Spring has come back to earth today, and of course this being Kansas that also means wind!
My cats are once again sitting up on my computer desk watching out the window (don't they always??). There doesn't have to be a single creature in the tree, but the whipping of leaves and branches makes their heads dart back and forth almost constantly. I know inside their heads they're both thinking: What was that? Did you see that movement? There's just got to be something there! I'm trying very hard to avoid laughing. Okay, not very hard.
I don't know why I even bother to do my hair of a morning on such a day. The moment I walk out the door it will end up sitting on top of my head like an updo or comb-over. Little children will stare and wonder what I was on when styling my hair that morning, and they'll imagine unicorns or bunnies in the image as if watching cloud formations pass by.
Even so, most days I still enjoy the wind. It's like a breath of fresh air after the storms of winter, carrying a promise of good things to come. When my neighbors aren't looking I love to stand in the path and just let the zephyr plough over me. One can't help but smile with such G-forces tugging at the mouth.
Then again, my neighbors might be smiling as they imagine bunnies in my updo.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Signs of Life
We drove up the turnpike today. I love to listen to music on a scenic drive and relive the memories it evokes. Today was no exception. The Flint Hills looked beautiful even in their brownness. Any moment now they will burst into color. Makes me dream of the day I can own my own piece of paradise.
My plan is to someday purchase a large tract of land. I've always loved the wide open spaces where it feels as if you can almost touch the sky if you can just reach the horizon and see a bit of heaven. The rush of wind on the hilltop is almost like being caressed by the hand of God. If you close your eyes you can almost smell Him in the approaching rain. I guess that's what I imagine heaven will be like.
Have you ever just stopped, really stopped and listened to the sounds of nature? Forget the rushing cars driving by, the clamor of voices, and the schedules - that's not what real life is all about anyway. Take a moment to just be still, surrounded by nothing but the wide expanse of creation. Listen to the sound of the rustling leaves in the trees. Smell the rich soil beneath your feet. Hear the lilting stream as it meanders homeward. If you listen long enough you might even hear the song creation plays each and every day.
Sometimes we need to stop, grab ahold of life for a moment, and realize the world will still be there when we get back. Take time for refreshment and just be still. Maybe then we'll hear the music of life.
Are you listening?
My plan is to someday purchase a large tract of land. I've always loved the wide open spaces where it feels as if you can almost touch the sky if you can just reach the horizon and see a bit of heaven. The rush of wind on the hilltop is almost like being caressed by the hand of God. If you close your eyes you can almost smell Him in the approaching rain. I guess that's what I imagine heaven will be like.
Have you ever just stopped, really stopped and listened to the sounds of nature? Forget the rushing cars driving by, the clamor of voices, and the schedules - that's not what real life is all about anyway. Take a moment to just be still, surrounded by nothing but the wide expanse of creation. Listen to the sound of the rustling leaves in the trees. Smell the rich soil beneath your feet. Hear the lilting stream as it meanders homeward. If you listen long enough you might even hear the song creation plays each and every day.
Sometimes we need to stop, grab ahold of life for a moment, and realize the world will still be there when we get back. Take time for refreshment and just be still. Maybe then we'll hear the music of life.
Are you listening?
Friday, April 11, 2008
Ah, Alaska
Winter has returned to Kansas this week. It makes me long for Alaska.
Ah, Alaska - with the snow-capped mountains year-round, the moose traipsing through town, the wind whistling through the valleys, and the blushing flora and fauna bursting forth at a moments notice.
Okay, before I wax poetic let me come down from the mountaintop.
Both times that I've had the luxury of visiting Alaska were near the end of April and the first of May. Almost overnight the ground goes from moist gray to vibrant green with splashes of color tossed here and there like a mosaic. The ice covering most lakes and rivers cracks and begins its journey, and previously unseen waterfalls thunder down the mountainside.
My first trip to the Last Frontier was alone, but I never let aloneness stop me from exploring. That's when I discovered an oasis I had to visit again. My second trip allowed me to take my mother and son with me, and we spent the last few days nestled in my favorite hideaway in the world: Seward.
After my mother came back to reality and realized those enormous beasts roaming downtown Anchorage were not mechanical (hey look, Mom - MOOSE!), we headed down the Seward Highway to that quaint little town at the end of the Kenai Peninsula. We took a wildlife boat tour, visited the incredible Alaska SeaLife Center (that wasn't there the first trip), and ended our journey with a stop at Ray's, the best fresh seafood joint west of the Mississippi. Melts in the mouth like butter.
Two days was not nearly enough time to enjoy all that Seward offers, but business and schedules called us home. Someday I plan to go back when I don't have to mix business with pleasure. I'm thinking perhaps a graduation present for my son in a few more years. Then we'll be sure and include a dog-sled ride pulled by huskies.
Somewhere along the line I'm certain my son is part Eskimo. After college, he plans to get a job and live in Alaska. That's great! Then I can visit Alaska as often as I like - I mean visit him as often as I like.
That is until I sell my first book and buy a home in Seward. Until then, I must dream of the day I can return. Sweet dreams indeed!
Ah, Alaska - with the snow-capped mountains year-round, the moose traipsing through town, the wind whistling through the valleys, and the blushing flora and fauna bursting forth at a moments notice.
Okay, before I wax poetic let me come down from the mountaintop.
Both times that I've had the luxury of visiting Alaska were near the end of April and the first of May. Almost overnight the ground goes from moist gray to vibrant green with splashes of color tossed here and there like a mosaic. The ice covering most lakes and rivers cracks and begins its journey, and previously unseen waterfalls thunder down the mountainside.
My first trip to the Last Frontier was alone, but I never let aloneness stop me from exploring. That's when I discovered an oasis I had to visit again. My second trip allowed me to take my mother and son with me, and we spent the last few days nestled in my favorite hideaway in the world: Seward.
After my mother came back to reality and realized those enormous beasts roaming downtown Anchorage were not mechanical (hey look, Mom - MOOSE!), we headed down the Seward Highway to that quaint little town at the end of the Kenai Peninsula. We took a wildlife boat tour, visited the incredible Alaska SeaLife Center (that wasn't there the first trip), and ended our journey with a stop at Ray's, the best fresh seafood joint west of the Mississippi. Melts in the mouth like butter.
Two days was not nearly enough time to enjoy all that Seward offers, but business and schedules called us home. Someday I plan to go back when I don't have to mix business with pleasure. I'm thinking perhaps a graduation present for my son in a few more years. Then we'll be sure and include a dog-sled ride pulled by huskies.
Somewhere along the line I'm certain my son is part Eskimo. After college, he plans to get a job and live in Alaska. That's great! Then I can visit Alaska as often as I like - I mean visit him as often as I like.
That is until I sell my first book and buy a home in Seward. Until then, I must dream of the day I can return. Sweet dreams indeed!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Disappointment
I'm so disappointed!
For several years now I've wanted to purchase a formal dining room suite. As a gift to myself in 2001, I completed my china set with 20 full place settings, the adorable little demitasse cups, serving pieces, you name it. My old home had a built-in cabinet that housed alot of my china, but my new home has a large room specifically for a formal dining suite. I found the design I wanted over a year ago.
Last week I found out that the store was having a silent 20% off sale. They don't come around often, so I decided now was the optimal time to purchase said dining room furniture. Furniture is to me as clothes or shoes are to most women.
The suite was to be delivered this morning. Sadly, the store called to say that when they were uncrating and loading the china hutch in their truck, they discovered an enormous gash in one side. They'd be happy to deliver the other pieces if I wanted, but they had to get a new hutch from their warehouse. I told them to just wait and delivery it all when the new hutch came in. It hurt.
Yes, it's only stuff, but I've waited and saved for this for so many years. One more week isn't going to kill me, but it sure took the wind out of my sails. Even the things we see as strong can be fragile.
Life carries many disappointments - most more important than a silly piece of furniture. It's how we plow through those times that our strength is revealed. Do we let life's blows keep us down, or do we pick ourselves back up, brush off the dirt, and begin anew?
I guess in this case I just need to brush off the splinters.
For several years now I've wanted to purchase a formal dining room suite. As a gift to myself in 2001, I completed my china set with 20 full place settings, the adorable little demitasse cups, serving pieces, you name it. My old home had a built-in cabinet that housed alot of my china, but my new home has a large room specifically for a formal dining suite. I found the design I wanted over a year ago.
Last week I found out that the store was having a silent 20% off sale. They don't come around often, so I decided now was the optimal time to purchase said dining room furniture. Furniture is to me as clothes or shoes are to most women.
The suite was to be delivered this morning. Sadly, the store called to say that when they were uncrating and loading the china hutch in their truck, they discovered an enormous gash in one side. They'd be happy to deliver the other pieces if I wanted, but they had to get a new hutch from their warehouse. I told them to just wait and delivery it all when the new hutch came in. It hurt.
Yes, it's only stuff, but I've waited and saved for this for so many years. One more week isn't going to kill me, but it sure took the wind out of my sails. Even the things we see as strong can be fragile.
Life carries many disappointments - most more important than a silly piece of furniture. It's how we plow through those times that our strength is revealed. Do we let life's blows keep us down, or do we pick ourselves back up, brush off the dirt, and begin anew?
I guess in this case I just need to brush off the splinters.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
A Celebration Is Coming
One of my novels is nearing completion. It's terribly exciting. I'm mere chapters away from a big celebration.
There are currently seven novels in one stage or another sitting on my computer. Now some people would think that was pretty impressive. Seven novels? Why that's amazing!
No it isn't.
There are hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people out there in the world who start a novel or even two. Rarely do they ever finish. I want to be the exception, not the rule, and the fact that I have seven unfinished novels is grating on my nerves. Sometimes being very creative can have its drawbacks.
Many times I'll have two or three ideas floating around in my head that are begging to be put to rest on paper. Other times, while I'm somewhere in the middle of my current writing project, I'll have a vivid dream at night and get another wacky idea for a new story. Then I can't rest until it is released from its cage. Yes, there are times when I can be like a caged animal. Just ask my son.
The problem is that the new idea takes me out of the depths of the old idea. Getting back into my characters and setting once I've been out of it for awhile can be quite difficult. Some in my critique group have little hair left from all the times I've switched gears on them in midstream.
So for the past year I've made myself stick to this one novel until it is done. It's been hard. There were several months when I didn't write at all, but the story was still floating around in the back of my mind. The focus for this particular project had to remain sharp even when I didn't write. That's how I've finally gotten near this stage of completion. My excitement is growing to a feverish pitch, and I can't help but work on it every opportunity I get.
My critique group will join me in the celebration of finally completing a work. Maybe their hair will grow back then too. Of course, they don't yet know that the end will probably make them pull it all out again.
That's okay. As long as I finish one, I'll rest easy. :-)
There are currently seven novels in one stage or another sitting on my computer. Now some people would think that was pretty impressive. Seven novels? Why that's amazing!
No it isn't.
There are hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people out there in the world who start a novel or even two. Rarely do they ever finish. I want to be the exception, not the rule, and the fact that I have seven unfinished novels is grating on my nerves. Sometimes being very creative can have its drawbacks.
Many times I'll have two or three ideas floating around in my head that are begging to be put to rest on paper. Other times, while I'm somewhere in the middle of my current writing project, I'll have a vivid dream at night and get another wacky idea for a new story. Then I can't rest until it is released from its cage. Yes, there are times when I can be like a caged animal. Just ask my son.
The problem is that the new idea takes me out of the depths of the old idea. Getting back into my characters and setting once I've been out of it for awhile can be quite difficult. Some in my critique group have little hair left from all the times I've switched gears on them in midstream.
So for the past year I've made myself stick to this one novel until it is done. It's been hard. There were several months when I didn't write at all, but the story was still floating around in the back of my mind. The focus for this particular project had to remain sharp even when I didn't write. That's how I've finally gotten near this stage of completion. My excitement is growing to a feverish pitch, and I can't help but work on it every opportunity I get.
My critique group will join me in the celebration of finally completing a work. Maybe their hair will grow back then too. Of course, they don't yet know that the end will probably make them pull it all out again.
That's okay. As long as I finish one, I'll rest easy. :-)
Monday, April 7, 2008
Success!!!
Trips can be a great bonding experience. This one succeeded in droves.
I was a nervous wreck driving to the school to pick up my son yesterday evening upon their return from the choir trip. You see, he was severely bullied when he was younger and has struggled since that time in making friends. He tends to hang back and study people. Therefore he is labeled as shy by teachers and his fellow students. Being misunderstood can really mess with one's mind. That's why this trip was so important to his overall continued progress. We've fought an uphill battle for many years, and the outcome of this trip was key to his continued forward momentum.
The moment he came barreling from the school building (he was helping gather bags from the buses), I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. From his body language, smile, and interactions with fellow students it was quite obvious he'd enjoyed a wonderful time. When he saw me his face lit up like a lightbulb, and he ran over and gave me a great big hug right in front of his fellow students. It brought tears of joy to my eyes.
He talked non-stop all the way home. They'd had a successful raid of the awards and ended up bringing home six trophies from the competition. All three of his roommates were great guys, and he even was able to tell me their names and grades (shocker for him to remember such details). Of course, the biggest success of the trip to him was getting invited twice to sit with a table full of girls. The biggest success to me was that he'd thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
And he's ready to go back next year.
I was a nervous wreck driving to the school to pick up my son yesterday evening upon their return from the choir trip. You see, he was severely bullied when he was younger and has struggled since that time in making friends. He tends to hang back and study people. Therefore he is labeled as shy by teachers and his fellow students. Being misunderstood can really mess with one's mind. That's why this trip was so important to his overall continued progress. We've fought an uphill battle for many years, and the outcome of this trip was key to his continued forward momentum.
The moment he came barreling from the school building (he was helping gather bags from the buses), I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. From his body language, smile, and interactions with fellow students it was quite obvious he'd enjoyed a wonderful time. When he saw me his face lit up like a lightbulb, and he ran over and gave me a great big hug right in front of his fellow students. It brought tears of joy to my eyes.
He talked non-stop all the way home. They'd had a successful raid of the awards and ended up bringing home six trophies from the competition. All three of his roommates were great guys, and he even was able to tell me their names and grades (shocker for him to remember such details). Of course, the biggest success of the trip to him was getting invited twice to sit with a table full of girls. The biggest success to me was that he'd thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
And he's ready to go back next year.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Timelessness (is that a word?)
Age can be a funny thing.
I'm turning forty next year - yes, the big 4-0. Some people are terrified of that designation of "middle-age", but I'm looking forward to it. Yes, I'm strange that way.
Turning twenty was wonderful; I was no longer a teenager. Thirty seemed as if the beginning of life had come, and perhaps I'd finally gain the respect of my older peers (yeah right, like that's ever going to happen). So what is the matter with turning forty? For me, absolutely nothing. I celebrate it. It means I've survived another milestone.
There was a time in my life when I didn't think I'd make it to my next birthday. When the physical body wears thin it really makes your world and focus shrink down to what is truly important. During that time, life for me was about reaching that next milestone to ensure I'd be here for my son. He became my driving life-force to do everything possible to live another day, week, month, and year.
Life has such meaning and purpose to me each and every day. I no longer struggle just to survive; now I thrive. It is a precious gift to be given a second chance.
It also means I'm moving forward. So forty, come on down!
I'm turning forty next year - yes, the big 4-0. Some people are terrified of that designation of "middle-age", but I'm looking forward to it. Yes, I'm strange that way.
Turning twenty was wonderful; I was no longer a teenager. Thirty seemed as if the beginning of life had come, and perhaps I'd finally gain the respect of my older peers (yeah right, like that's ever going to happen). So what is the matter with turning forty? For me, absolutely nothing. I celebrate it. It means I've survived another milestone.
There was a time in my life when I didn't think I'd make it to my next birthday. When the physical body wears thin it really makes your world and focus shrink down to what is truly important. During that time, life for me was about reaching that next milestone to ensure I'd be here for my son. He became my driving life-force to do everything possible to live another day, week, month, and year.
Life has such meaning and purpose to me each and every day. I no longer struggle just to survive; now I thrive. It is a precious gift to be given a second chance.
It also means I'm moving forward. So forty, come on down!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Off Into The Wild, Blue Yonder
Well they're gone, off into the wild, blue yonder.
My son just left on his big trip. I thought about going back to bed and getting a few more hours of sleep. Don't know why I thought that would be possible. A lot of hours flashed by on my clock during the night as I awoke frequently, fearful of not hearing my alarm and he missing their buses. That would have been a lot of anticipation and money down the drain.
We said our goodbyes here at home before going to the school. I didn't want to embarrass him, you know. His eyes held a teeny bit of apprehension, but the excitement greatly outweighed any fear. Suppose I'll hold onto it for him for the remainder of the week.
So while he's off galavanting across the greater Dallas area, I'll get some writing done and allow my mind to wander over the pages of my book. But first I think I'll try to go lay down for awhile again - my brain is starting to wander off.
It likes to go on trips too from time to time.
My son just left on his big trip. I thought about going back to bed and getting a few more hours of sleep. Don't know why I thought that would be possible. A lot of hours flashed by on my clock during the night as I awoke frequently, fearful of not hearing my alarm and he missing their buses. That would have been a lot of anticipation and money down the drain.
We said our goodbyes here at home before going to the school. I didn't want to embarrass him, you know. His eyes held a teeny bit of apprehension, but the excitement greatly outweighed any fear. Suppose I'll hold onto it for him for the remainder of the week.
So while he's off galavanting across the greater Dallas area, I'll get some writing done and allow my mind to wander over the pages of my book. But first I think I'll try to go lay down for awhile again - my brain is starting to wander off.
It likes to go on trips too from time to time.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Another Milestone
My guts have turned into butterflies. My son leaves early tomorrow morning for his big school choir trip to Dallas. He's excited. I'm nervous. Not sure why. Wait a minute - I think I do.
It isn't that I don't think he can handle it. My son has traveled extensively with me when I go on business trips. He's been to Alaska, California, Colorado, Texas, D.C., etc., etc., etc., knows his way through navigating airports and baggage claim, and is rather adept at getting places with everything he needs and returning home with everything he took (and then some). No, I have a feeling he's going to be just fine in that regard. The problem seems to be all mine.
I have to let go of my need to control.
You see, I'm a planner by nature for more reasons than one. I've spent most of his life trying to protect him as much as possible from the chaos that seems to follow me. Experiences are a very important component of life, but when I'm the one planning the experiences I'm also the one who controls it to (hopefully) avoid the possibility of a bad experience. Just being able to be a kid is important, and I've tried to guard him from the worries and cares of life - he's faced more things in his short years than most adults do in a lifetime.
This trip is a milestone for both of us then. None of his buds are in the choir. He's rooming with guys I don't know. Someone else will be responsible for the well-being of my son. I want SO BADLY for this to be a positive and wonderful experience, but that is no longer up to me.
I thought about going as a sponsor when the trip was announced earlier this school year. Decided not to. We talked about it, and he's happy to be going on his own (i.e. without me). But he needs this. He needs to know that he can be responsible for himself. He needs to know that he can have a good time without old mother-dear holding his hand so he can cross the street (Disclaimer - I haven't done that in a long time, okay). He's going to do more than survive this trip; he's going to flourish!
I'll just be so glad to hear about it when he comes back home Sunday night. By then, he'll probably be too tired to talk about it.
It isn't that I don't think he can handle it. My son has traveled extensively with me when I go on business trips. He's been to Alaska, California, Colorado, Texas, D.C., etc., etc., etc., knows his way through navigating airports and baggage claim, and is rather adept at getting places with everything he needs and returning home with everything he took (and then some). No, I have a feeling he's going to be just fine in that regard. The problem seems to be all mine.
I have to let go of my need to control.
You see, I'm a planner by nature for more reasons than one. I've spent most of his life trying to protect him as much as possible from the chaos that seems to follow me. Experiences are a very important component of life, but when I'm the one planning the experiences I'm also the one who controls it to (hopefully) avoid the possibility of a bad experience. Just being able to be a kid is important, and I've tried to guard him from the worries and cares of life - he's faced more things in his short years than most adults do in a lifetime.
This trip is a milestone for both of us then. None of his buds are in the choir. He's rooming with guys I don't know. Someone else will be responsible for the well-being of my son. I want SO BADLY for this to be a positive and wonderful experience, but that is no longer up to me.
I thought about going as a sponsor when the trip was announced earlier this school year. Decided not to. We talked about it, and he's happy to be going on his own (i.e. without me). But he needs this. He needs to know that he can be responsible for himself. He needs to know that he can have a good time without old mother-dear holding his hand so he can cross the street (Disclaimer - I haven't done that in a long time, okay). He's going to do more than survive this trip; he's going to flourish!
I'll just be so glad to hear about it when he comes back home Sunday night. By then, he'll probably be too tired to talk about it.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Early Morning Resurrection
I hate getting up early in the mornings. It isn't just that I hate it - I actually truly loathe it with a passion bordering on insanity. My body doesn't begin to function properly until at least 9:00, though I have to get up at 6:00 most mornings. The fact that my house has yet to burn down as I cook breakfast in a stupor is a testament to God's grace. Now if only someone could figure out how to administer coffee intravenously by my bedside.
As the school year winds down, my son is preparing for his big choir trip to Dallas. They've had two 7:00 am rehearsals already and will leave later this week. I found out Sunday at his choir performance that they have to be at the school by 5:00 - that's five o'clock in the morning. Be there at five o'clock in the morning! AM - which means we have to be up and around by 4:00 at the latest. Yes, that's right four o'clock in the morning. Why bother going to bed, eh?
Oh, what we do for our children.
At one time in his life, my son was a chipper early-morning riser. Seeing his toothy grin and hearing his babbling gibberish made the early morning disturbance worthwhile. Now that he's in the full throes of puberty, he can be pretty difficult to awaken of a morning. However, for the last couple of weeks, he's been Mr. Chipper all over again. I think he's actually looking forward to getting up at 4:00 am. Of course, it also helps that the girl to guy ratio for the trip is like nine to one.
But strange as it may be, I'm actually looking forward (in a bizzare, sick, and convoluted way) to getting up to see him off. By the time I was his age, I was a seasoned traveler, but this will be his first big trip that he's taken without me in tow - another one of the milestone moments of his life. It's very important to me that he feels comfortable stretching the umbilical cord.
Raising independent children is an important responsibility. Our job as parents is to allow our children experiences where they can explore life as we gradually adjust them to the process of leaving the nest. Then when they are old enough to leave, they will truly be capable of caring for themselves on their own out in the big, wide world. That's when we know we've done our job properly.
In the meantime, I'll continue to put myself out by being resurrected at four o'clock in the morning. Sympathy is appreciated.
As the school year winds down, my son is preparing for his big choir trip to Dallas. They've had two 7:00 am rehearsals already and will leave later this week. I found out Sunday at his choir performance that they have to be at the school by 5:00 - that's five o'clock in the morning. Be there at five o'clock in the morning! AM - which means we have to be up and around by 4:00 at the latest. Yes, that's right four o'clock in the morning. Why bother going to bed, eh?
Oh, what we do for our children.
At one time in his life, my son was a chipper early-morning riser. Seeing his toothy grin and hearing his babbling gibberish made the early morning disturbance worthwhile. Now that he's in the full throes of puberty, he can be pretty difficult to awaken of a morning. However, for the last couple of weeks, he's been Mr. Chipper all over again. I think he's actually looking forward to getting up at 4:00 am. Of course, it also helps that the girl to guy ratio for the trip is like nine to one.
But strange as it may be, I'm actually looking forward (in a bizzare, sick, and convoluted way) to getting up to see him off. By the time I was his age, I was a seasoned traveler, but this will be his first big trip that he's taken without me in tow - another one of the milestone moments of his life. It's very important to me that he feels comfortable stretching the umbilical cord.
Raising independent children is an important responsibility. Our job as parents is to allow our children experiences where they can explore life as we gradually adjust them to the process of leaving the nest. Then when they are old enough to leave, they will truly be capable of caring for themselves on their own out in the big, wide world. That's when we know we've done our job properly.
In the meantime, I'll continue to put myself out by being resurrected at four o'clock in the morning. Sympathy is appreciated.
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