Archive for January, 2007
January 16, 2007 @ 12:27 pm | Filed under: Weblogs
Those of you who know me well, or who have been reading this blog for long at all, know how much I value my role as mom to Nate and Jorge. They are nearly grown now and I am very aware of how blessed I’ve been with healthy children. In the nineteen years I’ve been a mom, we’ve only made one trip to the emergency room, we’ve suffered no broken bones, and even in-office medical procedures have been few and far between.
So when I hear a story such as Ashley’s and her parents’, my heart nearly breaks with sadness. I can’t relate to their suffering and to their pain, but I do know Who to go to offer their names and needs. This afternoon, please take time to read about this precious baby girl and then join me in the throneroom. Pray for the Lord to guide the surgeons’ hands as they once again operate on Ashley, and pray for her mom, Trish, who is alone at the hospital while her husband and other two children are 700 miles away at home.
Feel free to leave a comment on Ashley’s blog. I know her parents draw much strength, not only from their own friends and family, but also from the strangers who are reaching out with arms of compassion to embrace this young family in their storm.
January 15, 2007 @ 5:07 pm | Filed under: Books
Today I started writing Finding Faith, the sequel to Saving Grace. Trying to merge a writing career with a full-time college schedule, plus family and household responsibilities has proven to be more of a challenge than I’d thought.
Still, I’m determined that it CAN be done. And, for today anyway, I’m elated to have defeated the "blank page" and finally have clocked out the day with a little over 1200 words. Not bad when you consider that I would stare at the blank opened page in Word for a while, then browse some of my favorite blogs, then go back to pondering the blank page, then surf a few scrapbooking sites. I know, I know…I was bitten in a large way by a very mean, very determined procrastination "bug."
I don’t know why the beginning of a story frightens me so. The intimidation fills me with fear and this overwhelming feeling of "I’ll never be able to do this again!" I admire writers who love the beginning processes. Me, I’m more of a middle-story gal. I like the smooth-flowing continuity of characters and plot-lines. I feel safe there, and in control. But the beginnings and the endings…wow, they can really knock me for a loop.
Anyway, I’m going to try to hold myself accountable to you, my readers and my friends, by logging my word count once a week. That way, you can see the progress I’m making and also the mood I’m currently in concerning the story. Let me tell you though – the moods can vary from "Gee, I love this writing life!" all the way to "I wanna drop-kick this computer right out the back door!" So…if you’re brave (and don’t live right outside my back door) then you’re cordially invited to help hold me accountable to this story. This tracking meter is set to 50,000 words but the book will actually have closer to 90K. So my initial excitement at seeing that I’m 2% there (!) was a bit premature.
For now, I’m going to put on my shoes and go out for a celebratory Sonic Diet Coke. I conquered the blank page and if that doesn’t call for my all-time favorite crushed ice and beverage of choice, then I surely don’t know what does!
January 14, 2007 @ 8:13 pm | Filed under: Family
Nineteen years ago tonight I went out and ate fish.
Before you go and begin leaving comments on what an amazing memory I must surely posses, let me clarify that it is the events that transpired right after the fish dinner that are so deeply embedded on the pathways of my mind.
I spent the next several hours blaming the poor fish for the generalized "ickiness" I was feeling. It took several more hours, a lot of lost sleep, and a phone call to my Mom at four-thirty in the morning to realize…
It wasn’t the fish at atll!
Twelve hours later -after more pain than I was aware one body could tolerate, topped off by a sudden emergency C-section – Nathan Charles made his appearance into this world.
And my life has never been the same since. Over the last nineteen years, I have cheered on many firsts: first roll-over, first toothless grin, first hesitant step, first haircut, first "boo-boo", first day of school, first grounding, first dental appointment, first report card, first childhood fight, first crush, first date, first high school graduation, first time to do the "drop-off" at college, and now…
The first time to celebrate a child’s birthday when he’s living three hours away at college. The first year that I won’t be buying a birthday cake. I won’t be bursting into his room at the crack of dawn in the morning, singing Happy Birthday whether he wants to hear it or not. I won’t be leaving his brightly-wrapped gifts at his place at the table for him to find first thing.
This year is different. Just like each of the past landmarks, this one further drives home the fact that my firstborn is now nearly grown. He has left the nest and, even though he is just away at college and is still technically "under our roof", this birthday shines the spotlight on the fact that, as much as I’d like to believe that things are the same as always, it’s clear that’s not necessarily the case. And I’m trying my best to accept that this is okay.
A few days ago, Nate and I chatted on the phone. When I asked him about his plans for the upcoming weekend, he proceeded to tell me that he and a few friends were planning to drive to the beach for the day. Under ordinary circumstances I would have been totally on board with these plans and would probably have even gone so far as to ask if he was okay on money and if not, should I transfer some to his account…
But given the weather reports that all but assured me that icy weather was in store, the thought of my "baby" on the road was a hard pill to swallow. Instead of pushing my internal, maternal CENSOR button, I instead let the ramblings of my mind spill right off my lips and across the wireless airwaves.
"Oh, son…I don’t know…This plan makes me kind of nervous…"
There was a deliberate hesitation on Nate’s end, and then a carefully chosen, yet distinctively punctuated response. "Mom, you DO realize that on Monday I will be NINETEEN, don’t you?"
I have to admit that my immediate response to that was, "Well, yeah, and what of it?" But this time I punched the CENSOR button and instead took a deep breath and regrouped. As it turned out, he and his buddies changed their plans on their own accord after hearing the weather warnings and instead drove to a mall in a nearby town to hang out for the day.
His words started me to thinking though, and some of these thoughts have left me feeling kind of strange. The truth is that when I was Nate’s age, I was eating a fish dinner that would leave me feeling ill and – just mere hours later – I became a mother.
I was nineteen.
And thought I was grown. Oh, to imagine the CENSOR buttons my own parents must have pushed time.after.time over that one! So tonight, on the eve of Nate’s nineteenth birthday, as I sit here making a mental note to apologize profusely to my parents for the worry and headaches I must have caused and feeling more than just a little nostalgic over the bittersweet passing of precious time, I’m filled with delight and joy and all the wonderful things that moms feel on their children’s birthdays.
Thank you, Nathan, for making my journey into motherhood so poignant and beautiful. You changed my life forever, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Each year I’m made more aware of the gifts with which you’ve been endowed and, each year, I see how God is further preparing you for the great life He has planned for you.
Know that your parents are proud of you. You are a source of pride, always. You are loved, always. You are my little boy all grown up, and I’m learning to be quite okay with that.
I’m thinking, though, that waking you up with a spirited rendition of Happy Birthday might still be in order. So when you hear your cell phone ringing bright and early in the morning, just know there are some CENSOR buttons that will never get pushed.
I will always sing Happy Birthday to you.
January 11, 2007 @ 3:54 pm | Filed under: Thursday Thirteen
…why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens our skin?
…why women can’t put on mascara with their mouths closed?
…why don’t you ever see the headline "Psychic Wins Lottery"?
…why is "abbreviated" such a long word?
…why is it that to stop Windows XP, you have to click on Start?
…why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dishwashing liquid is made with real lemons?
…why is the person who invests all your money called a broker?
…why are they called apart-ments when they are all stuck together?
…when dog food is new and improved-tasting, who tests it?
…why can a pizza delivery guy get to your house faster than an ambulance?
…why do supermarkets make sick people walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front?
…why do banks leave both doors open and chain the pens to the counters?
…why do we use answering machines to screen calls and then have call waiting so we won’t miss a call from someone we didn’t want?
January 10, 2007 @ 9:25 am | Filed under: Uncategorized
January 10, 2007 @ 9:24 am | Filed under: School Stuff
I sat in my philosophy class with a few other students, listening as they debated with passion the validity of mini-mesters. For those of you who aren’t acquainted with that term, it’s a ten day course that garners you a full 3 credit hours. You go to class for four hours a day for ten class days. Sounds easy enough, huh?
That’s what I thought too.
"I’m thinking of taking a Wintermester." I threw this thought into the hot debate.
"You know they are suicide courses, right?" One of the girls whipped around in her chair and stared at me with wide eyes. "You should only take these if they are a last resort. You know, like only if you have to have that credit immediately. Otherwise…STAY AWAY FROM THEM!"
I admit, I came close to taking her advice. However…
It was a communications course, for crying out loud. How difficult could it be? In my very limited way of thinking, I rationalized that it would be the quickest and most painless way to get through a course that makes me very nervous and uncomfortable. It made me feel better to think that in a mere ten days I could, not only have yet another course behind me, but also have climbed that difficult mountain labeled PUBLIC SPEAKING and lived to tell about it.
Ten class days.
Ten.
I could do this. I just knew it.
Fast forward to the first day of Wintermester when Professor Rhodes, my new and very funny Communications professor, stood in front of the class and asked, "Before we get started, can I just ask…why in the world you are CHOOSING to spend your holiday in a Wintermester course?"
She spread her hands out in question and raised arched eyebrows. "Do you people HAVE no lives?"
This should have been my second clue.
Instead, I buckled up my proverbial seat belt and prepared for what appeared to be a very bumpy ride. I wasn’t disappointed, but I did suffer through a bit of whiplash and maybe even a smattering of amnesia. I had been naive enough to think that the course would be an ABBREVIATED version of the real thing. I know, I know, can you say blonde…?
Instead of abbreviated, the course turned out to be more of an ACCELERATED version. All the work, all the projects, all the papers…just completed in ten class days instead of the normal sixteen weeks. When I broke it all down, I calculated that we were covering two weeks worth of material each and every class day. The four hours I spent in class was only the prelude to the hours I spent once I returned home.
The funny thing is, I DO have a life. Or did. I hope I still do. I’ll let you know as soon as the dust clears and I can see, think, and breathe with some semblance of normalcy again. There are things and people and events from the past three weeks that I can’t readily recall just simply because my days and nights have been one big blur of projects, speeches, group role-playing, tests, and papers to write.
Yesterday at three o’clock, the ride finally came to a swift, yet painless, end. I survived multiple papers, a self-disclosure speech, a demonstration speech, role-playing, a term paper, a Pay-it-Forward project, and a three-scene group skit using all the listening and communication skills we’ve learned from the course. All in ten days.
Now that it’s over, I feel something really, really great. It’s a unique combination of near exhaustion and heady exhileration. I have to admit that it feels good to push your body and mind to extremes that you didn’t know they were capable of reaching. While I certainly won’t make this way of life a habit, I do feel a great sense of accomplishment today.
Or maybe that’s just sleep deprivation talking, I’m not sure. At any rate, thanks to all of you who have been my cheerleaders during this endeavor. Mike – you were my rock! Nate and Jorge – thanks for all the Sonic runs you made to keep me in Diet Coke. It’s now almost a sure thing that I’ll be remembered most for this addiction requirement and – although I hope you remember all the hugs, conversations, and warm, fuzzy times more – it’s kind of cool when your sons just surprise you with a big ‘ol Sonic Diet Coke, just because they know you’d like one.
On Monday I begin a brand new story, which always thrills me. I’ll keep you posted here on the progress and I really look forward to sharing these characters with you. And then on Tuesday, I’ll begin Spring classes. But until then, I’m now on "vacation." For the next three days, I will be wearing pajamas, taking naps, catching up on housework and errands that have been neglected, and basically just enjoying the ability to breathe deep and savor the things around me again.
