Childhood Christmas Memories

For at least the first 16 years of my life, I was not home on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  My parents, brother, and I were the only ones in our extended family who didn't live in Virginia.  Therefore, Christmas was in Virginia. 😀

Each December, we'd wait for my dad to come home from an annual conference the first week of the month.  Once he returned, it was time to put up the tree and decorate, officially beginning our Christmas celebration.  Mom would put on a stack of records while we decorated, including Brenda Lee, Elvis, and Alvin & the Chipmunks.  We didn't do outside decorations, but let me tell you - we had Pringles cans that housed miniature Christmas scenes, so we lacked for nothing.

Usually the last weekend before Christmas, we'd exchange family gifts (gifts from Mom and Dad, not Santa). Once school was out, we'd head to Virginia.  Somehow, my folks would pack all our unwrapped Santa gifts along with 4 people's luggage into the trunk of the Caprice Classic without us seeing them.  My brother and I had an invisible line halfway across the back seat, where neither dared to extend their belongings or body into the other's territory.  Again, we'd listen to Brenda Lee, Elvis, and the Chipmunks - this time via 8-track tape.  Mom and Dad would pump my brother full of Dramamine and he'd sleep most of the trip with his mouth slung open, and I would read voraciously (this was before I developed car sickness that now makes me want to hurl after simply reading a text or glancing at a map when in a car).  At times I would gaze out the car window, taking in the decorations of those who decorated outside their homes, or gazing into the passing cars (we got passed a lot), wondering where those folks were going and if they had a family as wonderful as mine.  And as the years progressed into adolescence, sometimes I'd fantasize about catching the eye of some cute boy who would demand his parents stop the car because he was sure he'd found the perfect girl for him riding alongside them in the car with Ohio plates.

Eventually, we'd arrive at a winding gravel driveway that led up a hill to my Mema's house.  The excitement and anticipation was bursting in my heart!!!  We'd made it to MeMa's!!

Soon the "exhale" of arrival was replaced with bustling, unpacking the car (yet somehow not seeing the Santa gifts), remarking on anything that had changed in the house since our summer visit, playing with dogs, plugging in MeMa's hideous green Christmas candles in each of her many windows, and getting all caught up on the gossip of a small town - whether we wanted to or not.

When our cousins arrived, we'd spend the first 15 minutes feeling awkward and unsure, but would quickly find our groove as our parents shouted at us to "Settle down!" and "Stop running!" and "Close the door - we're not trying to heat the outside!" 

When we'd head over to Granny and PaPa's house, the same phenomenon occurred with the cousins.  Soon those boys would be dragging me through briar patches in a skirt, lighting fire to my shoelaces, and showing me all the wonderful nuances of country living.  At Granny's we'd patiently wait for sightings of the neighbors we'd affectionately nicknamed "Stringbean" and "Butterbean" - a tall thin man, and a short, less thin woman who'd make their way up the road to explore the dumpster and return with whatever treasures they'd found.

My cousins were at the forefront of my mind as I selected clothes to take on the trip.  It was important that I demonstrated that I had fashion sense and was hip.

I cannot impress upon you how vivid my memories are of climbing the creaky steps at MeMa's each Christmas Eve with my brother, where we'd lie awake by the wood-burning stove for what seemed like hours, discerning what sounded like hooves on the tin roof.

When it was time to head back to Ohio, MeMa sent us off with warm ham biscuits to eat in the car, saving time and precious money on our 495 mile trip home.  I consistently felt irritated because she was interfering with the likelihood of me getting a rare fast food meal.  Now, I'd choose those ham biscuits every day and twice on Sunday instead of a fast food meal.  Some things only come with time, maturity, and perspective.

I hope you've been somewhat entertained with my Christmas childhood memories.  If not, no worries, I really wrote this for myself to capture and record the magic of Christmas in Virginia.

Merry Christmas!

The Inverse of Love

Last night I found myself thinking back on the loves of my life.  I've been fortunate to be in love before, though I haven't been in love in quite some time (but that's a different blog).  I engaged in a silly exercise, comparing loves and thinking about who I had loved "the most" (speaking of romantic love here, not the love I have for my children, family, and friends).  I can recall the deep, endless, self-sacrificing love I felt.  How I would have done anything to bring him happiness, and how feeling his love was one of the greatest feelings I'd ever felt.

I began to think how I feel for him now...if I feel anything at all.  My feelings for him epitomize ambivalence.  Not hatred, not longing, not regret....just....neutral, nothing.

In my experience, when a person whom I immensely love begins to mistreat me, disrespect me, neglect me, tear me down, and otherwise treat me like shit, I go through somewhat of a grief cycle.  Initially, I am deeply wounded.  I long for the sunnier times when love was reciprocal.  I examine myself to see what I may have done to cause this change, to become unlovable.  Then I feel anger, disdain, and disbelief at how things have changed.  And in time, I feel numb towards that person.

People always say love is a powerful thing, and it is.  What I've come to realize is that the inverse of love is perhaps equally powerful.  But instead, its power is in its ability to diminish and eradicate love.  It's a slow and painful process, to be sure, but it's a thorough process.  I stand in awe of the realization that the person I once loved so completely is now someone I feel nothing for.  Not because I lost interest, strayed, outgrew him, etc.  But because he treated me in such a way that my love began to evaporate.  Then again, maybe my love just changed direction.  Instead of pouring into him, it began pouring into me.  I began to love myself enough to stop exposing myself to the inverse of love.

How Firm Thy Friendship

I attended calling hours tonight for a childhood friend who died unexpectedly this week.  Not surprisingly, I was overcome with memories as I sat with my two closest friends from my childhood and watched the video montage.  There are memories of countless sleepovers and birthday parties, riding bikes, prank calling, and spending nearly every day of summer at the neighborhood pool, longing to grow up quickly as we'd read Seventeen magazine and figure out the best hairstyles and makeup applications.

With hindsight and perspective, I've realized that my childhood was privileged.  Of course, I didn't realize it at the time.  I thought everyone grew up with friends like mine, in a neighborhood like mine, etc.  It's not that nothing bad happened - one of those friends lost a parent at a very young age, while another friend's parents divorced while she was young.  And it's not that we had a lot of material things.  It's that we had QUALITY.  I grew up with loving parents who are still together with 51 years of marriage under their belts.  I also grew up with some really quality friends. in quality families - good, kind, warm, welcoming people.  Just the other night my best high school friend's mom showed up with food and flowers - she'd learned I'd been sick and my friend sent her mom to bless me since she lives too far away to do so in person.  And today, whether it had been a few months or multiple decades since I saw some of these folks, that same genuine core of kindness and warmth was there, even amidst grief and suffering.  It really struck me how blessed my childhood was and how blessed I am.  That I could put my arms around two women who were once the girls I played tag with and tell them that I love them and mean it, even though we seldom see each other or talk.

Within the line of people who'd come to the visitation tonight, a group of boy scouts filed through.  As those boys each paid their respects to the family, they approached one of my friend's sons who was not in the receiving line.  And though the awkwardness was palpable, most of them gave that boy a hug and told him how sorry they were that he lost his mom.  It reminded me yet again of the power of friendships in those formative years, and how they really can last a lifetime.  I hope it's the same for her two sons.

"Waitin' at a stop light yesterday
As a funeral procession made its way through the gates
I watched it roll up a winding road
Through a field of green with white headstones all in a row.
And it made me think about where I'm at
On my not so straight and narrow path,
All the generous and mostly undeserved blessings that I've had...

I had an all-American Mom and Dad,
Some of the coolest friends you could ever have....."

~Jason Aldean, "Good to Go"

My Word for 2018

When 2018 began, I noticed people declaring "their word" for the year.  I gave it some thought, and decided my word would be "open."  I was feeling open to change, open to breaking old patterns and routines, and open to the possibilities life might have to offer.

The first half of the year, not much changed.  I did remain open though.  And when the time was right, I opened myself to two enormous changes.

First, I laid myself open to a new career.  After 14 years with a small business I had literally helped to build, I walked away and into a new opportunity in a brand new industry.  I was terrified.  I went from being the go-to person to being the person who constantly needs help and insight from others.  It was (and continues to be) a tremendous growth experience for me. I have joined a team of people whose high level of character is matched by their high level of talent - and that is a rare, wonderful thing.  My work is meaningful and impacts people's lives in a real and valuable way.  I feel so blessed and rewarded.

Second, I opened myself to the possibility of romance after 4 years of being inward-facing and choosing to be single.  I enjoyed a brief season of companionship, smiles and laughter, friendship, and perhaps love.  It ended poorly and without explanation, which makes healing difficult.  But I was open.  And that in and of itself is a success for me. It's something I've not been willing to do for far too long, and the better parts of the relationship showed me I could still open my heart to someone.  As is often the case, I simply opened it to the wrong person.

So I look to 2019, mulling over what my word and my mantra might be.  My first child will turn 18 next week and graduate in a few months, moving on to college and a life of independence.  It will be a tremendous transition and will mark 2019 in unequivocal ways.  I know my "word" will relate to that, it just hasn't come to me yet.  I'll keep you posted.

The Power of Words

I am a word person.  Words are the best way I express myself.  Words are my love language.  I commit words of love and support to memory, holding them close and cherishing them.  Likewise, I commit words of cruelty to memory.  So words can both haunt me and heal me.  

But perhaps equally powerful and damning is silence.  Silence - when words are so desperately needed - are punitive.  They leave words to the imagination, and imagination is a cruel companion in the midst of silence.  Worse yet is when one begs for words, for explanations and understanding, for a connection.....and silence is the only response.  It is cruel.  Intentionally cruel.  Destructive.  Selfish.  Cowardly.  Ugly.

Choosing to Give Thanks

This year as Thanksgiving approaches, I feel extremely blessed in so many areas of my life.  But there have been Thanksgivings when I've felt a little more pressed to truly give thanks.  I want to offer some words of encouragement to those who may feel that way right now, because I've been there and made it through to a brighter season in life.

For those experiencing physical suffering, give thanks for the breath in your lungs, sight in your eyes, and the body's amazing capacity to heal.

For those in the depths of grief, give thanks for the blessing of knowing your loved one and sharing a season of life with them.  You know full well they want to see you happy and hopeful.

For those who are jobless or dissatisfied with their job, give thanks for the unique purpose God placed in you that only you can fulfill.  You have unique talents and boundless potential.  Tune in to them, refine them, and then relentlessly pursue a meaningful opportunity.

For those who are broken-hearted, give thanks for the capacity to love.  It was not wasted time.  You learned more about who you are and what you do and don't want in a relationship.  You are better equipped to meet the right person who will love you the way you want to be loved...the way you deserve to be loved.

For those struggling with anxiety or depression, give thanks for being alive.  Find those who will listen and support you and allow only those folks into your inner circle.  Let go of what does not serve you.  Invite what brings you peace.  Be willing to try new ways to bring peace and hope into your life.

I truly believe that, even in the darkest of times, we can find blessings in our lives.  They may not shine brightly at this hour.  They may be easy to discount, diminish, or minimize.  But they are there, waiting to be recognized and valued.  We all go through seasons of darkness, seasons of hopelessness, seasons of despair and grief.  What makes this life worth living is finding the tiniest spark of hope and fanning that flame, protecting it from being extinguished, until one fine day it ignites into a glorious, all-encompassing fire.

My Cup Runneth Over

The blessings God has poured over me lately are truly overwhelming.  I'm humbled and cautiously optimistic.  It's not lost on me how long I waited, hoped, and prayed for change in my life.  That long and often painful period of waiting created fertile ground for new opportunities to take root.  God always knows what He's doing, and He does it in His perfect timing.

Some significant changes occurred at work that brought disappointment and enormous stress my way.  My body responded by developing mono four times in 14 months, letting me know it was depleted and needed a respite.  It took a long time and many rejections and dead ends for me to find a new opportunity that matched my skills, interests, and income needs as a single parent.

But the moment I read the job description, I said, "This is what I've been looking for."  As I traveled that path, I saw signs of validation and confirmation repeatedly, until there was no doubt in my mind that this was my next best step.  Now, almost two months in to my new position, I'm thrilled to be a part of such a talented group of sterling people.  I'm able to apply my skills and contribute to an industry that really matters and works to bring life change in positive ways.  

Continually, I feel humbled and grateful that God put this opportunity in my path and gave me the tremendous courage it took to leave a company I'd been with for over 14 years.  It was a huge leap of faith that could have ended in any number of ways, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't terrify me.  It's been a huge blow to my ego to go from being so heavily relied upon to having to rely so much on others.  But it's yielded growth and strength at the same time, and it's been worth it and hopefully will continue to be.

At almost exactly the same time I resigned my former position, a man I'd known on the fringes for a couple years (and admired from afar), stepped out of the shadows.  I've been single for several years, having been heartbroken in as many ways as you could imagine and even more.  I just felt that my time and chance for romance had passed.  As much as I felt lonely at times, it just didn't seem to ever be worth it.  I guarded my heart and had accepted that I would remain alone.  I had found peace and contentment in my solitude.

Opening myself to the possibility of romance at the same time I was going through a huge life change with my career seemed ill-fated.  I don't deal well with major change and find my bearings by clinging close to what is familiar and reliable to me.  At the same time, I found I couldn't slam this door shut.

This man has brought such happiness and laughter into my life, and has reignited my hope in ways I thought no one ever could.  He is good to me, and he is good for me.  We have slowly but continually been getting to know each other and he has shown such acceptance and support toward me, it is truly humbling.  

Only God knows where I will be in a month or a year from now.  But at this precise moment, I stand at a mountaintop, having spent far too long deep in a valley.  I feel liberated and hopeful.  Truly, my cup runneth over.