Sometimes sayings and quotes take root in my heart and plant themselves. Sometimes they’re meaningful, sometimes they’re silly, sometimes they’re even misquoted but none the less when something strikes me they become permanent fixtures in my thought garden. One of these includes the advise that when you truly love something you must let it go. If it comes back to you it’s yours to hold and love forever. If it doesn’t, well the opposite holds true. I don’t remember when or where I heard it but something about it stuck. If you ask my husband today, he’ll tell you it stuck with him too because I hit him over the head with it over 16 years ago. *wink*

It was Christmas Eve of 1991 and we were sitting in his car in my parent’s driveway. I wouldn’t look him in the eye, didn’t want my tears to betray me. I’d made it through the entire anguished evening with his family; endured all the little jokes about future grandchildren and how promising things looked for it with fake smiles and quiet nods, not one tear or indication of how hard it had been to sit there. I’d have been smiling with them under different circumstances - I’d have been smiling if it’d been only a few weeks earlier.

It had been anything but a typical courtship covering a thousand miles, hours of phone calls and daily mail. This was the second time in two months when he expressed feelings of uncertainty. My heart was done with the yo-yo. There had been so many confirmations of this being what he wanted and yet there was this nagging concern that caused him to keep his distance just before he’d see me again, his conviction giving way to fear and uncertainty. Commitment can do that to even the best of men. Now the pattern was repeating from the Thanksgiving holiday, but in my heart I knew if I handled it the same way it would end on the same happy note and we’d be right back here again just a few more months down the road. No, I was done.

I’d played those words over and over in my head all day, ever since he shared his returning doubts. I knew in my heart it was the only thing to do, to force myself to do. Keeping my head down, I weakly said that I’d heard once that if you really loved something you had to let it go, that if it came back it was yours and you loved it with all your heart forever, if it didn’t it wasn’t meant to be. Silence. I took a deep breath and told him I was letting him go. I choked back a sob and waited for a reaction. It felt like several hours passed before I heard anything.

“But I’ll still get to see you and spend time with you while I’m home on Christmas break right?”

“No.”

I could feel the shock register with him even though my face was turned to the window the tears running freely down my cheeks now. He confirmed at least once more that this was it, that I didn’t want to see him again. I said not until he’d made a decision about us, I couldn’t keep doing this. Then I got out of the car and walked alone to the door. I never turned around.

It’s been 16 years since he made his decision. He told me that after a lot of speeding, emotions and self-talk he’d decided it all came down to whether he could picture a life without me in it and if that was what he wanted. I guess sometimes we all need to be pushed out of our comfort zones to find answers for ourselves, or at least learn which questions to ask.

I’m not sure where the time has gone. I can’t figure out how it changed the innocent and childish faces in the wedding photos to the now middle aged parents that stare back in recent photos. Those early faces were so carefree, so young, so unable to comprehend what marriage and family really meant. The faces that look back at me now have some wrinkles of worry, a glimmer of wisdom, and smiles of true joy. Time is a magical thing.

So to my Blake, I tell you on this wedding anniversary how truly grateful I am that you choose to come back to me. Letting you go then was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. We’ve been through many things together that were equally difficult since, but at least we’ve been through those times together. Thanks for coming back. You can rest assured I’ve still got a firm grip and I’ll keep holding on tight.

Other related articles:

To My Sweetheart
15 Years Ago Today
Secrets of a Happy Marriage
The Best Christmas Gift
Why Marriage is Like Computers
What Made Me Fall For Him

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Family Emotions Relationships Marriage

Sometimes I feel that I could write endlessly about the experience of having no TV in our home. It’s amazing to me how much I’ve noticed, the little changes and big ones all from one decision. One of the things that I learned a long time ago is that you can’t simply remove things, they require replacement if you want success. It doesn’t matter if it’s thoughts, habits or tangible uses of time the rule is the same. So when we talked as a family about not paying any more for any TV to come to our home we also talked about the other things we could spend that money on. So today I share some of our tangible replacements and their enthusiastic reception.

Behold my last order from Oriental Trading: A full box of summer fun:

I splurged on the hoppity horse style bouncers. I remember these as a kid and my 5 year old begged and pleaded. But the delight was well worth it and we’ve all had hours of fun since their arrival. The kids were blown away that mom still knows how to bounce on them and even challenged a race.

They couldn’t wait for school to be out to dig into one of the activities, so I let it buy my Sunday afternoon Mother’s Day nap. It was a little rock and gem set. The kit included a brick with rocks and gems trapped inside the plaster brick. They had to chip away until they could remove the rocks and then could examine them with the little magnifier and identify them based on the poster that came with the set.

I love that my kids are enjoying spending their time doing things that are fun and educational and not just watching hours of TV programming that dulls their senses and whittles away at their morals. Another post for another day. *wink* Meanwhile, the suspense and anticipation of all the surprises in this box are treasured by this mom - almost as much fun as Christmas.

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Yesterday was Mother’s Day and it was truly one of the most wonderful I’ve had. There was a time when I dreaded this day, a time in childless years when it tore my heart to shreds. A time, when I remember being told in words, actions, and looks many times how I was not a mother though I desperately wanted to be. Many women with similar experiences continue to struggle on this day even years after finally becoming mothers. I’m grateful to say that while I remember those I truly enjoy Mother’s Day, not just for my own mother and memory of motherly influence in my own life but because I appreciate so much more the blessing of being a mother now. And look at the loot besides!

Can’t beat that. I am so blessed and spoiled!

Now, if I can just stretch my luck and blessings long enough to get all my stuff backed up I’ll be most happy. I’ve got a bad feeling about my computer. *furrowed brow*

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Family Adoption Sharing Emotions Motherhood

No, I’m not talking about the health related ones, though they are no less important. I’m referring to the communication and interaction aspect of strokes. A stroke of a knife can cut the flesh, but the stroke of words can cut the heart. Physical hurts heal even though some may leave their mark in the form of a scar, but emotional wounds to the heart are another matter entirely. Yet we are far more careless with our words than we are with physical influences. Why is that?

Too often we speak without thinking. Too often we share our views and opinions without solicitation. Too often we disgrace the name and reputation of others with gossip and rumor. Too often we use verbal harshness to get what we want. Too often we desecrate the name of divinity. In short, too often we tear down instead of build up.

Words are indeed powerful. They have the ability to lift, raise, beautify, comfort and nurture. And as with all things they have the opposite abilities as well. When you think of the simplicity of a name much can be learned. To hear your name spoken in the positive tones makes your heart soar with pride and security. I don’t have to write the emotions that are invoked when you recall hearing your full name called in “that tone” because you know exactly how it made you feel. Is it any wonder that one of the first commandments given was not to take the name of the Lord in vain? Yet that is trampled under the feet and tongues of men today as much as every other harmful tool of verbal power.

I was struck by a talk on this subject a few years ago. The stark comparison of the speaker who spoke of how the same mouths that spoke prayers and sang praises in beautiful song would yell or speak unkindly. I thought of my own voice and my own tongue. I thought on how I frequently use both for praying and singing but never thought about how I used them in defiling and damaging ways. The title of the talk was “The Tongue of Angels” and to say it left it’s mark on me and my heart would be an understatement. I’ve been keenly more aware of my words and although I’ve got so far to go I’m now on the journey of improving my tongue.

You’ve heard the saying many times “different strokes for different folks” and it’s the truth. I’ve recently been teaching charm classes again and it brings to the surface so much of this topic as I strive to teach my students rules of engagement and common courtesies. Then as I was out catching up on some blogs last night I watched some video clips of a recent blogging convention. My eye was caught by the familiar scene of the convention center room with round tables in hotel ballrooms, their chairs occupied by people of all types, but what captured and held my attention was the one that sat at a table without a laptop. It was a stark reminder of how keystroke minded communication is these days. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that many of the people in that room where having conversations with one another, maybe some even at the same table but with instant messaging, e-mails, comments and blogging. Nearly every person in the video clip had a laptop on the table or in their laps, and it’s why the one who didn’t stood out. Our teens may not carry their laptops around like their adult counterparts yet, but they do carry around their phones and I’ve known many a youth who was having a conversation with the person next to them using their thumbs instead of their mouths. It’s an interesting phenomenon that bears both pros and cons.

On the pro side, I personally find that typing more has made me more aware of my words. When I write something, I go back over it many times and find several places where I edit, re-edit, scratch entirely, etc. The result is that I’ve been fine-tuning my communication and presentation skills. I have to think things through before I commit them to text and sometimes just seeing them in text and re-reading them sheds new light too. I have seen a stark improvement in my writing since I began blogging two years ago. Another advantage for me is the ability for my words to keep up with my thoughts thanks to hands and a mind that learned how to type. And I can do it without writer’s cramp, white-out or an eraser. (A post for another day is a rant on how many people, especially youth today, don’t acquire this skill. Hunt and peck methods were never efficient, but in today’s world I can’t hardly imagine the person keeping up without this skill.)

On the con side for me are many of the opposites. While it is considerably more efficient for me to communicate via text it is far less personal. I find it takes concerted effort on my part to continue working at other communication skills of speech and conversational interaction. I worry about the new generation who are not being taught verbal communication and social interaction skills. Another downside is the ability of doing things because one can without ever questioning if one should. And here we are full circle back to the double edged tongue.

Whether in keystrokes or voice, our words have great power. My goal is to make my strokes those of love and kindness in the lives of those around me. It’s part of working on my life, the masterpiece.

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Time flies as these two wouldn’t fit on their daddy’s shoulders well anymore, but the memories are oh so sweet.

Check out the new Wordless Wednesday HQ!!
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Wordless Wednesday

Well I got another task marked off the list, one that’s been on the back burner for forever. I got more files uploaded to my site today - yay! They are pictures and details of some of the websites I’ve designed over the years.

Website Designs

I thought I’d share them here. It’s been fun to remember the projects.

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We went to see Iron Man Saturday night and enjoyed the flick. It’s been a little while since we took the kids with us to the theater and we haven’t been frequenting it as much as we used to. However, we did sneak a date night a few weeks ago and went to see The Forbidden Kingdom. I expect regular visits for the rest of this month as there’s three more shows lined up to come out every weekend that we want to see. I’m especially looking forward to the new Narnia and Indiana Jones movies. It’s funny that our theater time has dropped because you’d think both that and watching movies at home would have gone up since we nixed the TV last October but surprisingly they’ve both dropped as well. It’s an interesting observation.

I had a friend forward me a link to a YouTube video on the making of the Twilight movie. That looks to be great fun this December. I really enjoyed the series. I still wish she were spending her time writing it from Edward’s perspective instead of continuing the series but wishing won’t make it so. I also finished the newest Fablehaven book this weekend. It was another fun read. My only concern for the author is that the main story line seems to be as rutted as Harry Potter. Only instead of Harry being threatened with continual destruction it’s Fablehaven. I’m not sure how you get around that in a series but it can get a bit tedious even with all the great action in each book. Although Brandon is the first author I’ve read that I couldn’t accurately guess most of what was coming and I really like that. It was also an easy and fast read like the Harry Potter books for me.

I need to read some C.S. Lewis and Ralph Waldo Emerson books. They are two authors I’m delinquent in reading yet I love the little I’ve been exposed to and the numerous quotes of both. I’ve been marking some of the best selling books on my Facebook visual bookshelf to diversify my reading too. I love being part of a book club but unfortunately, by the time the discussion rolls around it will have been several weeks since I read the book and likely some other books in between. The problem is that you want to discuss a book as soon as you’ve read it and it’s hard to find others who are at the same point as you. Even with my husband finishing Fablehaven last night we haven’t really had any discussion on it and although I think I’d like to we never get back to it.

Any other thoughts out there on great books or movies?

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Blogging Reading

I’ve been thinking about how to start blogging my memories ever since I wrote about them last week. Today I was chatting online briefly with a friend from High School. We’ve actually gotten to know each other better since we graduated than we ever knew each other as classmates. I mentioned that I blended in with the walls pretty well in school because I was so shy. I suppose his response shouldn’t have surprised me but in a way it still did to read that he remembered that about me. I guess that part of me is so changed into the person I am now that I’ve always hoped others would forget it too. But it’s part of me and it’s what’s on the brain right now so I’ll share a few memories of that quiet kid I used to be.

I have to preface all of this with a constant question in my mind. It’s one of those “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.” kind of questions. I’ve always wondered how my life might have been different if I’d lived in different places, or more specifically not moved when I was a young girl. You see, when I was born and up to the ripe old age of 7, my family lived in Preston, Idaho. Now if you’ve seen Napoleon Dynamite you’re going to be laughing your backside off about my internal struggle but I’ll share it all the same.

My parents owned and operated the Plaza Motel which was right next door to the Popp’n Pins bowling alley. My mom and dad are probably amazed right now that I pulled that name out of the archives so easily. But I actually remember a lot about those years in Preston. I especially remember Kindergarten and first grade. I remember that I was a cute little girl that was well liked by her classmates. I didn’t have any enemies or kids that were mean to me. In fact, I remember very specifically laying our coats down against the wall of our first grade classroom during the winter as there were no hooks on our wall. Several boys had a habit of burying mine with theirs. One day, I remember Ricky coming up to me and asking me if I knew why so many boys put their coats on top of mine and when I said no he explained they did it because they liked me and thought I was cute. I blushed as deep a pink as my dress but inside I glowed like a thousand watt bulb with the compliment. I remember catching him looking at me with a big grin more than once and loving every moment of it. I have a similar memory of Kindergarten and my mom switching from the half day every day to the all day every other day program for a short time. When I went back to my half day class I was grabbed up in the biggest bear hug by one of the girls who exclaimed with glee, “Oh goody, goody gumdrops!” over and over. I can still hear her in my head. Further, my peers perceived that my family was rich because they owned the motel. Which was one of like four businesses in the entire town. Okay maybe more than four but again, have you seen Napoleon? The point is, the perception, or at least my interpretation of it, was that I was one of those popular kids - well liked, privileged, etc. If we had never moved I may have been a smug Summer Wheatly (sp?) kind of girl.

As it turns out, my parents sold the motel and moved to a small farming community after my first grade year. The closest town was Rexburg, about 8 miles away. While I was delighted that we finally had our own home everything changed. No one knew me or my family, they didn’t own any landmarks and consequently big changes were in the cards. I was a nobody, a new kid, an outsider. While the kids of my “neighborhood” readily accepted me and were kind with fun friendships forming, the kids at school were not. For a child who never experienced a move, doing it for the first time at age seven was brutal. Most of the kids at school in my class were mean and made no bones about not accepting me as the outsider. I got ‘new girl’ sneers and jeers to my face as well as behind my back, and I was excluded from circles of friends along with their games and activities. I was too young to know if I had tough or weak skin, I just knew I was very confused because this was so opposite of what I’d known in school previously. I wasn’t a totally ninny because I remember yelling one day to most of the class that maybe I’d move back where I came from anyway and then they’d be happy and so would I! It wasn’t until I broke the ice playing the coveted sport of soccer at recess that I was accepted as one of the group. For the record, one aspect the movie got right about Preston is the sport…tether ball was the only thing outside rollerskating I’d had exposure to. But the good news is I had a knack for it and I was pretty good, comparatively speaking, so from that point on things took a positive turn.

By the time I was my daughter’s age, in fourth grade, things were much closer to the life I’d known in Preston and I was happy. I even had a boyfriend, and he was one of the popular and privileged, “rich” kids whose daddy was a big name farmer in the area. Remember how association acceptance worked? When you’d be accepted in different social circles just for who your friends were? Oh wait, that’s not a thing of the past. Never mind. Anyway, aside from the petty girl games that come with the age and a few rough patches with it, life was good. That’s when the next blow struck. I was uprooted again when all the kids my age were combined into one big sixth grade class at a middle school in town.

Sixth grade changed everything…again. I was now another face in a classroom of kids I’d never met, this time things were more equal but still really intimidating. Most of us were new to each other. However, that year largely defined the rest of our school experience, reputations and friends. Worse was I lost my association powers because my friends and I were separated into different homeroom classes. In fact, after a few weeks of school my best friend informed me that she’d found a new best friend and so couldn’t be my friend anymore. It was a sign of things to come because I never again associated with those early friends from grade school. I’ve always regretted that. But I fell back into a pattern of quiet uncertainty. I met one new friend that became my bosom buddy through the worst years of my life - a.k.a. Junior High. But the pattern of quiet was set and wouldn’t budge much until I got involved in drama my last couple years of High School.

It’s funny looking back because I see a recurring pattern of starting new, rising to the challenge and starting over. I’m not the shy, quiet and insecure girl I was in school anymore but I remember her very well. There’s a lot more to me being quiet than I can share here and this is already a book so I’ll close and save the other thoughts for another day. Suffice it to say there are good things about being quiet too.

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When you wake up with a headache.

When you run out of milk at breakfast.

And most importantly when you sit in unexpected traffic. As I’m still fuming over this morning’s traffic madness I figure I’ll blog it and maybe that will help me wash it away.

I understand that there will be construction and that sometimes delays just happen. What I don’t understand is why people turn into utter morons when it does. I understand that some construction jobs require redirecting traffic. What I don’t understand is why they can’t give any notice when you could avoid it or at least prepare for it or why they always pick THE worst possible time to do it.

To the construction staff who make these decisions might I suggest doing a small stakeout for research say the day before? That way you could see that traffic is already buggered in front of the junior high school for roughly 20 minutes every morning. On this note I truly must vent for the lack of traffic planning to begin with. A simple berm preventing left turns at dangerous points would be an economical and practical solution. Directing flow of traffic does much to alleviate problems.

To the dozen or so idiots that angrily swerved out from the line behind me, raced up the turning lane only to realize all traffic was being redirected back to the line and then cut in that line again, I tell you how fortunate you are that I don’t have a superpower granting me the ability to act on my thoughts or every single one of you would have had 4 blown tires this morning and be left stranded on your escape route. Here’s the thing, you’re not any more important than anyone else in line. Your schedule and where you need to be is no more important than the guy next to you. We all have things to do and places to be. So buck up, stay in line and stop causing more accidents. You make me cranky.

And finally to my sweet 5 year old in the backseat, mommy is sorry for your exposure to her wrath and descriptions of those dozen or so drivers. And thanks for being there so mommy kept her descriptions watered down.

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Get it right. Don’t leave yourself standing on a rug that begs to be pulled out from under you. This goes for more than writing, it goes for everything in life. Do your homework, make sure you know what you need to know before you stand on a soap box or any other form to state your case and opinions. It’s just good sense and it doesn’t matter how big or how small your audience or your reach is.

I’ve always been perhaps a little overzealous in my personal life to make darn sure I’ve covered all my bases before I start running. My boss once even told me to remind him never to get on his bad side or cross my path after observing my work for a year. He also told me that he had no problem seeing why I rose so quickly from secretary to regional administrator. It was a nice compliment, especially given that I was not yet 25 years old when I got it.

So where does it all start? Well, I can tell you I wasn’t born with it and I wasn’t handed these traits on a platter. I had to work hard, maybe even harder to gain respect in my job because I was so young. I know some of what I write about on this because I live it every day, I’m not perfect at it but I continue to nurture it every day. My husband has dealt with a lot of the aftermath of me being overly analytical sometimes and worrying about those things. I told you I haven’t perfected it, but I can tell you it’s very strong in me. I can tell you that it involves a great deal of thinking things through from every side, angle and perspective possible. It involves keeping a level head, taking time to set aside initial emotions and reactive thoughts. And it’s what makes me crazy when I see others spout off in various forms without a care or thought about whether what they’re writing or sharing has any foundation or if it’s just reactive vomit that negatively affects others. The recent garbage floating around with political mud slinging, polygamist sects and religious slandering makes me cringe. There’s no point to spreading the muddy water around and you can’t get into the mud without getting some on you. Yet time and again people everywhere jump in never realizing most of it is unfounded, false, taken out of context or exaggerated to gain attention. But it was ever thus.

In two of my favorite classics, “The Count of Monte Cristo” and “Les Miserables” you are introduced to two powerful characters who pride themselves in being servants of the hands of justice, upright and just men. In The Count you meet the unfortunate Villefort, and in Les Mis you meet the also unfortunate Javert. Their ultimate undoing is the unveiling of hypocrisy. For Villefort he realizes in his most desperate moment what a hypocrite he has been most of his life and he goes crazy with the realization and aftermath of his actions. For Javert, the battle is free from personal hypocrisy but he commits suicide when he realizes that to uphold his beloved law would be immoral. Both were extremists, not unlike many people today. It’s the very reason I bring them up. Today’s Villeforts and Javerts run around under the same cloak of blind following. And at the end of the day a blind follower is left with little more than anger and vindictive venom when they realize their pursuits have been vain. They strike at anything and everything, most especially at anything resembling the origins for their initial beliefs or thoughts. In short, they leave themselves standing on a rug which begs to be yanked out from under them.

So I line up my ducks - to a fault sometimes, I admit - before I do anything else. And I really wish others would do the same. Today’s world offers so much to so many. Technology and the Internet make it possible fore every person to be “published” and to read more content on every subject imaginable than one could hope to have time to sift through. Yet, in general we are still married to the idea that if it is in print it must be true. Therefore, misinformation, scams, hoaxes and more continue to run a muck as the muddy streams trickle from source to source. Few if any make the arduous trip up the mountain to the source to learn for themselves what is truth. It is only those who do that find true conviction and peace in their beliefs and knowledge. It’s also why the world is so full of angry people I think.

So I end with where I began. If you’re going to share or write (especially commit it to text) get it right. Follow the first rule of authors everywhere: Only write what you know. Do you’re homework, go to the source, find out for yourself. Enough of all this muddy water.

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Emotions Perspectives Blogging Intellectual