I have some amazing friends.  Today I'm going to write about one of them.  You know how there are those people who seem to keep the world spinning on the tip of their finger?  Then they roll it down their arms across their shoulder onto the other hand where it continues its spin?  Like a Harlem Globetrotter with a basketball, these people juggle life and make it look like a no-brainer.  I would say they make it look effortless but I KNOW there is so much effort they put into it that I don't want to even hint at it being an easy thing for them.

That's my friend, Kristen.  I have had a lot of friends in my life.  Friends I treasure and who have been there for me, and who have in no way let me down.  But Kristen flat out amazes me.

She's the mom of four beautiful, spunky girls...all born within a six-year window if I remember correctly.  Can you imagine four girls under the age of six under your feet?  She made it look like child's play.  Can you imagine four girls within the teen years all at once?  She can't either but it's coming!!!  ha ha (Sorry, K)

She worked nights for a couple years so she would be there with them during their waking hours.  Then as the number of girls increased she became a stay at home mom.  Now many moms with four kids would consider keeping the kids alive and the house in one piece enough.  They would do what they needed to make it each week...keep a step ahead of life, and that would be great.  Who could really ask for more?  But that's not Kristen.  She mommed her kids, cleaned her house, cooked wonderful meals, headed the PTA, organized major anniversaries from a state away (single-handed for in-laws), made every child's birthday every year a celebration for the books.  She took the girls on meaningful outings, major vacations, and handled the shopping with four apprentices regularly.  I can't even recall all the things she has done but every time I talk to her (and that would be daily...and multiple times per day, thank you... even though she's never lived even in the same state as me), every time I talk to her she is planning something for someone.  And here's the clincher...she does it all 200%.

I'm a survivalist.  I find 200% to be awe-inspiring...especially when it's how she approaches EVERYTHING.

And when my dad died, though she lived multiple states away and had four little girls to care for, and had every excuse in the book for just offering support over the phone...she came.  She was physically there for me, for my family and knowing no stranger she jumped in the middle of everything and did all she possibly could to relieve others of any duties they were tending to.

You know what that is?  Don't just call it friendship.  It is love in action.  Everything she does, she does with quality and she knows no excuses and makes none, because she doesn't find a need for any.  She shows up.  She completes things.  She loves anyone who walks into her life who gives her half a chance.

And yet, this wonderful amazing woman does not realize that she is a success.  Top of the corporate ladder?  No.  But a success.  Coming from a background where everyone of meaning to her has let her down, she has been a stability to four beautiful girls and a force in my life, too.  (And I'm quite sure that her other friends would say the very same thing.)

K, you are a success.  You live and you give of yourself completely.  I love you.  And I want to be like you when I grow up.  ;)

Change, Change, Change

I like to blog when I feel like I have some profound lesson to share...or something I find entertaining so I can be silly and funny. But somehow my brain hasn't lately (and by lately I mean the last year or two)...hasn't lately been in a really creative mode. Perhaps because I seldom sit alone where I can get creative. Perhaps because I just haven't jumped in and written. At any rate, I miss the blogging, so I'm sitting down and getting with it...whether it's really worthy of sharing or not.

Today is the first day of 2012. In the last few years my life has changed by leaps and bounds. First dating after at least 15 years since a date. Getting remarried. My mom lived with me during those dating years because my girls needed a chauffeur to their school when they got too old to attend the one at which I was teaching. Then Mom moved away when I got married. Change, change, change. Oh and let's not forget a girl entering adolescence and her younger sister tight on her heels. Change, change, change. I turned 40. Change, change, chang(gggggr)e. I resigned from my teaching job. I started working in Guy's office. Change, change. I got my motorcycle license...and my motorcycle. Change, yeehaw, change. And now, because all of that was not enough change...I'm going to tackle another biggie. It's a goodie, though. In roughly two weeks I will begin the first course in my master's degree. I'm returning to school to get my master's in professional counseling degree from Liberty University. It will be a lot of work on top of what life already is, but I'm excited about it! I honestly...with no dramatics about it...believe that God has called me to do this. I believe that Liberty is the school I need to attend to get the knowledge and skills necessary to really help some people. Because let's face it, we have some hurting people in our world. I know. I see them in my own family. I see one in my own mirror. But by the grace of God, I know that can change. I know people can heal. I know that they can do more than survive...they can really and truly live. And I'd like to do what I can to help them do just that.

So here's to a year, with the changes and challenges it will inevitably bring. Our God is great...and greater than anything we face. So change? Bring it on.

Blessings all mine...

There are some things in this life that are precious to me. Things I would describe as filling me with wonder. When I began toying with this idea I thought there would only REALLY be a very few things. Then I got to thinking and there are so many to choose from! There's that first snowfall of the season. There's the softness of baby's skin. There's that reddest tree in town in the middle of autumn. There's the way fire ants all attack you, biting simultaneously. (Okay, I hate that one.) There's the way my Yorkie curls up on the back of the sofa and rests her head on my shoulder. (Yep, even that one wow's me...'cause she's the sweetest critter on earth!) But the biggie, the one that got has my attention of late is the wonder of watching my children grow.

I think about my pregnancies, both of which can only be described as extremely easy and uncomplicated. But I remember that incredible wonder of the very first "fluttering." The tests had already shown I was pregnant. The doctors had confirmed that I was pregnant. But with that fluttering, there was no doubt that within me was my own little baby. What an AWESOME realization! And it didn't stop there. No, that was just the beginning! I remember feeling little feet pushing on my ribs, or running across my tummy. Or the response of the baby when I gave it a little nudge to get that foot off my rib! Absolutely amazing. I could go on and on about the wonders of pregnancy and even childbirth (though, with all women, I heartily agree that THAT is unrivaled pain.) Then come all the amazing baby stages. Isn't it amazing how long you can sit and just watch a sleeping baby? They're doing absolutely nothing, but you're transfixed. Men and women alike get captured by them.

I look back and each and every stage has been SO fascinating to watch. But childhood is winding down now and I figured the "WOW's" would be lessening. I was wrong. I have two little tweenies and it's STILL amazing. My Meg-girl is wearing my shoes and grabbing my discarded clothes to see what she can keep and wear before I haul them off to Goodwill...and some of them are fitting! She's catching me...and I love it. She's becoming this beautiful young woman who I could sit and just watch for hours...just like that little baby I brought home thirteen years ago. Friends and acquaintances all give me warnings, "Watch out for the teen years!" and seem to indicate great miseries are in store. But I refuse to accept that. I have been SO richly blessed with girls who are so sweet and so innocent and I know, I know...some of that will change. And I know that many an unsuspecting parent has wondered where everything went wrong?

These girls, they fill me with wonder, and I fully expect that to keep happening. And I thank God for all the little wonders He created in them, that they reveal day after day.

I am a woman truly blessed. And I thank God for that.

As the song says, "Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside...."

5 Girls and a Movie

This afternoon my girls had two friends over to spend the night. We went off to the movies to take in Spy Kids: All the Time in the World. It was entertaining as are all the Spy Kids movies, but it was an alllll new experience in movie-going.

You may not believe it, but it was a SCRATCH-AND-SNIFF movie! No lie. When we bought our tickets, they handed each of us a card with the numbers 1-8 on them. At the beginning of the movie, they announced that throughout the movie we would see the numbers flashed on the screen and when we did, we were to scratch the corresponding number and sniff it to experience the SMELLS of the movie.

During one part, a baby had a dirty diaper, and they flashed a number on the screen. I did my duty and scratched and sniffed, and whaddayaknowaboutthat? It smelled like a tootsie roll!

No kidding.

What will they think of next???

Volleyball!

My oldest girl, Megan, plays volleyball. This is her second year and she is on the JV team. Today was her first game.

I say game...but I'm not sure if I'm correct. At every "event" the teams play three times. Best two out of three. I don't know if it's three games make a match or is it three matches make a game? Or am I off in both regards?? Well for my sake and so you know what I'm talking about, I'll call it three games in a match.

First game, Megan didn't start, but after a couple of minutes, the coach put her in. She got in there and gave great effort. I was very proud of her. Unfortunately, our team lost that first game. So the teams switched ends of the court and the second game began. The game went on and on, with one team scoring a point, then the other one catching up. Back and forth they went, but eventually we won! Yay! So another game began and it went the same way. Because both of the last two games were so close, the coach kept her starting six in.

So I sat there, worrying that Megan was feeling sad that she wasn't getting to play and I felt sad for her. See, I've been there. I played three seasons of basketball as a kid. And in three seasons of basketball, I'd be shocked if we added up all my game time and found out I played ten minutes...maybe not even five. I know the bench too well. And I felt it pretty keenly, especially in eighth grade. Always stuck in for the 32 seconds of the game we were losing miserably. It made me angry. "Great, I get to go in for the loss and I'll look like the one who lost the game." I really wished she wouldn't put me in at all if she was only going to stick me in for less than a minute to watch us lose the game. So lugging those memories along with me, I worried about Megan a bit, sitting over on the bench beside her coach.

Then I looked up. And you know what I saw? Not a sad little face pouting over her bench-warming status. Not an angry adolescent acting like "it's just not fair!" Nope. I saw my girl getting the attention of her bench mates and getting them to join her in doing "the wave." She was grinning from ear to ear and having a fantastic time. And when the match was complete and our team was declared the victor, and all the girls were cheering and celebrating, you know who was jumping the highest? My bench-warming wave-maker.

I was proud. And instead of a heart full of worry I had a heart full of thankfulness that THAT's MY girl.

A Lesson from the Princess

Three things come to mind when I hear the words, "The Princess". One is the whole general princess idea...royalty, Disney, little girls playing dressup...you get the idea. Second is a great book from one of my favorite authors, Lori Wick. It is called...wait for it..."The Princess". And last but not least is my little tiny Yorkie, named Ceci.

Here she is as a baby...


And here she is in her favorite place...the car...


And here she is more recently...sporting her Jackie O look...


Her Princessness is obvious, right? I mean, who could argue against it? And why?

But that's not why I'm writing today. Today she taught me a lesson. It wasn't a NEW lesson, but it was one worth remembering.

Today Guy and I were swimming in our pool. Months ago, Ceci had somehow fallen into the pool, unbeknownst to us until I heard some strange splashing and went to investigate it. Turns out she's a pretty strong swimmer but the problem was she couldn't get out of the pool because she was too tiny to make it from the top step to the side of the pool. (She's just under 4 pounds.) So there was nowhere in the pool where she could touch down and no way she could get out. I scooped her out and she has wisely stayed away from the edge of the pool since then. She is clearly afraid of it...as is Harley, our little Maltese mix. Today, Guy and I decided to try a little "therapy" with them. I brought Ceci into the pool, very carefully. At first she was struggling, struggling, struggling, but I tucked her under one arm, the way she likes to be carried and she calmed noticeably. Guy came close and was talking to her soothingly and put out one hand to her and she was gripping his finger with her front paw, very tense, but not struggling. Then Guy moved away to draw Harley in with us. Ceci latched onto my hand, still tense. Harley didn't fight, exactly, but he was very freaked out about the water and holding on to Guy's shoulder for dear life.

Now something you don't know about Ceci (and why/how would you?) is that when either of our other two dogs are upset, barking or growling, etc., Ceci goes over very timidly and inches up into their face as though trying to comfort or calm them. It's really a sweet thing to watch...and sometimes funny that such a tiny dog would get in the face of another that's acting so aggressive. And if anyone is sick or hurt, she likes to curl up close to them, as though trying to comfort. And if you cry, she licks away the tears.

Back to the pool...
Ceci was in my arms and very tense, very rigid. Harley was in Guy's arms, very scared as well. I moved forward to try to calm and comfort Harley, too, with Ceci still tucked under my arm and as I drew close to his face, Ceci did, too...and I suddenly realized that she completely relaxed.

It may not sound like much, but I was amazed. Doesn't the same thing happen to us? We get so focused on our problems (for Ceci: the water) that we get overwhelmed and deeply distressed. But in those times, when we move to help someone who is in greater need, we gain a different perspective. We focus on what we can do for others and the stress lifts. The problems, like the deep water, don't just go away, but the fear doesn't keep controlling us.

My thoughts seem only half-hatched on this but I felt it was worth sharing...

Fear of what??

I've been hoping to sit down and blog for a week or so...so I did last night and totally forgot I had started this one, ha ha. I've had some bloggy thoughts on my mind. I haven't even thought it through but I've known I want to write it down and process it all.

Several times lately I've thought about a particular memory. Somewhere around six or seven years ago my youngest daughter had what was, to this mommy, an incredibly hilarious fear. Now that just sounds cruel, doesn't it? Laughing at your little helpless child. But wait until you hear.

For many small todlers, IF they have a fear, it is something like big dogs. Something that is intimidating by size or behavior. And it doesn't surprise us at all. I know it wouldn't have surprised me. But my girl was fine with dogs. It was something else...entirely unexpected...that she was afraid of.

One day the girls and I were walking from our condo out to the car. Suddenly Alli wasn't walking with us and I turn back to see what the problem was, or what had distracted her. She was frozen in fear because right there in the middle of the sidewalk was...not a dog...not a big ugly bird...not a snake. No, no, no. It was a snail. Yes, you read that right. It was a SNAIL! I tried to reason with her and told her to just step over it; it can't jump. I tried telling her to go around it; it's too slow to catch you. But no. She would not budge. So I walked back past the snail, lifted Allison up and set her back down on the other side of the snail and on she went, happy as a lark.

Needless to say, a couple weeks later when a squirrel blocked her path on the sidewalk, separating her from me, I knew better than to expect coaxing to work, ha ha.

I laugh whenever I share "the snail tale." I chuckle when I just think about it. It's one of those fun, peculiar, little stories we moms like to share about our kids. But it gets me thinking, too. That little tiny snail was in no way a danger to Alli. Even if it had wanted to harm her, the most it could have done was slime her. And we all know there's no way it could have caught her to even try. It was harmless. But it paralyzed her. She was NOT going to face that thing alone! She was afraid and so focused on that little thing that there was no reasoning with her. A snail.

We have snail-like fears, too. There are situations that I face sometimes that give me ridiculous levels of anxiety and I find myself praying fervently that God will give me strength and peace to get through. Then I get in the situation and I see what a harmless, snail-sized situation it is and wonder why on earth I was so incredibly freaked out about it.

I wonder why we do that? Why do we make mountains out of molehills? I don't know. But I'm glad I've got good friends, good family, and a good God to lift me up over those little terrifying snails.