July flies by

I stared at my computer screen for the longest time this morning, searching for an answer, but still simply lost.

July 29.

That's the date that popped up on my Outlook calendar when I booted up. My old-school paper calendar, dangling off a crooked nail, confirmed it: yep, it's July 29.

Still, I was overwhelmed with confusion and denial. How could it actually be July 29th already?

This month has flown by.

It's been such a great July; I've really loved it. Yes, love ... even though it was in the summer.

I've made it pretty clear in the past that I am not a summer girl; I'm an autumn girl. Yet, this past month has been a delight, right up there with the best of Septembers. Even though I spent most of it sick. Even though it rained too much. Even though it was swamp-level humid. Even though my hair was shaggy and unruly.

Even with all that, it was full of good stuff.

We started the month with a beach vacation in Michigan, my favorite vacation destination.

27 years and counting ...

And then we celebrated the Fourth at home.

The garden gave.

Not to brag, but I'm pretty good at growing cukes. Just sayin' ...

The days were long and ended in glorious swirls of melted crayons.

We played games and feasted like kings on fried chicken and donated desserts at our church picnic.

We had some Christmas in July treats here at home, plus a double feature of Elf and Christmas Vacation.

Choc-dipped pretzels, fudge and mint choc chip cookies.

And school started today.

Maybe - just maybe - summer is finally winning me over.

Actually, that's not it.

It's so humid right now, when I step outside it feels like I just dressed myself in a warm, wet wool sweater that's been soaked in a sticky, flat Pepsi and locked in a plastic storage tote that's been stored in the hellish, fiery sun.

So, um, no. It's definitely not a love affair between summer and me.

But July 2015 ... it's been one heck of a fling.

Detours

I've been away from this space for a long time.

Too long.

That blur is morning dew streaking down my dirty windshield ... or is it a tear?

People - some I don't even actually know - have asked if I'm still doing the blog.

Yes.

Kinda.

But, yes.

The actual living of life sometimes gets in the way of writing about living life.

Since early spring, I've had to do, do, do -  this project, this deadline, this priority, this issue, this thing - and little time to write about the doing. I'm not one of those bloggers whose job it is to blog. I have a full-time paying gig that has nothing at all to do with this space and that, along with the rest of my life, has been the focus of my efforts and attention.

But I like it here and I'm glad to be back. Thanks for joining me. And thanks for missing me. I missed you, too.

Actually, I'm glad to be anywhere these days. It seems as though I've spent a lot of time trying to get places, but I keep hitting detours. Literally.

Sometimes, it's all I see.

My already-cumbersome daily commute has gotten a lot more tedious and, well, at times, crappy, as of the last few months. They are building a bridge and reworking all the roads around it, including the ones I take every day. And they're fixing an overpass bridge near my home. And closing part of the road I live on to lop off a couple of hills and widen the road.

All at once. All this summer. All the time.

A new interstate bridge rising out of the Ohio River and stretching toward shore to take its place alongside its established kin.

That's how they make a living - building and fixing things while the days are long. It's hard work and it's dangerous. I totally get that and respect it.

I am, after all, a lover of paved roads.

I am not, however, a lover of how my complexion looks in the soft glow of brake lights.

So for me, getting from Point A to Point B so I can make a living has often been a painful point in the day.

But when you really, really like where you work and love where you live, well, you make concessions. It's temporary, even though it feels like it's going to last forever.

Especially when your bladder is full and the gas tank is near empty.

Little orange bastard.

Still, it's ok.

Besides, life's like that. Sometimes, we speed along, zooming from one destination to another. Sometimes, we can just cruise by. Sometimes, we have to slow down.

Sometimes, we come to hard brake; a jarring stop.

Sometimes, we run on empty.

... and seriously need to wipe down the dashboard ...

Sometimes, we have to take an unplanned detour.

The important thing is to get back on course.

Because the road ahead - however winding or twisted - ultimately leads us home.

* Please note: most photos were taken through a dirty car windshield while at a complete stop, usually with the car in park. So, don't be a dumbass who takes pics while driving.

Sunday school lessons

I was cruising down the Interstate at a good clip, possibly above the posted speed limit, but I don't recall. What I do remember is how quickly the car appeared in my rear view.

At the first available opportunity, I signaled and changed lanes, allowing this speedster to pass. And he did, but only long enough to immediately jump in the right lane in front of me, causing me to suddenly hit the brakes to avoid slamming into him ... and every car behind me into each other like an accordion.

He paused for a moment, looked back at me in his rear-view mirror with a fleeting smirk, and then sped off, well above the speed limit, weaving in and out of traffic until I couldn't see him any more.

I did not know this person. I did not know his heart or his circumstance.

What I did know was that this was done on purpose and could have caused a terrible wreck.

I also know in the moment when he looked back at me with that smirk, he saw me display a vulgar hand gesture and mouth a not-suitable-for-publication sentiment to go along with it.

The next morning I told this story - and all the ways I got my response wrong in this situation - to the faith formation class I teach.

Yes, I teach faith formation ... what many of you would call Sunday school ... and yes, I told that class of 10th graders about the time I flipped off the jerk driver and called him a not-suitable-for-publication name.

Now, of course I realize my actions were not very Sunday school teacher-like. Where was the do-unto-others in that scenario? What sort of example am I for these impressionable youth in a church setting? 

I am a bad example.

And that's what I want them to see.

I swear. I lose my temper. I lack patience. I can be unkind. I can be thoughtless. I am petty. I hold a grudge. I have made terrible decisions.

I am human. Flawed. Sinful.

And yet, I am forgiven.

I learn and continue to learn. I make mistakes and recognize those mistakes. It is by grace that I am granted another chance, another opportunity to get it right. I try to remind the kids of that and hope they rise to the challenges of their teens and not lose faith - in themselves, others or God - along the way.

In addition to hearing about what a terrible person I can sometimes be and how they should try to avoid my bad example themselves, we've also covered the great stories of the Bible. We've talked about the history and practice of our faith. We've talked about challenges of school and life. We snack a lot.

This is the first time I've taught faith formation, and I do it alongside one of my dear friends. For my part, I'm not sure that I've imparted any real wisdom or depth of understanding on a group of kids who are mostly present because their parents get them up early on Sunday morning and make them go - my own son included; he's a 10th grader in my class. I get that they'd probably rather be elsewhere ... like Slumber Services at St. Mary of the Mattress.

It's ok.

I think teaching Sunday school has been more about educating me. It's taught me to be patient with talkative teens; to not take their inattentiveness personally. It has reminded me to share, not preach. It's forced me to study up on why we do what we do in our church and be prepared to explain it to inquiring minds. It's shown me how smart, concerned, gracious and genuinely caring kids can be.

Teaching Sunday school has also inspired me to strive to be a better version of myself. Even if I can sometimes be a bad example, I most certainly have it in me to be a good example, too.

And point the way toward an even better one.

"... Jesus told them, 'It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but the sinners.'" - Mark 2:17

Wishing you a blessed Holy week!

What it is

This is my cat.

This is also an outfit I had planned to wear - a pair of jeans and what is obviously a very comfy sweater, both of which are covered in cat.

It is what it is: a cat doing what a cat does.

Granted, cats can be assholes by nature. I could be mad at her snuggles. I could be inconvenienced at having to add the extra step of full-body lint roller to my morning routine. I could choose something else to wear at the last minute.

Or, I can just accept it for what it is (cat on clothes) and deal with what it is (roll it and wear it).

That's what I did, of course, when this happened a few weeks ago. I moved the cat, rolled the sweater and jeans, and went about my day. That's what it was - no big deal. It was amusing, actually, because I chose to see it that way.

It is what it is. I use that phrase a lot, especially in relation to relatively harmless scenarios like the one above. It's a phrase of acknowledgment and acceptance. It's not necessarily approval; in fact, it most often isn't. Still, when I find myself saying or thinking, it is what it is, I am choosing to tolerate imperfections (crabby people, for example) or situations that are less than ideal (asshole cats on my clothes, for instance).

Gosh, I've been saying it is what it is a lot lately. Too much.

I've been saying it in relation to a lot of things, a lot of aspects - personalities, requests, tasks, situations, obligations, all kinds of randomness.

Sometimes, there comes a point when it is what is is less about acceptance of a situation and more like resignation: What it is sucks and I am being taken advantage of, misunderstood, used, manipulated or otherwise mistreated in some way ... and I am expected to accept it because it will not change.

Here's the thing: Sometimes we have to decide if the what it is warrants the time, attention, loyalty and devotion being put into it.

I've been doing a lot of evaluating lately.

Sometimes it's worth it. Going back to my earlier example, I love my cat and accept that she can be a jerk who will sleep on my clothes.

Sometimes it's not. Negativity can be a poison, suffocating us until we break free and gasp fresh air.

We have choices. We have some measure of control over what we tolerate, perhaps more than we care to acknowledge. We can prune our lives much a like a gardener does weeds, extracting the aspects that stunt our growth and steal our nourishment. That may be what it is, but it's not for me ... and I will move on.

Sometimes it's hard to tell the weeds from the flowers. After all, a dandelion is a weed, but with one breath, it is a wish.

Obviously a dreamy stock photo. My world is covered in snow and ice right now.

And a terrible source of allergies.

But it is what it is.

So then we ask ourselves the tough question about weeds/wishes/sneezes or any other aspects of our lives: Acknowledging what it is, is it right for me? 

I don't offer answers, just this reminder that we all need guidance in discerning our best course of action: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference." -  from The Serenity Prayer.

Renewed and resolved

It's the new year and the world is flush with declarations of the gonna-dos ahead: gonna get healthy; gonna quit some terrible habit; gonna get a better job/house/car/partner; gonna get the finances in order.

Gonna do a lot of good things.

We're two weeks in the new year ... gonna keep that resolution? If you are a resolution maker, I wish you the best of luck.

I mentioned before that I don't usually make resolutions at the first of the year. I like to evaluate my life closer to my birthday in March.

Still, as we wrap up the celebration of Christ's arrival at Christmas, it does make sense to assess our lives. Christ brought with Him redemption. That second chance is the true gift of Christmas and one that should not go unappreciated.

I have to admit, my holiday season was hectic. I felt overwhelmed, overextended, overcommitted and, by the time Christmas arrived ... well, over it all.

It felt petty to have the blues when I know how very fortunate and truly blessed I am. But that's how I felt. It was my reality.

I also had the flu for the first time since 1996 and it was certainly not mood enhancing.

So, with New Year's Day, came renewed health (thanks, Tamiflu!) and a real desire to climb out of this unusual holiday funk.

We've just passed the darkest days of the year, and with each day, we step closer to greater light. Again, it makes sense to begin a new - or renewed - journey of self discovery as the days begin to slowly stretch longer. Those streaks of orange-pink-purple in the sky at 6:15 p.m. are a most welcome reminder that we need not remain in darkness for long.

I want to be ready to greet the light as it dawns with a renewed sense of hope and appreciation. Like all those yearly resolution-makers out there, I want to be a better version of me. The best way I know to do that is not by making a list of goals of questionable attainability, but by paring down.

I am resolved to listen.

That's right: listen.

Just listen.

Listen to God when He calls me.

Listen to what my heart tells me.

Listen to what others are telling me by their words or actions.

Too many times, I run on autopilot: do this, go here, be that, change this. I am pulled in a lot of different directions, trying to do a lot and be a lot for a lot of people. I get distracted and my priorities get jumbled. I lose myself.

I am resolved to be still. I will be quiet. I will listen.

My hope is to turn off autopilot and do, go, be, change - whatever is needed - with renewed focus and genuine intention.

So, how am I going to do this?

The only way I possibly can: prayer.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." - Proverbs 3:5-6

Cash gift idea

So, here you are on Christmas Eve and you have that last gift to snag for a young person on your list ... hmmm ... what to do?

Money, my friends.

Cash = freedom, especially for young people. Freedom to save, spend or just blow it. From the pre-teen years on up through their 20s (and beyond, if we're being honest), kids want cash. They just do.

As a gift giver, though, cash is ... eh, boring. It's no fun to give.

... hands a 20 to nephew ... "Here, go buy yourself something real nice."

Blah.

Recently, I was faced with this conundrum myself. My son was participating in a gift exchange among his cousins. He drew his awesome, wonderful 15-year-old male cousin's name. There was a $20 limit on the gift.

"What do you want to get him?" I asked my son.

"Cash. He's going to want cash, Mom."

Boring.

Not liking that answer, we consulted with the parents to really gauge his heart's desire (at the $20 level) and they said the same thing: he wants cash. He will be 16 soon and he is saving for a car and all the things to go with it - like gasoline and fountain drinks from fast food drive-thrus that you actually do the driving through.

Not satisfied with just having one 15-year-old boy hand another 15-year-old boy a crisp 20 (though both 15-year-olds would have been cool with that), I sought help from the highest authority on how to package said 20 with flair: Pinterest.

Pinterest was too hard.

For example, a simple money tree, you know, where you hang singles from the branches? I'd have to hand craft a tree - a freaking tree of sorts - and then you know, hang the money.

Um, no.

There are a lot of people who are far more creative than I with much more time than I. I love, admire and respect you people. But I am not one of you people.

But there was inspiration.

Here's what I came up with. It can be used for any gift-giving occasion: birthdays, holidays, graduation, new home, new job, etc.

It involved the following: A wooden rolling pin ($3 at Walmart), a small cookie sheet ($1 at Dollar Tree), clear packing tape and a 20 dollar bill. And the thought: rolling the dough.

I taped the rolling pin to the cookie sheet with the packing tape so it would not shift or move, typed up a little note and then lightly taped the money using regular Scotch tape.

Here it is:

It fit in a shirt box so I could even wrap it up and he would have something to open.

Detail showing where I used the clear tape to adhere the rolling pin and note. Don't use packing tape to adhere the money; it is lightly taped with regular tape rolled on the back.

"I hope you're rolling in the dough so you can save up for a sweet ride." Get it? ;)

What will a 15-year-old boy do with a wooden rolling pin? No idea. But it made him smile and got him $20 closer to whatever his heart desires this Christmas.

And that is what it's all about, my friends.

Merry Christmas!

PS - The photo at the top of this post is of my son's stocking, so, spoiler alert if you read this, Son: there's $20 in your stocking. You're welcome.

Ready for Christmas

So ... you done with your Christmas shopping yet?

How many times have you been asked that in the last few weeks? Before Thanksgiving it was probably phrased more along the lines of, "So ... have you started your Christmas shopping yet?" but it's been a conversation starter all season in one form or another.

It's a valid question this time of year. Knocking out that gift list is an endeavor, no matter how long - or short - the list. And let's face it, it's crunch time, people. Tick-tock.

Sure, asking about holiday shopping can just be small talk, just like innocuous conversations about the weather or the score of the game last night. The material aspect of the holidays is part of our culture. To ignore it, is to play dumb.

But asking someone a seemingly inoffensive question about his or her shopping progress can also feel like a measuring stick of sorts. It can  reveal more about our celebration than whether or not we scored a sweet parking spot at the mall, how long the checkout line was at Target, or if we'll redeem our Kohl's Cash on slippers for Dad.

It can feel like you're really asking things like:

• How much money do you have to spend?
• How organized are you?
• Do you have a lot of people in your life to buy for?
• Are you loved?
• How much do you care about the people in your life based on the amount you will spend?
• How much spirit do you have?

Those questions don't feel much like Christmas at all, do they?

A simple little question about shopping that I, myself, have asked about 100 times in the last few weeks, can leave some feeling anxious or judged. That's not Christmas at all.

I'm late to the game for this season, but am going to try something more along the lines of, Are you ready for Christmas?

• Are you ready for a fresh start?
• Are you ready for redemption?
• Are you ready for miracles?
• Are you ready to own your life?
• Are you ready to accept peace and love?

Because when it comes down to it, no matter how big the stack of garbage bags filled with torn wrapping paper and broken-down shirt boxes you have sitting curbside for trash pick-up Friday*, Christmas is more than a to-do list to be checked-off; more than a stash of receipts.

The best gifts of Christmas - love, acceptance, attention, friendship - are purchased in full with an open heart, and acts of loving kindness.

* Please recycle!