Lovin’ these cool, crisp, mountain mornings. Ah, fall is in the air. Once the kiddos are on the bus, I shall get cracking on another batch of apples. Crockpot applesauce today and then apple pie filling in a jar later today. Then school work, housecleaning, work, and whatever else needs to be done around here (never a lack of that!). I don’t have any classes today at UNCA so that’s a nice little break.
Just wanted to share with you all one of my friend’s work. She does the most fun and creative hand-painted wood work. You can see her products on her etsy site at: http://www.etsy.com/shop/urastarhouse
She does custom families, wedding cake toppers, decorative folk and more. She lives, works and plays right here in Asheville. It’s so wonderful to see artists being able to work from home, use their creative talents and enjoy life. I strongly recommend supporting her and her growing business!
What has happened to our sense of community? Our sense of neighbor helping neighbor? For hundreds and thousands of years, that is how our societies worked. And it worked well. If our neighbor needed help harvesting their crops, the people in his/her community didn’t think twice about lending a hand. Young and old turned out to pitch in. If a barn needed raising, if someone was ill, if someone was in need, those closest to you came to your aid. Why? Because by helping your loved ones, by assisting your neighbors, you also helped yourself, you strengthened your community.
Over the past 50-100 years, that mindset has gone by the wayside. It’s become all about looking out for number one. It’s all about ME. We’ve distanced ourselves, physically and emotionally from those around us, even our own families. Where there used to be the family homestead, now families are spread so far and wide from each other that if they see each other once a year, it’s a miracle. Sure, there is the internet, skype, text messaging, telephones, but that human, face to face touch is much too often pushed aside. We don’t have time to sit down together and visit. Instead we pop off a quick text message and feel like we’ve done our duty of keeping in touch. There’s no more welcome wagon welcoming new people into our neighborhoods. Someone new moves in next door and we barely greet them or introduce ourselves. Don’t want to get too close. We wouldn’t bother with asking to borrow a cup of sugar from the lady next door. Just hop in the car and run to the store. Much easier than walking a few steps over. There’s something wrong with that picture.
We do not know what is going in the lives of our neighbors, and even more sadly, we barely know what is happening in the lives of our parents or siblings or children who live hundreds of miles away. Oh, we talk to them now and then, but do we really know the whole story? We don’t know who needs what. And today, the question is, even if we did know that our family or neighbor needed some help with something, would we actually help them? Or would that interfere with our lives too much and so we would simply ignore the need?
What worked for generation upon generation in the past could still work today if we would just get back to those basic things of caring for and about our community. Of looking out for one another. Of taking the time to ask our friends and family members what is really going on in their lives, actually listening to their answers and then responding. Because the world has gotten so big and so immediate, we see this huge, massive picture of all the ills in the world, and I think sometimes we just give up and think there is nothing we can do. It’s too much. But it’s not. Not if we start at the home. Start with the small circle. Your family, your neighbors, your community. As we start there and help them get stronger, then we all get stronger. We feel empowered. It starts with that first ripple in the pond and can then branch out from there. We need to embrace those around us, lend a willing and helping hand, reach out to those in need. Only then can our community grow and thrive. One day, one person, one family at a time. We must put the unity back in our lives and our communities. We have to return to the basics.
It used to be that this idea was a given. For our grandparents, our parents and even for some of us who are a bit older. Of course we all sat down together for dinner. What else were we supposed to do? Where else would we be? We probably did not realize that that time together was part of glue that held our families, our family life together. It was simply something we did every night after everyone was home from school and work. It was part of our daily lives. A time to share and break bread and reflect, together, on the things that had taken place in each of our days.
Sadly, nowadays, this is not a given. And of all times when this tradition should be vitally important, it is often ignored. In this age of techology, when we communicate so often through technology, be it cell phones, emails, social networking websites, etc., human, face to face, eye to eye contact is not experienced. But we are social creatures. We need, desire and crave that human touch. Desire to look into someone else’s eyes and see their soul reflected there. It’s all well and good to express your feelings and talk about your day’s happenings in a quick post on Facebook or what have you, but let’s be honest, are we completely honest in those posts? Do we really want to all those people our most intimate and private thoughts and feelings? I don’t think we do. And even if we do, something, by the very nature of such communication, gets lost in the translation. A smily face 
cannot possibly express true, unabashed joy. In the same way, a sad face doesn’t express the true depth and breadth of sadness. Is it just a little ouch or is it gut wrenching sobs?
And who better to share these most honest feelings with than with the people who matter most to you? Your family. Whether it’s gathering around the dining room table, sitting on a blanket having a picnic, or what have you, the mere act of sitting down with each other, passing the potatoes and the salt and pepper, breaking bread can be a healing part of our long, often arduous day. We can let our hair down, smile across the table at our spouse or children, refortify our beings-both physically and emotionally by simply sharing that little half an hour together. (A key point here is to do so without distractions such as a television or the interruption of phone calls-we turn our phones off during our dinner time.) This is a time to focus on one another, on our family, to let each other know that the other people are more important to us than other things that can demand our attention.
One of my dearest friends told me a long time ago that one of the things that her grown children always talked about when they got together later in life was how important that family dinner was to them in their memories. They recalled how no matter how crazy their day had been, they knew that at dinner time, they would all gather and there was someone there who cared and would listen to them. Those are the types of things I hope my children remember most.
So often, we get caught in with thinking that what will matter most to our children when they are grown up and on their own will be their memories of material things we were able to give them. But when you think back on your childhood, do you remember what you got for your 12th birthday or the times you and your family were just hanging out, being together? Those happy and warm memories. They are the ones that fill you with those warm, fuzzy feelings of yesterday.
We all need a time in our day to reconnect with other people. Life can get crazy busy, schedules often get so heavy we don’t know how to find, but let’s try to remember how important those face to face connections are, for ourselves as well as the loved ones in our lives, and make time to, on a more frequent basis, to sit down at the family dinner table together.
One Sunday evening, several weeks ago, I took a walk by myself after having a very challenging emotional day. I was like the Tazmanian devil all day. Unsettled internally; feeling like a total maniac and a horrible mother, etc. Finally around 7:30, I realized I just had to get away from everything. As I was heading over to our favorite walking spot, just down the road, I realized how many times I have said I just need to get away by myself, get away from everything, even if just for a day or two. It hit me all at once that one thing I cannot get away from is myself. Getting away from the other stuff is relatively easy. But how do I get away from the ‘shitty committee’ that screams so loudly in my head? How would I truly relax when the me inside would be there, being its typical hamster, running and running and running in that silly little ball.
As I started walking, the tears were streaming down my face. What had happened? Why couldn’t I be, why wasn’t I that person I had always so wanted to be? Why was I screaming at my beautiful, precious children? Children I had fought so hard to have. First there was James. After being told that without very expensive procedures to help me get pregnant (which we couldn’t possibly afford), there was hardly any chance that we would ever have children biologically, we embarked on the road to adoption. Miraculously, within two months, we were holding our precious two day old baby boy in the NICU of the Alaska Native Medical Center. Then there was the unforgettable day when our fertility specialist told us that we were pregnant at long last, and not just with one, but with three miracles. And then, totally out of the blue, came the unexpected miracle of the little Frankster. All five of these incredible gifts, our children, are so precious to me and yet I don’t seem to be able to enjoy them as I want to. To revel in them. Because I’m constantly working, constantly worrying and fretting about money. How to pay the bills. I work my butt off constantly, in front of the computer, day and night. On and on. The pressure, the stress, the worries. All those things take me away from what I really want. And I feel like it’s all my fault.
But, as I walked, I looked around at the beauty of my surroundings; the rolling hills and mountains, the barn swallows chasing the evening insects, the cows grazing lazily in the fields, the red winged blackbirds perched along the fence posts, the colors of the setting sun playing against the backdrop of the clouds that dotted the sky. And it made me stop and think about the fact that all these gifts that are freely given, to me, to enjoy, to soak up, to be a part of. As I crested the top the of the last hill in the first half of my walk, there, in the field were three beautiful white tailed deer. So gorgeous and the perfect bow to the package that was wrapped all around me. Like the icing on the cake. I watched them for a few minutes until they caught my scent in the breeze and bounded off into the safety of the woods.
As I turned to head back the way I came, I took some deep, soul-cleansing breaths and decided I needed to stop lamenting all my failures, stop focusing on the fears and worries, and look at things in a different light. In the light of all that I have been blessed with. In light of those ‘gifts freely given’. And it occurred to me, one of those ah-ha and duh moments, that not just was the beauty of nature a gift freely given, but so was, so are my children, my marriage, my home. Duh! (Yes, some of those gifts were worked for, but they were miracles, gifts in my life, nonetheless.) And here I was, screaming at them, ignoring them, pushing them to the side, treating them in way that was not at all appreciative. I have been taking them for granted. And because of some of the situations that I, myself, had created, I was taking out my frustrations and angst on them. How dare I do that? I realized it was time for that to stop. It was a freeing moment, a freeing realization.
Over the next few days, my thoughts focused on this newly found relief. And the ah-ha’s expanded. Here I am. I have been given these incredible gifts. Gifts I dreamed of all my life. But I wasn’t ‘using’ them. I wasn’t showing them the appreciation and the love and thankfulness they deserved. I was, in sad reality, ignoring them, taking them for granted. Yes, they had been given to me and they were mine but there it ended. I wanted more, I needed more. All these other things were interfering. The fears, the worries, the frustrations, The need to work constantly. To do more. To prove more. And it hit me, how can I have room in my life for more gifts if I haven’t even opened and enjoyed the ones that I already have? There is no room for anything more. It’s like if you get a ton of gifts for Christmas and instead of opening them, you just stack them in a corner, unopened, unused, unloved, unappreciated and leave them there. When the next Christmas rolls around, no one is going to give you anything else because you haven’t even played with what they gave you last year and they see that you have no room for anything more. It’s all well and good to visualize and dream and set goals and put your thoughts out in the universe, but when your gift basket is full, you have to appreciate, not just with lip service of thanks, but also with your actions of gratitude, the gifts in that basket. Share your love with them. Only then can more gifts be added to your basket. But, and this is a big but, you cannot appreciate the gifts you already have just because you want more. You must freely give your love and appreciation, with no expectation of anything back in return. Yes, it’s a no brainer that that which you put out there will come back to you, but you can’t do it for that reason, for that expectation. You do it with true and honest love in your heart. True gratitude. And gratitude, thanks, thanksgiving and appreciation all require action. Not just words.
My life has changed since that walk. Yes, the challenges are still there but internally, my soul, my perspective has shifted. I am cherishing my gifts. Taking time out to play games with the kids, go to the lake with the family, embrace them just because. Is it all roses and peaches? No, but those moments of togetherness, those “Mommy, I love you.” moments, taking time to breath and relish that which is around me make the challenges less daunting and overwhelming. Each day is a new opportunity to enjoy these wonderful gifts I have been so blessed with. A corner has been turned in my life. A new chapter has begun and I am so thankful I turned that page at long last.
Getting ready to head out in a few minutes for our evening family walk. Always such a nice way to calm ourselves and wind down from the day, spending a half hour or so, enjoying each other’s company and relishing the beauty of the landscape aournd us.
Here is the essay I wrote for my application for UNCA admissions this fall. The prompt was Choose a person of historical significance you would like to have dinner with and explain why.
As a woman, wife, student, business owner and mother of five children, I would relish the opportunity to sit down with Gloria Steinem and share a meal. Although she was not the first or only woman to be instrumental in the women’s rights movement, she was certainly very influential.
There are certain things I would like to ask her. The most important question I would pose to her would be, if she could stand where we are now and look back at her push toward women in the workplace, especially, would today’s reality meet up with what her vision was in the 1970’s? Again, being a woman with all the other hats I wear in my life and although I certainly agree that women should have the right, the choice to work, vote, be paid the same as men, etc., I have to wonder if the women who led the women’s movement, expected that while women would achieve most of these rights, they would also, almost always, still retain the responsibilities of running the home, taking care of the children, preparing meals for their families, household chores, etc., even while working at least part-time outside the home. If Ms. Steinem had had a crystal ball to see this vision of the future, I wonder if she would have been more specific in her push, stating that women should not have to shoulder the same responsibilities of the past and also the new ones they were afforded with their new rights.
First day of Spring and what a beautiful day it is. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Birds are singing and building their spring nests. The pansies and geraniums I planted in the pots on the front porch are gorgeous. Supposed to be almost 70 this afternoon. Welcome, Spring. We sure need you after this long, crazy and snow-filled winter. James and Tyler have cleaned out the chicken coop as we need to get ready for some chicks after the raccoons decimated our flock before Christmas. I have donned my apron this morning and have 2 ½ dozen blueberry muffins in the oven. Quiches to follow shortly. Frankie has been playing with his new sidewalk chalk in the driveway and Meghan, Topher and TJ are at their respective classes at UNCA for Super Saturdays.
Yesterday was another gorgeous day. Frankie and I met with a tax client then we had lunch on the sidewalk at Clingman Café. Kitty joined us as we enjoyed our lunches and sat in the sun. She’s a sidewalk café dog! Love it. After that we went to the French Broad River park for a half hour walk. They have a doggie park there, too, so we let Kitty play. She is so NOT aggressive toward other dogs. She just wanted to be near people and be pet. When the other dogs came to sniff her, she would just roll over. Not an ounce of aggression in her sweet heart. We left there and drove just down the road to Carrier Park so Frankie could play on the playground there for a little while. It was a nice afternoon. Last night was Meghan’s night to go out with me. We headed back to Carrier Park and took another half hour walk. I think half of Asheville’s residents were out there soaking up the inspiring weather. After that we went to India Garden for wonderful curried meal. I love that her tastes are open to the exotic. We had a fun night out, spending mother-daughter time together.
I’m following my plan with the health resolution. Eating well, taking my supplements and getting exercise. The Celexa withdrawal symptoms are easing every day. I am already feeling better about myself and what I am doing to help myself. It will be a step-by-step, day by day, journey and one that will last a lifetime, but I’m ready for that. And I’m not denying myself things. Not cutting out entire food groups. This has to be something I can live with, so eating healthier, smaller portions is going to be a key. That along with daily movement will make a difference. I need to accept and understand that it’s not going to be dramatic, fast weight loss and I need to know, in my heart, that that’s okay. A couple pounds a week must become acceptable to me and I need to not become discouraged when it doesn’t happen overnight, knowing that with each day, I’m becoming healthier and stronger. The scale, the numbers, cannot rule my life. That is such a hurdle for me.
Poor Jennifer. Had to take Shayla to the hospital last night. She is having surgery this morning as they found she has some sort of blockage in her intestines. I stand in honor of Jennifer. How she finds the strength to get through all this, to fight these battles is beyond me. A year and a half ago, on Jennifer’s birthday, little Miss Shay was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She’s come through that; it’s in remission, and now she is hit with whatever this is. It just seems so unfair to me. All that Jenn, Shay and Savannah are going through. The battle rages on. My prayers are that the opposing armies will retreat and leave these beautiful girls alone.
Enough already. Jennifer is my hero. Her strength an inspiration.
Eight years ago today was a gloomy and sad morning for our family, as dad had passed away just after midnight. My step-mother and I were with him as he took his final breath in this life and passed over to the next. As sad as it was to bid farewell, the peace that swept over his face in that final moment was just incredible. He had been suffering in pain for several weeks as we had to stand by and watch, but at that passing moment, you just knew that all that pain was wiped away and he had gone to place of love and painlessness, and joy. I am eternally grateful that I was fortunate enough to be with him at that time. (It was the day before Meghan, Topher and TJ’s 2nd birthday.)
I still miss my dad to this day. Of course, as they say, time has lessened the pain, but there are definitely times when I just wish I could pick up the phone and call him and tell him about something special that has happened in my day that I know he would have loved to hear about. I wish he could have had the chance to get to know the triplets longer and to have met Frankie, and to see James as he has been growing up to be the incredible young man that stands before me today. I wish he had been around to see Joe and I buy this old farmhouse we have been living in now for almost three years. Dad instilled in me the love for old farmhouses! He would have loved it. Of course, he most certainly would have told us that we need to make our garden bigger! But, alas, Dad, that will come in time. I promise. I can almost see dad sitting on the front porch with me, in one of the rocking chairs, with his trusty pipe in his hand, his drivers hat on and his old gardening shoes, telling stories and enjoying his grandchildren and a mild spring day.
To be perfectly honest, the relationship between myself and my father, in my adult years, was often tumultuous. To this day, I still do not understand why it had to be that way. And sadly, I guess I will never have peace with that. We had many ups and downs over those years but the bottom line is that I loved him so deeply it sometimes hurt and still does. He was my hero in my childhood. Protecting me from things that never should have been; taking me fishing; calling me Pawtucket; teaching me my love of family, animals, gardening, nature; guiding me along the way; holding my hand as we walked through the fields in Pennsylvania; reading me Uncle Remus stories-complete with the accent!; cheering me on as Joe and I moved to Alaska (a dream he instilled in me); cheering us on again as we adopted James; trying his best to teach me to slow down and enjoy the stillness of life more (still working on that one, Dad!). And all those things override and calm the storms that at times brewed between us and my love and admiration for my father shine through.
I need to learn to putter a little more in my life. My father had the art of puttering down to a science! He puttered in his gardens. He puttered in the kitchen. He puttered around the house. Pipe in one hand, coffee cup in the other. He enjoyed what was around him. He literally took the time to smell the coffee and the roses. That is a lesson I need to implement in my life more. I am constantly on the run. Everything seems like a MUST get done right now. But in reality, there are many things that can wait till the morrow. There is a balance and in honor of my father, I need to work on that.
I love you, Dad, and I miss your physical presence in my life. I know you are with me in spirit and someday, we will see other again and I want you to read me an Uncle Remus story while we fish on a lake somewhere!
Until then!