who usually had no requests started writing it down on their little pieces of paper; "I pray that Miss Gina and Dr. Smiley will get married and have many, a thousand babies."
I tried to explain at first that you pray for God's will, not your own, to be done, and that other people had wills too. But that only fueled the fire. New notes came in; "I want that God would make them marry because they should." I gave up and let them just slowly realize that sometimes God says no...or to allow them to get the joking mentality out of their system.
Four years later I walked into their 6th grade classroom to speak with them. I had a praise report. I told them that something they had all prayed for had come to pass, that God had heard their prayers and said, "Yes." Even after the passing of time, they all remembered. Several of them instantly said, "You are going to marry Dr. Richard!" They were awed by the fact that God had answered their prayers in the affirmative.
Looking back I have to smile, both in loving remembrance of the grins on their faces at the time of the requests and in wonder. I have never questioned the power of prayer since first realizing it, but this was something new to me. Did they really have the insight at the same age my Nyssa is now, to realize a real match made in Heaven when they saw one? Or was God feeding that to them so that years later they would know that He cares enough about a class full of 7-year old children to answer their prayers? I'm not completely sure. I will tell you of one thing I am certain, though. Now when my children pray, I lend a more sensitive ear, because I never know what profound kernel of truth will proceed from the mouths of my babes.
During my second year in Jerusalem, my 2nd grade students decided to play matchmaker between myself and another teacher who the elementary school had delightfully dubbed "Dr. Smiley." No, he was not their dentist. He was their art teacher. It got so ridiculous that they started bringing it up a s a prayer request in the morning. They were so determined that even the kids who usually had no requests started writing it down on their little pieces of paper; "I pray that Miss Gina and Dr. Smiley will get married and have many, a thousand babies."
I tried to explain at first that you pray for God's will, not your own, to be done, and that other people had wills too. But that only fueled the fire. New notes came in; "I want that God would make them marry because they should." I gave up and let them just slowly realize that sometimes God says no...or to allow them to get the joking mentality out of their system.
Four years later I walked into their 6th grade classroom to speak with them. I had a praise report. I told them that something they had all prayed for had come to pass, that God had heard their prayers and said, "Yes." Even after the passing of time, they all remembered. Several of them instantly said, "You are going to marry Dr. Richard!" They were awed by the fact that God had answered their prayers in the affirmative.
Looking back I have to smile, both in loving remembrance of the grins on their faces at the time of the requests and in wonder. I have never questioned the power of prayer since first realizing it, but this was something new to me. Did they really have the insight at the same age my Nyssa is now, to realize a real match made in Heaven when they saw one? Or was God feeding that to them so that years later they would know that He cares enough about a class full of 7-year old children to answer their prayers? I'm not completely sure. I will tell you of one thing I am certain, though. Now when my children pray, I lend a more sensitive ear, because I never know what profound kernel of truth will proceed from the mouths of my babes.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Bye Bye Little Abscessed Tooth
A few years ago, before Gabriela was on the way, Nyssa and Nathaniel were playing in the family room while Benjamin was taking a nap. of course I had warned them once already to stop running around, but as children do, they soon returned to their hyper antics. Nathaniel ended up pushing Nyssa.
This action in and of itself was of no great concern; they have always enjoyed roughhousing. But the direction in which she was pushed combined with the force, multiplied by the fact that they were right next to a coffee table, quickly changed the seriousness of the situation. Nyssa landed face first into the corner of the square oak coffee table. For a few moments, I think my heart stopped beating and all of my thoracic organs dropped 3 inches. Nyssa lifted her head and I saw the blood flowing from her mouth.
At the immediate care center, we discovered that she had not only bitten the table, but she had ripped the frenulum in her mouth. We also learned that the frenulum which tore is the piece of skin in the middle of the upper lip connected to the gums. We were strongly advised to take her to the pediatric dentist for care, which we did after leaving the urgent care.
The dentist told me that the impact shoved her tooth a little off course. It appeared to be okay other than that, although it may get infected at some future point. Until then, she would be fine. It could be a month or it could be a couple of years.
Four years later, she got an abscessed tooth, the one which had initially been injured. Nyssa was placed on amoxocillin for a few days to help with the infection and was scheduled to have the tooth wiggled. So here we sat this morning, at the dentist's office after a week of antibiotics. From her complaining over the week, I guessed that the one next to it was getting infected too, so I asked about it. Sure enough, the infection had spread. Thankfully, her grown up teeth had already begun pushing on these baby teeth. It was a simple procedure to wiggle the teeth loose while she was under nitrous oxide, otherwise known as laughing gas.
Though it was no laughing matter, Nyssa was bubbly at the expectation of getting 2 surprises under her pillow tonight rather than just one. She chose to see the positive side of the matter. Since she trusted myself and her doctor, everything did, indeed, turn out just fine, with no worry on her part.
Sometimes a situation may affect us. Initially we feel the pain, but the outward injuries heal quickly. We have no understanding that we may have received even deeper wounding, invisible to the casual observer. We live our lives for months or possibly hears with seemingly no ill-effect. But the poison of the impact slowly works its way until, eventually, it is right there on the surface, like a big sore spot filled with stinky, infectious ooze.
It has to be treated so it does not extend further to poison more of our life. The root of the problem has to be removed or it will just return to fester and spread more damage. If we trust the One who is able to remove the source of the problem, we will heal quickly and never have to worry about that old injury again. We may have to chew softly for a day or so, but soon we will be restored to full health...and we won't ever have to worry about the pain sprouting in and out ever again. If only we can all trust the great physician in the way that Nyssa trusted her dentist today. We wouldn't be so afraid to say goodbye to the hurt.
This action in and of itself was of no great concern; they have always enjoyed roughhousing. But the direction in which she was pushed combined with the force, multiplied by the fact that they were right next to a coffee table, quickly changed the seriousness of the situation. Nyssa landed face first into the corner of the square oak coffee table. For a few moments, I think my heart stopped beating and all of my thoracic organs dropped 3 inches. Nyssa lifted her head and I saw the blood flowing from her mouth.
At the immediate care center, we discovered that she had not only bitten the table, but she had ripped the frenulum in her mouth. We also learned that the frenulum which tore is the piece of skin in the middle of the upper lip connected to the gums. We were strongly advised to take her to the pediatric dentist for care, which we did after leaving the urgent care.
The dentist told me that the impact shoved her tooth a little off course. It appeared to be okay other than that, although it may get infected at some future point. Until then, she would be fine. It could be a month or it could be a couple of years.
Four years later, she got an abscessed tooth, the one which had initially been injured. Nyssa was placed on amoxocillin for a few days to help with the infection and was scheduled to have the tooth wiggled. So here we sat this morning, at the dentist's office after a week of antibiotics. From her complaining over the week, I guessed that the one next to it was getting infected too, so I asked about it. Sure enough, the infection had spread. Thankfully, her grown up teeth had already begun pushing on these baby teeth. It was a simple procedure to wiggle the teeth loose while she was under nitrous oxide, otherwise known as laughing gas.
Though it was no laughing matter, Nyssa was bubbly at the expectation of getting 2 surprises under her pillow tonight rather than just one. She chose to see the positive side of the matter. Since she trusted myself and her doctor, everything did, indeed, turn out just fine, with no worry on her part.
Sometimes a situation may affect us. Initially we feel the pain, but the outward injuries heal quickly. We have no understanding that we may have received even deeper wounding, invisible to the casual observer. We live our lives for months or possibly hears with seemingly no ill-effect. But the poison of the impact slowly works its way until, eventually, it is right there on the surface, like a big sore spot filled with stinky, infectious ooze.
It has to be treated so it does not extend further to poison more of our life. The root of the problem has to be removed or it will just return to fester and spread more damage. If we trust the One who is able to remove the source of the problem, we will heal quickly and never have to worry about that old injury again. We may have to chew softly for a day or so, but soon we will be restored to full health...and we won't ever have to worry about the pain sprouting in and out ever again. If only we can all trust the great physician in the way that Nyssa trusted her dentist today. We wouldn't be so afraid to say goodbye to the hurt.
Friday, August 5, 2011
No Use Crying over It
Nathaniel is my little man. Mr. Man outgrows his britches faster than I get a chance to find them on sale. He is the most pensive of all my children. He senses when someone is unhappy though he doesn't always understand why, even if he is the cause. He is also very sensitive himself and gets hurt emotionally on a turn of a dime. The littlest things affect him deeply.
When he feels himself out of control emotionally, Nathaniel tries to find a solitary place. That usually gives him the opportunity to get himself in check before he transforms into the Hulk. That is, however, if he senses it coming. Just like David Banner, though, a situation can arise with little to no warning like hitting his head or stubbing his toe, that immediately unleashes that green monster.
This morning, the kids and I were playing while I was trying to straighten up. Nathaniel had worked up a thirst, so he decided to go to the kitchen and quench it. Knowing his growing independence, I let him go in there by himself.
All went well until I heard an, "Oh no," and then a "grrr," from the aforementioned kitchen. Not hearing any loud banging or clanging, I resisted the urge to go check on him and to give him the chance to see for himself if he really needed my help. Nathaniel's ability to ask for help is something we are working on right now.
A couple minutes later, he came back to the family room and gave a "Harrumph!" as he sat in my husband's recliner. I asked if he got his water. Unhappily, he stood up and walked over to me. "No," he replied, "I spilled the milk on the floor. On purpose. I did it on purpose."
Now, when I was his age, I remember occasionally getting confused with the terms "accidentally" and "on purpose," so I decided to see what he meant. Was it "uh oh, I didn't mean to do that", or was it "I wanted to spill the milk?"
He stood tall and erect, straightened his arms to his side and clenched his fist and screamed, "NO! I..did it... on (deep breath) PUUUURPOSE!" Okay then, there was no misunderstanding him this time. Speaking calmly, I asked him why he spilled it. He informed me that when he first poured it in his cup, it spilled. He got angry...that was the Oh no I heard, and proceeded to dump all the milk onto the floor.
This was a fresh gallon of milk. I had opened it just this morning, and had only used one cup from it. It was a lot of milk. After some persuasion and with my help, Nathaniel reluctantly agreed to clean up his spill. Nyssa joined in, as did Gabriela. My poor Benjamin just stood there, fussing that he was getting milk all over himself. In spite of the disaster, it only took us about 5 minutes to clean it all up, mopping excluded.
I had a choice when I saw the white liquid all over that kitchen floor. I could either react as my son had and thrown a little tantrum, or I could choose to gather my wits, act calmly, and take care of it with as minimal damage as possible. I was very thankful for the peaceful patience that came over me at that moment. I realized that yelling and clenching my fist wasn't going to do anyone any good and might just scare the children. So I took the few moments I had as the children watched for my reaction, breathed, and batted away the frustration that was trying to tempt me into a hissy fit.
Later this evening, as we sat at the dinner table, we recounted the day's events to Richard. When we got to the Milk Event, I reenacted Nathaniel's outburst for my husband. Even Nathaniel laughed at my impression. Richard looked at him and said, "Now doesn't that look silly?" Nathaniel ducked his head with a sly smile and agreed. In that moment, with the words that followed, I realized that Nathaniel had discovered the same thing I had. There was no question. There is just no use crying over spilled milk.
When he feels himself out of control emotionally, Nathaniel tries to find a solitary place. That usually gives him the opportunity to get himself in check before he transforms into the Hulk. That is, however, if he senses it coming. Just like David Banner, though, a situation can arise with little to no warning like hitting his head or stubbing his toe, that immediately unleashes that green monster.
This morning, the kids and I were playing while I was trying to straighten up. Nathaniel had worked up a thirst, so he decided to go to the kitchen and quench it. Knowing his growing independence, I let him go in there by himself.
All went well until I heard an, "Oh no," and then a "grrr," from the aforementioned kitchen. Not hearing any loud banging or clanging, I resisted the urge to go check on him and to give him the chance to see for himself if he really needed my help. Nathaniel's ability to ask for help is something we are working on right now.
A couple minutes later, he came back to the family room and gave a "Harrumph!" as he sat in my husband's recliner. I asked if he got his water. Unhappily, he stood up and walked over to me. "No," he replied, "I spilled the milk on the floor. On purpose. I did it on purpose."
Now, when I was his age, I remember occasionally getting confused with the terms "accidentally" and "on purpose," so I decided to see what he meant. Was it "uh oh, I didn't mean to do that", or was it "I wanted to spill the milk?"
He stood tall and erect, straightened his arms to his side and clenched his fist and screamed, "NO! I..did it... on (deep breath) PUUUURPOSE!" Okay then, there was no misunderstanding him this time. Speaking calmly, I asked him why he spilled it. He informed me that when he first poured it in his cup, it spilled. He got angry...that was the Oh no I heard, and proceeded to dump all the milk onto the floor.
This was a fresh gallon of milk. I had opened it just this morning, and had only used one cup from it. It was a lot of milk. After some persuasion and with my help, Nathaniel reluctantly agreed to clean up his spill. Nyssa joined in, as did Gabriela. My poor Benjamin just stood there, fussing that he was getting milk all over himself. In spite of the disaster, it only took us about 5 minutes to clean it all up, mopping excluded.
I had a choice when I saw the white liquid all over that kitchen floor. I could either react as my son had and thrown a little tantrum, or I could choose to gather my wits, act calmly, and take care of it with as minimal damage as possible. I was very thankful for the peaceful patience that came over me at that moment. I realized that yelling and clenching my fist wasn't going to do anyone any good and might just scare the children. So I took the few moments I had as the children watched for my reaction, breathed, and batted away the frustration that was trying to tempt me into a hissy fit.
Later this evening, as we sat at the dinner table, we recounted the day's events to Richard. When we got to the Milk Event, I reenacted Nathaniel's outburst for my husband. Even Nathaniel laughed at my impression. Richard looked at him and said, "Now doesn't that look silly?" Nathaniel ducked his head with a sly smile and agreed. In that moment, with the words that followed, I realized that Nathaniel had discovered the same thing I had. There was no question. There is just no use crying over spilled milk.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Splish Splash
My children are much like many other children. They love to get dirty! They love to get in the dirt with the water hose and get mud all over their clothes. They play gleefully, dancing and prancing around, making mud pies, trying to feed them to each other.
Fortunately for me, they also love to take baths. If it's time for one of them to take a bath, they all want to take one. It's a case of the Me Too Syndrome, which, in this case, can be a good thing. So, after a day of hard work, I mean play, they traipse up the stairs. The boys go to the hall bathroom and the girls to ours. The two older ones are now able to get the bath water going all by themselves and can put in the soap and the toys, ready for a good, splashy clean fun time.
Of course I have to stay near, especially since Gabriela's not quite 2, but it is so refreshing to hear the splashing, the giggling, and all the fun imaginative games they play while they're getting all the day's grime off their little bodies. I still have to make sure they use the soap and clean all the essential parts. I still have to wash their hair and make sure all the shampoo gets rinsed out, but for the most part, I just sit back as they have fun, towels at the ready for when they climb out of the tub.
It's not always easy to get the children to come in out of the mud, especially if they have turned on that hose without permission and are trying to hide the fact that they have done so. In fact, it can sometimes even sound like World War III in my yard because they protest the end of their water and mud play. But all I have to do, when I can, is change my tune and tell them it's time to come in and take a bath. Judging by their reaction, you would think the ice cream truck was passing by. They turn off that water and high tail it into their perspective bathtubs and go at it.
I have so much to learn, and my children are the perfect teachers. How often have I done something that I knew was not right, maybe not because it was the wrong thing to do, but just the wrong time. That in itself made the actions wrong. I didn't want to put an end to my motions; I just wanted to wallow in it.
But then comes the hope of the ability to redeem myself, to start all over again, to be clean again, as it may, and I thrill at the chance and rejoice in that opportunity. Maybe it's not always the most fun, like when a child gets a little shampoo in her eyes, but with a towel, it gets wiped away quickly with no ill affect. But then I relish in the cleansing flow that washes over me and gives me the chance to glow again.
It is a daily process, starting out clean, getting dirty, getting clean again. It is a daily process of starting out fresh, making mistakes, and getting them washed away again. Sometimes the stain may last a while, like when Benjamin decided to turn himself into a green tiger with a Sharpie, but eventually, that old skin washes away and the new comes to the surface. The glee of being clean and fresh is exhilarating. Yes, I know I will make mistakes again, but there is always the cleansing water to wash them all away, giving me a chance to start anew.
Fortunately for me, they also love to take baths. If it's time for one of them to take a bath, they all want to take one. It's a case of the Me Too Syndrome, which, in this case, can be a good thing. So, after a day of hard work, I mean play, they traipse up the stairs. The boys go to the hall bathroom and the girls to ours. The two older ones are now able to get the bath water going all by themselves and can put in the soap and the toys, ready for a good, splashy clean fun time.
Of course I have to stay near, especially since Gabriela's not quite 2, but it is so refreshing to hear the splashing, the giggling, and all the fun imaginative games they play while they're getting all the day's grime off their little bodies. I still have to make sure they use the soap and clean all the essential parts. I still have to wash their hair and make sure all the shampoo gets rinsed out, but for the most part, I just sit back as they have fun, towels at the ready for when they climb out of the tub.
It's not always easy to get the children to come in out of the mud, especially if they have turned on that hose without permission and are trying to hide the fact that they have done so. In fact, it can sometimes even sound like World War III in my yard because they protest the end of their water and mud play. But all I have to do, when I can, is change my tune and tell them it's time to come in and take a bath. Judging by their reaction, you would think the ice cream truck was passing by. They turn off that water and high tail it into their perspective bathtubs and go at it.
I have so much to learn, and my children are the perfect teachers. How often have I done something that I knew was not right, maybe not because it was the wrong thing to do, but just the wrong time. That in itself made the actions wrong. I didn't want to put an end to my motions; I just wanted to wallow in it.
But then comes the hope of the ability to redeem myself, to start all over again, to be clean again, as it may, and I thrill at the chance and rejoice in that opportunity. Maybe it's not always the most fun, like when a child gets a little shampoo in her eyes, but with a towel, it gets wiped away quickly with no ill affect. But then I relish in the cleansing flow that washes over me and gives me the chance to glow again.
It is a daily process, starting out clean, getting dirty, getting clean again. It is a daily process of starting out fresh, making mistakes, and getting them washed away again. Sometimes the stain may last a while, like when Benjamin decided to turn himself into a green tiger with a Sharpie, but eventually, that old skin washes away and the new comes to the surface. The glee of being clean and fresh is exhilarating. Yes, I know I will make mistakes again, but there is always the cleansing water to wash them all away, giving me a chance to start anew.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
True Friendships
Some things never change. When I was in school, it was all a popularity contest. Who had the most friends, who could get the dates with the hot guys in school, who could play sports the best, and who had the most friends. Oh. Wait. I said that already, didn't I? But things are different now because we're all grown up and in the big world.
Enter Facebook, the phenomenon that has swept the internet world. It connects people with acquaintances from their past, gives them someone to talk with who has similar interests, and creates a social network for anyone who is willing to stay on the computer for umpteen hours a day. Oh, and it allows people to meet others from all around the world. It's one big social network. It's true. That's why Hollywood made the movie about Facebook called The Social Network.
It's great, truly it is. It allows people who may not be able to socialize well in the outside world an opportunity to have contact with others. It gives old childhood buddies a chance to reunite and reminisce. It even has games that allow people who would never have met otherwise the chance to get to know one another.
But then again, it's all about popularity. I currently have over 850 "friends" on Facebook. But let's take a look at what a friend really is. I've heard of different types of friends. You have the fair weather friend, the fun friend, the serious friend, the tried and true friend, and the parasitic friend. But there's a big difference between having an acquaintance with someone and being a real friend.
A friend is there for you, not just because they get something from you, but because they care for you as a person. A friend wants what is best for you. A friend will understand when you get angry, will listen to your tirades. A friend will rejoice with you and cry with you. A friend will stop to smell the roses with you or help get you back on track when you've digressed along a rabbit trail.
Growing up, I was a typical "Josie Grossie," if you've ever seen the movie Never Been Kissed. I knew lots of people, but hardly any of them could be called friends. In some ways it was my fault as much as it was theirs, but because of that, I have learned the value of friendship. I wrote a poem about it in high school.
At the time I wrote my poem, True Friendships, to my best friend, we had known each other for over a decade. We still keep in touch, though not as often as we'd like. But we do know that we can count on each other and every time we pick up the phone, it's as if no time has passed. Her oldest is now graduated from high school, her youngest around 8, one year older than my oldest. My world is so much better because of her!
A true friendship isn't just automatic. It is tried, tested, and endures many hardships. A true friendship lasts through the pain, hurt, and anger. It looks past mistakes and forgives. It, forgive the cliche', passes the test of time.
I have read before that there is no greater love than that a man lay down his life for a friend. This last weekend, a teenager did just that. There was a group of kids playing in the neighborhood, she among them. A SUV careened out of control and she yelled for all of them to get out of its way. She made sure that they all got to safety. In the process, this 13 year old girl's last actions were to get the last of them away from danger. Unfortunately, it was too late for her. The driver rammed the vehicle into the building, sandwiching her. She died, not immediately, but right there, at the very place where several children had just been. When it counted, she took action. She was the very definition of a true friend.
Enter Facebook, the phenomenon that has swept the internet world. It connects people with acquaintances from their past, gives them someone to talk with who has similar interests, and creates a social network for anyone who is willing to stay on the computer for umpteen hours a day. Oh, and it allows people to meet others from all around the world. It's one big social network. It's true. That's why Hollywood made the movie about Facebook called The Social Network.
It's great, truly it is. It allows people who may not be able to socialize well in the outside world an opportunity to have contact with others. It gives old childhood buddies a chance to reunite and reminisce. It even has games that allow people who would never have met otherwise the chance to get to know one another.
But then again, it's all about popularity. I currently have over 850 "friends" on Facebook. But let's take a look at what a friend really is. I've heard of different types of friends. You have the fair weather friend, the fun friend, the serious friend, the tried and true friend, and the parasitic friend. But there's a big difference between having an acquaintance with someone and being a real friend.
A friend is there for you, not just because they get something from you, but because they care for you as a person. A friend wants what is best for you. A friend will understand when you get angry, will listen to your tirades. A friend will rejoice with you and cry with you. A friend will stop to smell the roses with you or help get you back on track when you've digressed along a rabbit trail.
Growing up, I was a typical "Josie Grossie," if you've ever seen the movie Never Been Kissed. I knew lots of people, but hardly any of them could be called friends. In some ways it was my fault as much as it was theirs, but because of that, I have learned the value of friendship. I wrote a poem about it in high school.
At the time I wrote my poem, True Friendships, to my best friend, we had known each other for over a decade. We still keep in touch, though not as often as we'd like. But we do know that we can count on each other and every time we pick up the phone, it's as if no time has passed. Her oldest is now graduated from high school, her youngest around 8, one year older than my oldest. My world is so much better because of her!
A true friendship isn't just automatic. It is tried, tested, and endures many hardships. A true friendship lasts through the pain, hurt, and anger. It looks past mistakes and forgives. It, forgive the cliche', passes the test of time.
I have read before that there is no greater love than that a man lay down his life for a friend. This last weekend, a teenager did just that. There was a group of kids playing in the neighborhood, she among them. A SUV careened out of control and she yelled for all of them to get out of its way. She made sure that they all got to safety. In the process, this 13 year old girl's last actions were to get the last of them away from danger. Unfortunately, it was too late for her. The driver rammed the vehicle into the building, sandwiching her. She died, not immediately, but right there, at the very place where several children had just been. When it counted, she took action. She was the very definition of a true friend.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Outpouring
My heart yearns. It yearns to share. When I am sad, it yearns to pour forth tears that won't be shed for just any one's eyes. When I am happy, it yearns to share the joy. When I've gone through troubling times and I have come through to the silver-lined clouds, I want to share how even through the bleakest situation, there is hope.
I am aware that my readers come from diverse backgrounds. I know you all have a myriad of beliefs that may or may not concur with mine. I realize that we are all in this world and that it would be, oh, so much better if we can live in peace. It is for this reason that my hand trembled as I earlier held the pen to paper and that it now trembles as I type. But it is not in fear or trepidation for myself. Rather it is because my soul is overflowing with a love for each of you that can no longer be restrained. For speak, I must. My heart has longed for several months and can no longer be denied.
Though I am merely human, filled with faults and doubts, there is an assurance, a hope, I hold that keeps me above all else. I wish to share with you a song I wrote recently and I hope you can feel the heart from whence it was birthed.
When it seems the world is moving way too fast for me
And everything is spinning 'round
I just get so dizzy
I close my eyes and wish it all away
But that's not the way it goes
No, oh oh
I strain to grasp for anything
To help me so that I can breathe
That's when You find me
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold On
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
When I feel the clouds of darkness try to hide my view
And thunder crashes all around
And I just can't feel You
I'll just close my eyes and listen for Your call
'Cause I know You're near to me
Yeah
For even through the darkest night
Your love shines a piercing light
That's where I'll find You
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold on
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
And if You ever feel me slipping away
Just hold my hand, keep me there to stay
Keep me from falling
Won't You hold me
Hold me
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold on
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
Hold on
You hold on
There is Someone who sees you, who has felt all your pain and cries with you. He has cried tears for you and with you. When you are happy, He is joyous beyond compare. When you feel you can't go on, when you feel you are falling into a bottomless dark void, He is there to comfort you ~ whether you feel Him or not.
If you know Him, you understand what I am saying. If you don't believe in Him but want to, just call out to Him. He will hear you and answer you and show you wondrous things. if you don't believe in Him and are just afraid, don't worry. His love will draw you. And, if you don't believe in Him and don't want to, I thank you for reading this anyway. I will think no less of you and it is my prayer that you will think no less of me.
I will keep two blogs, this one which will continue to look at everyday life, just as it has in the past, and another one, taking a deeper walk along the content of today's blog. If you are interested, you can find all the links at the upper right hand corner of this blog. I sincerely thank you with all my heart for reading this today.
My prayer for all of you is that you will come to know this love that I know. Peace and joy be with you all!
I am aware that my readers come from diverse backgrounds. I know you all have a myriad of beliefs that may or may not concur with mine. I realize that we are all in this world and that it would be, oh, so much better if we can live in peace. It is for this reason that my hand trembled as I earlier held the pen to paper and that it now trembles as I type. But it is not in fear or trepidation for myself. Rather it is because my soul is overflowing with a love for each of you that can no longer be restrained. For speak, I must. My heart has longed for several months and can no longer be denied.
Though I am merely human, filled with faults and doubts, there is an assurance, a hope, I hold that keeps me above all else. I wish to share with you a song I wrote recently and I hope you can feel the heart from whence it was birthed.
When it seems the world is moving way too fast for me
And everything is spinning 'round
I just get so dizzy
I close my eyes and wish it all away
But that's not the way it goes
No, oh oh
I strain to grasp for anything
To help me so that I can breathe
That's when You find me
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold On
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
When I feel the clouds of darkness try to hide my view
And thunder crashes all around
And I just can't feel You
I'll just close my eyes and listen for Your call
'Cause I know You're near to me
Yeah
For even through the darkest night
Your love shines a piercing light
That's where I'll find You
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold on
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
And if You ever feel me slipping away
Just hold my hand, keep me there to stay
Keep me from falling
Won't You hold me
Hold me
Hold on
Never let me go
I need Your strength to carry on
To walk this road I travel on
Hold on
I need to feel Your hand
Drive away the insanity
Let me rest in Your peace
Hold on
Hold on
You hold on
There is Someone who sees you, who has felt all your pain and cries with you. He has cried tears for you and with you. When you are happy, He is joyous beyond compare. When you feel you can't go on, when you feel you are falling into a bottomless dark void, He is there to comfort you ~ whether you feel Him or not.
If you know Him, you understand what I am saying. If you don't believe in Him but want to, just call out to Him. He will hear you and answer you and show you wondrous things. if you don't believe in Him and are just afraid, don't worry. His love will draw you. And, if you don't believe in Him and don't want to, I thank you for reading this anyway. I will think no less of you and it is my prayer that you will think no less of me.
I will keep two blogs, this one which will continue to look at everyday life, just as it has in the past, and another one, taking a deeper walk along the content of today's blog. If you are interested, you can find all the links at the upper right hand corner of this blog. I sincerely thank you with all my heart for reading this today.
My prayer for all of you is that you will come to know this love that I know. Peace and joy be with you all!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Where Does All the Time Go?
Time flies. It wasn't always so, at least not for me. When I was a child, it seemed to drag on forever, one day or even a single hour, taking an eternity to end. I remember the suffering I felt at 7 having to wait a half hour after lunch before I could go swimming. The last week of school was achingly long, just anticipating the onset of summer. I didn't treasure the moments; I just lived them.
But now, it passes quickly. I gave birth to my first daughter. Wasn't it only a year ago? But no. Over seven years, 4 children, and 4 baby teeth moving out later, I come near my youngest daughter's second birthday. There were so many things I wanted to do with them.
I was going to teach them a different language for each day of the week. I was going to teach each of them to swim as infants. I was going to teach them a Bible verse every day and read them a bedtime story every night before bed. What happened? The time just slipped away.
It's not that time is at fault. Time passes as it always has. I think I'm just becoming more aware of it than in my youth. At times like this moment, when I am sitting outside on the patio at Starbucks on Crabapple and Houze, feeling the soft breeze, listening to the cars as they pass by, and look in to the blue sky filled with puffy clouds in thought, that I stop and take stock of my time. In truth, I have wasted much of it, or spent it on things less valuable to me.
Perhaps when I was on Facebook earlier, I could have read Gabriela that book. Or maybe I could have let the children help me earlier, when they actually wanted to clean the dining room with me. When I think of all the "what ifs" in my time managements, I must be careful. There must be a true balance between the flippancy of waste and the condemnation of regret. I have to face my actions, and their consequences, not in order to be overcome by guilt, but that I may measure how to change and improve how I spend my time.
Because my older children are on the Autism Spectrum, I must be aware that anything I give them may be broken on a moment's notice due to a temper of frustration or sudden outburst. I must choose to either give them items that are unbreakable or keep from getting anxious myself when they do destroy an item. The fact that they do sometimes tear things apart does not keep me from introducing my children to something new entirely; I must just wait a while and try again later. Time is like that. It changes people. It allows us to mature and to try again...and again...and again.
So here I sit, evaluating my last week and being completely honest with myself at the time I have wasted as well as that which I have spent wisely. I admit, it's not pretty. I'm the best of procrastinators and the worst manager of time. But I want, I will, I choose to do better with this gift I have been given. Already, I have felt the quickening. Thus it is now the season for me to redeem the time.
But now, it passes quickly. I gave birth to my first daughter. Wasn't it only a year ago? But no. Over seven years, 4 children, and 4 baby teeth moving out later, I come near my youngest daughter's second birthday. There were so many things I wanted to do with them.
I was going to teach them a different language for each day of the week. I was going to teach each of them to swim as infants. I was going to teach them a Bible verse every day and read them a bedtime story every night before bed. What happened? The time just slipped away.
It's not that time is at fault. Time passes as it always has. I think I'm just becoming more aware of it than in my youth. At times like this moment, when I am sitting outside on the patio at Starbucks on Crabapple and Houze, feeling the soft breeze, listening to the cars as they pass by, and look in to the blue sky filled with puffy clouds in thought, that I stop and take stock of my time. In truth, I have wasted much of it, or spent it on things less valuable to me.
Perhaps when I was on Facebook earlier, I could have read Gabriela that book. Or maybe I could have let the children help me earlier, when they actually wanted to clean the dining room with me. When I think of all the "what ifs" in my time managements, I must be careful. There must be a true balance between the flippancy of waste and the condemnation of regret. I have to face my actions, and their consequences, not in order to be overcome by guilt, but that I may measure how to change and improve how I spend my time.
Because my older children are on the Autism Spectrum, I must be aware that anything I give them may be broken on a moment's notice due to a temper of frustration or sudden outburst. I must choose to either give them items that are unbreakable or keep from getting anxious myself when they do destroy an item. The fact that they do sometimes tear things apart does not keep me from introducing my children to something new entirely; I must just wait a while and try again later. Time is like that. It changes people. It allows us to mature and to try again...and again...and again.
So here I sit, evaluating my last week and being completely honest with myself at the time I have wasted as well as that which I have spent wisely. I admit, it's not pretty. I'm the best of procrastinators and the worst manager of time. But I want, I will, I choose to do better with this gift I have been given. Already, I have felt the quickening. Thus it is now the season for me to redeem the time.
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