Category Archives: family
the second most important thing in my life
momma knows best
if i “grow up” to be just like my mom, then i will have achieved my only important and worthy life goal (because that encompasses all my spiritual, family, and character goals). i’m aiming for just a fraction of her faith, compassion, ambition, creativity, optimism, energy, and positive influence. those that knew her understand i’m not exaggerating.
my success in reflecting her in the big areas is yet to be seen. but i do know this: i AM my mother in all the little ways. this manifests itself in my life no less than a hundred times a day. from how i fold shirts to the way i make oatmeal to my explore-all-options approach to decision-making, i learned it all from my mom. i’m reminded of her all day long as i recognize her shadow across most of my habits, mannerisms, and methods.
sometimes you don’t realize the extent of someone’s signature on your life until his or her absence highlights it. this was evident to me during a recent cleaning spree, and i shared this with my family:
“so i’m cleaning out my closet (again) and half my clothes are there because of mom… girls’ shopping trips, gifts for no occasion, thumbs up replies to photo texts… the woman had style, and i could hardly make a purchase without her approval.
but it’s hard to give up a worn-out shirt when it reminds me of us giggling in the dressing room while i played runway model and she hung up discarded blouses. and then there are the pieces i can’t bear to part with for no other reason than the fact that mom felt so strongly that i needed a certain staple in my wardrobe. i’m staring at a pretty linen skirt that i have never worn, knowing i should pass it along to someone who will put it to good use, but i can hear her telling me how every girl should have one in her closet. after all, momma always knew best.
seriously, she knew what she was talking about; disregard her advice at your own peril.
reminiscing made the process a little more tedious, but in the end i was grinning at my thrift pile, thinking of the zillions of golden nuggets she passed along – beyond fashion advice – that helped me be prepared, avoid messes, make the most of stuff, and enJOY life.”
the linen skirt might still have to go.
on purpose – tradition flexibility
although i’ve not been consistent over the past few months about recording and sharing my purposeful resolutions as i’d intended, i’m still determined to be intentional about growing through the pain. i’m pleased to report that i’ve followed through on my first commitment, and have written quite a few cards for the tiniest of occasions. it’s been a joyful exercise in taking nothing for granted that i plan to continue.
around the new year i pledged my second moving-forward resolution, and after tripping over a few landmines figuring this one out, i’m ready to share it: I WILL REDEFINE TRADITION.
in my subconscious mind, special traditions have been classified in part by the activities that are “the same” each time. my family loves celebrations, and many of our beloved traditions were championed by my mom. on the heels of our first holiday season without her, i knew that i needed to adjust my perspective on “the same” if i were going to truly celebrate without bitterness.
in doing so, i realized that it’s not the same situation that makes a tradition, it’s the same spirit.
we prepare birthday breakfasts in bed in the spirit of serving, we read the Christmas story from the Bible in the spirit of praise, we arrange elaborate Easter egg hunts in the spirit of silliness and play, and each cherished family tradition reflects a spirit of gratitude. and if she’s not there to play her role in the activity, then we must figure out how to continue the tradition in a different way with the same spirit.
i’ll have plenty of opportunity to practice this on purpose, because it seems the calendar is a gauntlet of sentimental events. especially today, the day we celebrate our mothers. so today i honor the moms i miss* as well as the many mothers in my life who inspire and encourage with their self-sacrificing love.
*remembering life and light of Lila “Grandma” Dean 4/4/1932 – 4/29/2011
oh, honestly
HONESTY. the best policy? absolutely. always pretty? don’t count on it.
which is why i tend to believe that the Ugly Truth falls into two diametric categories: required (when it concerns the person in the conversation) and taboo (when it doesn’t).
like when a genuine response to a casual inquiry is, quite simply, a downer. after all, what unsuspecting friendly acquaintance wants an awkward wah-waaaah reply to their greeting? best to put on a happy face.
i feel this way when it comes to writing, too. a while back i read this tweet:
“anyone can write about their darkness and be considered a brave writer for doing so. very few can write joy bravely.”
i disagree. wholeheartedly.
joyful topics flow freely from my keyboard and are a delight to share. the Love of Laughter series is my favorite to write. (and re-read. and laugh at, of course.)
dismal subjects, however, may evoke plenty of written response from me, but nothing that i would ever want to burden an unwitting audience with. it feels selfish to unleash gloom on someone’s otherwise pleasant day.
my darkness remains in the dark, published under a password that no one is privy to.
the sad thing is, while there is certainly joy amidst the sorrow—and those moments come without fail every day—the happy bits seem to get overshadowed when i get contemplative. when i write. and so my feed is silent.
it’s been six months today. so while i continue struggling to wrap my brain around the reality of it, i’m going to give the Ugly Truth a try. and i’m going to bring the joyful pieces to the front—on purpose—when i feel the need to empty words out of my head in writing. for the good of everyone involved.
*photo by haleigh russell
the little guy
happy birthday, cooper! for your fourth birthday we got you what makes you happiest in the whole world—other than peanut butter—a playmate! seems like not that long ago you were just a wee pup yourself….sniff, sniff.
for quite awhile lee has been insisting that our puggle, (an extremely social animal) needs a pal to keep him company all day. so when a friend at pets and people alerted us that a pug there had a litter that they thought were puggles, one of the puppies was in our home within hours.
we’ve decided he’s more likely a carlin pinscher (or muggin), but he still looks just like a miniature version of cooper. (a mini cooper, ha!) and with all his bouncy energy we think he’ll be the perfect match for cooper’s unending playfulness.
here’s the embarrassing part: we’ve had the dog for a few weeks and still have not named him. this is unacceptable.
how hard can it be? there’s been no shortage of suggestions—both our own and those offered from friends and family—but we can’t seem to settle on one. picky, much?
in our defense, we fostered the little guy for a week or so before we were sure coop had really warmed up to him, so we deliberately avoided the naming attachment at first. but now the little guy needs a name. because we’ve been calling him “the little guy” for long enough that it might become his name by default.
so this is not only an introduction to the newest member of our family, it’s a plea for help – what should we call him?
UPDATE (november 30):
we did finally land on a name for “the little guy.” then, in a crazy string of events, we realized that he was a much better fit in a friend’s home and subsequently adopted an actual puggle from another shelter in the city. “the big guy” is one year old, but 15 pounds heavier than cooper. he and coop are like clones in their pugglish behavior, and we’re so happy to have lewis as a part of our family, now. photo to come soon on our Christmas card.
days of grace
there are no good days or bad days anymore - only days of grace. sometimes His grace allows me to enjoy the day, and sometimes it allows me to endure it.
today marks two months without her. but i’m no more reminded of her absence today than i was able to forget it yesterday.
each day is riddled with emotional landmines, concealed behind each moment of my daily life that she would have touched. but i recklessly plunge headlong into the minefield anyway, insulated by a thick padding of His compassion and grace.
on purpose – card ‘em
as a first step in fulfilling my promise to find purpose in the pain, i resolve to be intentional in a simple, meaningful way. I WILL SEND MORE CARDS.
everyone enjoys getting “real mail” that is not a bill or advertisement, and i’ve always appreciated those who take them time to pull out a pen and a stamp rather than tap out an electronic message. (i’m certainly guilty of the latter, and still believe a note shared online is better than none at all.)
during mom‘s entire tug-of-war with cancer, not a day went by for more than three years that the mail did not deliver multiple cards of encouragement, well-wishes, celebration (with the ups), & promises of fervent prayer (with the downs). the photo above was taken about 6 months in – when we first became cognizant of the magnitude of love-mail flowing in. now there are three baskets to accommodate all the cards.
the card baskets have resided in a prime location, for easy access to an uplifting message when needed. i know mom returned to them again and again in the hard moments. and in the days and weeks following her death, our family found solace, inspiration, and cheer in re-reading these cards.
i have always written a heartfelt card for special occasions (something my parents modeled), but i keep telling myself that i should write more cards for no reason other than to brighten a day, share an inspiring thought, or tell someone i appreciate them. good intentions no more; i’m going to do this on purpose! i even have a tub of handmade cards mom and i created together…how appropriate. i’ve set a personal commitment of number/frequency to get me started (i’m better with solid goals), but hopefully this will become a habitual tendency toward written sentiment.
BONUS:
to kick off my pledge, i’d like to share one card that never got placed back in a basket, because we opened it it so often. i don’t usually go for the cards that play sounds when you open them, because….well, let’s just say it’s not my thing. but this one got me every time. it got to the point that even the anticipation of opening it would pull a slight crimp in the corner of my mouth. give it a listen, and just see if you don’t find yourself dancing a hoe-down like dad and i did every. single. time. (the card only played the first 30 seconds or so of the song.) “here we go!”
