deck the house

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Dear Nathan,

We decorated the house today for Christmas. I can hardly believe it’s that time of year already, since Christmas was the last time I saw you. I don’t think we’ve ever gone a year without seeing each other. Even when I was gone to China, I saw you after about six or seven months.

I unpacked your decorations box and got out the boys’ stockings. I also found yours, and it brought a smile to my face. I remember when we made them as kids, printing our names in glue and then shaking glitter all over it. I hope you don’t mind, but I hung it on the curio cabinet. I just wanted to see it. I explained to the boys that your stocking wouldn’t have anything in it on Christmas morning, but I thought it would be nice to include it with our other decorations. They didn’t seem to mind.

I also found your brass baby ornament with your name and birthdate engraved on it. I held it and traced my fingers across your name a couple of times. I will hang it next to mine on the tree. Speaking of sorting through your decorations, I can’t believe you – Mr. Organizer – had two large candles just thrown in the box, unwrapped. They had melted and ruined a couple of figurines. Thankfully, they weren’t sentimental, so I threw them away when the boys weren’t looking.

stockings 2009Thanksgiving was nice, but I sure did miss you. Mama made Grannyfanny’s cornbread dressing, and it was scrumptious. I’ve always said that her dressing is probably on the banquet table in heaven. I guess you’ll have to vouch for that, but I reckon it might be true. I made eggnog cookies, and the icing had rum in it! Stop laughing; yes, there is still plenty of rum left … No, I didn’t drink it all! This is the part where you bump me with your shoulder and call me a lush, right? I know you would, you silly goose. I can hear you joking now: “Aww, lookie my prude sister, ‘cooking’ with rum. A little rum for the icing, a little rum for her … a little rum for the icing …” and then I smack you on the shoulder and tell you to stop being a brat.

I miss you like crazy, Nathan. Christmas is going to be hard without you here.

Nanowrimo

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November is National Novel Writing Month, aka, “Nanowrimo.” It is a grassroots initiative to inspire both accomplished writers and would-be authors to complete a book-length manuscript in a month’s time. The goal is 50,000 words.

I have never participated before but thought I would give it a try this year. I didn’t tell very many people, because I wasn’t confident that I could finish, and I hate failing. I hate failing even more when it’s out in the open for others to see. (Note to self: spend some devotional time on PRIDE.)

Well, I wrote just shy of 10,000 words before I had to call it quits. Real life got in the way of my writing time. (Imagine that! Ha!) I am happy to have had the encouraging nudge to write again, and I loved the experience of the story unfolding beneath my fingertips. I purposely did not outline my tale and just wrote whatever came to mind as the plot progressed. There were a couple of places where something significant happened in the story that I had not intended or expected; it just seemed fitting as I was writing, so there it was! That’s the fun of Nanowrimo: you just write, write, write and worry about editing later.

I met a new friend along the Nanowrimo adventure, so that’s a bonus. Not only that, but I reconnected with a couple of other friends who were also trying Nanowrimo for the first time. It was fun sharing progress updates and encouraging each other. I am not giving up on my manuscript, but I do have to revisit that Pride issue when it comes to submitting it to a publisher. I’ve been rejected before on a few occasions and lost my nerve to try again.

I have often said that writing is therapeutic for me. It’s partly the reason why I have this blog. I wrote for many months and didn’t share it, but I think I’ve finally gotten to the point where I realize that if I’m dealing with a life issue or trying to reconcile something spiritually, then there’s a good possibility that others are going through something similar, and perhaps I could help shed some light on it for them so that we can walk this journey called Life together. I receive such a blessing when people tell me that something I wrote connected with them. Sometimes, I wear my heart on my sleeve; other times, I get a chip on my shoulder. I work through it by “talking” it out here.

A couple of folks have encouraged me to write children’s books, and I have written a few pieces that I thought were decent, albeit rejected (dern that pride again). What I feel most compelled to write, though, is adult fiction about real-life dilemmas. I like to process how we cope with life’s curveballs so that we, as readers, can relate to the characters as they live out the adventure — sometimes painful, sometimes joyful, always real. Perhaps someday …

memory scents

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There are aromas that are stuck in my brain, and the very thought of them makes me reiminisce. Some are very faint, yet distinct – like the smell of my Granddaddy’s old, green car. He died when I was in high school, but I am certain that if I smelled that scent again, I would know it in an instant. Others, like the smell of freshly-washed baby, aren’t specific to one person but still bring happy thoughts. Some are food smells, and this time of year brings out the most wonderful ones.

The scent that is on my mind right now is Nathan’s faded Dr Pepper t-shirt. I took it from his closet when we were cleaning out his house, and I keep it in my dresser drawer. I don’t wear it; I just like to hold it and smell it. I haven’t taken it out of the drawer in a while, but yesterday evening I was having a melancholy moment and just wanted to hold Nathan’s shirt and breathe him in again. I was so disappointed to find that it has lost its scent. It just smelled like my other clothes.

Maybe that sounds silly, but I would hazard a guess that I’m not the only one who has kept clothes from a loved one just to smell them again. When I smelled his t-shirt, it made me feel close to him again. I could remember a little more clearly what it felt like to have his strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, to feel his prickly beard nuzzled into the top of my head because he knew how annoying it was to me! I can remember how it felt to press my face against his chest; I just took for granted how he smelled. Now that he’s gone, every sensory recollection seems important. It’s been 10 months – today – since he died. I guess I should have expected that his scent wouldn’t linger forever on an old t-shirt. Oh, how I would love to hug him now.

Social media & the workplace: butting heads or finding balance?

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I’ve been thinking about a remark recently regarding workplaces reining in Facebook usage, etc. I can certainly understand the concern about people wasting work time, but as for prohibiting social media use all together during work hours, I have a few observations/suggestions.

To begin, please understand that I am not at all trying to get on a high horse. I think my social media use (during any time of day) has been well within reason, but I would just like to lend another perspective, because broad policy changes like this do concern me. This exact topic came up at the diversity workshop that I attended recently, and several articles have been written about social media use in the workplace, so I just wanted to throw out some thoughts for consideration by the powers that be.

In my little office of four people, there are three age groups represented, so I was especially interested in the section on generational diversity during the recent workshop. We talked about a number of issues, such as how each age group typically likes to be recognized (the “retirement watch” vs. public recognition or non-material perks like time off). We gained an understanding of why the WWII  and Boomer generations have such a formal outlook on work attire (“live to work/work to live” and “work isn’t supposed to be fun”), while Gen-Xers and Millennials favor a more casual approach (“work/life balance”).

We also learned about how each group manages time and perceives technology …

Facebook, Twitter, etc. are like the watercooler conversations of yesteryear. Share the news; see what’s new; get back to work. In my humble opinion, they are akin to making a brief, personal phone call – certainly not to be abused but understood in the context that unless one is operating heavy machinery or tending to patients, an employee can still be productive without putting nose to the grind for nine strict hours a day with a 60-minute lunch break.

Researchers at The University of Melbourne released findings from a study this spring about Internet usage in the workplace. You can read the article here, but in brief, what they found was that leisure Internet browsing actually boosted productivity – provided it was carried out within reason.

Companies used to have (and I suppose some still do) two 15-minute breaks and a lunch break. Before my parents retired, they worked for the postal service, and they – literally – had to clock out and clock in for break times. Social media converts that break time into tiny increments, sprinkled throughout the day. In the past, a proud grandparent may have spent 10 minutes strolling the office hallways to show off wallet pictures of her grandbaby to co-workers. Now, she can spend two minutes uploading the same pictures to Facebook and share them with 75 friends at once.

Another interesting discovery is that Millennials (broadly defined as the under-30 set) are more likely to send an email or text message than they are to pick up the phone and call someone. They have been inundated with technology since birth, so it is just another means of communication to them.

I serve on the marketing committee for an academic/corporate relations group that I’ve been a part of for a few years now. One thing we’ve discussed recently is how to engage our members better through social media. The group has a presence on LinkedIn where we can share bulletin board discussions, pose questions of peers and stay connected with group-related news. I also “follow” 25 foundation-related Twitter accounts, which range from the Gates Foundation to the Council on Foundations to Philanthropy Journal. Some of the “tweets” pertain to national policy or press releases, but others are for new grant initiatives and trends. I have found this list to have just as valuable information as skimming the Chronicle of Philanthropy periodical – perhaps even more so, since the updates are done in real-time.

All this is to say: I just want to encourage folks to look at the underlying concern behind this discussion about Facebook, etc. Is the concern that employees will goof off on the job? If that is the rationale, then I’m afraid those employees will just as readily do a crossword puzzle in the morning paper, hang out in the break room or play Solitaire on their computer. Employees found plenty of ways to waste time long before social media – smoke breaks, taking the long route back from the mail room, unnecessarily long bathroom trips … any number of excuses. If, however, the underlying concern is something more along the lines of people saying inappropriate things via social media outlets during work hours, then that could be a separate personnel issue. To me, that falls more into the category of someone caught swearing in the hallway than it does social media, in particular.

For what it’s worth, that’s my $0.02 on the social media matter. I do respect the concern that people can spend too much time involved in social media, but I believe that reasonable usage amounts to no more than a coffee break. If someone is spending too much time online and it is hindering their work performance, then that is a personnel issue and not the fault of social media, in and of itself.

Happenstance

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This morning in the car, we were listening to a song on the radio by MercyMe called “Bring the Rain.” One of the biggest blessings of being a parent is hearing my boys sing along to praise music. I sometimes imagine angels in the car with us, jamming along as we sing.This particular song, in case you aren’t familiar with it, is especially powerful to me because it talks about praising God even when we are in a deluge of pain and suffering.

At one point during the song, Ry caught a word and asked me, “What does ‘circumstance’ mean?” I explained that it means the stuff that is happening in your life – what’s going on right now around you. I told him that the song says we need to remember to thank God even when our circumstances – whatever is happening in our lives, make us feel sad or mad. God is still in control even when we don’t feel happy or when something happens that makes us feel sad.

As I tried to explain this big word to two inquisitive preschoolers, I thought about I Thessalonians 5:18, where the Bible says to “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” It’s easier said than done sometimes.

If I’ve learned anything through the suffering that I have experienced in my life, it is that I exist for God’s pleasure, not the other way around. God is not a magic genie who grants wishes and assures me a life of luxury. If I can’t praise God when I’m broken and weary, then what good is my worship of him when life is swell and I feel on top of the world?

I’ve talked before about not having a death wish yet yearning for eternity. This life is not permanent. It’s not my final destination. I’m not even promised tomorrow. Happenstance can feel good and make me happy, or life can throw a curve ball and make me feel gloomy. Either way, my present circumstances cannot be my reason for being.

I've had it up to "here"

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I hope this post doesn’t cross the line into the vulgar category, but I need to have a candid talk about boys’ plumbing. For no apparent reason other than he just darn well feels like it, Ri continues to pee on himself during the day. Granted, I understand that nighttime bedwetting can continue to be a problem at this age, and I accept that. He wears a pull-up at night, takes care of throwing it away in the morning if it’s wet, and life goes on pretty routinely. However, this daytime peeing on himself is about to drive me out of my ever-lovin’ mind.

I’m so tired of having to take extra sets of clothes to daycare and hearing his teachers tell me almost daily that he had another “accident.” Tell it like it is: it’s not an accident; he’s being belligerent. I’m tired of washing nasty pee-smelling pants and underwear. I thought we were done with diapers a couple of years ago when Ry finally got potty-trained.

As if there aren’t a hundred thousand other things to adjust to this year, this particular issue is grating on my last nerve. We’ve tried everything:

1) Bribery: incentives to stop wetting; a prize chart at home for staying dry for a week; special treats from his daycare teacher/Awana teacher/children’s minister. He never made it longer than four days, and usually no more than two.

2) Penalties: he has to carry his yucky clothes home and put them in the laundry room by himself (they go in the towels hamper since we don’t want to wash icky clothes with other people’s nice clothes); he’s had to put back on his crusty wet clothes and take a shower with them on; he’s gotten swats on his behind (corporal punishment – *gasp! – don’t freak out; your parents spanked you, and you turned out just fine); he’s had treats taken away (such as no desert or halloween candy when everyone else got a piece that night). Nothing worked; even though penalties are very effective for other infractions, punishment didn’t change his behavior in this regard any more effectively than the promise of a prize.

3) Ignoring it: we tried just not mentioning it at all and making him take care of remembering to bring extra clothes to daycare, but that didn’t work b/c they just called me at work to bring an extra set. They wouldn’t let him stay wet all afternoon, which is what I proposed.

4) The Big-boy plea: when he turned five, he promised me that he was a big boy now, and since only babies wet their pants, he would quit. Yeah, that lasted all of a day. We even put him back in pullups during the day for a couple of weeks, and the daycare asked us to put him back in underwear because he was being made fun of.

5) Medical fear: I flat-out asked him if his “peenie” was broken. He gasped and said NO. I said, “Well, does it pee all by itself? Does it sometimes pee when you don’t want it to?” He said no. I clarified, “Then, when you wet your pants, you must WANT to pee on yourself.” He huffed and folded his arms. I said, “Look, it’s one way or the other. Either you let your peenie pee all over you on purpose, or it pees on you and you can’t make it stop. I guess we’ll have to go to the doctor and find out if it’s broken.” He exclaimed, “It’s NOT broken!”

So, I walked him through his latest episode at daycare that day. Where was he when he wet his pants? In the classroom. Ok … isn’t there a bathroom in your classroom? Yes. Did you know that you had to go potty? Yes. What were you doing when you realized you had to go potty? Coloring at the table. Did you get up to go potty? No. So, you peed on yourself while you were sitting at the table? Yes.

That recap tells me that it’s not a medical issue; he’s just being a defiant little booger! I told him that he needed to see the doctor soon now that he had a birthday, anyway, so I am going to ask the doctor if something is wrong with his peenie. “Nothing’s wrong with it!” he pouted. “Ok, then, so stop peeing on yourself,” I replied. *sigh

One final option, similar to the “ignore it” technique that I read another parent tried – with success – is what I am going to call the laissez faire approach. I called him aside to talk to him privately tonight and told him that starting tomorrow, I. Don’t. Care. About. His. Pee. Anymore. I said that if he wants to pee all over himself and smell stinky and get laughed at and wear dirty clothes, then fine – he can do that. (He huffed again.) I said that if he has a good day and stays dry, then I’m not going to say Yea! or give him a high-five, because that’s what he’s SUPPOSED to do. I asked if he understood, then I repeated it again: I. Don’t. Care.

Call me mean, but all signals point to this being a cry for attention, and maybe by praising him for the good days, we’re just feeding the need for negative attention on the bad days. Now, I do understand and have read a bazillion different people say that kids often act out by wetting when they are grieving or have experienced trauma. That’s why we’ve tried so many different ways of handling this up till now. Now that insurance is squared away, we’re going to get the boys into counseling. We understand that as much chaos as we adults have experienced this year, the boys are going through their own form of grieving. I get that. I do.

But, at what point do we quit making excuses for his behavior and hold him accountable? He still has to put away his supper dish like everyone else. He still has to take a turn feeding the dogs. He still has to brush his teeth. He still has to hold hands in a parking lot. We don’t let him throw a hissy-fit when he wants someone else’s toy and brush it off as, “Oh, well, he’s grieving.” Why is the pee issue such a hush-hush, delicate subject?

What's in a birthday?

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This is my first birthday without Nathan. He would always send me a silly card, something along the lines of “I smile because you’re my sister; I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it!” He would also call at some point during the day and sing to me. He usually opted for the “you look like a monkey and smell like one too” version of the Happy Birthday song.

Today, on my 35th birthday, I have been so blessed with dozens of friendly reminders on Facebook, emails, phone calls and friends just stopping by the office to wish me a happy day. I can’t help but feel a little sad that Nathan won’t be calling to serenade me, but others have gone out of their way to make today a joyful, relaxing, happy day. I can’t thank them enough!

I have a friend who makes a special phone call every year on her birthday – to her mother. She calls just to say, “Thanks for having me!” What a neat idea. Isn’t that what birthdays are about? It’s our reminder, once a year, to let someone know that we are glad they are in our lives. We are glad they exist.

Tonight, I think I will kick back and let my five precious blessings enjoy Stay-up-late-and-play-video-games Night and thank God for another year of existence on this Earth.

stop apologizing

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I attended a great workshop on diversity earlier this week. One of the subtopics was gender differences, and we spent some time talking about conversational rituals. I was fascinated by the research that has been done in this area.

Boys (>>men) have a tendency to oppose &/or challenge each other in a playful way or by playing devil’s advocate. As a mom of boys, I see first-hand the constant one-upping that they do! One of the videos made me laugh as it showed several boys talking about how high they could get something to fly in the sky, and each one was trying to think of something higher than the one before. Finally, one boy said, “Well, I can fly it all the way to God!” and all the little boys were in awe.

Girls (>>women), on the other hand, use conversation as a way to connect, to find similarities. They tend to look for ways in which they share things in common. They make more eye contact and use body language to demonstrate that they are paying attention.

One conversational ritual that girls tend to do has really opened my eyes these past few days. We make ritual apologies. I caught myself doing it about a dozen times yesterday! We say, “I’m sorry” for things that need no apology. It’s just a conversation smoother – another way to empathize with the person we’re talking to. If someone comes into my office to sit down and I have to move a few papers from the desk, I say I’m sorry.  It would have been appropriate to say simply, “Here, let me move these papers out of your way.” If someone is exiting the elevator as I’m getting on, I step aside and say I’m sorry instead of “pardon me” or nothing at all – just a polite smile.

The researcher noted that while we often don’t realize we’re saying “I’m sorry” as frequently as we are, other people pick up on our apologetic cues, and it could be detrimental to how people view us professionally. If we make a habit of saying “I’m sorry” for every little thing, then over time, other people could begin to see us as mousy and insecure, not as a leader or manager.

A few girlfriends and I have agreed to call each other on the carpet when one of us apologizes unnecessarily. Perhaps together, we can eliminate this potentially damaging ritual from our daily conversations.

wedding bells

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We had an old-fashioned “pounding” for our music minister and his new bride after church today. Besides bringing pantry items and recipes to share with the happy couple, we also had a potluck lunch. Yum!

Everyone had a delightful time, so I’m not sure why I felt melancholy as the day went on; my heart was so heavy missing Nathan. Perhaps it was just the reminder of newlywed bliss, the fact that today is Nov. 1 or the thoughtfulness of our pastors for including our family in a special time of prayer at the end of church today … whatever it was, it dawned on me that my brother was supposed to be getting married this month — two weeks from yesterday, in fact.

I miss Lane, too, of course — but it doesn’t really seem like he’s been gone that long. After all, he just flew out yesterday. Besides, I have a date on the calendar when I know to expect him home. The way I miss Nathan is an unquenchable longing — knowing that no matter how much I ache to see him, I can’t – and I won’t, at least not this side of Glory.

The irony is that Nathan missed my wedding. He was involved in a serious roll-over accident and fractured his neck two nights before our wedding day. He was just released from ICU the morning of our ceremony. Instead of changing into our going-away clothes at the church, we went back to the house in our wedding garb so that he could see me in my gown.

I didn’t have expectations of actually being in the service at his wedding this fall, but I was so excited for him. I was thrilled about being there with him and congratulating him on finding me a sister-in-law who is extraordinary in every way.

Experiencing his birthday come and go in August was difficult, and celebrating his boys’ birthdays in July and October was bittersweet. In fact, we were talking about birthdays today. Riley just had his, and Ryan’s is coming up. Riley looked up at me and remarked: “Mine and Donovan’s Daddy missed our birthdays this year.” I leaned down to his eye level and nodded, then I said, “Who knows – maybe he and God had a birthday party for you in heaven!” I’m not sure that’s a theologically sound suggestion, but it made the five-year-old smile, and that was the objective. He grinned and nodded, then got up to go play.

It’s those moments of matter-of-fact observations that hit me in the gut like a sucker punch. I guess it’s just that seeing a date on my calendar right around the corner and realizing that I’m going to a football game instead of my baby brother’s wedding simply makes me sad.

Not long after the wedding that won’t be is Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then January. A year. God has given me strength to make it through each day, thus far; who am I to doubt that He’ll let me down now? Thank you, Lord, for the people in my life who have woven a safety net to catch me on the days when everything around me felt like I was free-falling.

Jack & Jill

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… didn’t go up a hill, but they did come home with us! We welcomed this Brittany Spaniel sibling pair to our family last week, and they have been a joy.

Jack

Jack

Jill

Jill

They are brother & sister, about 11 months old. The boys are taking the added chores in stride. I think it helped that they already had a daily chart for other chores, such as laundry sorting, trash day and setting/cleaning up at dinnertime.

Getting the boys to exercise has never been a big deal, because they are active kids who like to run around outside. Brittany Spaniels need plenty of exercise, so it’s a good match. Jack & Jill also like to snuggle and be scratched, and it’s nice to sit out on the patio and give them some lovin’.