MyAwesomeOliveShoots

25 out of 50 things I'm thankful for

2012-01-26T12:07:00.000-05:00

I've always known how to have fun on my birthday!

Tomorrow is a big day for me. I used to think 50 year old people were old. Now I think they are, well, they are...me as of January 27.

Here is half of the 50 things I'm thankful for.

Class of 2016 = woot

1. My middle OS has been accepted to Moody Bible Institute!
2. This means I will have a semi-regular pizza delivery boy!
3. I had a wonderful experience speaking to a local MOPS group and I want to do it again!
4. My topic was "Raising Mighty Oliveshoots" and I'm sensing the Lord is creating something.
5. My oldest OS has done so well as West Point that he will be getting his first choice for his post and unit. This means that Nate will probably be going to Fort Carson in Colorado. I suggested "Fort" Cary (we live in Cary!) but he seemed disinterested. No worries though!
6. My orange hair, freckle face OS's basketball team is currently in first place and his back pain is subsiding.

Few moments are as epic as when you
and your OS get to meet Mary Jo!

7. I'm going to MaryJo's Cloth Store in Gastonia on Saturday with friends. Ignite endorphin levels!
8. I soaked some almonds overnight in water and evaporated cane juice. I drained the water and just before putting them into the dehydrator, I sprinkled cinnamon on them. They taste GOOD!

I'm having a bibimbap birthday!

9. We are having a Korean exchange student stay with us for the weekend and she is going to teach me how to make bibimbap!
10. We're also going to be serving squash pancakes and green onion pancakes. This should be interesting!
11. My six year old nephew Jon aka Goo, told me he has drawn me a picture for my birthday. I can't wait to see it!
12. My aunt and uncle from Chicago sent me two birthday pizzas. I have them safely hidden in the freezer, only the Hubs seems to know. I do not want to share. Does that make me a bad person??? Do not tell a soul.
13. I'm reading my seventh book since Christmas. Shablam! Current read - Saving Leonardo. Here's a great quote "One of the greatest injustice we do our young people is to ask them to be conservative. Christianity is not conservative, but revolutionary...We must teach them to be revolutionaries, revolutionaries against the status quo." Click to read this review that compelled me to buy this for my Kindle Fire.
14. It struck me last night as I was sitting with my monthly writing friends, how immensely blessed I am with a diversity of friendships culled from many parts of my life.
15. My house is neither immaculate nor filthy, right now as I type this, it's right in the middle.
16. I love my weekly Bible Study and the women I share life with. As I look around the table, I admire their strength, beauty and stories about leading redeemed lives.

Bible Study just before the Army/Navy game!
Had to bring Nate!

17. My stepfather said he would go with me for my colonoscopy! I don't have one scheduled but since I took him to his, he said he would accompany me on mine!

18. I just finished reading a book about a vacuum cleaner and it made me cry. I thought about the stories my family's appliances could tell.
19. When I told my mom that sometimes her birthday cards to me are so sappy, I could become diabetic, she didn't get offended. She laughed and scoffed. We had fun!
20. Loves it when the pastor speaks a sermon custom made for our family!
21. And REALLY loves it when we apply the sermon to daily life!
22. So blessed to have a praying family. We rallied around one of our OS this weekend and prayed with and for him one night. I want to leave this kind of legacy.
23. Realized that I along with the Hubs are raising a first generation Christian family. I didn't see that modeled in my own family and we're super imperfect but still, we're doing it!

A recent creation I made

24. My sewing machines and I are getting along. We are enjoying our time together.
25. I made a dinner this week for a teacher who has cancer. I wasn't sure what to make and brought sesame seed crusted salmon, wilted spinach with a white wine sauce and quinoa pepper salad. She said her favorite thing to eat was fish! I didn't know that!

On the eve of a big day, it makes sense to have some jollity. Life is a gift. I'd love to hear from you, any of these 25 jump out at you?

May the words of my mouth be pleasing to you

2012-01-22T18:29:00.002-05:00

MOPS blessed me so much
when my OS were younger!

On Tuesday, I will be speaking to a local MOPS (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers) group. The first time I was scheduled to speak, I had to cancel due to a delay in my oldest OS's surgery. When the group asked me again, I debated about if it was really the right thing to do, not because of MOPS at all, (I love MOPS)! but because of me.

Have you ever tried to come up with an answer for not doing something? I have, I do, I'm sure I will do it again, unfortunately. Sometimes I've got good reasons and other times the reasons are really just excuses. They are petty and selfish, utterly lacking sound judgment.

"Wow, I've got a lot going on
but I'm not going to let it stop me!"

David Brainerd, the man

The great and humble missionary to the North American Indians, David Brainerd was the man. Soon I must share the impact David Brainerd's life and testimony have had on me though he lived in the 1700's. He struggled with depression and suffered greatly. I highly recommend reading The Life and Diary of David Brainerd.

"Who cares about a little consumption
and depression? I've got work to do!"

Thanks to the trusty stylus harnessed to my Kindle Fire, I have highlighted many of his spiritual insights. Here's one fitting of my upcoming message and bespeaks my heart "...when God enables me sensibly to find that I have done something for him, this refreshes and animates me, so that I could break through all hardships, undergo any labors, and nothing seems too much either to do...". Yeah, I so get this.

I'm so diggin' this

Now I'm wondering, what have you been recently asked to you? Did you do it? What has recently refreshed and animated you? The message I prepared this week isn't the one I originally intended but I sense a prompting to share it. Let me be your instrument O God, feeble as I am.

One of these things just doesn't belong here!

2012-01-19T14:44:00.000-05:00

My most recent experience with a foreign object trapped in my own body involved a chopstick. I was at our favorite local sushi restaurant and after removing the paper sheath from the chopsticks, I rubbed the tops of them together to enjoy a smooth eating utensil. This was a really bad idea. As my finger slid along the chopstick ever so gingerly, a tiny wood shaving lodged deep inside my finger where it stayed for THREE STINKING WEEKS!

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't see the sliver nor could I tweeze or soak it out. The Hubs and the OS learned of my sliver woes on a daily, if not hourly basis for nearly a month. Each time my West Point OS called home, I gave him a "sliver update." I even thought about going to the doctor. And then one day, in a pain I liken to childbirth, the sliver decided to move elsewhere and poof, it was gone. Huh.

oh herro dere, sewing needle! long time, no see!

Many of us have weird corpus alienum stories. Take, for example my cousin's husband who fell a few days ago. Concerned, Ben went to the doctor and got an x-ray. Ben learned three things that day.
1. He hadn't broken anything
2. He had a moderate to severe sprain requiring rest
and 3. (prepare yourselves, friends)...Ben has a sewing needle in his foot.

Apparently when Ben was a kid, he must have stepped on a sewing needle. It has been living in his heel peacefully for 20+ years.

The post on his facebook has elicited much conversation. I have removed names of people who have commented on Ben's status but I had to show you what his friends and family have said.

That is my lifelong fear.
Yesterday at 11:29am · · 1
that is awesome!
Yesterday at 11:31am ·
That happened to me when I was 6...stepped on a needle and it broke off...had to have it surgically removed:)
Yesterday at 11:36am ·
coolest thing ever. i hope your heel doesn't start hurting during bad weather when you're older.
Yesterday at 11:37am ·
I had a thorn buried in my head for a couple years that I didn't know about.
Yesterday at 11:41am ·
that's crazy
Yesterday at 11:53am ·
dude thats crazy..u are the talk of my cubicle group lol.
Yesterday at 11:54am · · 1
Ur my new hero. This is pretty crazy.
Yesterday at 12:20pm ·
Do you need a hug??
23 hours ago ·
Man, I stepped on a sewing needle when I was in high school and limped around for a while. After a week, or so it felt beter so I went on about life. Three months later a boil appeared on my thigh and when I popped it I saw what looked like a splinter. I pulled a sewing needle out with tweezers.
16 hours ago ·
I feel like a terrible mother. The sewing needle had to be mine or Grandma's.
14 hours ago ·

I can't figure out if my favorite comment is that my uncle had a thorn buried in his head for a couple of years that he didn't know about (which explains a lot!) or if it's Ben's friend who said he stepped on a sewing needle in high school. The guy limped around for a while and after a week or so, he felt better. Then three months later, a boil appeared on his thigh. When he popped it (sorry about the disgusting word picture!), he saw what looked like a splinter. But it wasn't a splinter, instead he pulled a sewing needle out of his thigh with a pair of tweezers.

At least one of these guys, (all members of
my extended family, btw), currently has a
sewing needle living in his foot. Good times.

So here's my question. Do you have a strange splinter, chopstick or a sewing needle story? I'd love to hear about it. I'll even sweeten the deal, I will write on a slip of paper the names of each person who comments on this post and next Friday, January 27th, I will draw a winner. I will then send the person a little something I've made with a sewing needle! I'll announce the winner on January 28th. If you comment on my blog or on my facebook about this post, you'll be in the epic drawing!

A little life remembered

2012-01-17T22:45:00.000-05:00

It was just a month ago around 7pm when I was at Whole Foods with the Hubs. Our plans were to get a few things and do some Christmas shopping at the local mall. We were talking with a friend whom we happened to meet coincidentally over by the deli counter and my mobile phone rang. It was my orange hair, freckle face OS calling. I was certain he needed help solving an argument between him and his brother or maybe it was just to remind us to pick him up a grocery item. But neither were the reason for his call. His voice was heavy and I wasn't sure I heard him correctly.

"Lilly died."

What did he say? I nearly dropped my phone. I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly and I didn't want to misunderstand. I had just checked her mother's blog that afternoon and although this little baby was medically fragile, there was no evidence that in the span of a few hours, she would be gone.

We aren't related to Lilly in a family sense but this little girl had won our collective hearts. Now I'm standing at Whole Foods struggling to understand this news. Suddenly all the Hubs and I wanted to do was speed through the check out line and return home. Our family needed to be together, the errands could wait. We walked out of Whole Foods stunned, the winter air had a quiet chill as we placed our groceries in the car. I could feel a whole community of people grieving over this profound loss. A tiny hero had passed away.

http://creationsbydawn.net/pi/tutorials/lily.html

So who was Lilly? Lilly was a beloved baby born with Trisomy 18. Trisomy 18 (Edwards Syndrome) is a chromosomal disorder. Only 5-10% of children born with T18 live to see their first birthday. Lilly, aka Miss Firecracker because she was born July 4th, belied the medical community. Although T18 is commonly known as being incompatible with life, Lilly wanted nothing to do with that nonsense. For 17 months, Miss Firecracker bore witness to the fact that every life is significant.

The first time I would meet this precious child and her mother (I already know Lilly's dad) was at the funeral home. Our entire family, including our OS who was home from West Point, loaded in the SUV to pay our respects. I wasn't the only one crying as we walked through the line and I will not tell you which OS also had tears in his eyes. Dressed in a vintage christening gown with her favorite stuffed toy caterpillar near her side, Lilly looked like a tiny doll. It was necessary to share our condolences with Lilly's family. The line grew long as many waited to speak to her parents and offer sympathies and appreciation for loving her so well. Even though it was very emotional, the Hubs, Nate, Aaron, Ike and I had to meet this little girl who had inspired us with her fighting spirit. Lilly gave testimony to a life well lived.

Here is a great resource for expectant parents
who have been told their pre-born child may not survive.

As we reflected on the year 2011 and marked the many experiences we have shared as a family, Lilly's life and her departure to heaven found its way into the threads of our significant moments. I am pleased to say that Lilly's life mattered to many. Her extraordinary family remains in our prayers and continues to inspire.

Read more about Lilly and her legacy at Pray4Lilly. You will be blessed. Who has recently inspired you? I'd love to hear, please share.

And it makes me wonder...

2012-01-10T15:37:00.001-05:00

It's true, mothering has allowed me
to blossom as a woman.

I hesitated for a moment when my orange hair, freckle face OS asked me a question during dinner last night.

"Is it ever boring just staying home all day and being a mom?"

No sooner had the words parted from those teenage ruby lips when he profusely apologized for his frankness. Truly Ike has said nastier things to me without a hint of remorse (and been punished for it, thank you very much!) but it was obvious he didn't want to hurt my feelings.

I think it's an honest question. But what is the correct answer? Here's what I said.

"Sometimes it is boring but that's usually because I'm not doing the things I need to be doing."

It was seven and a half years before traded in my ambitious career goals and embraced the job that had been waiting for me - full-time motherhood.

The day I learned that we were going to be parents!
Notice the EPT (Early Pregnancy Test) box
the Hubs is holding!

So resolute was I to stay in the business world, that upon learning that I was pregnant with my oldest OS, I ordered a TWO YEAR subscription to Working Mother magazine. I remember simultaneously nursing Nate and attempting to have a contract negotiation on the phone only ten days after his birth. But no one was going to change my opinion...not my husband, not my mom, not even my baby.

It took two more children before I figured out that the Lord had divinely appointed me to be a stay-at-home parent. I can be a bit stubborn but I was relentlessly targeted. The voice in my heart told me repeatedly that I was "perfect for the job" even if I couldn't see my qualifications. My Heavenly Father was changing me from the inside out...

Three dudes in suits

I sincerely wrestled about what to do with my life. It wasn't an easy decision as I recall sitting on our eggplant colored couch with the Hubs in the winter of 1998. Bless that man as he listened and encouraged me. I questioned, what if full-time motherhood was boring? What if I hated staying home with the guys? What if I was lonely? What if my brain turned to mush? The Hubs reassured me that it was going to be ok. And he was right.

Now 13 years later, my youngest OS was lovingly challenging me to take stock at how it's been going for me...this whole stay-at-home mom gig.

When this kid gives this mom flowers "just because"
you have to feel good about yourself! ;)

Although my boys are older, my role as their mom is still important. To have a 21 year old son who while home from West Point brings me a bouquet of flowers "just because" is evidence that I made the right decision. To be appreciated for a pantry filled with food, much of it I prepared, affirms my position in the household. When the world laments for me because I'm a mom of three sons, two of them teenage boys, I scoff at their pettiness for I am among the most blessed.

Three legos and a football champ!

Yes, my sweet orange hair, freckle face OS, sometimes being a mother has lackluster moments but that happens with any job as you will one day discover. Jesus gave me this exalted opportunity to raise three men of honor and faith and I will forever give him praise.

Oh and one more thing, I hope I haven't offended anyone,
this is my personal story of transformation
and I realize other people have different mothering journeys.

PS. I'd love to hear from you. What interesting questions have your children have posed and how you have answered them?

Treats for the Troops

2012-01-08T21:47:00.000-05:00

I'm often amused when my extended family extols my baking abilities. Aside from the epic fail of kale cake (which will go down in infamy as the most horrible dessert any human has ever created), my mother lavishes praises on my desserts. My typical response to her exclamations is to casually tell her that the reason I bake so well is this...I'm literate. I can read a recipe, it's really that simple.

See below for detailed pics of my family's reaction to the kale cake!

Disclaimer: These pictures are not
representative of my baking abilities, I assure you.

Considering how I was loathe to all things domestic prior to my spiritual conversion to Christianity, it is quite wonderful that I enjoy spending time in the kitchen. It is not drudgery or "beneath" me as I thought previously. My heart is stirred into my sugary creations, especially if the treats are going to someone I care about.

Yummers!

Which is why it is a special privilege for me to be involved in West Point Moms Bake. Each month a group of over 130 West Point moms ship baked goods to deployed servicemen and servicewomen overseas. The excitement is contagious as my fellow WP moms (thanks to a private facebook group designed just for us) detail the thoughtful items and care they put into crafting each package. About ten of us moms are given the name and address of one of our heroes and we send a "boodle box" to that Soldier. This means that several packages of home baked treats arrive around the same time allowing these men and women to share the goodies with their unit. Many times my West Point mama friends humble me with their creativity and effort. Despite having busy lives of their own, the ladies of West Point Moms Bake still find time to bake delicious treats AND include other conveniences of home to their assigned Soldier.

Nate at West Point during our
mother/son weekend last year.

I don't want to think about this but soon the day will arrive when my oldest OS is on that list. Upon his graduation from West Point and subsequent training, I must accept that my boy will probably be deployed. Knowing Nate, with his sweet tooth and tender heart, it will mean so much to him to think that others appreciate his service to our country. He will enjoy getting boodle from us but to get treats from others who don't even know him personally will surely encourage him along the way.

In a recent package to my assigned hero, I made tasty and healthy treats for him and included a picture of our family. The Hubs, the middle OS and the orange hair, freckle face OS wrote him individual notes and it was OUR privilege to reach out and offer our support.

Frequently members of West Point Moms Bake will hear back from their Soldiers. They are so appreciative and thankful. We love to share pictures and stories with each other and hear how our packages have lifted spirits. To date, over 500 packages have been sent since September!

If you know of a deployed Soldier and like this idea, please leave me a message and we'll put that person on our list. If you include a comment on my blog or would rather email me at sewprettyaprons@gmail.com, I'll forward your information to my contact person and we'll make it happen. One more thing, don't worry, I promise I won't send kale cake! :)

3, 2, 1 = the day I wished I was a statistician

2012-01-04T14:28:00.001-05:00

Over Christmas break, I asked the middle OS to run to the store to get me some canned tomatoes. By the time Aaron came home, he had accumulated MUCH more than 32 ounces of canned tomatoes. Read on for details...

Not just a pretty face!

We live close to several grocery stores and therefore I assumed Aaron would perform this task lickety-split. My middle bairn has a good track record as my errand boy. If I may brag a moment, Aaron will be a fine husband one day. He not only puts the toilet seat down after using it, this guy can find common food staples and less traditional food items such as hoisin sauce and kefir in several nationally known grocery chains!

However, this recent grocery trip was taking longer than expected and I wondered to myself, "Where is Aaron? Where did he go? I need my canned tomatoes!"

And that's when the phone rang.
Aaron: "Hey, Mom."
Me: "Hey...where are you?"
Aaron: "Um, I just got a ticket."
Me: "WHAT? What were YOU doing and where are my canned tomatoes?!!!"

The middle OS proceeded to explain where and how he got a speeding ticket. The simple trip to the grocery store had morphed into a jaunt to the used bookstore which somehow led to a pricey speeding fine.

Upon Aaron's return, the cheerful mood in our otherwise festive home had soured. The Hubs was miffed, Aaron was embarrassed and I was annoyed that I had waited so long for my canned tomatoes.

But it gets better (or worse depending on your perspective)...

"I may be a ginger but I can apparently
read road signs better than my West Point brother!"

We then asked our oldest OS to drop the orange hair, freckle face OS off at basketball practice. He agreed and scuttled his brother into the car. He was gone for no more than 10 minutes-

And that's when the phone rang.
Nate: "Hey."
Me: "Hey...what's up?"

Nate: "I just got a ticket."

Me: "WHAT? What were YOU doing and where is Isaac?!!!"

The oldest OS then proceeded to explain where and how he got an even heftier speeding ticket. The simple trip to school had morphed into a second W-H encounter with law enforcement. Despite the verbal warnings of the younger brother, Nate had overlooked obvious road signs and in the span of less than one hour, two of our three OS had about $600 in associated ticket costs.

Three oliveshoots, two speeding tickets,
one day = let's try to not repeat that, guys!

I've never heard of such a thing! What are the chances of having three oliveshoots who drive (Ike has his learner's permit) and two of them getting speeding tickets on the same day in less than an hour? I'm no statistician but I'd say it's highly unlikely.

The OS are handling these issues responsibly and financially independently. They are reaping the consequences of their actions and although I do not find it amusing that they did something wrong, I do think it's funny in a quirky sort of way. According to my calculations, for the price of two speeding tickets, these two guys could have bought me over 400 cans of canned tomatoes!

We embrace our weirdness!

I'd love to hear about your unusual holiday experiences too.

PS. Here are a few links of our other unusual grocery store encounters (one involving an innocent assault with salt!) if you're interested.

A scrappy game of Scrabble

2012-01-02T18:23:00.000-05:00

I am not known for my athletic prowess. Chances are really good that you can out-run, out-lift, out-skate, out-swim, and out-do me in most physical things. Your muscles are bigger, your stride is longer, your endurance is better. You win.

However, the one thing I am known for, at least in my kin, is my mad Scrabble skills. I can hold my own when it comes to this word-smithing merriment.

Someone is preparing for the beat-down

Upon each visit home, my oldest OS challenges me to a game of Scrabble. Days prior to the battle, the insults and affronts begin; nothing is too low brow between mother and son. Similar to Army/Navy football, this game is personal. It's the West Point cadet with a high class ranking (Nate) versus the strong B average Communication and French major from Carroll University (um, that's me). We engage in our regular risibility while trash talking and one emerges with bragging rights until the next battle.

With great tinges of melancholy, this morning my OS and I sat in the living room and we marked the end of Christmas break with a game of Scrabble.

You would ululate too if you had four u's

Highlights of today's game include:
ululating over four U's - YUCK!

bursting into song using my best and loudest Ethel Merman impersonation of an Ella Fitzgerald classic when Nate made the word MISTY

and caving into moments of deep motherly feelings by confessing to my boy mid-play, "Nate, I love you."

Yes, I will never tire of his response of sincere mutual affection even if it meant I lost every time (and I didn't), btw. I would always play this game even if he pummeled me (and he didn't) just to spend time with a child I cherish. I love words but I love my boy more and that's saying something.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the one, the only Miss Ethel Merman...

Our game board goodness

Oh yes, I am a lachrymose mama right now. My favorite Scrabble buddy is going back to WP where he belongs. :( His bags are packed, the game is in the drawer. Tomorrow when the house is empty and all of my OS venture into the places they belong, I will busy myself. My athletic prowess is sorely lacking, the house and the Hubs need attention. It will be ok, I know, I guess, I hope.

Thanks Nate for giving your scrawny mom a scrupulous time. Miss you already <3

This mama returns to writing

2012-01-01T17:22:00.004-05:00

It's been a while since I last posted on this blog. Happy Thanksgiving! Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! With that in mind, I thought I'd reconnect by answering some not really frequently asked questions:

Where have you been? I've been sewing. From October to December, I made and sold over 50 fabric bowls and over 100 little Scripture pillows.

A fabric bowl that I especially enjoyed making

Thread and material strewn all over the house. As I found myself dressed in clothing (as is the social norm in this suburban town when one goes out in public), I found hundreds of mismatched thread fibers attached to my pants and sweaters. My mother cautiously remarked one day while visiting my home, it looked like the Fabric Fairy had stopped by and thrown up everywhere! From morning till night I was a human sewing MACHINE.

Believe it or not, this was our version of clean for about two months

How is Nate? My oldest OS is recovering marvelously. So well in fact that when he was home from West Point during Thanksgiving, we made a trip to the local airport. We had to pick up the middle OS who was returning from a mission trip to Costa Rica. Nate and I were behind schedule and started to run in the airport. It was then that I noticed he was moving awkwardly. For a second, I thought to myself, "Why is he limping?" and then I remembered, oh yeah, he had SURGERY!

What is the cumulative weight of the average W-H? Well, that's kind of a personal question but, um, ok, since you asked, the garden variety W-H tips the scales at 147 pounds. Some of us want that number to increase, others (who shall remain nameless), are not happy...

Did your family make an annual Christmas ornament video? YES! The timeless tradition continues. Each year the Hubs and I hide the pickle ornament somewhere in our large Christmas tree and then the three OS battle to be the first to find it! Here's the video for your viewing pleasure. Let me know if you can guess who was the vanquisher and who hung his head in shame for the second year in a row.

Maintaining a blog is difficult but I assert that it serves a purpose in my life, if only to allow me to scribe about life as a blessed, albeit imperfect wife, mother and follower of Christ.

If you bothered to stop by after all these months, bless you, sweet reader...

more soon!

One foot forward - update on Nate and then some

2011-10-25T15:56:00.001-04:00

Fashion footwear for fall?

There's nothing more annoying than someone stealing your spotlight. Not to be outdone, my tibia decided it was sick and tired of Nate's ACL getting all the attention. So yesterday my left leg became encapsulated in an orthopedic boot for the next three weeks and I'm only to walk a total of one-two hours A DAY. That'll teach Nate and his so-called ACL repair...OY!

Seriously though, my oldest OS is doing so well. The Hubs went to visit him during a business trip and they bravely went to New York City. It's scary enough walking around the Big Apple as an able-bodied person but as you will soon see in this video clip, my OS took on NYC like a BOSS.

I love how the lady by the curb doesn't even step aside as Nate comes barreling through. Nice. Thank you Mobilegs for making such a great product, your crutches have made such a difference in my son's recovery.

That awkward Cinderella moment
between brothers - the shoe fits!

When Aaron and I were at West Point, I observed brotherly love in a fresh way. Five years ago, almost to the day, Nate had his first ACL surgery. Aaron and Ike attended to Nate in the manner fitting of a then 12 and 10 year old. One of the post-surgery highlights was when the two guys competed each day to see which brother could collect the most wee-wee from the urinal. Such a proud mommy moment.

Thankfully everyone has matured. My orange haired, freckle face almost 15 year old stayed behind for driver's ed but loaded up a box of treats for Nate replete with a funny card. He spoke to him regularly and showed sincere concern.

Just moments before saying goodbye

It was my middle OS that displayed such a servant's heart, I found myself nearly thankful for Nate's injury. When Nate's surgery was scheduled first thing in the morning, Aaron cheerfully awakened to join me at the hospital. Anything Nate needed, Aaron offered to help. Anything I needed, Aaron was equally joyful to do. Fill Nate's ice machine, get him fresh water, fluff his pillows, Aaron literally poured himself out to his brother and he was remarkably patient with me. My boy sacrificed his own Fall break to help Nate and then only three days after getting home from New York, Aaron was the patient. He had wisdom teeth surgery!

Final pics of Aaron's wisdom teeth

It's not the best quality picture but I captured a tender moment when it was time to say goodbye. Of course, the lacrimal glands were activated as I hugged my boy's neck. We had had such a treasured time together. There was another WP mom picking up her son by Grant turn-around and she wiped tears from her eyes at the sight.

Aaron carrying his big brother's laundry and
stuff as Nate crutches back to life at West Point.
Yes, I was crying.

But then I really lost it as Aaron accompanied Nate to the barracks. Nate was limping along on his Mobilegs as Aaron carried Nate's stuff back to his room. Two beautiful, godly young men and brothers displaying love and gratitude. They are there for each other. They share joy and sorrow, struggles and success. Neither distance, nor disability of any kind or length, nor differences will separate my three OS from each other. Ever. Let it be so.

my AWESOME oliveshoots

SMH - Thanksgiving Days

2011-10-16T18:35:00.000-04:00

Nate up and around in the hotel near some
of his cards and notes

It's been a few days since my last post but Nate has returned to class per doctor's orders. The rigors of a grueling academic schedule, a long-distance love affair, and an active social life are a heavy load to carry by themselves when you're a firstie at West Point. But Nate must now add frequent physical therapy visits to his busy life. I do not envy him but of this I'm certain, my OS can do it.

Nate and his pretty bonita Lu in El Sal

Now at home, I am reflecting on the blessings because they abounded during our journey to New York. At times, I find myself just SMH (a term I noticed so often on facebook, I had to google it).

SMH - shaking my head and that's what I'm doing at the cornucopia of sublime treasures we experienced. If I didn't share them and attempt in some measure to take stock in the blessings, it wouldn't seem right.

The mums were spectacular!

Weather - gentle autumn days teased us with a sense that colder temps soon awaited. During our entire stay, we enjoyed bright sun, blue skies and trees just starting to change colors. During the trip to New York, Aaron and I even spotted a rainbow in the sky. Me likey rainbows in the sky!

Traffic - what traffic? This was a big concern of mine because I'm not a great traveler and I'm even worse when my given mode of transportation isn't moving. Pretty sure this will never happen again but we cruised along the highways!

I have fallen in love with the Hudson Valley. I took this picture as we drove away from the hospital so thankful to have my boy in my car beginning his recovery.

Destination - And get this, we hardly ever got lost! I can't make my way out of a paper bag but going from our home in North Carolina to New York and back again was practically effortless. I was convinced Aaron and I would be hopelessly directionally challenged even using the GPS but we all worked so well together!

Food - Whether it was the curry chicken salad my friend Gigi made for us, the calzones at Schades, the lunch platters at Foodies, our tummies were full of deliciousness.

Laundry - since we stayed at a friend's house for several days, I got to wash clothes. It does a mama good to do the laundry for her Soldier. Gigi's hospitality gave Aaron and I a relaxing place to chill.

Nate chiling at Keller the night prior to surgery

Crutches - A West Point mom told me about Mobilegs and you should have seen Nate zipping along on these after surgery! We went to WalMart just two days after surgery and I had to start walking in front of him just to help the shoppers realize a guy with crutches was barreling toward them! He didn't give them time to react. Someone was going to get hurt and I didn't think it was going to be my Soldier!

Healing - ACL surgery is painful but my oldest OS was a model patient. Helping my family is a special joy to me and Nate appreciated anything we did for him which only made me want to do more.

Homemade, hand-dipped
dark chocolate caramels
drizzled with sea salt.
Keep your grubby
hands away from them or
I am not responsible
for my actions.
Thank you.

Friends - the prayers and loving support of many people are good medicine for the body and soul. One West Point mom made a bunch of delicious homemade caramels for her daughter's Army sports team and guess what she did? She dropped off THREE bags of it for my crew! Dark chocolate, rich caramel with a hint of sea salt...oh.my.word. Please don't ask how many I ate versus how many the patient and his brother enjoyed. All's I'm gonna say is I deserved it. Final answer.

Another mom and her family back in NC made Nate homemade cards and caramel corn. Nate now has two homemade bookmarks from little kids who encouraged him. They are Marine kids which makes it even more fantastic! The dad drove the treats over to my house the night before we left, such thoughtfulness.

"Um, thanks Dad for the Batman briefs..."

Throughout Nate's days of recuperation, I would bring him small gifts from others. It was remarkable how each gift was perfect timing for him. Whether it was the Batman undies from his dad, the PopTarts from his grandparents, the Amazon gift card from his aunt and uncle, the cash from his grandpa or the weird plastic caterpillar from the orange hair, freckle faced youngest brother, there was a sense of love and community from all around.

And I'm not done. There are more blessings but on this perfect autumn day, I'm going to bask in these gifts. May I suggest you do the same. Not in my blessings which I pray bring you a measure of joy but on yours, they are there even if you have to look a little harder. I hope you find them today, my friends.

More soon,

Army Strong - Day One post surgery

2011-10-07T15:58:00.000-04:00

Outside the hospital

We're sitting in a darkened room at Keller Army Hospital on a crisp autumn day at West Point. The sound of the CryoCuff Cooler chugs along giving Nate icy respite from the pain of surgery. We are only a few hours post-ACL surgery and even though this is not easy for any of us (especially Nate!), I'm so happy my middle OS and I are here.

Nate will come to love and hate
this machine during his rehab

Though my family often chides me for asking a lot of questions, today I think Nate at least would agree, that trait does have its merits. I had myriad questions of the surgeon but didn't barrage him. A mama wants to effectively advocate for her son. If you've ever been to the doctor or had surgery, you understand how important it can be to have another voice speaking on your behalf. In the short time he has been a patient at the hospital, I have run interference for my OS. When Nate was thirsty, I requested water, when he drank Sprite, I asked if he could have more. The medical staff have many patients, Aaron and I have one. It's not being a diva or a prima donna, I'm not a Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton, just a mama, if I can do something quicker or easier, than I want to assist.

Saw this in the waiting room - Rick Springfield
on a talk show this morning...
I think he's had some surgery too! :)

When Nate's IV monitor was sounding "occlusion," I fetched someone to investigate. When he thought he might throw up, I inquired of a barfing receptacle. I'm sure Nate would have managed but not very comfortably because he's too weak to do much. Aaron has faithfully stayed by Nate's side even though there's really nothing for him to do here. I am proud of my boy for his sacrifice and love.

Aaron and I went apple picking with a friend
yesterday - we are the two amigos!

Here's an example of how Aaron and I have been a good team. A short while ago, a male nurse came to help Nate with a basic biological function. Nate did not want my intervention (totally understood that!) so Aaron and I waited in the hallway. The nurse gave Nate his privacy once he had transferred him to the toilet. He left the room and told Nate he would get him back to the bed. Nate used the restroom and Aaron and I stepped back in the room. Nate began to wobble and he looked white as a ghost. I yelled for Aaron's help in case Nate fainted as I retrieved the nurse. Aaron stood by his brother's side until the staff got him safely back to bed. Now Nate is fast asleep, problem avoided, thank the Lord.

My OS has entered the subset of cadets who find themselves needing surgery during their 48 month sojourn at USMA. It's a unique subset of the Corps and if possible, I'd recommend finding another "club" to join! Seriously! Thanks for your prayers, concern and support, it means so much to us. Army Strong!

Surgery - when the time is right, whenever that is!

2011-10-05T10:58:00.000-04:00

Gorgeous skies blanketed the journey to West Point

Unfortunately, the adage "expect the unexpected" and the expression "hurry up and wait" are true this morning as Nate's surgery has been delayed. He walked into the surgery room, mentally prepared to get his ACL fixed and walked right back out minutes later because of an equipment malfunction.

The night before, the three of us enjoyed dinner at Sushi King followed by ice cream just a few doors down the street. Nate was as ready as he could be for the surgery bright and early in the morning.

But at this point, my OS has been told that the equipment might not even be fixed today. The sterilizer is broken. I think that's a good reason to postpone things however, my firstie is hungry, thirsty and frustrated, who can blame him?

Yesterday I found myself counting our blessings, taking stock of the goodness which has resulted through this trial. So instead of complaining which is unproductive, I'm going to concentrate on the positive. This is just a partial list and I hope to later include other blessings which have lifted our spirits.

Don''t be jealous, get your own ACL surgery ;)

My van is loaded with treats for Nathan. Cards and gifts from family as well as from people who don't even know my boy! When Nate said he wanted me to bring him dehydrated apples, I obliged but a mother who doesn't even know him also wanted to support a member of the military. She dehydrated a bunch of apples for Nate. They look delicious!

Bible Study friends holding a bag of dehydrated apples.
They donated 40 pounds of apples for my OS!

The women in my weekly Bible Study pitched in and bought a box of apples for me to dehydrate for my OS. We're talking 40 POUNDS of apples! In addition, my Bible Study leader and another WP mom donated bags of apples for my healthy food project. Such bounty! When I popped open the back of the van to give Nate some of the things, his mouth was agape at the amount of apples he now has to enjoy! I felt so proud of my friends and the community of support.

Nate now has a ridunkulous amount of dehydrated apples.

The West Point networks for parents and mothers are extraordinary. Through a parent list-serve and a closed West Point Moms facebook group, I have been encouraged beyond measure. I learned about Mobilegs which is a lightweight crutch alternative. When I contacted the company and told them about Nate's upcoming surgery, they eagerly offered me a military discount.

Nate trying on his Mobilegs before surgery

The Mobilegs arrived at his barracks yesterday afternoon.
When we met Nate,
he was grinning and carrying them. "I'm actually kinda excited to use them," Nate remarked to me last night.

In front of Sushi King - Nate and his
Zoolanderish brother Aaron

During dinner, when the owner of the restaurant learned that Nate was a West Point cadet and having surgery the next day, he made him a free special mango sushi roll. Our spirits were high. Truly I'm learning that the little things we can all do for each other are very significant. THANK YOU SUSHI KING!!

Mango, cream cheese, crab sushi roll made
just for Nate - delicious kindness

Another great blessing was Aaron and I drove to West Point and enjoyed a scenic, pleasant trip. We got along 96% of the time and although the last 4% was pretty ugly (we were less than ten miles away from West Point!), our relationship quickly returned to its formerly happy state.

And as if we hadn't be given above and beyond what we even imagined, we had a surprise awaiting us. I opened the small closet in Nate's hospital room and there, tucked in the far corner, I spotted the thing we never expected. A pair of bright red boxer briefs!!! Carefully I pinched the undies with my fingers and wiggled them at Nate! He was, um, speechless! I'm pretty sure an angel had left them there for my boy. It doesn't get better than that, my friends!

A complimentary pair of undies left for Nate! What great fortune!

And there have been other blessings which I must acknowledge. Right now though I'm completely exhausted and trusting in the Lord's perfect timing. Please know that your words and thoughtfulness are so meaningful. We'll keep you posted...

Doing Hard Things - Nate needs a new knee in New York :(

2011-10-02T18:36:00.000-04:00

August 5, 2011 became a day our entire family will remember. For my oldest OS, it was not only a day that marked the passing of my grandma but Nate endured an additional painful moment that the rest of us didn't.

Nate in happier days!

It was an hour before completion of CLDT training at Fort Bliss. Overall it was a lackluster experience for my OS and I best leave it at that. Putting it mildly, Nate was ready for it to be over and to return to West Point for the beginning of his "firstie" aka senior year. Prior to leaving the base, Nate was relieving stress by joking around and wrestling with some of the other guys. The next thing he knew a much larger NCO (non-commissioned officer) pounced on Nate and threw him backwards. As he dropped to the ground, Nate heard the dreaded pop in his left knee.

In 2007, Nate first heard that "pop" during a soccer game. It marked the end of his soccer season for the year. My OS was 17 when he had knee surgery and began a long rehab for a torn meniscus and anterior cruciate ligament (ACL). In time, he recovered well and was resolute in absolutely never having to relive that experience ever again.

But the Lord had other plans on August 5th. Now on Wednesday, Nate returns to the operating room. Not in the comfortable environs of our hometown but this time at West Point. And on the same knee no less! Tomorrow my middle OS Aaron and I travel to New York to be with Nate before and after the surgery. According to the surgeon, my OS will have a different operation to fix the problem. Based on Nathan's future job as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Army, the surgeon advised him to have a patellar tendon graft. This is a harder surgery with a tougher rehab and an uglier scar but it insures better results for his long-term success. I guess you could say Nate will have a Soldier's Knee.

My boy will have to summon a great deal of strength to heal from this surgery. With the help of his fellow cadets (let it be so!) and his faith in the Lord, I know he can do this but I hate that I will be so far away. Would it really be that awkward if I just stayed in the barracks and promised to not be a bother??? ;) He will return back to class almost immediately whereas the last time, Nate recovered at home for nearly two weeks. Four years ago I could take care of him. I brought him food, as a family we helped him. Nate had plenty of visitors and attention, we all rallied around him. Now I will only be able to stay for a few days. His dorky brothers even had daily competitions on who could collect the most urine in the handy receptacle near his bedside, I doubt anyone is going to volunteer for that job!

This is a leg brace; however when I had my ACL surgery
I called it the most horrible orthopedic device
ever created! How I loathed that thing! Be of good courage, Nate! You can doey it!

Nate will be in a full leg immobilizer for six weeks. He'll be hobbling all over the base and be expected to fully participate in West Point activities. Jesus knows my heart and hears my prayers.

So to the extent I feel comfortable, I'm sharing part of my prayer with you, dear friends.

Suddenly plebe year is looking a lot easier
than recovering from ACL surgery AGAIN!

Lord,

As you well know, I don't understand the reason for this injury but I don't have to comprehend all your ways. You don't ask for my permission and I realize that. Forgive me as I acknowledge my weakness in this area for even questioning your sovereignty about why this happened again. Lord, in your perfect time, speak to me and give me ears to hear. Calm my anxious mama's heart and allow me to trust You through this process. Reveal to my boy new things about who You are. Bless my child with Your presence when he is in pain and feeling discouraged. Surround him with the compassion and kindness of others and allow my boy to notice your manifold blessings. Though I will not always be near my son, you promise in your Word to never leave or forsake us. You never sleep, you are always present and that is a comfort to me. Lord, though his knees aren't the greatest (!) you and I both know Nate is tough but so very tender hearted, thank you for fearfully and wonderfully making him this way. Because of You, he can do this hard thing! In Jesus' name, amen.

One of my sweetest blessings = my boy

Thanks y'all for praying for Nate and caring enough to read this post...

Doing Hard Things - Aaron sharing from his heart

2011-09-21T16:49:00.000-04:00

My feet and those of my boy - both of us getting
ready for the service. I love how our feet
are touching, I didn't realize it until now
when I posted the pic.

My middle OS Aaron entered the world with great gusto on August 30,1996. Almost exactly 17 years later, on a beautiful summer’s day in the Chicagoland area, that same precious child approached a microphone and through words, gave a final gift to the grandma he loved dearly.

Pretty sure I used that entire box of Kleenex!

My grandma’s memorial service brought forth countless blessings. On every level, from the music selected, the pictures featured, the location of the service to the tender common spirit filling the morning, it was obvious that the Lord had given us a day to reflect and celebrate a remarkable person.

Aaron was the first family member to speak.This wasn’t his choice and he fretted about the pressure and enormity of the task. Not a lot of teenage guys would relish his position. From the perspective of a great-grandchild, my OS desired to recognize and share a central message about someone we all adored. Prone to migraines, we had been praying against him having one during the service and praise the Lord, he was fine. But think of how many adults cower in front of a microphone, let alone how many grown ups willingly speak at a memorial service about someone they love... Ok, now you have a slight understanding of the pride I had in my OS.

Aaron spoke from this podium (so did everyone else).
You can see a funny picture of Nathan
and Grandma in the background.
We always had so much fun with her.

My boy had worked so hard on his message. He sought counsel from teachers, asked for prayers, listened to our advice, changed a few words and added others. He considered his outfit, his hair (it really is that important!) and his shoes. But the foremost thing Aaron desired was to fittingly articulate the impact Grandma had on his life and on the lives of all the great grandkids.

At the beginning of his message, Aaron accidentally omitted the name of his big brother, Nathan when he was recalling all of the great-grandchildren. True to form, Aaron gracefully recovered and it gave us all a moment to chuckle when he humorously, begrudgingly inserted Nathan’s name in the list. :)

Grandma and her boys at The Sound of Music.

As a music lover, Aaron equated Grandma’s life to a soundtrack. He told of the time we took her to see The Sound of Music. Grandma seemed less interested in the actual performance but more focused on the time with us as a family. Grandma closed her eyes, still fully awake and hummed away at familiar songs. Aaron recalled how he looked over at her during the musical and observed such joy on her face. My OS said that the soundtrack of Grandma's life was one with strong notes and crescendoes, beautiful and melodious. It was a moving and fitting analogy.

He continued and the tears in Aaron’s eyes and voice mirrored everyone else’s as we wept during his message. My ever growing pile of Kleenex only increased when Aaron spoke of Jesus and His love for all of us. While we were there to mark Grandma's passing, we celebrated the depth of happiness she gave to us all. Aaron acknowledged the Source of that love, Christ our Lord. I sat there draped in the arms of my other two OS and the Hubs never more thankful for this family I’ve been given.

I like to imagine that my grandma is in heaven and that she could see us on August 27, 2011. Since there is no sadness or pain in heaven, in my heart I envision her utterly resplendent and I wonder if tears streamed from her sweet face. Not from sadness or cancer or dementia but from joy. I picture her absolutely overwhelmed being in the presence of the Lord, worshipping Him forever and for this one shining moment, seeing her handsome teenage great grandson confidently speaking of her and standing near her portrait. Oh how that picture in my heart brings me peace. If only everyone could be loved like this on earth and then to have that love exceeded in heaven, I want to live that kind of life now and eternally.

Thank you Aaron. Thank you Grandma.

Thanksgiving is mixed with sorrow, tears erupt with little warning and that’s the way I process grief. I realize that it’s going to be like this for a while as I have mourned other loved ones in the past. It is possible to be simultaneously sad, proud, grateful...after all that’s just what happens when you are Aaron’s mom and Grandma’s grand-daughter.

Doing Hard Things - moving forward

2011-09-11T19:52:00.000-04:00

I wrote this post while traveling to Chicago to attend my grandma's memorial service. I am now back home and reconciling myself to a different life without someone I loved very much...

My feet at my grandma's service

It’s not that my feet have failed me. It’s not their fault, I can’t blame them. They have moved forward. They will be walking into a church tomorrow and at the appointed time, they will walk up to the podium.Though my heart is breaking, my feet will be sturdy forces even in mid-size heels. My feet will propel me into places I know bring sorrow and there’s nothing I can do about it. They are doing the right thing.

Ok, so the folks in West Virginia might NOT be
moving forward if they are bringing bologna biscuits back!

As we have journeyed from North Carolina, through the voluptuous hills of West Virginia and then through the flatter plains of Ohio, I note that everyone is moving forward. When we arrive in Chicago, it will be apparent EVERYONE is moving forward at breakneck speed.

The windmills in Ohio moved slowly forward.
They were beautiful.

This week during my water aerobics class (another tribute to my grandma), I considered all the people in the pool. We vary in size, color, age and athleticism. Ashamedly I admit that it’s been a long time since I have really pondered this but as I stood in the water awaiting instruction, I thought to myself, everyone in this pool has lost someone. Everyone in this water knows grief. We have all cried pools of tears. Possibly some are as fresh as mine.

We are all moving forward in some capacity. Sometimes I look at the ladies in the pool and see wisps of my own grandma. It might be in their carriage or bathing suit styles. I observe their little chicken legs, a charmed feature of my grandma’s and my own feet resist the temptation to run up to them. It would just make them feel awkward and I would cry. Not too many people cry during water aerobics~

Writing is cathartic for me and these fingers push words forward which spring from an aching grand-daughter’s heart. My fingers are blessed to tell you about the tender caresses from my OS and the Hubs as I grieve. They have loved me, allowed ME to lean on them and I’m comforted by their gentleness. My middle OS has told me that he is old enough to handle my pain. My oldest bairn at West Point sets aside his own worries and concerns to listen. The orange-haired, freckle face Isaac grants more hugs than usual without getting annoyed. Their Hanes cotton t-shirts have deposited many of my tears, their rugged hands envelope mine reassuringly.

Perhaps I have shared this previously but I did not grow up in a family with an emotionally accessible father. We were well acquainted with his angry side but vulnerability was rarely shown. Until I met the Hubs, I didn’t realize men were capable of sweet and tender feelings. This, along with my total lack of being able to discuss the merits of menstruation (!), have led me to believe that the Lord gave me three sons to heal a woundedness in my heart.

Going forward while Doing Hard Things

In my next post, I will share things I’m learning while Doing Hard Things and some of the dearest moments at my grandma’s service. Thanks for listening.

Wednesday remix -convergence

2011-08-24T21:36:00.001-04:00

That huge feeling of accomplishment

a little boy gets when climbing a mountain

while holding a plastic knife

Seems quite similar to that proud feeling
a man has when standing in his India Whites,
a shiny gold ring on his finger

And the excitement of a tween as
she's rockin' it in a midriff and white pants,
holding her portable camera at the petting zoo

Is quite similar to the feeling a woman gets

when speaking at a church in El Salvador,
far away from family and friends

What a blessed wonder it is when God allows
those people to be mother and son and
share joy together.

A Gift from a Gift - Ring Weekend

2011-08-23T21:00:00.001-04:00

West Point is the place for Nate

Four years ago when my oldest OS decided on attending the United States Military Academy, I distinctly remember giving him a motherly nudge in the ribs. As I learned about the many attributes associated with this historic institution, I realized that quite possibly there might be something in it for me. What mom doesn't like to know that her hard work might be rewarded one day with something sparkly and shiny?

Nate and Grandma along about the time
that he lit some toilet paper on fire...

True, having Nathan as a son is a gift from God. Aside from the time when as a teenager he lit a piece of toilet paper on fire in our carpeted living room just to see how fast it would burn! (who does that???), Nate has been a delight to raise. And though, you'd think that would be enough for me, I admit, I'm a sucker for a pretty bauble. On Friday night, my OS delivered big time.

Nate's ring is fine but what's in it for me???

He had just received his beautiful sky blue topaz West Point ring and we were staying at a friend's house. Although I was unaware, the moment that I had hinted about four years ago had arrived.

Nate was doing a load of laundry and I was downstairs in the basement with him. As my OS prepared to dump a bunch of stinky Soldier clothes into the washing machine, he pulled out a little black box.

My boy then said with a warm embrace and a satisfied grin, "Hey, Mom, this is for you. Thanks for your support. It has meant a lot to me."

I held the velvet box in my hand and pried it open. My gift from God was giving me a gift. And this is what I found.

My beautiful pendant

A stunning West Point pendant made of yellow gold twinkled at me. A sense of wonder wafted over this mama's heart. Nate had remembered the nudge from long ago. He also remembered that I love the color purple because he chose a light amethyst stone for the center. As Nate placed the pendant around my neck, I knew that many other WP mothers had a similar moment and the same feelings. So much love, pride, gratitude, would it be possible to wear this pendant ABSOLUTELY EVERYWHERE?

I can't lie, yeah I felt pretty special.

I do know one place where my pendant will be seen. This weekend as we travel to Chicago to celebrate my beloved Grandma's life, it will be draped around my neck for everyone to notice. All I need now is a pair of versatile gold hoop earrings, Hubs if you're reading this, our anniversary is coming up...hint, hint.

So tell me, do you have a special treasure from one of your children? If you're a WP parent, share about your "jewelry" experience. Let's remember together.

A West Point weekend - ring!

2011-08-23T15:25:00.000-04:00

The journey wading through grief while learning to swim continues. In future posts, I'll document more about this but I have determined that swimming is an homage to my grandma. Not that she was a great swimmer, in fact, how crazy is this, I'm not even sure she swam though I do have pictures of her in the pool and in the ocean! Nonetheless, swimming has become an emblem, my emblem of moving forward despite the current of sadness which I now possess in my heart.

West Point firsties during the Ring Ceremony

But over the weekend, I set despair aside and experienced the unmitigated joy and pride of being the mama of a West Point firstie. How sweet and kind of the Lord to perfectly situate a celebration in the midst of a loss. My oldest OS is now a firstie at West Point. In civilian terms, he is a "senior" in college. And when you are a firstie, the plebeian life is wayyyyy behind you. Sure, you have some very big decisions to make regarding your future but for a precious weekend in August, you leave those worries behind. It's all about one thing...getting your ring. Yeah, it's a pretty big deal.

Moments away from getting their rings!

Lowly plebes refer to the ring as a mass of crass and brass and glass but for a firstie, it is an epic embellishment. Overlooking Trophy Point, the Hubs and I along with many equally exuberant parents, observed nearly a thousand firsties savor that moment. Once that ring is slipped over each firsties' finger, all the muck and ruck and toil and moil they have endured at West Point, kinda sorta melts away. At least that's what I noticed in my OS.

My OS marching to the Ring Ceremony.
(That's not me in the yellow shirt.) ;)

With literally hundreds of stones to choose from, it wasn't easy picking the right one. Nate selected a striking sky blue topaz set in yellow gold. On one side of the ring are the words United States Military Academy and on the other is the class crest "For More Than Ourselves 2012." Knowing my OS as I do, I can't think of a more fitting motto. Two "diamonds" are set on either side and when coupled with the middle stone, a brilliant streak of blue catches the eye.

Nate's mass of crass and brass and glass.

As impressive as the outside, the engraving on the inside of Nate's ring was as significant. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" is the inscription he personally selected from Romans 8:31 in the Bible. I.love.that. I mean I really love that.

A mama, an oliveshoot, an impending storm
and a gorgeous ring

This weekend our family will travel to Chicago for my grandma's memorial service. My oldest OS will be in attendance and that means so much to me. Grandma loved all my OS and told everyone about Nate attending West Point. Years ago, while out for lunch, she even got the address of a cute waitress for Nate because she was so proud of him and hoped they would correspond. (Um, they didn't!)

As an extended family, we will cry and laugh and profoundly feel the gaping loss together. We will eat pizza and Portillo's then make more memories in honor of her. And that gorgeous sky blue topaz ring will be on Nate's finger. Grandma would have had everyone gushing over this ring. She would have grinned from ear to ear as if she birthed him herself.

Again, I sense the Lord's blessing because my grandma would have beamed with pride seeing my OS united celebrating her life. A mixture of sadness and pride fill my mama/grand-daughter's heart. Tomorrow I will share with you the reward I received for being a firstie mom...(hint, it's shiny...)

Doing hard things - good days and bad days

2011-08-15T21:23:00.002-04:00

This was my Saturday post..since then I have made progress and didn't give up after all. I'm choosing to document not only my moments of success but also times of setback and discouragement. I'm posting it because some of you might understand my struggles...

Now back to Saturday afternoon...

ergh

I want to give up and throw in the towel. Swimming is just too hard. Nothing seems to work. It's too complicated, too many things to try and coordinate. I'm too old for this. I look stupid. When my arms are straight, they should be bent. When my legs are kicking, they should be pointed. People look so effortless in the water, strong, brave, athletic, they must be geniuses too. No one can convince me I have the same appearance, what is wrong with me?

This is where I am today. If you were looking for an encouraging word, this isn't the blog post for you. Sorry, just being honest. Even typing these words creates anxiety within me.

What quandary pervades my spirit! Competing forces - grief and gratitude, fear and courage, defeat and perseverance inhabit me.

Swimming and grieving :&

Grief - My grandma was so dear to me. Someone I loved deeply is no longer in my life and it's terribly painful without her. Mourning is tiring and I want to just crawl into a corner and cry.

Gratitude - Yet I had a grandma for nearly 50 years, what right do I have to be sad? She brought immeasurable joy to me and lived 91 1/2 years! The Lord gave me a grandma for a longer time than most people. She led a storied life. Thank you Jesus for blessing me!

Fear - Moving forward without her is scary. And I'm finding that swimming is like grief. Is it ever going to feel natural being in the water? Living without my grandma?

This diving board is becoming my friend.

Courage - Being a land tortoise is a thing of the past. This summer, the diving board and I have become friends, we're not besties but we enjoy each other most of the time. Like it or not, I'm doing at least two Hard Things simultaneously - swimming and grieving (News flash...on Monday, my orange hair, freckle face OS told me I had "guts!" That meant so much to me!)

Um, yeah, that looks natural...NOT!

Defeat - I have been googling YouTube videos about the breast stroke. Who came up with this swimming maneuver? The breast stroke is a constant source of conversation in my house, when do I glide, breathe, lift my head? OY! This afternoon I practiced my breast stroke techniques perpendicularly on a kitchen stool and on the large leg rest in our family room. Even at the farmer's market in the parking lot, I demonstrated a possible breast stroke move to the Hubs. None of it makes sense, am I on the brink of figuring it out or is this just another indication that I need to just count my losses and move on?

Perseverance- But I have made some progress with swimming. For the first time in my life, I went in a circle while swimming. Don't ask me how I did it. Most of you do this effortlessly but until Wednesday, all I could do was swim in a straight line. Frankly, I most often swim (accidentally) diagonally.

I have walked by this lap pool for years.
I jumped in it for the first time.

I also went into the lap pool at our gym for the very first time. I plunged (sort of) into the much colder water and swam (terribly) two laps. Nearly died, gulping water, had a very unattractive choking spell while flapping my arms and legs at the wrong times but by golly, I did it. The plan is for me to return to this lap pool and eventually to feel comfortable enough with going there by myself. In the meantime, my trusty Hubs is by my side.

I'm encouraged knowing I'm not the only one Doing Hard Things and pushing through these struggles. Thanks y'all.

Doing hard things - mourning and living

2011-08-08T14:32:00.006-04:00

Sitting by my grandma was always a cozy place

The rain that pounded on my window Saturday morning symbolized my heart. Something I have wanted to avoid and have long feared, had now come true. For the first time in my life, I awoke to being without my grandma. Tears have poured from my eyes for nearly a week and waking to this new reality was crushing.

Navigating through grief challenges us in the most basic of ways. What can we do to acknowledge our sadness but not paralyze daily living? How do we move forward in life while still honoring the memory of our loved one? Is it ok to still laugh and smile?

So many of you can relate, I'm sure. Grief is complicated, isn't it?

Those torrents of rain granted me permission to stay in the house and do nothing but cry. But when the sun burst forth in the early afternoon, I knew I had two things to do. One was to go shopping for a dress for Ring Weekend, a very special celebration at West Point we will soon enjoy with our oldest OS. (stay tuned!)

And the other was not an task-related errand but something equally important. I had to go back to the swimming pool.

It's hard to stay in the lane!

My grandma was a fire-cracker, a whipper snapper, a kick in the pants kinda gal. She was a hard-headed, go-getter who didn't let things keep her down for very long and I always admired those qualities.

So in honor of my grandma and because I believe the Lord has given me this summer to conquer my fears, I swam four laps. They were crooked and awkward. They were not exactly consecutive laps either. I did my own special version of what I believe you people call "breast stroke" and "back stroke." During the back stroke, in the middle of the lap, I swam into the plastic lap divider rings. (I just realized I called them "lap" dividers not lane dividers, told you I was a swimming newbie!). Instead of just giving up, though, I found myself laughing, the Hubs nearby chuckled also. I'm exerting a tremendous amount of physical energy swimming because I don't have all the movements synchronized. I'm aware of how silly I look but that is no longer a big concern. Considering all the sadness in my heart, it was a triumphant moment.

Then the perfunctory ten jumps into the deep end followed. The Hubs sat contentedly on the lounging chair as I began the task. Things were going well but then suddenly, while underwater, fear gripped me. I panicked and I doubted that I had enough air to make it safely to the side. The Hubs was reading a book, he had no idea. It was only after I grabbed the side of the pool that I was able to get his attention. From the poolside, I mouthed, "Hon, I'm struggling. I'm scared. I can't do this. I'm done."

Left to my own defenses, overwhelming grief combined with lack of confidence, I was ready to go home. Hadn't I done enough, felt enough for one day? I didn't see myself as a failure, I just felt like a grand-daughter mourning and that is part of what I am right now.

But the Hubs spurred me on. He said, "I'll go in with you. Come on, let's get back in the water." With that, I returned to the water and not only did ten jumps into the deep end of the pool but I did an extra. The last one was for my grandma. I asked the Hubs to take a picture and yes, I'm crying while making a heart symbol. I will never forget you Grandma. Wherever I am, Grandma, I will carry you with me.

I <3 my grandma

I have no idea how I'm going to press on without one of the most significant people in my life but what choice do I have? Therefore I have to hope. Not in myself but in the power of Christ in me. It's no accident that the Lord chose this summer to be a time of loss and gain. I know the Lord is changing me.

I don't really like this part of the process, it hurts like crud but I hear the voice of my grandma saying, "That's great, Cin! I'm so proud of you!" she would giggle with delight. And I hear the voice of the Author of Life, my Sustainer, the Lifter of my head reminding me that "he who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it in Christ Jesus."

Keep working on doing your own hard things. I am blessed by your prayers and comments.

Wednesday remix - Grandma's touch

2011-08-04T17:37:00.002-04:00

Ten years ago, I wrote this story about my grandma. When I began Wednesday remix, I planned on sharing this story, now seems like the perfect time to revisit this memory...

A common household appliance has found a place in my heart. Until recently, the simple iron was a symbol of a weekly chore. Now it is a treasured memory and with each lift of its handle I am reminded of one of my best friends....a woman I've known ever since I was born, my precious grandma who took care of me when I needed her.

Upon learning that I would have knee surgery, my grandma offered to come and stay with me. She intended to stay about a week but extended her visit when she learned the Hubs had to be out of town. Without hesitation, she cancelled her hair appointment, golf outings and water aerobics to courageously stay in a house with my three OS and me.

Each morning as I hobbled down the stairs, Grandma would arise early with me. "Those little feet running around wake me up," she would smile and say as she made her way to the kitchen.

This rambunctious little girl
became my grandma

Whereas many grandmas enjoy cooking or knitting, Grandma's strength has always been ironing. Maybe growing up during the Depression had something to do with it. Grandma didn't wear fancy clothes and the little she had, needed to last for a long time. As a child, her dresses were bought at a store for 25 cents, discounted because the sun had faded the front. For decades, Grandma used to iron everything, underwear, towels, you name it. Nothing made it into a drawer until it had touched a hot iron.

Our family of five presented her with great opportunity to become reacquainted with that skill. Upon entering my bedroom, Grandma saw an enormous blob of dress shirts sprawled in a tangled mess. On the first day she arrived, within hours, they were all neatly ironed hanging in the closet.

The only thing that Grandma complained
about was her bad knee

With each new batch of laundry, Grandma diligently attacked the wrinkles. While I lay in bed with my leg elevated, steps away from me was Grandma. And there she would stand on her bad knee quietly and faithfully whittling down the crinkled clothes.

With the exception of Hubs' undies, Grandma would iron everything else and put it all into a perfectly pressed pile.

"Don't iron my undies!"

For 11 days, Grandma helped me and we all looked like we had an entirely new wardrobe. She'd never admit it, but it's true, Grandma's touch had transformed us. With just some starch and water, the OS went to school and looked more handsome. For 11 days, the Hubs had variety in his fashions (HA!) as freshly ironed shirts arrived in his closet.

During that time I even found myself feeling better because my clothes received her special treatment. When she returned home, the laundry mountain began growing. The clothes she had so neatly ironed quickly returned to their habitual, wrinkled ways.

Every now and then I'll discover an item she lovingly pressed for me. In the chaos of a drawer, I'll find it. My hands grip the item, I hold it close for a bittersweet moment and my grandma is right here with me again...

I stand at the ironing board. I don't want to re-adjust it to fit my height and I feel her presence, wishing she were here.

Grandmas are often there to iron out problems in our lives. The tiny folds of childhood and the wrinkles of teenage foolishness, grandmas know how to apply the right pressure and get results. With their wisdom and love, grandmas somehow manage to sort out the goodness within each of us.

Doing hard things - laughing

2011-08-03T11:25:00.002-04:00

Later tonight I will do my Wednesday remix. It's a story I wrote about my grandma ten years ago. I had already selected it as something I wanted to share not knowing all this was going to happen...

But since writing is cathartic for me and my heart is straining with pain, I wished to share a tiny bright spot this morning.

Today was the first day of school for two of my OS. Aaron begins his senior year, Ike entered ninth grade. The orange hair, freckle face OS was crestfallen last night as he was trying on some pants for his school uniform. "Do these pants look too big?" he inquired, already knowing the answer.

Since we do not encourage lying, I had no choice but to be completely honest. "Yes," I erupted, then exhaled and released the giggle that had been developing from the moment he had slipped on the pants.

Starting your first day in high school as a freshman with big pants is hardly ideal so with the prospect that all the pants in his wardrobe were similarly sized, Ike went to bed grouchy and nervous.

As you can clearly see, Ike is not a chunky monkey.

This morning, however, the Lord gave Ike (and me) an unexpected blessing. My youngest OS awakened me with good news. "I found a pair of slim pants!" he announced as he hugged me good morning. "I was afraid I was going to have to go to school looking like Chris Farley!" I breathed in the fresh dash of cologne around his neck. My mouth guards were still in place, my sleeping mask attractively matted to my forehead (lovely visual) but none of that prevented me from bursting into laughter! He was right, he did look like Chris Farley and if you know my orange hair, freckle face OS, that's quite a stretch considering he has 0% body fat.

He has right,
he did kind of look like Chris Farley

It felt so nice to laugh because I also know my day will contain sadness. In fact, I was still in bed when I began crying and that's how it's going to be for a while, I guess. Later today, my sister will place the phone up to my grandma's ear for me to speak to her. She is now in hospice. I do not expect to have a back and forth conversation with my beloved grandma and it's quite possibly the final time I will say something to her this side of heaven.

The ancient truths found in the chapter three of the book of Ecclesiastes still possess wisdom.

"For everything there is a season,

and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to seek, and a time to lose

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak..."

Aaron, my grandma and I at one of Isaac's basketball games.
It was like an NBA game for her!

As many of you know, grief is a gritty process. This morning, however; I praise the Lord for the moments where I can feel His presence breaking through my sorrow. Today my joy came from a child named Isaac whose name means laughter.

Doing hard things - out of love

2011-08-01T23:00:00.005-04:00

This is for you, dear grandma

We like each other...a lot

After Friday's heartbreaking news, I've been afraid to return to the pool. Though I may look the same, my sentiments in almost every regard are altered. My grandma will not be getting better this side of heaven. I am not sure what to do. So I cry, I think about crying, I dry my face after crying and repeat. Feelings of overwhelming sorrow are mixed with tremendous gratefulness. My grandma has been in my life for nearly half a century, that is such a blessing. But gosh, I'm going to miss her. I will miss everything about her. Even the things that were less than perfect, she meant the world to me.

If only I could stay in that moment

My OS start school on Wednesday. Prior to the phone call about my grandma; days before, in fact, tears flowed thinking about them not being home. Now the impending loss of my grandmother looms near. I wanted to herald this summer as one of incredible memories. Difficulties pervade on where to put this latest news into my epic summer scenery.

Yet despite my heartache, the Hubs and I went to the pool. My spunky, kick-in-the-pants grandma would want this.

So to honor her, I plunged into the water. As I came up for air, tears poured into my swim goggles which was a new experience...The salty pool water matched my salty tears. I had to empty the goggles out several times. The Hubs held me tight as I fell into his arms. I'm pretty sure I was the only person weeping in the water.

As I see it, I have three options:
1. quit = give up (my grandma has always been a spitfire)
2. stagnate = no more progress (my grandma moved forward despite great losses)
or
3. keep at it = trust in the Lord (my grandma would be proud of me)

A force, greater than myself (which I know to be my Savior), allowed me to do another thing today. Previously, as my orange hair, freckle face OS informed me, I frolicked off the diving board. But with the Hubs' encouragement, I pushed myself off the surface and into the air with greater vigor. And I touched the bottom of the nine foot pool. That was also a first. And then, of course, I cried.

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement. Keep doing your own Hard Things, dear friends, even when it hurts.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

Psalm 56:3

Doing hard things - an unexpected immensely hard thing

2011-07-29T18:15:00.004-04:00

Today was the first day I could return to the pool following elbow surgery. I awoke this morning and went straight from pajamas to bathing suit. Without too much grumbling, so did my orange hair, freckle face OS. Ike has become a trusty companion through this process even though he would drop me like a hot potato if one of his buddies wanted to hang out. I am blessed by his encouragement and company.

Today was also the first day I jumped into the pool and my bottom touched the bottom of the pool. Ike demonstrated the technique and instead of mulling it over and fretting, I released caution to the wind and capered into the water. The next thing I knew my "biscuit" made contact with the pool floor. It was rather exciting, another accomplishment. Everything is new to me, I am treasuring each effort, taking nothing for granted.

I also did my ceremonious ten jumps into the deep end of the pool. A trace of fear wafted over me and I gulped a far amount of salty water. For an instant, my land tortoise ways were calling me back but I persevered.

See that crazy lady in the middle?
That's my grandma doing YMCA!

Being in the water, using my right arm, hoisting myself back to the poolside reassured me I was where I needed to be. I was doing my Hard Thing and I was pleased to get back to conquering this fear.

One of my first days as a grand-daughter,
it felt good right from the start.

But a greater fear waited me at home. It was one that I wasn't expecting but it has always loomed in the back of my mind. A message was waiting on my voicemail. It was from my sister and I immediately called her back to learn that our grandma is seriously ill. She was found in her apartment on the floor, motionless and disoriented. Grandma was quickly transported to the hospital. My precious grandma, one of my dearest friends, has dementia and lately her mental status has been deteriorating. She has also had a seizure while in the hospital. They are transporting her to another hospital, she is heavily sedated and although no one is saying she cannot recover as of yet, things are not looking promising.

We took Grams to see The Sound of Music,
I loved hearing her humming the tunes.

For many years, I have been known as Cindy, a wife, mom, sister, aunt, niece, daughter, writer, friend and Christ-believer. For nearly half a century, I've also been Cindy, the non-swimmer who still had her grandma. I am ready to discard only one of these descriptions. The Lord knows I want to lose the non-swimmer label. It is the only description that has weighed me down. All the others lift me up and I have worn "Grand-daughter" as a badge of honor and joy. I am trusting in Him, whose ways are perfect but the tears still fall. My beloved grandma should not linger and suffer, but selfishly I wonder, what am I going to do? Suddenly swimming became easier than this...

Wednesday remix - part two, from the middle OS

2011-07-28T09:37:00.006-04:00

My middle OS Aaron is at it again. My arm is no longer confined to a cast and a sling but I relinquish my blog to him so he can continue exaggerating his dolorous journey to the Quilting Symposium. Here is part two which means that yes, there will be a part three. I had no idea he had this much teenage angst!

Mom and I not at the symposium

Fully aware that the decision I had made could possibly claim my life, I rode in the car with my Grandma and very excited mother. We pulled into Peace College and stepped out of the car. My heart pounded, vision blurred, muscles tightened and senses heightened. I became completely conscious of my surroundings as we walked to the symposium.

I spot a tent pavilion on my twelve o'clock with two ladies guiding us toward the quilts, another middle-aged lady on my nine also approaching the tent, a lady with a small purse on my four o'clock sitting on a bench, a lady on my three o'clock heading to the symposium, a lady, a lady, a lady, a lady. THEY WERE ALL LADIES! Was I the only male in attendance? Was I the only person under 40 interested in…I mean NOT interested in quilting? I now stood in a desert, devoid of all teenagers, males and attractive young girls.

Where had I to turn? I was completely on my own. I carried my mom’s backpack with all her essential quilt symposium tools and followed her and my grandma to the front desk. The ladies there gave us sheets of paper with all of the vendors in attendance listed.

Quilty things

“If you get all of the vendors to sign this, you can enter it in for a raffle prize afterwards.”

“Thanks so much.” I wanted that raffle prize badly, but did not have the dignity...or lack of dignity to go to the vendors and ask their signature for my chance at a quilting prize.

Then the inevitable happened. And I knew it would happen. My mom looked at me, gave me her purse, and said, “I have to go to the bathroom. Stay here. Come on, Mom.”

“You want me to just stay here?”

“Yeah, wait for me and your grandma.”

This was where the nightmare began. In the midst of a tornado of frenzied quilters, my mom left me alone to go to the bathroom. I thought she loved me, now she just leaves me here to wither away in my own dark corner of the Quilting Symposium.

Someone remind me, what am I doing here???

"I hope they’re ok. I hope I’m ok." With every passing second, I drew nearer and nearer to my impending doom. If it seems like I’m exaggerating, (and those of you who know me know I am very careful on never being too dramatic) I’m not. I felt sure they had left me at the symposium. All hopes of a safe return home were now smashed. Goodbye world. Goodbye friends, guitars, graduation, college.

One of these things just doesn't belong here!

“There you are. I’ve been just standing here forever.”

“Oh, haha, people probably thought you were a little cutie.” Thanks, Mom.

We entered the venue starting with a wall of aprons, of which my favorite was the pastel orange and purple.

The mother of all machines

Then to giant long arm sewing machine. This was the T-Rex of all sewing machines. The Queen of the quilters. This thing could embroider the southern border of the U.S. We continued on with empty bladders and frenzied nerves.

(to be continued...)

Guest blogger - from the middle OS!

2011-07-23T13:15:00.003-04:00

"What am I doing here?"

i'm typing with one finger on my left arm...it's slow going so i enlisted the help of my middle OS to write this post. it appears that aaron has his own version of doing hard things! :) now here's aaron!

my wonderful mom

Seeing that my mom is at this moment, incapable of typing and, more importantly, incapable of posting embarrassing stories of my family and me on the Internet, I will take the opportunity to tell you a story about my family, particularly my mom and me, through my eyes.

I am the middle OS, Aaron, and despite all of the stories that you may have read about me, I do think I’m a pretty good son. I mean, I’m taking over the blogging responsibilities for my mother while she sits handicapped with her arm in a sling. If that’s not care, devotion, and sacrifice, I don’t know what is. So, I will tell you now, the purpose of this blog post is to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am a good son. (I would also like to add that I am the best-looking, smartest, and strongest son, However, this hardly needs to be proven in a blog post.)

Last month, my mom came to me with a question, just one question that presented one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make in my life. She walked into my room and asked,

“Do you wanna go to the Quilt

Symposium with me next week?”

My first and last time using a free arm quilting machine

I felt like a deer in the headlights, frozen, unable to respond. Being mildly asthmatic, my breath shortened.

"where is my inhaler???"

My eyes shot around the room for my red inhaler. These were the questions that tortured my mind, telling me that if I left home now, and never married, I could be free from this wasteland of lose-lose situations. I could reply with a quick “Naaah” and give a bad excuse why I couldn’t attend. I wouldn’t have to worry about spending the day in a symposium (whatever that is) of quilters, whom I felt sure, if I went, would kill me, wrap in a quilt and leave on the side of the road; but, my mom would be hurt and angry that I didn’t want to spend the day with her. On the other hand, I could sound a cheerful “Sure” and my mom would be happy and excited to go to the Quilt Symposium with me, but I would surely die and spend the last minutes of my short life listening to an explanation of what a free arm sewing machine is and telling which quilt was my favorite and why.

Still scaling the options to this agonizing selection, all I could respond was a painfully pensive, “Uhhh...ya…nu...wha…When is it?” as if I needed to check my schedule. This was before I had a summer job and spent my days reading, playing my guitar, mowing the occasional lawn, and watching movies.

My grandma and me at the "symposium."
We haven't quilted anything in our lives.

My schedule was open. At this point, I need to remind you of the purpose of this post: I am a good son. I do not wish you to think that I could not have formulated an excuse to save me from the bloodthirsty quilting monsters, for that would imply that if I said agreed to go, it would not have been out of the sacrificial, devoted, and encouraging love I have for my mother. I’m clever enough to have thought of something.

“Friday,” she replied hopefully.

My mind, defrosted by the torching decision looming over me, remembered, in the midst of all the fearful quilters and patterns and sewing machines that danced in my brain, all the things my mom does for me. “Sure, Mom, I’ll go.”

Wow! Did you hear that? He said yes! He’s gonna go to the Quilt Symposium! What a great, kind, loving, caring, sweet, sensitive, thoughtful, ambivalent, agreeable, self-sacrificing and loving son he is.

the hottest guy at the symposium...for real

I know, that was my reaction too when I heard it. He really is a great son.

(to be continued...)

Wednesday remix - speedos

2011-07-20T21:46:00.015-04:00

Since I'm taking a little break to recover from elbow surgery,

here is a cheery summertime post!

Doing hard things - a little easier

2011-07-19T19:10:00.001-04:00

I'm bringing sunglasses, readers and
swimming goggles to the pool and I don't even care!

With at least a week-long swimming hiatus before me, I decided to take advantage of a beautiful day by heading to the pool.

I wrote this on the sand in Mexico

A few months ago, I sat among the women in my writers' group and we were given a writing exercise about the summer. Each of us went around the room and shared our stories, the vision we had for the upcoming season. When it was my turn, I pushed back the tears when I read my entry. For me, sharing it was raw and vulnerable as I had penned a summer that seemed impossible and unattainable.

But a few weeks later, with new found courage, I started to try (again) to swim.

I feel like a kid!

The hallmark of today was that though the Hubs and the OS all had other things to do, I went to the pool. By myself. Without resentment or angry muttering, I walked there, set down my belongings and I strapped on my trusty swim goggles. With one step off the edge, I jumped into the deep end of the pool. WOW! By myself! And I swam to the other side with no incident. The lifeguard glanced my way but remained on her perch. I bet she thought I did this all the time. ;)

I also hopped off the diving board a few times. These activities are slowly becoming routine which is just remarkable to me. With each jump, plop or frolic into water, my confidence increases.

It is wonderful to no longer be tethered
to the lounging chair.

When I see the little kids enjoying water, seemingly carefree, the pangs of regret and shame are not overtaking me. Bless their hearts, they have no idea that aquatically speaking, we are the same age! I am less of an outsider and don't look like a fish out of water. (How could I resist?) I'm like a middle-age mama minnow now.

A more muscular and manly
version of well, me ;)

This might explain why I then attempted another feat. After I jumped into the nine foot deep water, instead of my usual routine of clinging to the edge immediately following, somehow I turned my body and for about the same time that it is taking you to read this sentence, I, yes, Cindy, former land tortoise, embodied the Wikipedia definition of this commonly practiced aquatic activity.

May I say that remaining afloat in the water without use of any buoyancy aid and using kicking motions and hand motions is HARD?! With more practice, I hope to master this skill.

Elegant dog paddling

I will be checking my blog, email and facebook as I heal from this out-patient surgery and love hearing from you. Aside from elbow surgery, the summer I longed for, is coming true. Keep doing your own version of Hard Things, friends.

Wednesday remix - no more land tortoises

2011-07-14T22:47:00.006-04:00

So sorry for the Wednesday remix delay. I knew what I wanted to post and it was a matter of scanning the pics, etc. which always takes longer than usual.

Can you say ouch? I can.

On a side note, I'm having elbow surgery on Wednesday. It's not major surgery but it might delay some posting since it's my right arm, my "writing arm." Time permitting, I might create some advance posts in the interim.

But back to the remix... Tonight I offer my post in honor of my oldest OS who spent two weeks in El Salvador with his bonita and two weeks with the fam this summer. With all that he has accomplished as a young man, Nate has embodied the Romans 8:37 spirit in being "more than a conqueror" in so many ways. By his example, Nathan has shown me how to Do Hard Things. In recognition of our collective swimming accomplishments both past and present, behold my toe-headed boy back in 1995.

Nearly all known floatation devices were employed.

The only kid on the swim team with the works. No shame.

This is sweetest sugar boy I've ever seen in the pool!

There is nothing more precious or inspiring than seeing your child doing something you, yourself cannot do. Replete with floaties, nose plugs, swimming goggles and a noodle, that boy persevered. He didn't worry about how he looked, my OS just wanted to stay alive during the swim meet! Cheering from the pool side, I was crazy proud of him!

As you can see, Nate didn't inherit his daddy's natural love of water. At least for a short while, my OS possessed his mama's land tortoise qualities.

Go Nate, go! You can doey it! He has come a long way as a cadet at West Point since completing survivor swimming his yuk year.

Then in a strange twist of genetics, I believe that this summer, I came to inherit his determination.

Oh and I can barely believe what I'm about to tell you! It's no coincidence that AT THE SAME POOL, I jumped again into the deep end of the pool with even less forethought. And then although lacking any semblance of finesse, I stepped/jumped off the diving board 15 times yesterday. Here's the amazing footage and it's ok if you laugh, just keep it to yourself. Every time I see this video, I feel incredibly embarrassed and joyful. My youngest OS informed me that I "frolicked" off the diving board. Kids these days...

Years separated our victories but we have broken through barriers. Nate was one of my heroes when he was five and will always be as a man, son and Soldier.

Thank you, dear readers for your messages both public and private. Keep doing your own hard things, if I can do it, so can you by the power of the Lord.

Doing hard things - the dilemma and the decision

2011-07-12T11:00:00.002-04:00

Land tortoises aren't especially attractive, are they?

As I navigate into this world of swimming, I am betwixt calling myself a swimmer and a former land tortoise.

Do it? Don't do it? I did it!

Still on the outside to some extent, I keenly observe human aquatic creatures. How you move about in the water, your level of ease, the effortless way you seem to both inhale and exhale while simultaneously kicking your feet and moving your arms in a horizontal position. And your buoyancy. Me likey your buoyancy. I am among you but not quite ready to say I am one of you for fear I might be revealed as an impostor.

The day before going to Playa del Carmen in Mexico, I could be found at the neighborhood pool. I successfully wrangled my orange hair, freckle face OS to join me and as we all know teenage boys LOVE going to the pool with their mamas, right? And if their mamas are learning to swim, well, let's just say Ike was BEYOND words for this adventure...

We arrived at the pool and I informed Ike that I absolutely had to jump into the water seven times because his dad had told me so. Ike was very eager for me to get the task completed but when you have spent most of your life as a land tortoise, it's harder than one thinks especially if one is an impatient, orange hair, freckle face OS.

But I did it.

This is the scene of the incident,
feel the tension!

And then I told Ike what I was going to do next. I was going to jump into the deep end. With a mixture of encouragement and nonchalance, Ike approved. In a flash, I approached the nine foot water and immersed myself into the pool. I repeated this activity several times.

The whistle blew and it became adult swim time. Again I was in the deep end of the water. Everything was going well until I was mistakenly identified as a swimmer.

That ball bobbing in the water...
what was a former land tortoise to do?

A little urchin of a boy who apparently hadn't noticed that although I was in the deep end of the pool, I was still clutching the side, approached me. "Could you get the tennis ball for me?" he asked unaware of the enormity of his question.

I was dumbfounded as I looked and saw a bright yellow tennis ball right in the middle of the water. I wish there was some kind of attractive, water-resistant sign I could have as a reminder that I am NEW at this. You know the kind of sign on top of a car used in driver's ed?

I'd like something along these lines
but cuter, sassier and water-resistant, please.

"Um," I stammered. "I'm not that great of a swimmer and I don't know how to stop in the middle so I can probably get your tennis ball but I'll have to give it to you on the other side." That poor child just wanted his toy not a long explanation. He probably wished he had just waited.

This would also work but in purple and with squiggles.

Without giving him a chance to respond and wanting to look like the heroine, I dramatically inhaled a big glob of air. In a splash (get it, splash?) I swam my way in the deep end, paused momentarily to intercept the tennis ball and returned it to him on the other side as promised.

As it was on the eve of our big vay-kay, I just had to smile to the Lord. I felt Him winking at me from the heavens saying, "We did this." Another challenge met. It was a proud and humorous aquatic event. I guess I'm becoming less of a land tortoise after all. But I do have a lingering question...how do you people stop in the middle?

"Hi, I'm Cindy and I'm a recovering land tortoise."

A terrible picture of me but I love the dents in my
head from the swim goggles. Btw, I don't have buckteeth.

And would you believe that another astonishing thing happened to me on Monday? Another crazy water story I will share forthwith! You bless me, truly you do with every prayer and motivating message!

Doing hard things - the diving board

2011-07-10T22:40:00.007-04:00

I jumped!

Interrupting my scheduled post about swimming to bring you the latest development in achieving aquatic greatness... on Saturday, for the first time in my life, I jumped off the diving board!!!

This journey began in 1985 when the Hubs and I were dating. He told me he would teach me how to swim. There was a pool in the apartment complex where I lived and occasionally we went there. He soon discovered I was a reluctant learner but it was the beginning of my journey to overcome my fear. I knew he was the one for me because he didn't let me drown. He was someone I could trust implicitly.

With great coaxing and reassurance, a few times, I leaped into the deep end of the pool where my boyfriend (now the Hubs) was waiting with open arms.

It was such a significant moment, I decided to express the moment in a painting. My desire was to depict two feet in mid-air, no longer tethered by a sturdy, secure surface (a diving board) and not yet hitting the water. That fraction of a second when one completely trusts carried great symbolism for me.

this diving board has intimidated me for too long

I never finished that painting. I'm not really an artist either so honestly it wasn't great. Last year, after spending decades lugging the picture to new homes only to shove it in a closet, I threw the unfinished painting into the trash. There was no point hanging on to that picture. I possessed a mediocre unfinished drawing depicting a skill I had never accomplished. Who needs another reminder of failure? Um, not me.

"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis???"

Fast forward to July 9, 2011...we went to our neighborhood pool Saturday and the Hubs encouraged me to jump off the diving board. Through my trusty swim goggles, I gave him my best "Whatchoo talkin' bout Willis???" face and hopped out of the pool.

The next thing I knew I was on the diving board plank and a second later, I was in the water. Then I swam to the side of the pool which I did for the first time in my life. I didn't drown or flounder. This was another breakthrough.

"Did I look like a normal person doing that?"

Afterward, on land, I whispered and asked the Hubs, "Be honest with me, did I look like a normal person doing that?" I have pink highlights in my hair and a henna tattoo on my arm yet I completely believed him when he nodded and said yes. I'm married to an awesome man.
My goal is for this to be a normal occurrence. Is it possible for me to fearlessly swim and not think twice about it? I pray, I really do, for the day when I'm as comfortable on a pool slide or diving board (not diving!) as I am in the kitchen. I have no hesitation to try a new recipe and can usually handle a culinary mistake.

Torpor has robbed me of memories, I'm ready as it says in Romans 8:37 to be "more than a conqueror" especially as it pertains to swimming.

I need to do this again and again until it no longer scares me.

I no longer have that unfinished artwork. Instead I have a new canvas. Perhaps I never completed that painting because I was relying on my own strength and not the Lord's. This time it will be better than the original.

Aquatic greatness ;)

And it will be created, dear friends, not with brush strokes but with swimming strokes. I'm making progress. This was an epic event! Thanks again for your encouraging words.