This One’s A Real Keeper!

Scan of a Valentine greeting card circa 1920.
"Who Does That Anymore?"

Amidst all this recent de-cluttering and organizing, I ask myself, “what are the real keepers?” What do I absolutely need to keep? Heck, what do I want to keep?  I consider these questions as I place yet another few old greeting cards into a photo box labeled as such.  One of my worst fears is losing my memory, so I tend to keep things that have sentimental value. I think that somehow these physical mementos will facilitate the recollection process in the event that that ever happens.  Though my filing and storage system can still use a little help from Oprah and organizational “expert” Peter Walsh, I will never admit to being a pack-rat.  (I put the word “expert” in quotes, as I’m reminded by my dear friend, that oftentimes these experts are experts in every area except their own lives. I tend to agree.)  I actually think I have a system – well, sort of – even though my husband thinks it quirky and understood by none other than myself.  When it comes to matters of the heart, however, I think that I have quite an uncanny ability to discern what is worth keeping. 

This list is by no means exhaustive. After all, I wouldn’t want to exhaust you, but some of the things that I’ve kept include:

  • Hospital Wristbands – those flexible pieces of plastic only slightly bigger than a man’s size ring, secured around a baby’s wrist at birth.  I’ll never forget their birthdates this way!
  • Greeting Cards From my Husband & Father-in-Law  – Something must be said that the two of them know how to pick the best cards ever! Not sure how much of this is learned behavior. I swear my father-in-law must spend quite a bit of time in his local Hallmark or drugstore selecting cards for his grandchildren. His cards to our children are especially meaningful, given the physical distance that separates us. More than his generous giving, I look forward to opening the cards they get from him. From the cover to the inside, each one is hand-picked to reflect the children’s interests, beauty, and personality.  My husband’s greeting cards to me are among the most random, beautiful, and hilarious cards ever!  They seem to say just the right thing at the right time. His cards to me are given “just because”, and are usually not centered around an event or occasion.  It is rare that I myself will purchase greeting cards for anyone. I think that only I know best what I want to communicate, so I will often write a letter instead.  Occasionally, beautiful blank cards or those with less print will do.
  • Children’s Artwork – Hold on now, not all of it, only the ones that they themselves have created. Classroom-generated art should be tossed at the door, as it only serves as proof that your child can or cannot follow directions, and you already know this! Plus, I’m not raising a bunch of conformists. Do remember to shred what you don’t keep. Trust me, no amount of explanation will comfort a child who discovers her “best-thing-ever” in the trash or recycling bin.
  • Photographs – preferably only those that capture your best side.  Choose wisely! 😮 Seriously, photographs say a lot. They capture moments as well as emotions in time, and remind us of the events and people surrounding those moments.  For instance, the image header on this blog was taken of a frog that my two oldest children found in the basement. They then took it outside and “nurtured” it, thinking that it was a good idea for a pet.  And you thought it was some internet “art”?  Photographs take you back to the physical places you traveled and inhabited, and evoke emotions that are as raw as when they were first felt.  Now you just have to remember where you put the darn photographs!  The absence of photographs, on the other hand, requires the memory to work overtime to recall and piece the past together, and sometimes obliterates memories altogether. That can be a good or bad thing, depending on the memory. 
  • Letters – mostly handwritten, few typed.  Someone took the time to write it, so I take the time to cherish it.  Before her passing, my grandmother and I wrote each other regularly. I’ve kept all of her letters, since the time we were separated. I was 10 years old, so I have lots of letters!
  • Playbills & Movie Ticket Stubs – how else am I suppose to remember the names of these things, let alone what happened in them?
  • Final Hotel Bills – they bear the name, address, and dates during which we stayed during our travels.  The bill itself is useless, but everything else is right there!
  • My Writing – I keep all of my writing, whether it’s written on a napkin, cardboard insert from dry cleaners, or the back of an airline boarding pass or ticket.  After I’ve pieced together all of it, I may very well have the makings for a complete novel! 

And now, I am off to the organization of all these keepers!  Oh Happy Day!  Let me know some of the things that you insist on keeping. I might need to update my list!

Yes…Joy, and Then Some!

"Moms Rock!" (Amelia Island Sand Art)

It’s Day 4 of my youngest child being sick with what looks like a wicked virus, or stomach infection.  Hopefully, she turns the corner today because she’s quickly becoming a poster child for Huggies Pull-ups.  She’s become very clingy, so I’m on borrowed time, even as I type.  The last few nights have been punctuated by frequent changes of diapers and full clothing.  I’m awaiting the next explosion, so I’m going to try to get this in before the thoughts escape me. 🙂

I’ve been mulling over my last post, titled  “It’s ALL PurposeFULL“.  In that article, I explored the questions that we often have regarding the mysterious nature of the life-changing events in our lives, including “Why?”, “Why me?”, and “Why Now?” My goal then was to provide assurance that we ultimately become better and fuller selves as a result of the more difficult, inexplicable events that occur in our lives.  This isn’t to say that we should have to experience loss, tragedy, or hardship to self-actualize, but rather that, the occurrence of these situations in our lives wisen us and enhance our potential to live and love more authentically.

Perhaps I took you to the conclusion a bit too quickly, without letting you in on the middle of the “journey”.  While I will never share with you sordid or personal details, or provide you with a blow-by-blow account of the events in my life that shape those truths (certainly not in a blog forum), I can tell you that during those moments in which I questioned the mystery of life, and God himself, I often felt alone, misunderstood, isolated.  My faith and hope seemed to be shaken, lacking, questionable.  To this day, I will maintain that it was not the actual death of a loved one that shook me the most. Unlike many, when my grandmother (my first true mother) passed away, I had an amazing sense of peace and understanding. As she neared the end of her life, she agonized over increasing physical pain and articulated on numerous occasions the gratitude that she had for a life well-lived.  My grandmother believed wholeheartedly that she would be in a better place.  Her death was only physical to me. I maintain a relationship with her that most would not understand. I miss her dearly at times, but most times, I feel that she is with me.

I have had other losses that bore a sharper sting than I could have ever imagined. Those jarred me to the core, leaving me to question where I went wrong, and whether this was some sort of karma.  What was life trying to teach me? I grew jealous and bitter as I witnessed others around me, realizing the very dreams that I thought were mine just for the asking. At that time, I could not see a plausible explanation for any of it. It seemed that my dreams were always on hold, always waiting in the wings, but for some reason or the other, it wasn’t quite time for them to materialize.

Fast forward to the “now”. I wouldn’t change it for the world! My past experiences, good and bad, have launched me right where I am now.  In this very moment, I can be a source of encouragement for those that have gone through similar situations.  More importantly, my soul continues to heal as I share the stories with others, especially wives, mothers, and daughters.  I come alive as I reveal the anguish of that difficult moment, and share the joy in knowing what I believe that moment was designed to teach me.

By the way, I’ve been hurled on once (good thing I wasn’t making a hat at the time), and performed two additional diaper changes since I started! It’s going to be a long, but beautiful day! It can only get better. 🙂

Girls Clapping to Miss Mary Mack

It’s All PurposeFULL!

Ever asked “why”, “why me, or “why now”? Of course you have, as has anyone who is truly living.  We go through things in life that leave us dumbfounded, speechless, at a loss. We find ourselves having more questions than answers. No amount of schooling or living seems to have prepared us for the moment that seems so ambiguous, so vague, so meaningless, so incongruous with what we’ve witnessed, experienced, or ever anticipated thus far. We struggle to find answers and make sense of the moment, thinking that perhaps after a good night of sleep, it will all be clear. Joy comes in the morning, right? Well yes, but that’s just part of it.

I’m not here to convince you that everything will make sense, or that somehow the lightbulb will instantly light up amidst your tragedy, loss, suffering, or other life event not necessarily defined by loss, but perhaps by rejection of some sort. However, I do believe wholeheartedly that, in the final analysis, it all serves a purpose, whether by design or default. The stars do line up, and the epiphanies and discoveries do follow…in time.  Eventually.

The purpose seems to be that of self-actualization. Ultimately, amidst our grieving and coping, our tearful cries and quiet whispers, our rage and tranquility, and our futility and fortitude, we find a stronger voice. We learn something about ourselves, that until now was undefinable, undiscovered, and certainly underdeveloped. We discover gifts within us, tap into amazing coping abilities, learn humility – how can we not be humbled by the order and timing of things – assume unparalleled strength, and dispel myths that we once believed to be true.

Just when we think that we can take no more, we find ourselves morphing from fragile to uncompromising. We transcend beyond our situation and become faces of hope, as we share our stories of triumph. We conquer our situations as we are forced to go within. We transcend our circumstances by finding consolation and comfort in the knowledge that many have come before us that have endured far worse, and managed to make it through. We find our resilience as the carpets of comfort are pulled from beneath us. As we reach out and across, we learn that we don’t have to go it alone, and we learn to finally understand the meaning of community, and its necessity. In the process, we redefine our networks.  Lines of friendship and family become blurred in the process, but we find amazing clarity in the truth that we must connect…with each other, and are not designed to suffer in silence, or rely on our own wit to get us through the situation.

In the end, we learn to love more authentically. Our need to open up trumps our desire to retreat into our shells during our most difficult moments. Our dissatisfaction, disappointment, displeasure, disengagement, disenchantment with half-fulfilled hopes, and dislocated hurt, anger, and pain brings us to our knees, while we are forced to acknowledge that we are in need of a personal touch, an affirming voice, and an encouraging heart. This is when we know we are growing, becoming our truer selves. We are actualizing, becoming connected. Yes!

As we become unglued from our own seats of seeming security, from the places which we sometimes occupied for too long in our roles…as parent, wife, husband, or lover, son or daughter, and even employee, we find freedom in the expression of our most sincere feelings, joy in the liberation from not having to do it all, and light in the exposure of all that once remained suppressed. We emerge victoriously and assuredly, albeit through some very painful processes and lessons.  This is especially true if we live with the acknowledgment that life is trying to teach us something. In turn, we become whole, grounded, humble, resilient, uncompromising (where it counts), resourceful, and confident. We become ourselves, as we were designed to be!

Speak up, Already!

Why does it always take some mad act to happen for us to then have courage – to speak up or do something?

For instance, this recent example of Jared Lee Loughner, who shot to kill Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, and killed and injured several others outside a Safeway shopping  center in Tucson, Arizona.  For the love of God, when will these crazy dudes (sorry gentlemen, so far, it has been mostly male characters) like Loughner be detected, apprehended, and treated (if necessary) for their lunatic ravings, and wicked motivations before they carry out their premeditated plans to destroy life, and snuff out democracy as we know it?

Unlike those looking to blame the ‘political climate’ in America for what this man did, I blame the systems that allow for the kind of behaviors, leading up to a tragedy (usually a public one), to go largely unchecked. I blame the institutional -isms, and the pervasive bystander mentality among those, who in turn protect sinister characters hellbent on having things their way, and no other way, especially when it means the progression of society as a whole. Sadly enough, I am of the belief that had Loughner been of a darker hue – Middle Eastern, Jewish, African-American, African, a woman, even, displaying the same behaviors – he would have been Big Brother’d to the Nth degree, COINTELPRO style.  Undetected individuals like him always end up committing beyond-violent acts, then they cop-out on an insanity plea or turn the gun on themselves. Real freedom fighters, right? So much for self-preservation.

To me, it’s like the anti-abortion activists who stand outside abortion clinics. They believe they have a right to beat a woman down, as she exits the clinic, perhaps making the most regretful and significant decision of her life, up to that moment, because they think that every life conceived has a right to life, regardless of the circumstance. In a sick, twisted way, they really believe that promoting their pro-life agenda is justified, even if it means taking a life.

These are the individuals whose names need to appear on a “watch list”, along with their audiences – those bystander “cheerleaders”, the biggest silent partners in all of this – who give quiet permission to an these antics and beliefs of superiority and entitlement. For the mother who needs twenty extra minutes of sleep, silence is golden. In circumstances like these, however, silence is downright deadly!

While I’d love to elevate the level of discourse to one of civility, I am more than aghast about this latest score of premeditated violence, and I am coming up short in the euphemism department. While many are focusing on the mental health component of it, I see a lot more wrong with it, and I simply don’t have a lot of lofty language to cradle this one. No pun intended. Seriously.

I know that we must move beyond examining the causes of such a heinous act, and move to a discussion of “what now?”  We can analyze and psycho-analyze this all day, but this approach would be hardly preventive.  Therefore, I’m begging the question of how we protect society at large, from those individuals that feel that they should go to any lengths to demonstrate their intolerance for what they simply won’t accept; same-sex marriages or unions, political differences, progression of women in public ranks, or the countless efforts of those seeking to enhance the dialogue across gender, racial, and political lines.

For one, we can start on an individual level. Inarguably, everyone has the right to freedom of speech, but it doesn’t mean that we have to listen to nonsense.  We are also free to not be part of that conversation.  We can denounce these -isms head-on when we hear and see them. We can teach our children love and compassion. We can choose to not follow the crowd, or ride the tidal waves of intolerance or hate. I insist that we become more watchful and discerning, and further disassociate ourselves from behaviors and groups that willfully exclude, or passively permit the exclusion of a few, on the basis of race, politics, gender, sexual orientation, or religious beliefs. Furthermore, we can trust our intuition when we feel uneasy, or recognize behaviors and language, that is off-putting, senseless, or rooted in a dogged determination to exact more evil than good. We can and should make some noise!  Run. Tell. That!

Focus on the Now!

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This morning, I am resisting the urge to multi-task. I’ve gathered many an injury, as of late, doing just that – holding my toddler on one hip, both arms loaded with bags, and pushing the storm door open with my right heel, all within the 20 seconds remaining before the alarm is engaged. “Alarm on!”  Yes, ring the alarm, and slow it down a bit!

I am so used to having more than one pot on the fire – literally and figuratively. Somehow, I think it will just take too long to do one thing at a time.  So this morning, while I’m writing, I’m resisting the urge to check email, the weather, and Facebook, all at the same time.  Trust me, this is a real challenge to my self-diagnosed ADD behind! (Hey, there will be no LOLing here!) 🙂

I am in the present, in the now, and except for the occasional sip of coffee that I’m taking, I’m fully committed to completing this morning’s post.  I’m going to conscientiously try this exercise a few times today, because I am hoping for increased clarity, and enhanced productivity in the fewer things that I’ll attempt, rather than mediocrity that is certain if I attempt too much.

Gotta dash! This exercise can only last so long.   How do you focus on the now?