Motivation 911

OK—I signed up for my first ‘athlon event. It is a biathlon in Springfield in September. I hadn’t worked out in about a week—lost some motivation and quite frankly got a little scared, so I signed up for this event to get me motivated (peer pressure might have been involved as well). There is nothing consistent about my life than its lack of consistency. I began to enjoy swimming and biking (I tolerated running, but liked how I felt afterwards). So, what would make me simply stop exercising one day and then seven days later realize—hey, I haven’t been working out? It makes little sense.

Apparently, I need motivation and something more than just feeling better and having more energy (raise your hand if you think that is a good enough one on its own). I need to drop three dress sizes or win a medal or something to keep me on track and since that hasn’t happened yet, I am open to suggestions….motivation 911.

Answering the Challenge

My middle brother just began to blog again. I was glad to see him take the step back into the literary arena. He is a much better writer than he gives himself credit for, and the practice is good discipline. You can’t blog for long before you MUST write a blog—about—blogging. This week was his turn. Marc issued a challenge:

"So, here is my challenge – write in your Blog about why you do it. What are the 3 things that stand out when you ask yourself that question… I am curious to the different responses that will come out of this."

Here is my answer:

To hone my craft:
I am a teacher of writing and if I don’t do it myself I can’t imagine what I would teach. Many of the lessons for my students come from my own struggles and triumphs in writing this blog.

To share the journey:
Many titles define who I am (mother, daughter, sister, widow, wife, step-mother, teacher, Christian etc..). Each role is a fundamental component of my journey and the perspective by which I walk. I hope that through sharing the journey, I also connect with others along the way. I am thankful for my fellow travelers and the many ways they have, in turn, enriched my life.

To simply find discipline within my otherwise chaotic life
Anyone who knows me understands that I tend to live in the moment. I am passionate about whatever I do and tend to jump in with both feet without much forethought. Writing this blog, however is one of the basic disciplines in my life. I tend to write, re-write, revise, edit and re-write ad nauseam. I often go back to post made over a year ago and revise. No one, but me, would ever read them but I still amend.

I don’t believe it is essential that we have reasons for everything we do, but for those exercises in our life that matter---we should be aware of why. So, why do you----blog?

For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

…is rumored to be a short story by Ernest Hemingway. There are many legends concerning this story, but the most accepted one is that he wrote the piece to settle a bar bet for $10.00. Could be it was written as a challenge, but either way, it's a complete work of flash or micro fiction (a sudden, short-short, postcard etc.. story).

Smith, an online magazine conducted a reader contest that turned into a 500 submission per day fiasco. The most poignant have been compiled into a book titled, “Not Quite What I Was Planning”. What was the jest of the contest?

Your life story in six words.

Some from the famous:

“Former child star seeks love, employment.” (Justin Taylor)
“Well, I thought it was funny.” (Stephen Colbert)
“Brought it to a boil, often.” (Mario Batali)

Some from the ordinary:

Happy we couldn’t conceive our own. (KC Kerpatrick)
Learning to save money saved me. (Kenny Stapleton)
Couldn’t say it so I sang it. (Alli Gator)

My principal challenged 8th graders to create their own life story in six words. She told us that she had been working on hers for six months, yet the 13 year olds were given a few minutes and a piece of chalk (to write their story on the sidewalks of the school-cool idea anyway). They came up with some fairly adolescent ramblings, some goofy wordage, and on occasion some profound thoughts.

So I thought I would take my shot at my own life story in six words. Here are two of my attempts at posterity.

Faced darkest night. Activated hope, nevertheless.

25 years. Ended abruptly. Confidence renewed.

THE CHALLENGE: Create your own life story in six words and post it below.

Run and NOT Grow Weary!

Cause for Immediate Action

What earth shattering event could compel me to pause, take stock and then pursue IMMEDIATE action?

Five words:

Four bathrooms --
NO toilet paper!

ARGH!

Surely you weren't expecting something profound today?

Change?

This is a different post for me for it poses no answers, no self-discovery, no “aha’s”. It is an appeal for insights, of which I am finding elusive at the moment.

Chandler came back from camp this weekend. Along with stories of cliff jumping, tubing, and extreme sports tournaments came accounts of spiritual growth. I remember returning from summer camp when I was young—the amazing spiritual “high” from that week would bolster my spiritual walk for several months. What I remember most was the compulsion to change my life in “real” and remarkable ways. I would make lists of what I needed to change to become a more dynamic Christian. On the list would be things I needed to stop doing, start doing, and augment to fit my new aspiration. My life would begin to transform and real change would take place. I had a mission; a purpose and it seemed effortless to act on its behalf.

These recollections, and yesterday’s sermon, got me to thinking about “change” in general. Change is difficult and the older we get, the more difficult it becomes. I have always enjoyed the stimulus of change, yet as I age it becomes less and less enjoyable. Conceivably this could be because I don’t mind change, as long as it is of my design and control, but if it comes from some external source--I tend to recoil from it.

When change is crucial, I don’t believe that it can be mandated. It can’t be browbeaten into submission. It can’t be preached at, coerced or commanded and expect to be effective. Change must come from within us. We must somehow make a choice to become the conduit. I do believe we can be led to change; motivated to change, and even inspired to change (as often was the case at summer camp), but our hearts must be open first.

My question is--how do you initiate change? How do you become, as Mahatma Gandhi believed, “the change you want to see”? How do you reconstruct that “summer camp” experience to inspire spiritual change? How do you reclaim purpose and continue with the excitement and hope that should be found in the Christian community and most importantly whose responsibility is it?

Give Small

Monday’s blog sparked quite a discussion in the Cuttill-Price household. My oldest son and I engaged in a conversation about how difficult it would be to volunteer for a mission/humanitarian trip of some type, but agreed that it would certainly be a life-changing experience for our family. Chad then went on to convey an experience he had at work last week that left a lasting impression on his heart and mind.

Chad’s job is “courtesy patrol” and that usually means taking care of the carts in the parking lot, helping folks to their cars and at times working as a cashier. It was in the later role he found himself last week, when an obviously needy family of four pushed their cart laden with home repair necessities through Chad’s lane. As he rang up the items, it seemed to him that this purchase would be a strain on their already stretched budget. Upon informing the gentleman of the total, a stranger from the queue stepped forward and told the family, “I don’t know why, but I feel God has asked me to pay for your purchase today.” Observably taken aback, the family was gracious and grateful. Chad was stunned beyond words, as the purchase was well over $300.00. In addition, the stranger handed the man $50.00 with instructions to take the family out to dinner.

Pausing long enough to reflect following the retelling of this story, Chad articulated, “Mom, I just want to make enough money so that I can help people like that.” Which got me to think—perhaps this is why more folks don’t give. Seems we have this illusion that in order to make a difference, we have to do something on a grand scale--that we have to give excessively in order for it to “count”. Discouraged at the inability to “GIVE BIG”, we often do nothing. What would happen if we began to give where we are, what we can, with the goal of becoming more aware of those around us?

Our conversation ended with the supposition that we could all begin serving others in small ways. Chad could save a few dollars out of every check and when he had $20.00 or $30.00, go to Walmart—eye a person of need, and pay for part of their groceries. We decided that for some people, $20.00 could make a huge difference in a weekly budget. So, the message is to give—give small, give anything, but give. Live outside your own existence. Look for ways to share. Not because of anything you might “get” in return, but because your life has been blessed and you can’t wait to bless another.

Bucket List

You know how when you cry---I don’t mean a few tears—I mean bawl like a baby? I recently watched “The Bucket List”—and that was just what I did. I had one of those “ugly cries” that I haven’t had in a very long time. I am not sure where this came from; it was either a natural response to a movie about inevitable death or vent up emotion that I had not released in a long time, but either way—I was moved.

At this point in my journey, I rarely visit those moments of my life that were immediately pre- or postmortem with Don. I do this—on purpose as to not unduly disturb the reality my mind has created since his death; yet, I have momentary lapses that coerce me to once again face the demons of mortality. Watching this movie was one of those times.

Both of the men in the movie (Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson) have only been given a short time to live. Freeman remembers an exercises he had to do in college where each student was to create a “bucket-list”—a list of things they wish to accomplish before “kicking the bucket”, so these two men create such a list and set out to complete it before their imminent death. Of course there is no happy ending in such movies, or in life for that matter, but I continue…


After viewing the movie—I asked Kent, “What would be your ‘Bucket List’?” None of his answers were a big surprise, but I did learn something about him. He wants to see the world. He would like to tour the continents or SUBA-dive the entire universe. I have thought about this notion for a few days and have come up with this preliminary list.

Marsha’s Bucket List
1. Tour the Mediterranean – visit Italy, Greece, the Egyptian pyramids
2. SCUBA dive in someplace exotic. (Grand Cayman, Cozumel Mexico 7/09)
3. Learn to speak a foreign language well enough to converse with the locals.
4. Serve on a mission trip with my family.
5. Participate in a sprint triathlon or 1/2 marathon.
6. Read all 100 books on the National Endowment for the Arts “Big Read” list.
7. Write something lasting for each person I love.
8. Teach in the inner city.
9. Name a star.
10. Memorize poetry so I will have it to recite at appropriate times (rather a romantic notion)
11. Visit the rain forest.
12 Zip line somewhere warm.(Jamaica 7/2009)
13. Have something I have written published for real.

Some find this a morbid exercise. I find it a hopeful one. It makes me aware of what is left to do and the fact that finding joy in the journey is as important as the journey itself. George Bernard Shaw wrote the following that sums up the…

True Joy of Life

This is the true joy of life.
The being used for a purpose
Recognized by yourself as a mighty one.
The being a force of nature
Instead of a feverish, selfish
Little clod of ailments and grievances
Complaining that the world will not
Devote itself to making you happy.
I am of the opinion that my life
Belongs to the whole community
And as long as I live,
It is my privilege to do for it
Whatever I can.
I want to be thoroughly
Used up when I die,
For the harder I work the more I live.
I rejoice in life for its own sake.
Life is no brief candle to me.
It is a sort of splendid torch
Which I've got hold of
For the moment
And I want to make it burn
As brightly as possible before
Handling it on to future generations

Tuesday Triviality V

As per several of my blogging pals I am adding this as my Tuesday Triviality. If you take the challenge, let me know how you do by leaving a comment.

The Big Read, an initiative by the National Endowment for the Arts, estimates that the average adult has read 6 of the top 100 books they’ve printed. How about you?

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE. (can't underline here, so I capitalized them)

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 THE BIBLE
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 THE GREAT GATSBY - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy 25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky (partly)
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 THE KITE RUNNER- Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding (I can still get nightmares of this one)
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHTTIME - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 THE LOVELY BONES - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 ON THE ROAD - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

If I counted right, I think that's 47--not bad, but wish it were more. Now it is your turn...

911 Fashion Emergency--Or Not Really?

I have noticed something lately that has given me pause for consideration. Fashion seems to have become a bit sexist, and here is why I am considering this notion. When we are at the movies or at a restaurant and observe a young couple (obviously on a date) the female is most always dressed in a cute skirt, pretty top, her hair is styled with obvious attention to makeup and accessories; some even look as if they have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Subsequently, our critical eye views the male counterpart who usually is adorned with a baseball cap, an old t-shirt, a pair of shorts in need of attention, and flip-flops.

I am not sure what this means, but the couple appears terribly mismatched. Don’t get me wrong, I know “clothes does not the man make”, but why should the girl be expected to take pride in her appearance if her counterpart could care less. Maybe I am missing it all together. Perhaps in these relationships the male is so secure that he doesn’t feel the need to pay attention to his appearance; but if this is the case, then why does the girl feel the call to appear fashionable? Does this mean she is insecure?

Now, I was raised with boys and raised three (working on four more), so I decided to take a look around my own home for evidence of such fashion bigotry and sure enough—in strolls Chad’s girlfriend with the cutest top and Bermuda shorts for their day out. Chad enters with gym shorts, a plain colored t-shirt, and baseball cap. This fashion dilemma exists, even in my own home.

All this week, we have been watching old episodes of “Family Affair”. Our society sure has traveled far from the social dress “norm” of the 1960’s. It isn’t that I think men should have to wear a suit and women an evening dress to go out on the town, but it does seem the pendulum has made a huge swing into a somewhat laissez faire attitude about dress, not to mention this gender inequity between acceptable attire for young men and women.

Here is my quandary; I am having difficulty figuring out if this matters. Is it really a matter of sexism or is it simply a matter of societal customs changing over time? What do you think?

Tuesday Triviality IV

#1 Quotes I have come across this week and haven’t figured out how to include in a blog:

“I think it is like when you are in school and you think recess is NEVER going to get there.” Jody-Family Affair season one, disc 2.

“Learning is messy” – one of the tech. ed blogs I have been reading and for the life of me, I can’t find it again.

#2 A different prospective to the 100 Things Challenge that I wrote about last week. I think my sister-in-law is onto something here. I could do this one. The Great Summer Destrash 2008 In fact go ahead and sign me up.

Family Reunion Part I

Today I experienced one of those bonding events—Chandler, Kent and I attended the “Price Family Reunion” in New Castle, Indiana. I love these moments where I acquire snippets of Kent’s history. The day started by attending the small Separatist Baptist Church where Kent attended as a child. Upon arriving, I experienced an extreme wave of nostalgia. The church itself reminded me of the small Nazarene churches of my youth. Upon entering the church, we sang hymns—yes hymns—great hymns of the church. I miss them so much in my worship. I understand that “praise choruses” are all the rage and in order to reach out, we need to be contemporary, but I miss hymns: those robust songs with theology and truth embedded therein. I know Chandler was on the verge of sleep for the entire time, but I really was present and “in the moment”.

Once the minister began to speak, I was taken back 35 years or so, to the preaching of Nazarene ministers of my childhood. I must have had a crazy grin on my face—not because his words were earth shattering, but because of the memories released in my mind. Following the service, I met the minister—he was a “fill-in” as this church is awaiting the arrival of their permanent pastor in a few weeks. Anyway, upon more interrogation, I find that he is—indeed—a Nazarene minister (I knew it—I can pick them out in a crowd—LOL). He went to Olivet (as did I) and was friends with the man who pastured the church here in Decatur in the 70's before my dad. He also knew dad, as the Nazarene world is mighty small. I felt contented. I hadn’t worshiped in, what some might label “archaic” means, in years and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Following the service, we headed to “New Castle Memorial Park” for the reunion and the quest to meet the extended family. I was impressed with the folks I met there. They are genuine, loving people who respect each other and serve the Lord with delight. The warmth I felt is something I will not forget. They welcomed me to the family and made me feel at home. I enjoyed the stories, of Kent’s past escapades—which participants were more than eager to share with me. This information certainly begins to fill in the mosaic that is Kent.

I hadn’t planned on being this content after today. I worried that I would “fit in” and that Kent’s family would “accept me”. So what is the result? Turn about is fair play-it will be Kent's turn next week at my family reunion in Arkansas? I can only hope he feels as fulfilled afterwards as I do this evening. Life truly is all about connecting….

Celebrate Today

Kent and I are visiting my baby brother, Evan, this weekend. He has a cat and since Kent is highly allergic to cats, we got a hotel for the weekend. We got up this morning to run and it was the most difficult run I have ever had. There was no clear place to run, so we started following a sidewalk and it ended abruptly, so we turned around and treaded in another direction only to find overgrown shrubs, uneven pavement and other dead ends impeding our path—but we kept on going until we successfully ran the two miles we set out to accomplish. I hated it—it wasn’t a bit fun; however, when we finally ran into the hotel—I was so proud of myself for actually completing what I embarked upon and viewed as impossible. I promise, in the future, I will keep the running analogies to a minimum; but I couldn’t help but see the collation between this morning’s run and my journey as a widow.

When Don died, I thought it would be impossible to move forward. I started the journey and before too long I would hit a dead end, or some other impediment that threatened to derail my efforts. Truth be told, sometimes I did derail, but would get back on the path with the help of family, friends and faith. It isn’t fun, but there are times I do feel I have made great progress. I don’t believe I have reach the finish line, but I am proud of what I have accomplished thus far. I feel I am at a level place where my pace is comfortable and I am finding that my “second wind” prevails despite obstacles in the road. I realize the race is far from over, but also acknowledge how important it is to review where I have come from and celebrate where I am today.

Isaiah 40:31
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

The IRONIC has come full circle

Don was one of the most “fit” people I know. He played golf several times a week, rode his bicycle, and ran. He also had high blood pressure and high cholesterol. It never made sense to me. Even when I weighed over 300 pounds, I didn’t have these co-morbidities---until two weeks ago. I had my annual exam and low and behold---my blood pressure was high. I rushed to the appointment and dismissed it as a “fluke”. Then I had Ginny take it again this last week---it was high---then again two days later---high. DANG!!! So I made an appointment with my GP. After taking my blood pressure—yes it was high, he asked me about my family history. Well----grandmother, father, mother and younger brother are all on blood pressure meds—does this mean anything??? Apparently—it does. Did I get the skinny gene from my mother NOPE--I get the high blood pressure one.

I don’t want a “label”—dang it—for the first time in my life I am physically fit. I run 3 miles and bike 10??? WTH??? But because of my genetics I need meds—so—I started them today.

Dang it---

Tuesday Triviality III

First, let me say you MUST watch this all the way through. I know it is 10 minutes long, but worth the time. Tanja had an interesting post the other day about marriage/relationships the second time around that made me think about how much easier this marriage is (at least in the beginning) because of what we learned the first time around. When Kent and I watched this video he was a step ahead of Mark Gungor in his presentation, knowing what Mark was going to say next (like some male mind-meld). Apparently, Kent did learn much about the man/woman communication from his first marriage. So, gather your young adults around, this is perhaps the best video to explain the difference between men and women that I have ever seen.



And finally, I love words. I like creating them, changing them, exploring them and yes---creating something with them. Have a few minutes? Try creating your own Wordle: If you do, be sure to email me or post a comment. It might even let you copy the html and post your Wordle--which would even be better. My creation is to the right of this post.

What's the Big Deal About Social Networking?

I have had a Facebook account for several years, ever since Chad began showing an interest. I opened the account fully intending to use it as spyware to keep tabs on the content of my son’s cyber life. But let’s face it, spying is not what it is cracked up to be and sometime after signing onto Facebook I decided that Chad had never done anything to make me suspicious or to distrust him in any way, so there account rested - dormant until this week.

My decision to awaken my Facebook account came from a renewed interest in technology and its implication for education. I wanted to research the arenas where kids are connecting outside of school to understand how we can use this information to connect them INSIDE school. I know this isn’t a new pedagogical facet in education, but there are many new technologies that are simply not being utilized to reach kids. Social networking (Facebook, Myspace etc...) is one area that has grown tremendously in the last five years.

Shortly after reviving my Facebook account, setting up my profile and organizing my home page—I began to find “friends”. For those of you unfamiliar with Facebook, you can search for people that you might know, send a message you want to add them as a “friend” and once they accept—that’s when the fun begins. At this point you can look at their “friend list” and see if you know anyone, request to be a friend and within cyber-minutes you have your own “friend list”. It cuts “six degrees of separation” down to one or two. One of the amusing aspects of “friends” is finding folks with whom you have lost touch. With one click of the mouse, you are back in the middle of their lives. Within minutes you know if they are married, where they are living, if they have children, where they are working, if they had sushi for dinner etc….

I admit that I am far and above the average age of the normal Facebook client. Most of the Facebook population includes late teens and young adults. What was most surprising was that many of them have 200 to 400 friends! WOW! How can you have 317 “friends”? I have a hard time keeping up with the real ones that I actually see and meet for coffee on a regular basis (my generation is showing) or the few more who I email on a daily or weekly basis.

This got me thinking about what social networking means to this next generation (generation Y if you will). Keep in mind that you can’t complete any task on Facebook without the entire network knowing what you did. If you change anything, write anything, or navigate anywhere within Facebook, it is recorded it on your “mini-feed” for all to see – “Marsha, changed her weight to 130 pounds.” Which comes to my next question. Don’t these people care about privacy? In talking this over with Kent he brought up a great point. He said people of generation Y have a different concept of privacy than generations before. They view their life as an open book to be shared with any and everyone. It is more important for them to connect by revealing aspects of themselves that many of us “older folks” would never share, let alone print on a public page for all to read. The caveat is that a fair amount of information is, well less than truthful, so discernment becomes a skill necessary to cipher genuine intentions; a skill I am not sure most young people have fully developed.

Cataloging 317 friends on your Facebook account does not necessary signify popularity. It does; however, suggest that you are resourceful and there is a part of me that wonders, “Why can’t I have 317 friends, instead of my measly 27?” Fact is, I really don’t want 317 Facebook friends, but I understand why my younger cohorts would.

I enjoy the social aspect of Facebook. There are components of it that I find addicting. You truly could sit at your computer all day sending “flair”, “hugs” even “Iconograms”. You could play “text twirl”, “superheros” or find out “what Simpson’s character are you”, but in the end you eventually have to venture back out into the real world and develop real relationships---don’t you?

Until then—feel free to visit me—even become my friend.

Marsha's Facebook

A Father's Day Tribute

The boys and I have been so very fortunate to have exceptional men in our lives. Their father was a man of honor whose time on earth may have been shortened, but whose influence will live on in the lives of his sons forever. From him, Chad and Chandler learned life’s most vital lessons and for that I am eternally grateful. They carry Don in their hearts when they are up against life decisions and ask themselves, "What would Dad do?" or each time they pick up a guitar, or a golf club. Happy Father’s Day, Don.

My father is the one man I have loved since birth. His constant care and love is infinite. Frequently, church parishioners stop to tell me how much dad means to them. They never just say, “Marsha, your dad is the best.” They always have a story to tell about how dad spent hours with them in the hospital, or helped them through a difficult time in their life, or simply stopped them and asked how they are doing or to provide an encouraging word. I beam—I am so proud of him and I don’t tell him enough. The measure to which the church respects and appreciates dad, doesn’t come close to how much I do. Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

As we blend our families, Kent has had a difficult charge. What I know for sure is that he is a great father. His kids are crazy about him and talk to him most every day. I know it is difficult for him to be away from them this Father’s Day, but we hope to make up for it next weekend. Of course, the thing I appreciate about Kent is that he has grown to love my boys. He, in no way, tries to take the place of their father; in fact he quite often asks about Don and is always interested if the boys mention their dad. He allows them, even facilitates upholding their dad’s memory. The boys have grown to love and accept Kent as an important man in their life. He is often the one they go to for advice and assistance when life throws them curves. More than anything, he is a willing co-parent with me. He supports me as I do him. So today, I wish him a very Happy Father’s Day.

Admirable men understand the important role that they play in the lives of their children. This goes far beyond “being there” or not “being there”. It means connecting with them in a real and lasting way, forming a relationship that sustains time and judgment, coupled with loving without limits. Never should this relationship be taken for granted, for all too soon in can be stolen from us. If you are fortunate enough to have a Father in your life, celebrate him today. If you no longer have one in earthly terms, celebrate the day by honoring his memory.

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it." -- Clarence Budington Kelland

On a Short Leash - Not What I Thought

This week, I had lunch with my sister-in-law who lives in Dayton (check out their blog). She was telling me about an article that she had read in SLATE about a Buddhist couple married for 10 years who had NEVER been more than 15 feet apart the entire marriage. They considered this a “high form of Buddhist practice”. Personally, I consider it a “high form of insanity”. Anyway, when David Plotz (a writer for SLATE) and Hanna Rosin (a writer for the Atlantic), read of this story they decided to experiment themselves and try to stay within 15 feel of each other for 24 HOURS. Needless to say, their exploits for that time period are chronicled in the following SLATE article – On a Short Leash.

I am a very independent woman, always have been, always will be. I take my responsibilities, obligations and commitments very seriously; but they are mine to make. I am fortunate that I have always had men in my life who were confident enough in themselves to actually appreciate, even nurture, this aspect of my temperament.

Summer has always been a time when I am in charge of the day. If I wanted to go to shopping, take the kids to the pool, clean out the storage room or sit around and read---I could. Don always worked away from home and when he came home at 5:00, I would feel I already had all the time I needed or wanted to plan things for the kids and I and at that point in my day, I was ready to be full time wife and spend the evening with him. On occasion, I might have had an evening out with friends, but for the most part that was time for us.

Kent works from home…can you see where I am going with this? Now, I was afraid of how this might to pan out. I wasn’t used to having another adult around or being accountable to anyone else during the day in the summer. I was concerned with how the kids and I would stay out of his way and well---he out of ours. I was worried that by being together so much, we would grow weary of the other, become short tempered even get sick of having the other around. We wouldn’t be 15 feet apart at all times (which I find an astonishingly short distance), but we would be in the same house most of the day. Before we got married, I contemplated what this might look like and worried it could become stifling, fortunately that has not been the case. In some ways, by having Kent closer in physical proximity during the day, I have felt more independence than ever.

I enjoy being able to pop my head into his home office and just say, “hi”. I like knowing his routines, habits and schedule. I love being able to eat lunch with him most day’s coupled with the freedom to meet friends if deemed essential. He is here for “check in” with the boys, and on busy days he is often their “go to guy”. I am the beneficiary of his more flexible workday. Yes, there are times we can spend an hour running an errand during the day, knowing that he will have to work a little later into the evening to make up the time, but we get to do it together.

The down side of this arrangement is that he also travels with his job. Sometimes infrequently, but more often than not he travels at least 2 days a week. You might think this offsets the days he is at home all day, but I don’t find it the case. Just as David Plotz states in his piece, when Kent is gone it’s like I can’t see him and it is disconcerting on a certain level. I never expected to feel this way, yet this is where my life situation has brought me.

One reason this works is that Kent really “gets me” and I him. I know when he needs to be alone, and give him that space. I know that he enjoys spending a little time with me during the day, so I oblige (this one is easy as I love it too). I still have my independence, but I also find I enjoy the opportunity to spend some of my daytime hours with him.

Could I spend my life no more than 15 feet from Kent? Absolutely not, more likely than not it would be ME who would drive HIM crazy. Perhaps the part of this equation that is missing is choice. It is not in an attempt to reach a "higher plane" that I enjoy being close to Kent. It is because we have chosen this arrangement to be an aspect of our lives. I take pleasure having him in close proximity. It is an unexpected benefit to this “chapter two”.

YIPEE!!

I ran the equivalent to a 5K race today (3.1 miles). It is amazing to me that just a few weeks ago I laughed at the prospect of becoming a runner and enjoying it on top of that. But here is where I find myself weeks later---surprised? You betcha!!! But it is one of the greatest feelings in the world. If I can do this, I PROMISE anyone can.

Literary Clutter 911

Today is one of those times when I have decided that being an ardent reader is both a blessing and a curse. I have seven windows open in my browser. I have four (yes, 4) blogs started in four other windows each responding to something I READ yesterday. First there is the Buddhist couple who have never been more than 10 feel apart for the ten years they have been married. Then there is the story of the San Diego man who looked around his families home and decided to begin a “100 Thing Challenge” to limit himself to a mere 100 personal possessions. Of course there is a “running” story, a “Family Affair” writing and on and on and on…

I am in the progress of reading four books and three magazines simultaneously: one for fun, one for training, one for spiritual connections and one for well—pop culture? Isn’t this SUMMER, a time for balance and renewal?

In analyzing this phenomenon, I have come to some conclusions. Before Don died, I used to read voraciously – at least two to three books a week. After his death, my desire to read anything, but information that would me take hold of my grief, was gone. Reading actually became a chore for the first time in my life and I hated that about myself. However, during this time, I did begin to write and write and write. Writing became the creative outlet reading once owned.

Herein lies the problem. My passion for reading has returned, but I also still have a zeal for writing. So I look at this morass of clutter that is my laptop, with the realization that I MUST begin to think – B A L A N C E. I seem to have found this illusive concept in other aspects of my life. Balancing my roles as wife, mother, daughter, teacher, friend and taxi driver seem reasonably sane. I have even been able to balance my fitness and health goals, but this literary clutter is making me crazy. Isn’t this the most bizarre “problem” someone could have? I don’t know of any therapist specializing in eliminating literary clutter? Looks as if I will have to attempt this on my own.

Marsha’s 911 steps to eliminate literary clutter:
1. Set aside one hour in the morning to read/answer email, read other blogs and check online news (yes, I will most likely have to set a timer)
2. During this time I need to jot notes for future writing in my writer’s notebook.
3. Have no more than two books and one magazine on-going at one time. Recycle magazines as soon as I finish reading them, tearing out and filing any articles I’d like to keep.
4. Prioritize future reading so that when I finish one book, I know what to pick up next.
5. BE flexible with this plan, knowing that at some times I will lapse and that’s OK.
6. Set aside an additional hour in the day to write. I am not a professional writer. It is NOT my job. I have many other aspects of my life to tend to---so this is plenty of time.

Now, I am taking bets---who thinks this plan will last a day? A week? A month? Those of you who know me best---what’s your prediction? I will give you a clue---I wrote this piece yesterday, so what did I do last night? I rejuvenated my much ignored Facebook account, added flair and friends---geeezz……

Tuesday Triviality II

Literary clutter seems to have overtaken my life (blog to come) so today, for Tuesday Triviality I am going to purge a bit of it instead of giving in to my urge to write a blog about each. What I want from you is your reactions to the following

First, is a story on the SLATE sight about a Buddhists couple who have NEVER been more than 15 feet apart for their entire ten year marriage.
On a Short Leash


Second, is a story in Time magazine about a San Diego man who has decided his family clutter needs to be eliminated and has begun a “100 Thing Challenge”.
How to Live With Just 100 Things
100 Thing Challenge


Finally, just something to ponder:
What does Geronimo yell when he jumps out of a plane?

Have a tremendous Tuesday!

The Ultimate Self-Help Book

I own many different Bibles. Seems like for years, my parents would buy me a new one for by birthday or Christmas. There are more Bible translations and paraphrases than one person could ever need and I have them all: The Message, The King James Version, The New King James Version, The Living Bible, The New International Version, The American Standard and on and on… I do have my favorite. It is leather bound Thompson Chain New International Version. I will never forget the controversy my father stirred when he switched from reading the King James Version to the New International Version from the pulpit. One parishioner, in particular, stood up in the middle of a church service and challenged this new “version” as heresy and never darkened the door of our little church again.

My burgundy, worn Bible has seen me through marriage at a young age, the birth of my children, physical ailments, the death of my husband, milestones, life struggles and my recent remarriage and blending of family. Opening it’s cover you will find markings, tags, underlining, highlighting, bent pages, dates written in margins, and personal notes connected with scripture that resonate specific times in my life. It is, likely, my most prized possession. If lost or destroyed, it is the one material possession I would find to be a significant loss.

When I was growing up my grandmother used to challenge us to memorize portions of scripture, expounding the benefits of “hiding God’s Word in our hearts”. I was a good at it. I could memorize quickly, much to her delight. Psalms 23; Psalms 139; Romans 8; 2 Timothy 2; I have forgotten many things that I memorized in my past, but these scriptures remain in my recollection. I have found solace, as well as frustration at my attempts to reconcile life with the Holy Word.

I have never used scripture to “brow-beat” my children or others on the journey. I find the Word of God to be the foundation for life, not a tool for chastisement. The thought of thumping my children with the Word of God is foreign to me and I don’t believe it to be congruent to Biblical teachings anyway. I hope my children come to the realization that the Word is the solid foundation for their faith. It is the one means by which I believe God speaks to us today.

Within it’s pages are contained the answers so many seek in how to live with honor and principle. With all of the “awaking your life’s purpose”, Oprahish, guru-seeking books on the market today, this is the only one that has stood the test of time and scrutiny. Its words span time and history revealed to be undoubtedly the ultimate self-help book.

“For the Word of God is living and active.” Hebrews 4:12

The Step-Dog

Kent and I have been married three months next Sunday. We have blended our families as best we can, for having mostly adult children; but this week we added a step-dog to our family. Kent’s sons in Indianapolis live busy lives and though they love their dog they were were unable to give the time and attention he needed, so Joey, the Miniature Schnauzer, became a part of our everyday life. I have always wanted a dog to take in the car with me—Chelsie (our golden retriever, sheds and really doesn’t like car rides) but Joey “fits the bill” perfectly. He loves riding in the car, or spending the afternoon snuggled up on the couch. It is amazing how dogs adapt to their environment—as long as they feel welcomed.

Chelsie, Joey’s stepsister, is having some adaptation issues. She has been “top dog” for many years and now must share the spotlight with this new canine. She seems a bit jealous at times, but on the other hand seems to delight in the camaraderie another doggy companion provides.

Within the first few days, Joey learned many new positive behaviors. He used to dart out the door whenever anyone went in or out, but now humbly sits and waits to be greeted. Kent was surprised at how quickly Joey has learned manners. I am sure that Joey will have his “days”, just as we all do; but we are still glad he has joined the family.

It seems we humans could learn much from our dog companions. Dogs, unlike people, give unconditional love. They never hold your transgressions against you—they don’t even remember them after a few seconds. They are uncomplicated and simple, affording them a contented state of mind. I long to become uncomplicated: to love without boundaries and to live without worry. As Will Rogers once said, “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."

The Arte Y Pico Award!

I was awarded the Arte Y Pico Award by Annie, a fellow widow/writer/chapter 2 journeyer, who writes a blog (Anniegirl1138) that I enjoy reading everyday. Annie presented me with this award today with the following instructions:

1. Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog.

3. Each award winner (upon acceptance) should show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.

4. Show the link of Arte y pico blog , so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5. Show these rules.

I have never heard of blog awards until today. Upon research, I found that many blogs have awards attached to them--never paid much attention to those little iconic thingys at the bottom of blogs. I am honored that Annie chose me for this award, but am more honored that she often posts comments on my blog that always encourage me as a writer and a person. Since she has already received the award, I can’t pass it back to her, yet that would be my first choice, SO, after much consideration, I have decided to pass on the award to the following:
Rob
Shelly
Evan and Julia
Alicia
Rosanne Though she just began blogging, I have learned much of what I know about teaching writing from her.

Here is a huge thank you from me for enriching my life with your words.

Realistic Victory!

As a beginning runner, I long to look like the guy down the street when he runs. He has long, muscular strides, his form impeccable and seems to run effortlessly. He is an “Adonis of running”. As much as I admire his abilities, it would be ridiculous to set my goals by his standards. I mean, he is half my age, not even my gender and obviously has more athletic genes in his little finger than I have in my entire body. But this is what we do in life; we compare our journey with that of someone else and set our goals by another’s standards then are surprised and dejected when we don’t “measure up”.

I understand that goal setting is paramount to success in any new endeavor, yet doing so often leads to failure. Why-- because we are unrealistic in our expectations. I tend to set unattainable goals like: lose 20 pounds before a wedding in two weeks, then I am shocked, disappointed and left with feelings of failure at my lack of achievement; when in reality, I set myself up for failure.

When I began to run, I made a conscious decision to set small, realistic goals that would lead to my one big desire of running a 5K race before the summer is over. Let me remind you that on my first attempt to run, I may have actually jogged – a block without needing a respirator to breathe. My first goal was to run ONE mile without stopping to walk. Each day I have watched myself come closer and closer to attaining this goal.

Today I actually reached it---

When I hit that one-mile mark, I felt like Rocky Balboa running the streets of Philadelphia. I am sure I heard the beat of the “Rocky Theme” bellowing in my head, as I looked the fool—jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk celebrating self-victory. I know one mile isn’t that far and that I have much further to go before I can run 3.1 miles without stopping, but this was a huge accomplishment for me. I immediately called Kent and Ginny, huffing and puffing as I shared my achievement. They cheered for me, and encouraged me and represented all that someone who loves you should be.

Why it is that we don’t celebrate life’s milestone in similar ways? Why don’t we hear the “Rocky Theme” the first time we accomplish things in our life that take guts to complete. Why don’t we cheer each other’s accomplishments no matter how small? I can’t tell you the number of endeavors I was able to complete on my own, after Don’s death. Instead of celebrating my successes, I often complained or whined that I “had” to do it on my own. I felt slighted because my circumstances required me to “step up” and I wasn’t as good at it as some other widows or single parents that I knew. What a travesty! I look back now and thing---DANG, I should have called Ginny and said “You know what? I changed the toilet ring, made solo-travel arrangements, or fixed the grill!” She would have cheered me on just as she did today, but I didn’t give her the opportunity.

We should set our goals according to our own expectations and circumstances---not gage our lives by those of others and at the same time we must allow others to celebrate with us. Life’s goals and accomplishments should be celebrated, no matter how trivial they may seem. We should spring up those proverbial stairs, arms raised in victory as the “Rocky Theme” plays in the background each day we step out on faith, accomplish something we never have before, or reach a personal goal. Can you hear it?

Tuesday Triviality

I rarely simply copy and paste "stuff", but I think Tuesdays will become "Tuesday Triviality" and on this day of the week I will share things I have found important to me---basically to have a place to record "stuff". Feel free to do the same...

Triviality #1:
Henri Nouwen quote:
Optimism and hope are radically different attitudes. Optimism is the expectation that things-the weather, human relationships, the economy, the political situation, and so on-will get better. Hope is the trust that God will fulfill God's promises to us in a way that leads us to true freedom. The optimist speaks about concrete changes in the future. The person of hope lives in the moment with the knowledge and trust that all of life is in good hands.

Triviality #2:
As a former pastor once said, "If this don't light your fire--then your woods all wet!"

No Need, For Speed

It is with great trepidation that I write this post. Basically, because I know that by doing so I have somehow become accountable and well, it would be much easier not to be. One week ago, I began running. Well, more truthfully---I began walk/running. If you see me run it you might ask yourself, “What’s the point? Her run is not that much faster than her walk.” But I call it “running” just the same. Kent is a runner, my friend Ginny is a runner and I wanted to share this activity with them, so I started to run myself.

Anyway, true to the Marsha approach to everything in life—I READ it to death. Perhaps I thought that by reading about running I would automatically become---well---a runner, and that actually pounding the pavement wouldn’t be necessary. Guess what? It doesn’t work that way.

Ginny recommended “No Need for Speed” by John Bingham and it arrived on my doorstep with in 48 hours just as Amazon promised. Funny thing is, I can’t put it down. Over the past few years, I have read at least 30 books about widowdom, I have read more than 30 books about being a good parent or wife, and many more about dieting; yet, this book on the subject of running has created more challenge in my life than any of the previous reads.

Bingham’s approach to running couldn’t be a more perfect metaphor to how we should approach widowhood and life in general. Let me explain.

With all due respect to Mr. Bingham I am going to analogize some of his writing. I am going to replace “running” (for the most part) with the word “widowhood”; the word “life” would work as well:

“Widowhood is really just one giant game of Chutes and Ladders, though in widowhood there are more chutes than ladders. You make decent progress in your widowhood and then suddenly an “injury” sends you back to where you were 6 months before. So you roll the dice and start again.”

In addition, Bingham writes of the problem many beginning runners face: that of setting unrealistic expectations. He explains that he receives a multitude of emails from folks who feel they “should” be running faster, but are caught in the expectation trap. He clarifies how runners have stopped being happy about the progress they have already made and are trying to live up to some preconceived “standards”. I find this a problem with many folks. They read about another’s journey and expect that they must have the same one and if, for some reason they do not, they feel less or more because they have a different experience.

I like Bingham’s response (once again I am executing literary license in bold print):

“A timetable may be vague, ill defined or a schedule they’ve read or heard about. Whichever it is, they’re certain that they’re falling further and further behind everyday.

Your widowhood won’t confirm to a timetable. It won’t adhere to a schedule that you put on the wall, write down in a journal or read in a grief book. Improvement comes over time. You’ll get stronger and grow further when YOU can---and not a day before.”

I don’t think I have ever read a self-help book that holds such perfect truths for the widowed (or life for that matter), yet it comes in the form of a book about running. I stand amazed at how God reveals truths to us when/if we are open. Following Memorial Day, I have been more mindful of my widow journey. I am not defined by it, but I most certainly am who I am today BECAUSE of it and it continues…

Becoming.....

It is only the first week of summer vacation and I have already read three books—not ONE of any literary value whatsoever. I just finished “Twenty Wishes” by Debbie Macomber. I wouldn’t normally have chosen this book—mostly because of its nauseatingly “cutsie” cover; but it is a story about four widow friends, so of course I had to read it. Each of the characters is at a different place on their widow-journey. All are different ages and have different stories. The author seems to grasp the essence of widowhood without making it such a downer that no one would want to read the book. At one of the widow’s gatherings while talking about the fact that they want more out of life, each widow is challenged to create a list of 20 wishes. The novel then follows these four women as they begin to realize their life wishes.

The book didn’t make me want to run out, buy a scrapbook and begin my own 20 wishes journal, but it did make me think about why people get “stuck” in their lives. I wish getting “un-stuck” was as simple as writing down wishes, but it is not. Something else has to happen. You have to want to be “un-stuck”. You have to have a plan to become “un-stuck”. You have to create a life where being stuck simply isn’t an option.

I never thought about this much until now, but Kent and I both knew we didn’t want to remain “stuck” in our lives. I would like to be able to admit that I could have created a fulfilled life without the love of another; I simply can’t. I understand myself well enough to recognize that a large part of who I am requires that aspect of my life to be fulfilled. I know not everyone is like me regarding this aspect of "singleness"(and some would never admit it anyway), but I have great respect for people who find contentment being alone and who have found fulfillment and strength in being single.

I know that being “stuck” wasn’t an acceptable option for my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had a plan to become “un-stuck”, though perhaps unconsciously. I knew I didn’t want to live my life stagnated by tragedy. My good friend often tells me that I seemed to always be “open” to a new relationship and that was accurate. I was honest with myself as to what I could give and what I needed for the second part of my life. I needed someone intelligent; someone to share my religious beliefs; someone who loved music; someone who would accept and love my family; someone unafraid to attempt new adventures; someone just like – Kent. So, I shouldn’t be surprised that I have been blessed again, nor should I be apologetic to those still searching because I DO understand how difficult this journey can be. I will remain forever grateful that I have been fortunate, as well as encourage and cheer on others as they take the steps to become "un-stuck".

I don’t need 20 wishes. I just have one big one and that is to have a life filled with love, happiness and the chance to share it with someone honorable.

Making an IMPACT

When I was growing up in Missouri, our church denomination organized a group of selected teenagers from around the state to travel, sing and minister in the summer. My dad was instrumental in the organization of the group, so I was always "under foot" during rehearsals. The group was called the “IMPACT Singers” and I anticipated the time I would turn 16 and have the opportunity to travel with the group. It seemed so glamorous. I was only 10 or 11 at the time and wanted to emulate every girl singer in the group and fell in love with every teenage boy. Unfortunately, we moved to Nebraska before I had the chance.

I can’t imagine a group similar to this one would be feasible today. Middle class teenagers are far too overbooked to be able to donate an entire summer to travel. I hadn’t thought of the IMPACT Singers in years, until I was watching television late last night.

Nightline ran a story about the Impact Repertory Theater in Harlem. This group was first introduced to the public through the movie “August Rush” (perhaps my favorites of the year) and then again at the Oscars. Jamal Joseph, the founder of the group had more in mind than simply creating singers, dancers and actors when he envisioned IMPACT. Each member of of this group must audition; survive a strenuous “boot camp”; pledge service to family, friends and community; AND commit to college. WOW—talk about making an IMPACT.

Joseph “gets” that teenagers need to be connected, plugged in and given opportunities to find fulfillment through hard work and education. These kids are from the inner city; many have been in jail or led troubled lives, yet will travel two hours by train to be a part of IMPACT and to have the opportunity to turn their lives around.



It is difficult to get middle-class children to grasp the discipline it takes to create a fulfilled life. I am not talking about financial success. I am speaking of a rewarding life that makes a difference. For my own children, I long for them to value service to others, education and commitment. My wish for them is to aspire to create an IMPACT.

BREATHINGS of the HEART...
I hope the blog change doesn't affect those of you who view my blog on a daily basis...if so ... let me know..

After much deliberation, I decided on this new title for my blog. I know it is a bit sappy for my taste, but I do think it captures the essence of my words.

Blessings,
Marsha

Honorary What???

This morning I hear Paul McCartney received an honorary doctorate from Yale—of all places. Normally, this would not affect me in any substantial way, but today—it just burns me. I lack the discipline and fortitude to complete a doctorate. I do hold two master’s degrees, which I tease should add up to ONE doctorate, but they do not.

My principal, on the other hand, is in the final stages of receiving her doctorate. She has sacrificed, studied, and surrendered her will to completing this process. It has been arduous. She has given up so much…yet some guy (albeit a "Beetle") who simply wrote a few good songs gets one—without effort at all. Call me cynical (though few do), but PLLLLEEEAASSSEE!!! It is simply W R O N G.

I don’t want to be an “honorary” ANYTHING…don’t want to be an honorary wife, mother, or teacher and I don’t want an honorary doctorate. If (and when) I decided to push myself in this direction, I want to know I EARNED it…I wonder if Sir McCartney feels the same?

Out With the Old--In With the New

I need to re-title my blog. It isn’t that I don’t like the one I have; it’s that I am irritated with Oprah right now and find it necessary to distance myself (like we’re best buddies). So fellow bloggers, readers, posters and lurkers---any ideas? Here are a few I am kicking around, but would love to hear your ideas:

The Open Vein
There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith

Breathings of the Heart
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth

Inner Music
To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music the words make. ~Truman Capote, McCall's, November 1967

Rain and Battle
For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain and the noise of battle. ~John Cheever

My Struggles Against Silence
Writing is a struggle against silence. ~Carlos Fuentes

Free-Range Parenting; Free-Range Kids

Ever heard of it? Me either, until my blogging pal Annie wrote about it today. So I did what any self-respecting parent would do---I googled it. Here is what I found: Free-range parenting is a concept whereas parents live responsibly (seat belts, helmets, airbags, etc.), but do not restrict their child's actions out of fear.

I agree with Annie that most of us (40-50 somethings) were raised with the “free range” mentality—there simply wasn’t a label yet. My parents loved me. I don’t doubt it a bit, but they NEVER had a chart on the refrigerator to “track” my grades nor did I EVER receive a sticker for completing my chores. They made it to “most” of my softball games when it was convenient and fit their schedule and yes; I rode my bicycle to many practices, play dates and extra curricular activities (without a helmet, no less). Their lives included me, but didn’t “revolve” around me. I ran in the woods with the neighborhood boys, I played “king of the mountain” with a rusty knife and I smoked a cigarette with the naughty girl across the street. Consequently, I not only have lived to tell the tales, but I have NO sense of entitlement. I don’t expect my boss to overlook when I am late, I don’t expect someone else to make sure I have my lunch, I tend to take chances that have brought great joy to my life, and I don’t tend to blame anyone, but myself, when I screw up.

I remember when our (now 19 year old) son was asked to play on a travel baseball team. My husband and I sat him down and with all the love we could muster announced (in our best Dr. Spock voice) that sometimes the “good of the family outweighed the good of one member” and that traveling all summer long would be both arduous and financially rigorous for our family. We lived with the disagreeing stares from his friend's parents. Weren't we AFRAID that Chad would NEVER get playing time in high school if he didn't play on the travel team? After much discussion, our son reluctantly agreed and, alas, did not play on the “travel team”. At the time, it was a difficult decision; but now that I look back it was providential; as that was the summer we all went on a Caribbean cruise---it ended up being the last vacation before Don’s death. If Chad had played travel ball, that vacation would have been impossible.

As an educator, I come into contact with all types of parents: helicopter parents, consultant parents, drill sergeant parents; but seldom free range parents. Rarely do parents look realistically at their children and furnish the parameters in which they can grow. It is easier to accentuate the positive aspects in our children, than to address those not so attractive dimensions of their character. We want to “save” them from making the mistakes that we made, only to inadvertently set them up to do so anyway. We are AFRAID to allow them the freedom to learn, perhaps fail and then relearn. We are quick to "save" and slow to "guide". It seems easier some how---or is it?

I have not looked at my youngest sons grades since first quarter this year. I was frustrated that he was not achieving as I thought he should. He is disorganized and somewhat scatterbrained, but is extremely contented—definitely a “glass half full” child. He has made honor roll all four quarters, albeit with a couple of C’s. Could he do better? You bet. Do I need to encourage him? You bet. Does he need a cheerleader? Yes, when he does something worth cheering. Does he need someone to take him to task? Yes, when he lacks confidence or drive. Does he need time to figure things out on his own? A HUNDRED TIMES—yes. Is it difficult to sit back and watch? Sometimes, but other times it is exciting to see those synapses taking place in his adolescent brain as he works through each hurdle. Am I this pragmatic all the time? Heck no—wish I could say that I was.

Children need freedom—and limits. They need to be able to make mistakes and learn from them. They need to be treasured enough to realize that the world doesn’t revolve around them and that the difference they make in the world comes from hard work and heart. They need the autonomy to take chances and the discipline that goes with limitations. They need to know that you will always be their cheerleader, but not always their savior. They need to know you will have the integrity to call them out when they are wrong and support them when they are right. They need to be allowed to run through the woods, play “king of the mountain” with a rusty knife and break the rules without you knowing it—why? Because we can talk to them until we are blue in the face, but until they experience the consequences of their actions, they can’t own them. They can’t learn from them and they certainly can’t grow.

This I know for sure…

Gotta Love My Job!

Do you remember what it was like to be 12 and counting down those last days of school? There was the anticipation of freedom that summer brought, along with the fatigue of concluding a school year. Do you remember planning just what you would do when school was out?
...slept-in,
...stayed up late,
...played outside until exhaustion set in or mom called you to dinner,
...had friends sleepover during the week,
...read,
...watched mindless television,
...aspired to only involve yourself in activities that made you happy…
ahhhh…
Those were the days!!!
WAIT….
I am a teacher---those ARE the days!!!!

Here's to the last week of school!

This I know for ABSOLUTELY sure...

Appreciating Those Who "Get It"

This past week was “Teacher Appreciation Week”. We have been fortunate that, for the most part, our children have had effective, dedicated teachers. My students wrote letters of appreciation to teachers who have impacted their lives this week. Teaching is most definitely a calling and for me, a legacy.

My mother “gets” kids. She has been a teacher for as long as I can remember and now, at 68, is still teaching kindergarten in an inner-city school, making a difference every day. I value the fact that she “gets” kids because I have never been more aware of how important this quality is for a teacher. Mom understands that children are not merely miniature adults, but are unique individuals with matchless potential. She “gets” that kids forget stuff and that they have lapse in judgment, yet she permits them, coupled with accountability, to make mistakes. She “gets” that it is because of missteps that children can “grow”. She does not tout her “standards”, but is aware of the fact that standards are only validated when she connects (in a real way) with the students in her classroom – and she does.

Of the countless attributes I could have inherited from my mother, this is one of the most fundamental. I want to “get’ my students. I want to be more a part of their lives than a part of some established rule of “standard”. What excites me, as a teacher is when I hear students say that they “get to go to English” or “Mrs. C. can we do this again tomorrow?” NOTHING beats that validation.

I am aware that there are educators who never get to experience this aspect of teaching—how sad that is! They never have understood, what mom always has, that education is a partnership between the educator, the child, the parent and the school. They have a totalitarian classroom environment where kids are stifled and devalued. They expect far more from their students than they expect from themselves and they have truly missed what it means to be effective.

I used to tell my Millikin students that teaching is two faceted—one is the love of the material and the other---is magic. I assured them that I could teach them one, but the other (the magic part) they either already possessed or never would and that “faking it” would never work---kids are too smart not to notice. I actually had pre-teaching students come up to me after my class and say, “I’m not sure I have the magic” to which I would, in the most supportive manner, lead them to some other interest as a vocation.

Don’t get me wrong; I am not talking about teaching styles or teacher “popularity”. There are countless teachers, who “get kids” and have a teaching style converse to mine. There are teachers who are stricter, more lenient, more hands-on, less hands-on…yet have a relationship with their students. They not only know, but also care which students have a dance recital on the weekend (and are usually invited), or which one plays traveling basketball, or which one is dealing with family tragedies. They know these things because they have chosen to connect with the kids. Within their classrooms students feel valued and therefore enjoy learning more. They make a difference every day…there are many teachers like this and to them I say “YOU are appreciated”

This I know for sure…

Star Struck in Central Illinois

Matt Damon is in town filming THE INFORMANT. This has caused quite a stir in our small community of BIG industry (ADM, Tate and Lyle, Caterpillar). There have been star sightings all over town. When out with friends, I have heard "Did you know Matt Damon is staying with the _________'s?" to which I chuckle and say, "I heard he was staying with the _________'s, then someone else said he was staying at the Mark Whitacre house in Moweaqua or at the Decatur Conference Center."

Personally, I have a hard time believing that Matt Damon is staying at a former Holiday Inn (even if this is the best Decatur has to offer). Gossip and misinformation about him abounds. Our local newspaper has a site especially for those of us who are “star struck” and wish to trace Mr. Damon’s every move.
http://www.herald-review.com/informant/

I have not read the book about ADM executive Mark Whitacre who turned FBI informant uncovering the biggest antitrust case ever, but I ordered it yesterday along with a analogous book called Rats in the Grain. I remember when the news story unfolded in 1995 and ADM's dirty laundry exposed. It was one of the biggest news stories in town—for a few weeks. I hate to say that I paid little attention. The initial story had little or no effect on my life. Conversely, the movie being filmed in town has had greater impact than the original story---so sad to admit.

Nevertheless, it has been a wee bit of excitement for our otherwise mundane existence. I anxiously await the movie premier if for nothing more than to acknowledge the familiar local landmarks and who knows…perhaps I will have a brush with greatness before the set shuts down.

The Lost Passion

For years, gardening was my summer passion. Our home in Maroa, built on farmland, was blessed with rich soil that made the task rather effortless. My love of gardening had a simple inauguration. I started out with a few flowerbeds to landscape the back of our home which over time grew into our backyard refuge. I knew the name of every flower, plant, bush and bird that found its home in our yard. When Don died, so did the passion to garden and for the life of me I don't know why. It is but one of the oddities on my journey that I simply can't figure out.

This weekend I caught the bug again. The passion was activated when I scrubbed the dirt from the pole system and hung my bird feeders making it easy to survey the birds finding sanctuary there. Gradually, I began to recall the names and recognizable sounds of common backyard birds. Taking in the familiar sparked an exhilaration that I can't explain. Subsequently, the soil simply began to call.

After examining the yard and its myriad of opportunities, I chose to begin with a small plot by our deck. I purchased some bulbs, perennials and a lovely pink rhododendron to place into my new flowerbed. I bought annuals for the planters on the front porch and hanging baskets of flowers to share with the birds. Finally, Kent and I purchased our first piece of furniture as a married couple - a beautiful granite topped outdoor table and chairs.

There is something therapeutic about getting your hands dirty—of sifting through dirt and planting new life. There is also something soothing about sitting in nature and taking in its beauty and solace. The exhaustion of planning, planting and working the soil is outweighed by the pride of accomplishment when you are finished. Perhaps our life moves in cycles of passion—or perhaps our passion is more connected to our life experiences than we think.

The soil in our new home is nowhere near the quality of the house in Maroa. It needs to be worked and enriched and worked some more to become ideal for new growth. It is much more difficult to prepare the soil, but more rewarding when completed. Cultivating the soil reminded me that sometimes our life is like clay—we are undernourished, and rather inadequate for growth. We didn't get to this point on purpose - life circumstances brought us here. Just like the soil, it is only when our lives become enriched through relationships, renewed passions and productive living that we become equipped for growth once more. It isn't easy - we must choose to fill our lives with nourishment. Just as I had to consciously make the decision to get in my car, drive to Menards and purchased enrichment for my garden soil, so must I make a conscious effort to enrich my own life.

This I know for sure...