One More Attempt

I am a firm believer in, "If at first you don't succeed, try try again." How else do we become proficient at something? We practice. Some people have to practice harder and longer than others since we all learn at different speeds. I watch my son practice his singing, and it seems to come so effortlessly to him, although he assures me that sometimes it is very difficult. My daughter can sit down to the piano and play the most beautiful song, yet it doesn't seem to sound right to her. I will tell her she just needs to practice more. She gives me that "look," and then she proceeds to try again. She will play it over and over until she gets it right, or is at least satisfied with her progress for that day.

What are the things that I do that require more than one attempt to get them right? Well, let's see, shall we? I practice my guitar...not as often as I would like to, or as often as I should, but when I work hard at it, the music comes back to me and fills me up like a warm day. I practice listening...trying hard not to speak till the other person is finished; trying hard not to jump to conclusions, trying hard to make sure that they are heard so that they are sure to hear me. I practice trust...this is a hard one. My trust is not easily earned, and if my trust is given and then betrayed, it rarely is offered again. I practice faith...taking God at his word; believing that He is all around me; believing that he will have a place for me when I leave this world...faith is one of the hardest things of all to learn. Not just in God, but in my family and friends as well. It is hard to have faith that they will always be there for me. It is hard to have faith that they will always love me. There are more, I'm sure...humility, generosity, and of course - love, that I need to practice daily, and will continue to for the rest of my life. How else will I grow as a person? A human being?

We teach our children to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over when things don't go right, don't we? We as parents should remember that as well. Children have it easy...their trust and faith in their parents comes easily when they are young...the listening leaves a lot to be desired though! We can learn much from the innocence of our kids. We must be the examples that they will model their lives after. We must show them that it is OK to be wrong, that it is OK to fail, as long as we learn from our mistakes and try again. There is always one more chance.

I will work every day to become a better listener, more trusting, and to grow in my faith. I will dance like no one is watching, love passionately, sing loudly, and embrace life. And when I screw up (which I will time and again), I will face those moments head-on, and I will try again.

If you are always willing to make one more attempt, you can reach whatever goal you choose. No matter what results you get, the only real failure is when you stop making the effort.
When you are mistaken, you can learn. When you are knocked down, you can get back up.
When you find that you've veered off track, you can correct your direction. When you discover that circumstances have changed, you can make adjustments accordingly.
Eventually, you'll reach the point at which the next attempt you make is the one that will complete the desired accomplishment. What a shame it would be to stop just one effort short of success.
For that next effort will make all the others pay off. Commit yourself to making one more effort, one more attempt, as often as necessary, and anything is within your reach.
Keep making that one more attempt, keep getting back up, and keep moving forward in the direction of your goal, one step after another. And you will surely get there.

Late Nights

It never ceases to amaze me how my mind comes alive late at night. Alive with people, stories, thoughts, and dreams; even more so than when I'm sleeping. Everyone is in bed. The house is quiet, and I have the peacefulness to myself. I love this time of night. It doesn't seem to matter how tired I am. If I can get these few moments of silence to myself, I want to throw myself into them fully and tonight is no exception. I worked late, going in for another 3 hours after my usual 8 during the day. Just earning a little extra cash before the holidays are upon us.

MacKenzie called me at about 10pm, wanting to know when I would be home so that I could tuck her in. She's 12 and she still wants me to tuck her in. :-) When I got home at a little after 10, all the lights were burning in the house. Larry was asleep, Mac was getting ready for bed, and Tyler was showering. It took them all of 15 minutes to settle down, turn out the lights, and drift off, leaving me alone in the solitary light of the computer screen, and the occasional sigh from Lexie my Black Lab in the next room. I'm relaxed now. I'm reflecting on the events of my day; the going away celebration for my dear friend, Jen, who was promoted; the birthday of another co-worker, Pam, which she celebrated by wearing her pink tiara (she turns 55 this weekend); and of course, Boss's Day. Gifts were showered on my boss, Barb, and as always, she was embarrassed...telling us we didn't have to, blah blah blah. I got quite a bit of work completed for a change as there was only one meeting to go to. I'm thinking of goals I'm setting for myself (to be more organized; to finish my degree very soon; to eventually promote out of the position I'm in), and what it is going to take to achieve them. I'm thinking about the physical therapy I will be going through next week to try and work through this pain in my lower back that just seems to be getting worse all the time. One would think that with all of this activity in the gray matter of my being, that I would be too wound up to sleep, too wide awake. Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it.

I look at it as an opportunity to review the events of today, plan for tomorrow, and just be. This is when I have nothing to prove, no one to impress, and no deadline to meet. I get to just be myself and all that I am. I get to dream about what I want out of the rest of my life. I have license to wonder about things I normally wouldn't. If I want to be someone completely different, I can, because this is my time.

Now and then, as the minutes tick by, I'll hear footsteps down the hallway - one of the kids hitting the kitchen for another drink of something, or Larry coming to the top of the stairway to yell to me, "Are you going to bed sometime tonight?" I always laugh to myself when he does that and think, Of course I am. Sleep doesn't come easily to me on nights like this. I would rather just sit here and write rather than lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, with no outlet for the thoughts that are racing through my mind. Unloading those thoughts is the best way to release the tension and put myself in the right frame of mind to give myself up to unconscious dreams.

I wonder about other people out there - do they have this love of the nocturnal in common with me?

What about YOU? Are you an early riser, or a night owl like I am? What do you do when you can't sleep right away? What thoughts and wishes run through your mind, when you are the only one awake, and no one can hear your thoughts but God? Think of this as a safe space; tell me your secrets, and I'll tell you mine.

Saying, "Good-bye"

"Good-bye." We say it to our spouse, children, and/or pet when we leave for work or school, we say it to our co-workers at the end of our workday, we say it to the person on the other end of the phone when the conversation has ended, and sometimes we even say it to a lover when it is time for the relationship to end. The definition of the word goodbye means simply, farewell. When we say, "Farewell," to someone, we are expressing the hope that their travels are safe, and they get to their next destination without incident. For me, "Good-bye," means a change in one's life.

I have two younger brothers, and the youngest, Adam, is the one that I am the closest to. I was 8 years old when "AJ" was born. I thought he was the most precious thing I had ever seen, and i wanted nothing more than to be with him. Mom was great about letting me help dress, feed, bathe, and change him. No wonder we grew up to be good friends as well as brother and sister. As he and I got older, our relationship grew even closer. When I was 16, got a drivers license, a car, and a job, I didn't let those things come between us. Fridays in the summer were days for Adam and me. I would take him to a movie or out to lunch, or sometimes even both. While many of my friends were shunning little brothers and sisters, I loved it when Adam came along with me. Back then, he called me, "Sissy." He followed me around, and I loved it. I played softball then, and Adam would come into the dugout and be our water boy or bat boy - codewords for "mascot." He wore shirts like the team, and "coached" us from the dugout, "Choke up, Sissy!....Right-field hole!" After the game, the "little dirtball" would run the bases, sliding into each one with purpose and intensity, his white-blond hair stained with the dust and dirt of the field, his face darkened by the same, and there was always the grin after sliding into home. He was full of boundless energy, and his smile was catching.

When he was in high school, I was in the process of starting my family. Tyler was a baby then, and we would go and watch Adam play baseball for his high school team. Tyler had a onesie that I fabric painted the colors of Adam's team, and my nephew being only 3 mos. older than Tyler, had one too. We came out and cheered for "Uncle Adam," and his teammates, and Adam loved it. He would hold them both, posing for pictures, kissing each one and beaming.

Adam has grown now into a wonderful man; a loving, Christian father and husband, a responsible member of society, a working man. Yet, he is still my baby brother, and it is hard for me to see him any other way. Somehow, I still feel responsible for him in that big sister sort of way, knowing that should he need me, I would be there for him...and him for me. Adam's wife, is from a little town about 5 hours from here. She misses her family after being away from them for about five years as she and Adam were building a life for their family. The time has come for them to move closer to her family. They have sold their home here, found a new one there, and tomorrow, they will make the drive, children and belongings in tow, to their new home. Last night, we met at Mom's to have dinner together and to say, "Good-bye."

I have had plenty of time to prepare for this. I've known about their impending move for some time now. When I first heard the news, I was upset, and I couldn't understand why they would want to make a move like this. They both had good jobs, the schools, medical care, and cost of living here is pretty decent. I even felt a little betrayed. Yet, the more I thought about it from their point of view, the more accepting I became. Their children need to get to know their mom's side of the family; aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. It isn't like they can't come back to visit or we can't visit them. It isn't Timbuktu for Heaven's sake! So, I talked myself into this move being a good thing for Adam and his family. A way for them to grow in their relationships with the rest of the family, and with each other. I looked at our get-together last night as a going-away party. And then the time came...

We ate Mom's chili, we laughed, we talked (all at once of course). I played with my 3 year old niece who promptly told me, "Cara! I am just about 4!!" A very precocious 4, I might add. I spent much time cuddling my 2 month old nephew, rocking him, talking to him, and getting to see that heart tugging smile of his. We exchanged new pictures of the kids, took more photos with Mom and Dad, my Grandma, and my mother's sisters. Tyler, MacKenzie, and I were the last to leave. I waited until the last possible moment before saying my good-bye. I hugged and kissed my niece, and I asked her if she would call me sometimes. "Of course, Aunt Cara!" was her incredulous reply. My baby nephew was sleeping, oblivious to it all, in his mother's arms and I hugged her and told her that I loved her. Then, Adam...I had promised myself that I would not cry when I said good-bye to my brother, but all the positive self-talk in the world could not have prepared me for the rush of emotion I experienced as I put my arms around him, kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him. The tears came anyway. I hugged him tighter and told him that I would miss him. The word good-bye never passed my lips. I wished them a safe move, and we left.

In retrospect, there are many of things I wish I would have told my brother before he left, but at the same time, our simple parting left the door wide open. He isn't gone forever. He is just living in another part of the state. Still, I am used to having all of my family close by. We kids, always close to Mom. Everyone comes to birthday parties, holiday gatherings and is only a phone call away should trouble arise, or if someone needs someone to laugh with. Now, I kind of feel like an only child. My other brother is off doing his own thing, and we don't hear from him often, if at all. Now with Adam further away, it's just me. I miss them already. I know that in a couple of months, we will see them all again for the holidays. So in the meantime, I will pray for their safety and happiness, I will write them often, keeping them up to date on the goings on back here at home, and I will carry them all in my heart when we are apart from one another.

Good-bye. Au revoir. Slán libh. Valete. Adios.

No matter how it is said, it always means....

Farewell.

"Invisible Mother"

I get tons of email. Well, not "tons," but a lot nonetheless. A lot of it is funny cartoons, videos, pictures, and stories that I cannot help but to forward on to my friends who also enjoy a laugh now and then. Sometimes, I get email forwarded to me that I delete immediately; advertisements, spam, pleas from the Democratic Party to support their "candidate." And then there are the emails that genuinely make me stop and think, make me appreciate my place in the world, and make me feel connected to others in my "situation." I am going to include one of those "stop, think, appreciate, and connect" stories that I received from a friend recently. I hope that it speaks to you in the same way that it spoke to me...

"The Invisible Mother"

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously, not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor,or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? & Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?'; I'm a satellite guide to answer,'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England.
Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied,'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte . I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my daughter to tell the friend she's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want her to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see if we're doing it right.
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

---Wow. That says it all, doesn't it? We as women are very fortunate. We can do one thing that men will never be able to do - be mothers. We all complain about it sometimes; how our children misbehave, don't appreciate us, or that we don't have the freedom to do other things like we did before they came; yet, I believe that inside all of us, we beam with pride at the accomplishment that is motherhood. God willing, our children will grow up to be strong, sane, and productive members of society.

Invisible? Sure. But behind every doctor, lawyer, football player, or dancer - there is a mom.

Injury Report & An Afternoon With Grandpa

Blog Updates: There have been a few updates to my blog - in case you haven't noticed. I removed the ads - I hate those things, and they are a real turn off. I figure, if I don't like them, chances are, you don't either. So, they are history! Also, you now have the option to FOLLOW MY BLOG! So, please do. Right now, it says that I have zero followers, so that makes me feel a little inadequate. Not only that, but if no one is reading my blog, then that means I'm writing to no one....not very helpful therapy.

I have also added the current moon phase to the bottom of the page. I just thought it was cool.

Injury Report: No, I am not talking about sports injuries, although now the Cubs are out of the playoffs, and I know of a few fans that would like to inflict some injuries there! No, I am talking about my injury - my back, and MacKenzie's injury - her sprained ankle.

First of all, a few weeks ago, I strained my back. No big deal really. It was sore for a little while and then seemed to get better. Then, about 2 weeks ago, I did "something" to it - not sure what - and it started hurting again. This should have been my red flag to get it looked at. However, being the procrastinator that I am, I decided to wait until "I had time" to get that done. Bad idea. Last weekend, I was at Karen's. We took Lexie with us, and I was playing frisbee with her and Kali (Lexie's best buddy). Everything was going fine, although I was a little sore still. I went to throw the disc, and must have twisted just right (or wrong, as the case may be) and CRUNCH. It was a sensation not unlike cracking your knuckles, only with much more pain. I went to the doctor where they did an X-Ray and it was determined that I have a sacrillary (sp?) sprain. Basically, what this means, is that nothing is broken (thank goodness) and it is going to take time to heal. Wel,l I have time. I'll be a good girl, not lift anything, and take my pain medicine like I'm supposed to. If in 10 days I'm not better, I have to go back to the doctor and they will do an MRI to find out what else could be going on.

As for Mac....she is the only one I know who could sprain her ankle simply by walking. She has an air cast, but is walking on it pretty good now. Still limping a little bit. I'm sure that she will survive it. She was already looking pretty good tonight.

Tyler had a wonderful day today. My dad called and asked him to come and do some mowing, some raking and some brush removal at his and Mom's place. They have an acreage just east of town, horses, and all. Once the work was completed, Dad took Tyler for a trail ride with the horses. Tyler hasn't been on a ride in quite awhile so he was really excited to go! He got to ride Max, a beautiful Quarterhorse/Arabian bay. Max is about the gentlest horse in Mom and Dad's stable. They rode a full two hours, and it was even pitch dark by the time the loaded the horses back into the trailer and headed for home. Tyler had been at the yard work all day and then the long horseback ride...needless to say, he was wiped out when we got home around 10:30 and went straight to bed. I have not seen him so happy in a very long time. Smiling from ear to ear, and just going on and on about how he and Max "bonded," and how much being with Grandpa meant to him. I am so thankful that my dad is spending this kind of time with Tyler. It means a lot to me too.

Next time, I want to go along!

Tomorrow is Monday - GRRRR. Not my favorite day of the week, but tomorrow could be rather interesting. I interviewed for a promotion last week and tomorrow I should find out whether or not I got the job. Still with the same company, just a little more responsibility. I am ready for some new challenges!

MacKenzie has her middle school show choir audition tomorrow. She had to memorize a song, and will have to sing with the director's accompaniment. She even had to write a one-page essay on why she wants to be in show choir, including past experience! This guy is really serious! I'm sure that she will do just fine. I'm so proud of her.

Adding new pictures today...Tyler and Victoria (his girlfriend of 5 months) before the Homecoming dance, Enjoy!

More in a day or two!

October 1st...Fall is Upon Us...

When I woke up this morning, it was about 45 degrees! Honestly - I love this weather. I love it when the air gets colder, the leaves start to turn, and there is that unmistakable fall-like smell in the air - Larry says that it is the smell of decomposing plant material. Thanks for that, Larry.
Really, it is beautiful. It reminds me of why I still live here and haven't moved somewhere more appealing (meaning: warmer; no snow). I love the change in the seasons; real change. I look forward to each one, and for different reasons.

Fall: Because of the cool days, cooler nights, extra blankets, and the crisp air
Winter: The snow...playing in it with the dog and the kids; the holidays; Tyler and Mac's birthdays.
Spring: Everything comes alive again. Still not too hot; flowers are blooming, and the grass gets really really green.
Summer: Hot days; show choir, and picnics.

Oh...I forgot one! Fall because it is football season! Which reminds me, Tyler went to the homecoming parade tonight! The game is Friday (WIN COUGARS!) and the dance is Saturday. I cannot believe that my little boy is big enough to go to a high school dance! I'll have to post some pictures here later in the weekend.

What about you? Which season is YOUR favorite? Why do you love it like you do? Tell me!
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