Good Enough

Most mornings, I wake up with the William Tell Overture blaring in my head. I very groggily roll over to look at the time, only to realize that, oh no!, I am late again! and it begins with the distant rumble of horses galloping... Sure, there are days when I can get this stubborn body out of bed early, but it does not happen often. And it seems that no matter what I do to make things organized for the next day, I'm still on the edge of acting just a little bit like a psychopath!

The night before, I get the coffee ready, make the lunch(es)--(I make Mike's too if I'm feeling extremely loving and generous, wink), and have a general tidiness in our house. However, every morning as the kids are running out the door with their backpacks flying behind them shoving toast in their mouths, the house has been turned upside down. There is underwear on the floor, dirty dishes, blankets strewn about (why???) and, well, it's chaos, folks. I don't know how else to say it.

There is no reason for my sharing this other than to let you in on a little secret (actually, it's no secret at all): I am disorganized and very imperfect. I tell you with no hesitation that I do not have it all together. I am the mom who is on the phone with my girlfriends at 7:15 saying, "Oh my gosh, are the kids supposed to wear their uniforms or dress down today???". There is a general sense of cluelessness in our house, with the exception of Cindy-Lou Who (5) who tries to keep mom and dad in the know (thank God for this sweet treasure).

But I do try...really hard. My intentions are good. And today, that is good enough. I am perfectly content with my imperfection.

“My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes and my talents and I lay them both at his feet.” -Gandhi

A Time to Dance

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 plant, and a time to pluck up
what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep; and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek and a time to lose;

a time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Today, my Aunt Eileen and I buried my grandma. She has been gone for over a year now and my aunt has had her ashes in an urn at her house. We finally felt it was time to lay her down to rest. It was a beautiful fall day, full of autumn breezes, one that my grandma would have basked in.

My aunt and I shared a lot of great memories and knew that grandma was laughing right along with us. One of the greatest things about her was that when she laughed, her shoulders shook up and down. Even if there was not a sound coming out of her mouth, her body was jiggling.

Right after my biological father died, my grandma and aunt went to a group meeting that they were told would help them cope with their loss. The group began by going around and making introductions. The first person they came to said, "My name is _____ and I have terrible anxiety. I can't even go to the grocery store without having a panic attack". The second person, "My name is _____ and I break out in to cold sweats when I leave the house". As the introductions continued, my grandma and aunt realized they were in a group for people who suffer from agoraphobia. My aunt remembers that out of the corner of her eye, she saw my grandma's shoulders start to shake up and down uncontrollably.

Even in the midst of unbearable pain, there is reason for laughter. We have certainly grieved, but today we celebrated and did so with a smile.

Easy Chicken Parmesan

Just a recipe for you to try out. Super easy and very enjoyable. I generally use my homemade spaghetti sauce with this, but I've also grabbed a jar of Bertoli and that works nicely also. Enjoy!http://recipes.epicurean.com/recipe/854/easy-chicken-parmesan.html

Drink Deeply

I went for a walk along a stone path lined with Silver Maples and Evergreens on one side and a gently flowing pond on the other. Although the water was rather murky, the sound of it was lulling and inviting. So inviting, in fact, that one of the trees had stretched one of its limbs over the entire path in an enormous arch and then dipped down in to the water. It reminded me of a rainbow or the delicate arm of a ballerina poised just so. And it made me wonder if there are some living things that thirst for water more than others. While all of the other trees were content to get their nourishment down at the roots, here was this one that struggled to be immersed at both ends.

I think many of us are like that tree, thirsting to experience life in a deep and meaningful way. We don't accept status quo and we're not content with just enough. We hunger for more. Sometimes I think this desire is my best asset and my heaviest cross. And yet, I believe that in this search for deeper fulfillment, we experience a greater depth in our relationships with others and with God. Perhaps we cry a little more, but I believe we love a little deeper as well.

I am greedy when it comes to what I want out of life. I want it all. I want to love my kids and my husband with an incomparable love. That is not saying that I always succeed, but that is my desire. I want to take chances and come out stronger on the other side. I want to fill the lives of those around me with magic. Sometimes I fill their life with griping and boo-hooing, but I'm working on it. And at the end of the day, I want to be content knowing that I have done my best.

Jump in with both feet! Do a somersault while you're at it. Get soaking wet with the richness of life. You may get a little muddy, but my guess is it will be well worth it.

Discovering the Extraordinary in the Ordinary

My life couldn't be any more ordinary. I am a stay at home mom with three kids. I live in a modest home with a husband who works hard to support our family.

Many times, I will think to myself, "When I am done with the cooking, cleaning, homework, packing lunches, etc., I will be able to do something of importance". And then I realize, these are not interruptions. This is the stuff that everyday is made of and it is only what we make of it. If I view my vocation as a chore, it will certainly be one. But if I do my best to view it as a blessing, a way to exercise my creativity, an opportunity to make our home burst with life and joy, it will be all of those things. As Frederick Bailes so eloquently stated, "Man’s power of choice enables him to think like an angel or a devil, a king or a slave. Whatever he chooses, mind will create and manifest".

I would be lying if I told you I wasn't in my pajamas right now and I'm getting ready to throw in a load of laundry. Then I will do my dishes and try to get some organizational stuff done. Things couldn't be more ordinary. But my power of choice and mindset has the ability to transform my day in to something magical.

Share with me about this. I am curious to know your thoughts and suggestions on pulling yourself out of that place where life becomes laborious. Let's make this ordinary day extraordinary!

European-style Cooking

For years I've tried to get more organized when it comes to my grocery list. I have tried to make one or two week meal plans in an effort to frequent the grocery stores less-frequently. ;-) I have tried switching up my shopping days. It sounds trite and maybe a little OCD, but when you have three kids, it's not that easy to pick-up and pop-in to the store.

Since Cindly-Lou Who (5) and Wonderboy (7) have started school, I have found that the Italian approach to grocery shopping and meal planning works best in our house. That is: "It's 11 a.m., hmmm...what should we have for dinner tonight?". And then, we proceed to the store to purchase said items. Of course, I look to see what I have at home first and then go from there. But when I was making the one/two week meal plans, a lot of times I just wouldn't feel like making that basil chicken when Thursday rolled around. And now that Dynamite (2) is the only one at home in the morning, it is easy for us to pick-up and pop-in. Not only is less food going to waste, but I am really enjoying meal time more! If I've had a rough day, I pull something out of the freezer.

When I stayed in Italy for a few months, we would literally go to the market each day by foot or bike and pick up the ingredients for that night's meal. (On a bike-worthy day, I will take Dynamite in the bike trailer).

Doing this slows things down, makes it less about the finished product and more about enjoying pulling it all together. The meal is made from fresh ingredients and it gives you an opportunity to tap in to those creative juices that might be flowing.

I share this in hopes that it may help some struggling moms. I know this is not a good fit for everyone (it wasn't for me last year!), but it may be for some. Happy cooking!

Last night, I went to bed thinking, "Tomorrow will be a better day." Today, I woke up thinking, "Ugh, I still feel awful."

Most of you know that I've been taking prednisone for my eczema. Between that and the onset of shorter days (less sunlight), I've been feeling a little gloomy. Okay, that's a euphamism. I've been feeling like burying my head in a pillow and bawling my eyes out. There is no logical reason for this, and as much as I tell myself that, I still feel blue.

So today, I am going to do an experiment. I feel like staying in my pajamas and letting Dynamite watch Sesame Street, but instead, I am going to "rally," as my Sourpatch friend says. I am going to get dressed and head out, enjoy the sunshine. Mind over matter. I'm going to find a great recipe for dinner and do a load of laundry (with some cherry blossom fabric softener).

I will let you all know how it goes.
"Energy and persistence conquer all things." Benjamin Franklin

Will You Be My Friend? Check Yes or No

I feel compelled to write about friendship today. I have to preface this by sharing with you that I have some of the greatest friends that a person could have. My friends make me feel whole, grounded, secure, loved. I sometimes feel like a sixteen year old with the amount of precedence I give my friendships. But friends are important.

As a kid, we moved around a lot. I had to say goodbye on more than one occasion. In a certain respect, I think that gave me a deeper appreciation for relationships in my life; yes, people come and go, but some don't. Some are life-long companions.

Last week, I wrote in my blog about how I ate a box of Sourpatch Kids and there were no stinkin' red ones. The next morning, I am dropping off Cindy-Lou Who at kindergarten and my dear friend hands me a king size box of Sourpatch kids and says, "I hope there are some red ones in here." (Much to my delight, there were eight, not that I was counting).

A couple of months ago, all of the kids were sick. Another dear friend shows up on my doorstep with pedialyte and "sick snacks" in hand. What a thoughtful gesture! And one that meant so much to me.

I could go on and on, but I will let it suffice to say that friendships are important. They are revitalizing (at least, they should be). And they teach us that it is just as much about the other person as it is about ourselves (how often do we get stuck in the quagmire of our everyday lives?).

I will end with a quote just shared with me today by Sourpatch friend mentioned above:

"In friendship, we find nothing false or insincere; everything is straightforward and springs from the heart." - Cicero

Cashew Chicken Curry

Right now, my house is pulsing with the delicious smells of cumin and curry. I wanted to share this recipe with all of you because it is one of our favorites. You can't go wrong with this! Serve it over basmati and with parathas (which you can buy at your local Indian grocer). It is a little involved to make if you're not used to spending too much time on a recipe. I will tell you, however, that it is well worth it and I generally double the recipe so that I can freeze some (it keeps perfectly).
http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Chicken-Curry-with-Cashews-231358

Live Well

I heard a beautiful story on the radio yesterday as I was listening to Father John Ricardo on AM 990:

Mother Theresa had taken in a man who was very near death, a matter of hours. She stayed with him whispering gently over and over, "You are about to meet Jesus". Finally, just before the man died, he looked at her and said, "Is this Jesus anything like you?". What a beautiful story and example of how we are called to be like Christ to those in need.

Okay, but how do I do that in my life? I am not a nun in Calcutta. I have three kids to take care of and a house to maintain. If you are a perfectionist like me, you might think, "Wow, I could never measure up to that ideal". But I am not called to that ideal. I am called to be a wife and mother, to meet the needs of my family the best I can, and to simply be present to the everyday tasks at hand.

Right now, that task is distracting my two-year old who is on a mission to rip open a bag of cheesy popcorn...

So today, whether you are ministering to those in hospital beds, working at a desk or wiping butts for a living (aka: mom), do it well. And do it with the knowledge that we are all called to very different things, none of which are insignificant.

The Joy of Sneezing

Today marks the one year anniversary of my Grandma Graham's (and dear friend's) passing on from this world and in to a place far greater.

My grandma was an extraordinary woman. She always encouraged me in my love of writing and of music, two things that bring such joy to me. I examine my life today and know that it would not be nearly as fulfilled had it not been for her strong influence.

I watched my grandma's body slowly be taken over by Parkinson's Disease. It was over a course of some twenty plus years, but the amazing thing was that her mind stayed extremely sharp until perhaps the last couple of months.

As I watched her shaking hand try to get her fork up to her mouth, I thought how miserable her life must be. She couldn't button up her shirts or her bras anymore and no more necklaces with the little clasps that she loved. She was stuck inside now and needed someone nearby almost twenty-four/seven. In the midst of all my feeling sorry for her, I happened to sneeze. My grandma looked at me with a dreamy smile and asked, "Don't you just love to sneeze? I've never understood those people who try to hold their sneezes in; it's really fun to sneeze". And that's when I realized, the human spirit can lose all things, but if they let go of their sense of joy and gratitude, life becomes toilsome. My grandma held on to that truth with trembling hands.

Today I remember not her infirmities, but her strength and dignity.

I hope your day is full of the joy of sneezing and all of life's other little wonders.

Just one of those days

Today, I am feeling rather slothful. I want to lie on the couch and eat fattening foods while I watch HGTV. It was just one of those days where I couldn't get motivated.

I did, however, go on a bike ride to the bank with Graham in tow...and then I realized from the big sign on the window that it was, in fact, Columbus Day. As a side note, the tellers at the bank are very friendly when I go through the drive-thru on my bicycle.

After dinner, I ate the kids' sour patch kids that I told them they couldn't have because it would give them cavities (don't feel too sorry for them; they didn't eat their dinner, but I did eat mine...and they were asleep by this time). But there were no red ones! Only yellow and green. That's when I knew it was just time to throw in the towel and call it a day.

Tomorrow: a day full of new adventures...

Good night, everyone.

Becoming Whole

I am a sinner. I fall short in so many ways. And yet, I know that there is good within me. As John Steinbeck says in East of Eden of one of his characters, "[He] is packed to the top with good and evil". When I read that phrase, it stirred something deep inside of me. There is a literary term that also captures this juxtaposition of light and dark, called chiaroscuro.

As children, we are taught that there are good people and there are bad people. But what of the good people that make bad choices? And is there not a drop of good in those people locked away in prisons? I believe that there is. Debbie Ford, author and self-help guru has some fascinating things to say about this in her book, "The Dark Side of the Light Chasers".

We lead ourselves in to a very precarious place when we think of ourselves as fully one or the other. We are both...striving ultimately to rid ourselves of sin, but to know that we are loved "yet when we [are]sinners".

Why Less is More...

Today, I went on a field trip with my kindergarten-aged daughter to the cider mill. I must say that this is one of my favorite trips of the entire year. I love the smell of apples and donuts just made. If they could take that smell and truly capture it in a Yankee Candle (I know they have great scents, but nothing compares to the real deal), I would put them out of business.

But the real reason why I am writing is because of a fascinating bit of information I heard today: a worker bee produces one twelfth of a teaspoon of honey in his lifetime. One twelfth. In an entire lifetime. I'm sure you've heard all of the old adages like, "Oh, aren't you a busy bee?". Who in the heck cares if they are busy if they don't really accomplish anything? Or do they?

They are, in fact, productive. And what they produce is perfect in its own rite. It is pure and simple. We're thinking quality here, not quantity.

It is inherent to the bee to make honey. The queen bee doesn't invite the worker bee over and say, "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna make some honey and bust your @#!*% for peanuts...okay, forget the peanuts, how about some pollen?". No. Work is in the bee's DNA. The bee was made to work, to create, and to do something of value.

I, too, was made to do these things. But I think my standards may be too high. I want to move mountains each and every day. I have a hundred and one things to do and I want to do them all perfectly...

But the life and determination of the bee sobers me. It inspires me to create something raw, beautiful, unblemished. And this something doesn't have to be over the top, but it does have to be genuine. Even if it is the very smallest feat, it need be honest. If it is a gesture, let it come from my core. If it is a touch, let it be deliberate and meaningful. If I produce something bursting with purity that equates to the bee's one twelfth of a teaspoon...well, I will take a deep breath and congratulate myself for a job well done.