Young at heart

I finally get home from work, eat a late dinner, and crawl into bed because I feel like crap.

It was just a long day, that's all.

As I lay in bed, watching some random show on Netflix, I realize the time and--oh crap--I need to write in my blog today. Oh why did I commit to this writing every day for a week?! I feel so yucky even my fingers hurt. Ugh. Okay, I get my computer out and start writing at 11:25pm.

This got me thinking about a conversation with an old friend a few weeks ago. We were talking about getting older and he said, "You know, I don't feel as old as I am, I mean, I'm getting older, but I don't think I'm older." I found myself agreeing with him! I want so bad to just keep going and going. Hey-when I was younger I could work a full day, do homework and play all night! And you know what? I still can!

Okay, no, I can't. I don't want to.

And it's not that I'm too old, it's too much work! And I would pay for it for a few days.

Okay, it's cuz I'm too old.

I'll compromise. Since I'm done with school, I'll just work all day and play all night.

Just not tonight cuz I feel like crap. Maybe in a couple of days.

My dad struggled with this too. He would get so frustrated with getting older. He hated that he didn't feel old, or think old, as his age crept up on him, it was hard for him to accept. I find myself thinking the same way.

The other epiphany is this: I want to stay young at heart. I may be getting older, but I can still live. I can still enjoy the things that bring me joy. I'll go out, play, run, chase grandchildren and hot dudes (ok, not so much chase hot dudes...well, maybe flirt with them) and enjoy being young at heart.

And not think about how old I actually am. Cuz feeling like crap sucks.

I'll try to focus on thinking about flirting with hot dudes.

Day 4 of a week of writing.

When a man loves

"So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself." Ephesians 5:28 

Why am I sharing this bible verse? Because it came to mind as I watched my friend, Monica's husband dote on her during a recent visit. I've seen these two together in the past, and the happiness on Monica's face was always very clear-she loved her husband. But the last time I saw them, she was in the throes of battling cancer. She was recovering, but her body was ravaged and healing. As I visited with them, I watched him as he sat close to her during dinner. The love and deep concern on his face as he stroked her cheek, encouraging her to eat while she and I tried to have a girly conversation about grandchildren, children and boobs.  It was a wonderful visit, but I mostly remember his face. It was evident to anyone who paid attention-he truly loves her and would do anything for her. The great thing about watching these two together-she never once winced from him, or frowned or became exasperated. I could see that she knew he loved her. 

It reminded me of my parents' marriage. They were married 47 years until dad passed away. All four of us kids knew that my mom was the love of his life. He was silly in showing her ways how he loved her-even making out with her in the kitchen, which sort of embarrassed my mom (and us, ew!) if we were around, but we could tell she loved him too. They were both strong-headed, but knew how to make up and get over it. He did whatever it took to make her happy. 

So is this kind of love a rare thing? I don't think so. I think that both of these men just knew what they had and understood the work and commitment it took to love their wives. And I don't think it's as old-fashioned or out-dated as modern society makes it out to be.

My son, Ethan, has been with his girlfriend, Jasmin for 3 years. I knew a long time ago that this girl was the one for him. The evidence on his face and in his actions is very clear. He loves her. Last Thanksgiving I watched as she sat in the living room while he dished up her dinner to give to her-because that's what he does for her. And she knows he loves her-she smiles and watches him in a way that I know she's happy. Then a few months later, after Ethan's graduation, I'm visiting with Jasmin's mom and she says to me, "Ethan is such a good man! He spoils Jasmin, and loves her and does so much for her! He is so wonderful!" My son, at 24 years old is proof enough for me to believe that even in the young, there is hope for love.

Look, I'm not saying it's easy. It definitely isn't. Ethan and Jasmin are two young people trying to navigate adulthood, making ends meet and then deal with both of their moms pressuring them into marriage and more grand babies. My mom lost the love of her life, and sometimes thinking about the good times is heart breaking. Monica and her husband have weathered storms that only those who have battled cancer would understand-it's wretched, horrendous, and that they both have made it through together-that's a feat in itself.

But God knew what He was doing when He commanded men to love. When a man loves, and a woman loves him back--there is evidence in the endurance in the complications of life.

Day 3 of a week of writing.

You get more bees with honey

There's all kinds of variations of this saying:
more bees with honey
more flies with honey
you CATCH more bees/flies with honey than with vinegar

There are also very many definitions of origins of what that saying means, but I like to think that it has to do with our words-how we communicate with each other. There's this one definition from dictionary.com

"You can win people to your side more easily by gentle persuasion and flattery than by hostile confrontation."

If you know me very well, you know how good I am at smiling my sweet smile, saying "pretty please" to get people to do what I want them to do. Hey-I got the bartender at a Dodger game to let me taste all of the beers on tap before buying! Just a little flattery and a smile-I know exactly what I'm doing!

The reality is, though, that bees sting (hey, it's me, Captain Obvious!) and we are all afraid of bees when they flutter by, because of that sting. But that same bee is an incredible value to our environment. It's because of that bee that our beautiful flowers continue to bloom, or the oranges and lemons continue to grow on the trees in the backyard, and also creates that lusciously sweet honey that we all know and love. I have a deep respect for the bee.

And when that bee feels threatened or attacked, it's gonna sting. When we accidentally step on it, it fights back in the only way it knows how-by stinging as it gives up its own life.

What do we do when we feel attacked by someone's words? We fight back, with our entire sting, until we shut down and have no more to give. Maybe not in that instant, sometimes we fester it, until we have the opportune moment of being underfoot and we can sting back when it really counts, and risk getting stepped on. And everyone ends up hurt, swollen with brokenness.

Throughout my life I've had to practice various types of communication as a mom, daughter, wife, friend, manager, leader, teacher, etc... and there's is one thing I have learned: to be kind and respectful in my approach to how I communicate, in the words that I use. Especially when the words are going to sting.

And there are times when I must have words with someone that, no matter what I do, are going to sting with correction or constructive criticism. The trick is knowing how to communicate so those words will have a better outcome in the future. That in being firm and respectful, I'm expressing the sweet opportunity for growth. My goal-to encourage them to improve, change focus and bloom. They may not like what they hear, but they can grow from it, even if it's not pretty at first. In the end, I want them to bloom like the blossoms on the rose bushes, not wither in defeat and sadness.

Look, all I know is I get more bees with honey than with vinegar.

Day 2 of a week of writing.

A week of writing

I celebrated a fantastic accomplishment last week. I finished my Master's of Arts in Education, specializing in eTeaching and Learning. Quite a mouthful, isn't it? I was quite overwhelmed and dumbfounded for a few days as I soaked in the reality that, after 6 years of college life, I am finished. I'm done.

Now what?

Well, I'm still dealing with this overwhelming feeling, like this last weekend I still had that feeling that I needed to find time to write a thesis, or paper, or do research on the quality of remedial English education in our community college sector...

OH WAIT! No, I don't! I'm done!

So, I'm going to enjoy life for awhile, go on vacation, pursue a few opportunities at work, pursue other part-time teaching opportunities.

And write. That's how I came up with the idea of writing in my blog every day for a week. Just 1 week for now. After all, I'm good at it (so everyone says) and I don't write enough, and I should. So this is day one. And what is my mind on for day one? My dad, of course.

I miss him. This last weekend, I got to hug my mom as she expressed her love and pride in me and my accomplishment and that meant so much to me. But then I imagined my dad, and how much I wished I could share this with him. How he would beam and brag-and the way he brags about his kids-I'm just like him in that, how we brag.

But my mom-she expresses pride in her kids that just lights up a room. It's in her looks--her smile, the way she throws her hands up in the air and cheers-(I do that too-throw my hands up in the air and cheer loudly)You know she loves her children. And it was in that moment when she hugged me and said how proud she was of me that my heart was comforted.

I tell you, it doesn't matter how old you are-knowing your parents are proud of you-that's everything.

And thus begins my week of writing. Until tomorrow...

Memories

Have you ever had one of those moments that you want to share with everyone you know? The moment has become such a blessed memory that you have to tell your friends and family about because it was profound, magical, hey--even horrendous! (did I spell horrendous correctly?) The moment--the memory--is something that will stay with you for the rest of your life.

This last weekend-the weekend after Thanksgiving-was just that type of memory for me. It was crazy, fun, frustrating, but overwhelmingly joyous, I had to find a way to share it with you. And since I haven't blogged for awhile...

Read along:

I had to work on Thanksgiving, so my family came over 2 days later, Saturday evening. This is the first Thanksgiving in quite a while that I've had my entire family-all 3 kids and grandkids. I cooked dinner, of course. I dealt with a little frustration--who's coming, when are the boys getting here, but in the end, we assembled in the living room, held hands as I prayed for our Thanksgiving dinner.

Here I am, in a circle, with my family. My grown children, the little additions to our family, grandchildren, in-laws. I looked at these young faces and I had tears in my eyes and I said, "I could just stand like this forever, looking at each of you, thanking God for you. I'm so blessed." They all smiled and endured my moment--a moment where I could just soak in the blessing of my family.

Another favorite moment is with the youngest ones: Brandon, my grandson, and the newest addition, Audrina (Jasmin's little girl-Jasmin is Ethan's girlfriend). They both ran to the fridge to get a can of whipped cream for the pumpkin pie and I told them, "no, I make whip cream." Audrina was shocked, "wait, this isn't real whipped cream?" "No," I said, "Would you like to learn how to make whipped cream?" Her face lit up, and Brandon stood in shock and asked, "REAL Whipped cream?"

So, I sat at the dining table with the 2 little ones as they helped me blend heavy whipping cream with a touch of honey to make a lustrous "real" whipped cream. After, they each got a beater with a dollop of whipped cream, and the shenanigans began:

Whipped cream everywhere!!!! Was it worth it? Look at those faces!!! Yes! So worth it!
I had that moment where I realized that this is what family is about-craziness, frustration, messes, but in the end, I love them all and it's all worth it. My kids even reminded me that I'm worth it-they love and value what I do for them. Wow!

Don't get me wrong--our lives are not perfect. There's tons of crappy stuff going on and times when I just don't want to be a mommy. I was one exhausted grandma at the end of the night and enjoyed the peace and quiet after everyone left. But I'm telling you right now: Family. Family. Family. And family comes in all shapes and sizes, not just by blood. My family is proof of that.

I am blessed.

15 years ago...

Yesterday I attended the wedding of my friend's daughter. The bride asked me to  make 200+ cupcakes for the reception. It was an exhausting task, but I found myself so fulfilled to be able to contribute. I felt like I was part of the marriage celebration. Watching this lovely couple begin their journey together just brought joy to my heart. It was a very significant day for me, but for a very different reason than you might think.

October 10, 2000: I took the first step in ending my marriage. The boys and I packed our stuff in my car, and we came home. Three days before, I was on the phone with my sister and her husband, talking this through, and listening to Lloyd say, "Leave now, come home, we're here to help." So, I did. Ironically, deciding to leave was not the difficult choice, I knew I had to leave. The most difficult choice that I finally made was to not go back. It took another two weeks to painstakingly decide and accept that my marriage story was finished.

Wow, some 180 degree turn of events, huh?

Look, for anyone who's ever experienced divorce, whether it was yours, your parents, friends, family members, you know that it's not fun, easy, simple, or something you want to re-live ever again. It feels like you're a piece of paper being torn to shreds. A very, very long piece of paper. Being torn constantly. It's a story with a very unhappy ending. And in the end, even if you think this is a good thing, there is still shredded pain that must be taped together and healed.

Or just get another piece of paper and start over.

Watching a newly married couple dance their first dance as husband and wife, watching as that story began, full of love, joy and intentions of a beautiful life together just warmed my heart. For me, it was hoping that marriage can work--it does work. This wedding is just the beginning, and just a corner of the many pages of what could be a great marriage story.

Don't get me wrong, I know well enough that we humans are selfish and proud. In the years of marriage, many pages will get bent, torn, burnt and ripped. My prayer for this young couple is that they will work together, and with God's glue and tape, more pages will be added to their story and last a lifetime. Because that's what marriage is, a grand story that begins with God's hand on 2 people coming together in love, and the willingness to work together to build unlimited pages in a beautiful story.

And those bent, torn, slightly burnt pages--if the book is still bound, it's a grand story: filled with joy, excitement and turmoil. With characters that, if they're willing to do the work, and let God work through them, can live happily ever after.

Hey! I can't help it! I still love happy endings! Reality or not-that's what a story is all about!

Paula in charge

"But you're always in charge," is something I keep hearing lately. Why? Well, because it's true. I'm always in charge, always in control. It's not that I want to be, it just always happens that way. Someone needs to make a decision, I step up and decide. Being in charge began at a very young age with my dad constantly reminding me, "you're responsible for your sister and brothers-you're in charge!" So, it's in my nature to be in control. 

Then my daughter hits me between the eyes, "Mom, you don't always have to make things happen! You need to just relax, be patient and don't always be in control!" (she was advising me on dating, ugh). However, she made a valid point, I am realizing that I need to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride...and not jump to take control of the situation. 

This is tougher than I thought. Again, it's not that I want to be in charge, I just... am.... Especially when it comes to my personal life. I get anxious about stuff and just take control. Until God reminds me that He actually is the one in charge. I am reminded that when I take charge of my own life, I take away from the plans He has for me. And I'm realizing that I am not as patient as I thought I was. 

Great, not only do I need to learn to let go of control, but I need to learn to be patient too! 

After all: 

30But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 
34  Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.     *Matthew 6:30, 34

Look, I know I'm the kind of person who just naturally takes charge, but I also need to be reflective and willing to change, or improve myself--learn to take a breath, learn to let someone else take charge and I need to be kind. Part of this is learning that God is in control and will provide. Oh how I am blessed with this truth every day! God provides! He is in control. 

So, sit back, relax, be patient, and let someone else drive... I think I can do that.