Honeyanne

speechless

  
It's been many weeks, hasn't it? I keep expecting the words to come back but I'm speechless. I have bloggers-block. Life keeps moving forward without my undivided attention. Perhaps I'll just post pictures and leave the words alone for a time - let them sleep in under the covers of silence so warm and snuggly.

the shoes spoke to me...

 

The other day I was thrifting and I decided to go by the shoe department (something I don't usually do) when my eyes fell on these sisters.  I do not wear heals and I know to many these would not be considered much of a heal but for me they are practically stilettos.  I just love the style - like something a flamenco dancer would wear.  I read about es flamenco - "It's emotion, it's strength.  It's dancing, it's passion."

Oh ya, that's me, definitely.

 

So I bought and brought them home...but I should have found a skirt to match because nothing would work with them... I mean none of my 'safe' clothes worked with them.  I've gained a few pounds with this baby and so I am rather frumpy.  My brilliant find was now seeming to be a waste of money...

But these shoes - they are full of gypsy magic.  How can I resist their primitive and heartfelt uh...flamenco-ness?  They spoke to me, "Show me off. Don't hide me under your clothes! Life is not about hiding! It is about expression! Emotion! Strength! Passion! The Dance!"

Something in me stirred - so I you-tubed some flamenco dancing and I watched.  Just watch a flamenco dancer and see if she does not stir emotions in your heart and paradigms in your mind.  Watch her face - sometimes straining sometimes beaming - as she moves.  Watch her hands twist as her shoes bruise the floor.  I feel like I am watching her life unfolding before me.

The shoes are right.  Life is not about hiding.  It's about transforming the pain and pleasure from our lives - the failures and triumphs - into our own dance.  Life is about expressing who we are and the dreams we hold dear.  Life is about taking our fears and pressing them to the floor as we dance them into dust.  It is the only way to overcome them.  There must be fear and doubt and pain and failure or there would be no dance! ole!

Making lemonade...

"There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands."  Richard Bach

I'm not sure this statement would be much of a comfort when I am neck-high in a problem...only those who have come out on the other side of that dark tunnel can say such a thing and the best bet is to let me travel that tunnel and declare it for myself.   The best thing to do for someone who faces problems is to listen and love.   But that is only my opinion.

Since I feel rather comfortable at the moment I think I am going to tackle this topic in order to prepare myself for the future problems that are waiting for their turn to come 'bless' me. 

When life gives you lemons - make lemonade.  Humph.  That is not an easy thing to do in the thick of trial.  Usually, it is easier to 'make the lemonade' when the problem is over.  When I am working hard in the hot sun and my task is finished there is nothing so refreshing as a tall glass of ice cold lemonade.  Which means, I suppose, that when the 'lemons' come I've got to set them aside for later and not suck on them without some ice water, a ton of sugar and a sprint of mint.  Yeah right! And exactly what am I talking about anyway...? Okay. Enough with the analogy for the moment.  Let's get real.

The best way to get through a problem or trial is to be prepared as well as one can.  There are no guarantees preparation will work because let's face it there are just some trials we can't prepare for.  But hey, I'm a mormon and we're all about the 'prepare for the hard times'... I'm not really talking about 74 hour kits, food storage or lemons for that matter...I'm talking about preparing emotionally and mentally and most likely spiritually.

Are my emotional, mental and spiritual reservoirs full?  That is the best question I have to ask myself.  Next, do I have anyone in my life who also has full emotional, mental and spiritual reservoirs?  They say you should always have a friend or some sort of support when facing personal trial.  Turning to someone who is as depleted as you are can make the situation worse.  Right. Good to remember.

So, how are my reservoirs?  That is something I have to fill everyday especially when things are going well.  A wise farmer prepares for famine when harvests are plenty.  How do I fill my reservoirs? 

I fill my reservoir with 'wise words'.  I read.  I read books which uplift me.  I read those books again and again.  So true.  One book that really speaks strength to my soul is The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom.  

Have you heard of 'core book' or 'central classic'?  This is a book which  is your source of truth which you return to daily or at least as often as possible.  It is the book in which you measure newly heard ideas by.  Well, the best way to prepare for what might or could happen is to read that as often as you can.  To prayerfully read it - study it even.  Get those words inside of your mind. 

I might have written this before but words are a powerful thing.  They resonate - especially words of truth.  Sometimes, when we read something we might not really 'get it' or it might not really mean much to us but when some future trial comes and wisdom is needed those words return softly effortlessly to our remembrance and we feel comforted, or strengthened or both.  It could mean the end of the problem.

How's my health?  Am I getting enough sleep now?  Am I getting out in the fresh air on my lovely purple bicycle?  Am I drinking lots of water?  Am I getting away at least once a week with a friend?  Am I laughing enough?  I've got to laugh more!  Am I taking advantage of the quiet moments while they are here?

Okay - that's kind of my emotional preparation guide check list.

So, do I have a friend who's reservoirs are full?  That's tricky because no ones reservoirs are always full.  We all have our ups and downs. Yeah, is it that obvious where I'm heading with this...?  I need God.  His reservoirs are always full.  How's my relationship with him?  Are we talking pretty regularly?  I always feel more comfortable phoning up a friend for help when I've been interacting with her all the time. It's strange to call up someone you haven't talked to in a long time and say, "Hi, I need you."  Although, God would want me to call on Him regardless.  True.  It's just easier to have that relationship already well oiled.

And because I know God often hugs us through the arms of people, it's good to have friends.  How are my relationships?  Am I nurturing friendships?  I love nurturing friendships...getting out with the girls talking about books, watching a movie, taking a walk with my husband, going thrift shopping with my mother.  Sometimes, life gets busy and I forget how much I love nurturing relationships.  So, that's why I'm writing this - to remind myself. 

So, by making lemonade and being as prepared as I can before the lemons come is my best bet in getting through the sour.  Cheers!

 

thoughts...

 

"Self confidence comes from not focusing on yourself."  Kelly Clarkson

As I was reading some tabloids (yes, I shamed-ly admit, from time to time I give in to temptation) this sparkled and earned my truest attention (found in the tabloids of all places!).  These words stirred inner pools of reflection.

I wonder at the words self esteem - self confidence- self respect.  This whole idea of self is an anomaly to me.  We focus on self as a society with jealous zeal.  Self must be protected, liberated, appeased, catered, noticed, honored, defined, refined, cradled, placated, pampered, discovered.  A great deal of attention is placed on the individual. 

I remember in my youth waging war on the fields of self esteem - coming out victorious in many battles but never winning the war. Confidence gained could be shattered by a pimple or a failed mark in algebra or the cruel words of someone in the hall.  That same battle field is no less challenging as an adult.  Failures pull down hopes and successes restore esteem only to be beaten again by personal flaws, mistakes and inadequacies. 

The barrage of those inner questions many of us ask ourselves- 'am I attractive enough? smart enough?  Interesting enough?  Sexy enough?  Thin enough?  Accomplished enough?  Skilled enough? Strong enough? Rich enough?  Popular enough? Successful enough? Original enough? - are checks and balances which measure self.

So what if this idea posed by Ms. Clarkson has merit?    If I want to like myself I don't need to rely on beauty products, the latest fad, countless accomplishments and personal successes. If I throw my checklist away and focus on something other than myself I could wax strong in self esteem, confidence and respect.

So when I don't focus on myself what else is there?  What else is there indeed. The list becomes incredibly long.  Here are just a few...

• the sick
• the lonely
• the captive
• the hungry
• the uneducated
• the poor
• the homeless

A whole new checklist is written by that invisible hand of humanity.  Suddenly self is lost in a ocean of others. The more we serve others by bringing good to others or the more we get lost in a cause or the more we fight an injustice or the more we build a force for good the less it becomes about, "Hey, look at me!  Look at what I have done!" It becomes more about what needs to be done. 

That is when our confidence waxes strong and we are able to do more with more boldness. Flaws, mistakes and inadequacies become something to address and overcome for the good of something or someone else. We grow confident in right doing and I don't know if that really has anything to do with self confidence.  I think it comes from confidence in something else.  Perhaps that 'something else' comes from the collaborative good of others or even from a higher Good.

In fact, I am convinced our focus on the battle for self esteem, self confidence and self respect takes us further away from what we desire most -- inner peace.  Inner Peace can best be found by focusing our esteem, confidence and respect in our higher Good and in the good of others.  That focusing requires humility.

Humility means admitting our insecurities, flaws and faults in order to find the strength we need.  What do I mean by this?  Humility is the loss of self to benefit the lifting and enabling of others.  Humility means being teachable - in order to get a task (the task of doing good) done. Humility comes from the belief that there is always someone better equipped who can help us with the task at hand. When we look to someone else to compensate for our flaws (instead of feeling like a failure because we have flaws) we exhibit humility. 

Instead of teaching my children to esteem themselves I think my efforts would best be served teaching them about humble men and women who have dedicated their time and talents to something or someone other than themselves.  My efforts would better be served by looking outward instead of inward for esteem and confidence and respect.  Hm-mm.  Can I live up to this idea?

Dream yourself the hero...

"As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings a happy death".  Leonardo daVinci

Of course, 'a life well used' is made up of 'well-spent days' and I've been thinking on this very thing the last few nights as I cuddle under the lamp and reflect with pen and journal all I have accomplished during the day.

This mothering business isn't easy - I fall short - and yet when I wake up my children still seem to love me!  Always in the back of my mind is that tiny worry - will they someday stop?  But reason steps gallantly in and reassures, "not unless you stop first!" And since that will never happen I can get on with my day.

But at nights, when the house is silent - the children all tucked away - and I am able to hear my thoughts all the way through I wonder, Am I doing all I can?  And just what does that look like anyway? 

I get ideas of what a diligent useful mother looks like from books I read, movies I watch and the examples of women in my life.  These ideas are filed haphazardly in my mind as images, texts, smells and impressions.  To grab hold of what I need is like trying to find matching socks while they are tumbling in the dryer.  It takes time to gather and organize these ideas but isn't that half the battle?  Coming to some decision as to what that mother-model looks like for myself?  If I know exactly what to shoot for I can go about achieving.

So, I'm trying something - kind of my own concoction - a mixture of stream of consciousness writing and Napoleon Hill's Autosuggestion.  I call it Auto-conscious- Stream -of -Suggestion writing.  Pretty catchy, ain't it (wink)? 

Basically, for at least 20 minutes I write a journal entry as the type of mother I would like to be. I pretend I am really her.  Or, sometimes I pretend I am my daughter writing about me - not the real me but the ideal me - are you following? Good. I write without stopping to think about what it is I should be writing.  I write without worry of spelling, punctuation or grammar.  I don't worry if I am repetitive.  I just keep writing.  I write about my day and the things I did - those common place habits we hardly notice. 

Amos Alcott wrote that all things on the outside were once thought - imagination.  By imagining myself as being the person I very much want to be doing the things I really want to be doing I am preparing myself to actually become this ideal person.  Through uninterrupted free-flow writing I am drawing out my truest self - my dream mother.  She's within me.  

I have unlimited potential - or so I've been told and I think it's in my best interest to believe it.  I mean, I'd say so to my own daughter or best friend so why doesn't it apply to me as well, right?  Therefore, if we have unlimited potential than all I need to be is already within my power to become.  I just need to paint for myself a picture or in this case write it out of my tumbling mind and onto paper. 

Does this all sound silly?  Perhaps so.  I have however, been doing the things I write about.  I am acting the part.  I am better satisfied with how I spend the day - so far.  Besides, I just love the exercise - it's fun to let go and dream myself the heroine of my life...

The Power of Play

"Play is an excellent opportunity for exercising your imaginations. But you often push one another about, and knock one another down, instead of playing something with a plan. I have known children play long stories, making believe a thousand things; making believe is using your imagination. But you should never make believe bad things.  I have known some children cultivate their minds and hearts, without knowing it themselves, by their beautiful plays."

This was a lesson given by Amos Bronson Alcott to his students at Temple school. 

Play as a way of cultivating our minds and hearts?  Isn't play just a release?  Isn't it just ... play?

I have been feeling towards these thoughts on play for some time and the words of this man have opened a door for me.  So I hope you don't dislike me for letting my mind tumble out on the page but here I go...

What is play?  Imagination? Make believe?  Do these actions follow rules?  Do they have purpose?  And who cares to think about play - shouldn't we just get out and play already!?

It has been suggested by many a philosopher that thought - imagination - is the seed to every great invention or action.  The Great wall of China was one man's impossible dream.  Two brothers made believe they could fly and now we can all 'sit in a chair in the sky'.  So it can be supposed that the only way to advancement - progression is firstly through imagination - make believe and those are manifested through play.  That makes sense to me.

Amos Alcott endeavored to create a school which taught children to "feel rightly, think rightly and to act rightly." As a mother this very thing has been entrusted to me.  I want my children to be good people - useful members of society.  The only way for this to happen is if they 'feel rightly, think rightly and act rightly".  To feel rightly I wish to cultivate compassion and humility in them.  To think rightly I want them to have a sense of fair play - justice and equality. To be thoughtful and generous. To understand where they came from. To act rightly I want them to have integrity - honesty and reliability.  I want them to be builders and not destroyers of goodness and decency.  I don't ask much do I?

How does one do such a thing?  The first thing which comes to mind is through example - and boy do I fall short in that category!  But when I suppose that play can be another useful teacher ...I am saved!  Yes, play has come in to save my sorry example.  What child does not want to play?

But play at what?  Do the things my children play at cultivate their minds and hearts?  Do they cultivate their minds and hearts in such a way which will help them to feel - think - and act rightly?That is the question!

The power of play - the simulation.

Alcott went on to say in the above quote "but you should never make believe bad things.  Some boys in England, one killed a boy, in making believe hanging.  And I knew a boy who made himself hard-hearted , by always playing indian wars."

This has gotten me thinking about the power of simulation.  Do our children simulate stories they have heard? 

To this I find it very important to choose books and movies thoughtfully, for children tend to simulate what they see and hear.  This thought has inspired the start of a very carefully planned library - paper, audio and dvd. What do I want my children to play at as they cultivate their minds and hearts?

One of our favorites is the Little house of the Prairie series both the books and the television series.  It took me a while to warm up to the books personally but my daughter pointed out to me, "It's far more interesting to pretend we are poor pioneers than rich teen-aged girls." Pioneer stories are filled with interesting experiences to simulate.

I just found a copy of Daniel Boone- which my father has promptly adopted into his own wilderness adventure collection.   Stories like this hold a wealth of simulating adventures!  My mother gave me the book Crusoe of Lonesome Lake by Leland Stowe.  It is a true story of one mans 40 year struggle to cut out a life for himself in wild British Columbia.  What a tale!  If you can get your hands on a copy I would suggest you cuddle up with your boys and emerge yourself  in the hostile beauties of rocky mountain and wild valley.  Let these places "speak the language of your dreams."

Tansy and Liam love Thornton W. Burgess ( I do too for that matter).  I remember as a young child pretending I was an animal.  I amused myself for hours.  Imagine yourself a busy beaver building a home - weaving hours of imaginative industry. Imagine the tricks and tactics of keeping away from sly fox in your warm rabbit hole.  Such simulations await!  Besides, Burgess books are wonderful read-alouds, how can one resist them?

The books in our library are valuable mentors in play, it is true.  So are toys!  Toys are the mentors, builders and shapers of our children's future - cultivators of the mind and soul.  I never before thought of a toy as such but I have been convinced by my own rantings (wink).

And so I am on a quest! A wonderful quest for toys which nurture and refine the imagination. Over the years I've been increasingly careful the toys we bring into our home.  I have been made very sorry for some toys we already have in our home. Some I am wishing I never endorsed.  The video game is one.  I am seeing how it cultivates the child's mind and heart.  When it is on a fight breaks out without fail.  Just today I allowed for the nintendo to be played (as it is raining) -  devious deals were made, tears were shed and feelings hurt. Friends who were once are no more. It brings out the worst in my children and by bringing it out, that worst is cultivated by the type of toy - this type of play I allow in my home. 

And boy! do they defend this type of play! They love it more than each other.  They think nothing of cheating each other and offending each other and thus they cheat and offend themselves.  The game is more valuable than friend or family ties.

It is time to replace this disturber-of-the-peace with other toys...

I recently bought an old typewriter and you wouldn't imagine how they took to it! 

When friends come over, our dress up closet is ravaged by eager minds!  This has been a source of fun for nearly the whole neighborhood.

I am saving my pennies for a little hand-cart for the children.  Can you imagine the hours of make-believe and inventive industry a toy such as this could inspire?

Play can foster in our children goodness, bravery, duty, adventure, kindness, compassion, reaching higher their abilities.  The way to this play I am convinced is through the constant images they see, hear and feel from the world around them.  Do the books and movies we have in our home reflect the values we want for our children?  Do we talk to our children about what they play?  Are the toys in our home mentoring them to become all they hope to be? 

So, here's to play and the power it holds and here's to children and the potential they hold! 

A thing about feet ...

How do you keep a child's feet clean?  Perhaps if I forced them to wear socks and shoes all the time...

That would not do!  How would they feel the mud between their toes? How would they stand on tippy-toe?  And how would 'this little piggy' get to market?!

Why, their feet look just like their mummy's.  No shoes for us!  You might as well lock us in ball and chain.  We can find just-the-best path to take with our feet naked.  You don't see us clumping along - no! How that would hurt! We know the softest grass for dancing and the smoothest stones for prancing.  We step lightly and smartly.  We watch carefully for dangers and step around them. 

Or...at least we are trying to learning these lessons of life.  Every now and again we lose our footing crying, "wee-wee" all the way home.  But with each bump and bruise our skin grows thicker and we become wiser still.  We don't mind a little dust and a little dirt in exchange for the lessons best learned exposed to the challenges of the terrain.

So it is to the bare and naked foot I sing!  I denounce the shoe this afternoon and leave them despairing as we alight the road less traveled.

A Friend of Silence

   

"We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.  God is the friend of silence.  See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence  to be able to touch souls."  Mother Theresa

I find it interesting that she spoke of silence when she spent her life in the streets of Calcutta ... and yet Mother Theresa was able to find silence.  That says to me that our outside environment is not as influential as the environment of the heart.  We can find solice when the world around us is blaring for our attention.

My son and I are reading James Allen's book 'As A Man Thinketh'.  We are trying to grasp the concept that ...

"Mind is the Master power that moulds and makes,

And man is mind, and evermore he takes

The tool of Thought, and, shaping what he wills,

Brings forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills: -

He thinks in secret, and it comes to pass:

Environment is but his looking-glass."

It's really an art form - being quiet enough to be aware of the thoughts which are creating our character & our place in this world.  My mind and heart seems to be constantly nattering over something. Learning to hush our crying thoughts takes patience and practice and I am slowly learning.  And yet I'm beginning to realize that it isn't so much about switching off our inner voice.  I think it's more about switching channels and listening for ... something truer.

"Before you speak, it is necessary for you to listen, for God speaks in the silence of the heart."  More Mother Theresa. 

Ever try to catch a butterfly?  Best way is to be still and quiet and one will come closer - maybe even climb upon your finger and stay for a spell.  It happened to me once.  Once.  I don't think God is as timid as a Monarch but the principle is the same. 

Silence is more than just being still - I am convinced it is an action word.  It is about switching frequencies and actively listening for the soft butterfly whispers of pure intelligence.  Silence is about growing and moving just like Mother Theresa explained - though they are in silence - trees, flowers and grass are growing upward; the stars and moon and sun are moving in their spheres.  The noise of places like Calcutta are just areas where people have forgotten for a moment to listen - perhaps.  

Putting Myself First

 warning: gratuitous use of words 'stretching', 'pushing' & 'limits'

Baby is coming in a few months.  Some people drop their jaw when I answer "my fifth."  It honestly doesn't feel like that many - I just have them one child at a time. 

"And you home-school them all!? Are you crazy!?"

Perhaps - a little. 

Every woman has to know her limits and I think most do.  Perhaps it is more challenging for a woman to respect her limits and this is something I am learning to do.  Respecting my limits with no guilt is most liberating.

When I told a friend I was sending my two sons back to public school for next year she said, "Good, they need that." She believes there is only one way to educate.  Whether she heard me or not I had to at least try to tell her there are other options in education. 

"I am not sending them back for their sakes.  I am doing this for me." 

If I were to put them first, then I would most definitely keep them home.  I believe my home is a much better place to teach my children compared to the public system.  I don't think public schools are bad - I have just learned for myself that there are better options available to me and I simply have taken advantage of them.  However, I will have two babies come the fall and having Emma is challenge enough.  I'm going to place all my focus on babies and let my sons go for a few years.  It's all about me.  I say so without reservation or shame.

      

      

I never apologize for making decisions based on honest thought and sincere prayer.  It is true, my boys will miss out on self-directed learning - the content of their education will be structured by someone other than themselves, the opportunity to skip out of doors for a lesson with 'mother nature' will be replace by the routines of the classroom, 'play as learning' will be limited etc. However, they will be given other opportunities I couldn't give them at home. Their social contacts will more than double - they'll get to play school sports and join a larger community of extra curricular activities.  Besides, any new situation provides opportunity for growth.

I am keeping my oldest at home.  She has found her path and I feel by removing her from it would be a detriment to her progress.  I don't believe that will be so for the boys. 

  

My point is, it is important to respect personal limits - especially when you are the steward of children.  I have learned that if I put other's needs ahead of my own I trip up, flounder, burn out and that doesn't do anyone any favors. If  I push myself beyond what I have to offer what good am I doing? 

Yes, I believe we are given strength in time of need. I believe that in desperate situations we discover reserves we didn't realize were there.  I believe angels buoy us up.  But - not when we are acting foolishly and not respecting ourselves.  The martyr dies - that's why they call her a martyr.  I don't think mothers are meant to be martyrs.  Although we would face death for our families, I feel we are called to live for them! Living for our children means putting ourselves first so they have a chance. 

A friend told me once that child birth is like coming to the edge of death and being yanked back.  Very dramatic and although I've never felt this way, I can say I have yet to experience pain as bad as labor pains...and yet I am willing to go through it for the fifth time.  I know my limits. 

YOU are the expert in your home.  Some people don't believe that. Some people think that is a dangerous thing to believe.  Sigh.  We have to learn to listen for truth.  We know it when we hear it.  I believe we know truth because we have come from truth.  It isn't new to us.  We recognize it.  We don't say, "A-ha!  I never knew that before!" We say, "A-ha! I remember now." 

You know what is best for your family.  If you feel that isn't true (and we all genuinely do) all we have to do is take the time to listen for truth.  We know what is right for ourselves.  We just need to take the time to listen.

How do you listen?  Well, there are so many different ways and it's different for everybody.  Some pray.  Some meditate.  Some take a walk. Some use stream of consciousness writing, some sit in nature, some pay attention to their dreams, some fast, some knit.  I listen best in the shower - I think it's because I am relaxed there.

I think there is a step to take prior to listening.  Seeking truth - study.  I hope everyone has a reference of truth they visit daily.  For me it's a book - a sacred book.  (I am really trying to read daily but I don't always do it). But again, everybody is different.  I have found that truth in the form of written works takes on an almost magic quality.

  Sometimes our hearts will recognize truth before our brains do and those words will linger but we're not sure why.  Then one day, when we're 'listening' those words jump out at us and we understand fully.  We remember what we've always known.  I find that magical.  It's like Roald Dahl said,

"Watch with glittering eyes the world around you.  Those who do not believe in magic will never find it."

If we believe in truth and that we can recognize it,  we only need to open those glittering eyes (or ears) and see (or hear) it.  When the Savior said, "Those who have ears to hear... " maybe he really meant,  "If you are seeking truth, here it is."  Watch with glittering eyes and believe in truth.

I think we limit ourselves when we don't.  Oh dear, I'm twisting about in my thoughts, hope you can follow (hope I can follow).  See, because as much as we have to respect our limits we also have to push them...but we can't push past our limits unless we believe we can. 

So, that being said, am I going to keep my boys home and push my limits?

Nope. 

You see, some pushing takes preparation time.  I could have this baby now.  I could push myself to do it. There are ways.  If I did, this baby would probably die.  Now is not the time to push.  Now is the time to prepare for the pushing.  Does that make sense? 

We can recognize when the time is right to push our limits... there are ways - if you're a good 'listener'. However, often it happens to us.  We are pushed by an experience, an event...sometimes it isn't pleasant.  It forces us to some sort of action - it pushes us past what we think we can handle.  Some people break - some don't. I believe that we are not meant to break but to stretch. Breaking is a choice -so is allowing ourselves to stretch. 

Anyway, I trust in those experiences.  They will come when I need them.  If I'm not listening and I'm not pushing my limits when I need to - an experience will come along.  I could bet on it.  I don't need to push myself any more than is needed because something always happens to stretch me whether I'm consciously doing it myself or not.  I need not worry about slacking...

Besides, I know when I am slacking. We all do. We just don't feel right.  We feel 'off or 'bothered' - 'restless' or 'lacking'.  Haven't we all been in that spot?  As teenagers isn't that what we experience? Which makes sense, that's the stretching time - the time when we should be stretching our limits (and our parents).  Oh no, I'm going to spin off on another thought...

This is key isn't it? In our youth we stretch our limits. But doesn't it seem like teenagers stretch the limits.  Do you see the difference?  Stretching our limits means stretching what we are capable of doing or handling for our betterment.  Stretching the limits means stretching the rules or breaking away from the better for something worse.

I am thinking of Gold medalist Michael Phelps who was allegedly caught smoking marijuana.  That is sad because he is a role model.  However, what I found most devastating was in what he said about it, "I was acting in a youthful...way."  Acting youthful isn't about breaking the rules. It is about breaking past our limits or comforts to become a better person.  It's too bad so many people miss this truth- they don't see it.  They believe youth is about rebellion - and so it is, to them. 

Often we get ourselves in tough situations through our choices (like Phelps did) and we have to fight our way - or self correct - back from the 'gutter' (not saying he's in the gutter).  We've all been there.  Isn't this system remarkable? I mean really!  Even by making mistakes we are given the opportunity to stretch past our limits.  That is probably the way most people push their limits - through making mistakes and self-correcting. 

Pushing our limits means growing, doesn't it?  I mean, when body builders work out they have to literally tear their muscles to build them up.  They have to push the limit of their body in order to become muscle-demigods (if you're into that sort of thing). But, of course, a rookie can't go straight to benching 850 lbs.  He'd break something.  He has to know his limits and push those limits a little at a time.

Okay, so where was I originally?  Oh yes, I am putting myself first because I know and respect my limits.  Like I said, I never apologize for making decisions based on honest thought and sincere prayer.  I honestly believe you can't go wrong if you put those two together.  It's just been my experience.  Answers - truth - clarity may not always come right away but they come nonetheless.  The key is to never stop listening - the key is to "watch with glittering eyes" and believe in magic.

On Being a Diarist...

As part of the Valentine's Day celebration Typepad invited users to declare their love for blogging and reveal just why they do it. Although I've missed the window to participate I thought I'd share my feelings anyway...

      

I was raised on family stories.  My Father, a city boy, told mostly humorous tales of his mis-adventures growing up in Hamilton, Ontario.  He told us stories about the school Nuns -  the Sister Cathrines and the Sister Marias - how he'd put tacks on their chairs (they had to be long enough to go all the way through their thick black robes) or getting a strap if he wrote with his left hand. Dad shared stories of his little brother Terry who would get himself in all sorts of trouble and my Dad would have to 'pound the stuffing' out of some disgruntled neighborhood bully because of it.  

Of course, there are the ever entertaining tales of his time in the Canadian Armed Forces- a medic stationed in Jamaica.  Our favorite tale was about a latrine - a large hole dug about 8 feet deep in the sand with a plank laid across for parking your keister- anyway, the hole caved in one fateful day and a few unsuspecting patrons fell in. My father witnessed this catastrophe as he waited his turn in line.  He recalls stepping forward and peering into the hole at a man covered in -well, you know - reaching out for assistance.  My father recoiled, apologized and left the poor guy there. Some good deeds must go undone. He liked to tell that at dinner while we howled and mom rolled her eyes.

                                                                            

My Mother, a country girl growing up in rural Alberta, shared stories about our ancestors.  How Great Great Grandpa Orlin Burdick killed a bear that stands in a museum. Or, how her father missed his shot at bull moose which enraged the unholy beast.  As Grandfather Marshall darted through the bush he could hear the animal close behind him crashing through the trees with massive horns leaving a clearing behind.  Somehow Grandfather lived to tell the tale and I pass it on to you.

      

My Great Grandmother, after her husband suffered a terrible fever and was never the same again, taught my Grandmother how to run zig-zag because she was afraid he would shoot at them with his rifle.  These are all stories that have been passed down and remind me where I came from - the kind of crazy stalk I'm a product of.  I grew up on these tales and many many others told me around the table, on car trips, or sitting cozy together in the evenings.  

I've been telling my story in diaries and journals since I was 8.  It just seemed like the only thing to do with them - write them and share them - that's how I was raised.  I've been a diarist ever since.  

How I came to blog was a serendipitous encounter actually.  I stumbled onto the blog of one Soulemama.  I was reminded again of how powerful the sharing of life's moments really are.  This blog was an invitation into her home - to settle in and meet the children, share some homemade bread and celebrate family.  This invitation was so inspiring to me that I wanted to do the same.  For me, her blog shouts out how the family and the home really are the center of humanity - a message I feel needs to be shared all over!  Too often the media paints the dark side of family life, the dysfunction and decay - they seem obsessed with it - like that's all there is to family life.  Well, here is a woman shining a light in that darkness and illuminating the good.

I want to add my voice to hers.  I blog to share a message - my message of family and of home and of purpose - of 'us'.  My hope is to inspire others to add their voices and share their stories.   I blog for family and friends and the odd few that may stumble on my story and feel a connection - like I made (althought she doesn't know me) with a woman who lives in a magical place called Maine where the sea is the widest, the snow is the whitest and where the thrift shopping is the best. 

Of course, I am aware that life is not always seaside visits and lolly-pop encounters.  No, I suppose there has to be a little bit of dysfunction and decay after all.   Mary Engelbreit  paints it perfectly...

Which reminds me of a Little House on the Prairie episode I watched the other week.  Laura Ingalls decides she needs to talk to God. She climbs into the mountains to get as near to Him as she can.  In the process she meets an angel (only she doesn't realize it) named Johnathan.  Johnathan suggests Laura wash in a mountain stream after breakfast - only he calls the stream 'heaven's tears'.

While Laura is washing she asks what 'heaven's tears' are and Johnathan explains that rain is really the angels crying for people who are suffering.  When the sun shines it means the angel are happy and smiling.  Laura declares that she wished it shined all the time.  To this Johnathan disagrees and replies,

"When heaven cries and the tears come down it makes things grow and come alive again.  What God wants us to know is that it's alright to care and cry for your fellow man because if you do, only good can come of it."

I come from some dysfunction - that crazy stock I mentioned earlier - maybe my Grandmother is turning in her grave because I shared such a dark story about her father.  Did you know my Grandmother was a brilliant basketball player in her day and later in life went on to coach some of the finest local talent in Alberta?  Did you know she was a breast cancer survivor?   I guess all that zig-zagging paid off. 

The real point is I am who I am because of the joy and the tears.  I laugh and I cry and I come from a long line of people who laughed and cried as well (uh - don't we all?).  And as a diarist, I hope to share a bit of both (mostly the joy) so some good can come of it.

        

Blogs - our stories - intertwine us.  We are able to zig-zag through this life connected.  We are able to lift and to laugh together. We are even able to cry together.  It's a beautiful thing and the world needs to be more connected to each other, don't you think?