Serial Fizzer Outer

I can open my refrigerator at any given time and I can find my 6 pack of struggles or failures staring back at me beyond the leftovers.  Just like the six pack of Diet Coke that added to my weight gain of unhealthy proportions; so did the can of shame from being a motherless daughter,  a can of being co-dependent, a can of failing marriage, a can of being a "serial fizzer outer"  (one that starts everything and finishes nothing) and don't forget the can that was shaken up and put back in the refrigerator to just explode in my face...acceptance.

While I have given up my addiction to Diet Coke, my real life struggles have not gone away. I wrestle with them daily; right now my biggest:  my weight and my marriage. Could the two be related? I don't know. I thought I had kicked the weight can to the curb,  when I started working out daily and eating a PALEO   lifestyle in 2011. My motivation was my 20 year high school reunion.  Pretty good motivation. I was once called a whale in the "slam pages" - I did not want to be an adult whale.  For nearly 6 months that was my project...but guess what? I fizzed out. Again. I had wins. Big ones. Nearly 60 lbs. and more inches lost than I care to mention. I don't know why I fizzed out, it happened. The weight crept back on. I like to play the blame game too... it's my husbands fault, we can't afford it, I'm too busy. They are all phrases I use on a rotating basis and have cued in my arsenal labeled "BEST EXCUSES EVER"  when I am about to fizz out again.

So for a long time I just shut the refrigerator door on my feelings.  I didn't want to look at them. But because I am a feeling person - they were there. Like the scary Tupperware of leftovers hiding behind the cans, you see them. They are my struggles. I call them humdingers. They are real, some are bigger than others, or scarier than the others but they are mine. Every single stinkin' can of them. I guess I should be glad its not a 12-pack.

I decided to face them head on. No, that is a lie. I was forced to face them head on when my world was turned upside down earlier this year. I am not ready to share that...I may never be. AND that is okay. But you must know that it was a defining moment for me and what would be one of the most bitter-sweet summers of my life. For me, I had to recognize all the yucky, painful stuff in order for me to find the sweet stuff. That is why I am writing, again. Because it heals that yucky stuff AND gives me purpose;  to look at things with my wings flapping furiously to find the sweet stuff. It's THERE. It's HERE. It's EVERYWHERE.

Soooooo... am I going to face the battle of my weight again? YES. Will I fizz out again? Possibly.. I pray not. THIS  is who I am and the sweet thing is I keep trying... and my daughters see that struggle and see the failure and learn two things: it is okay to mess up...it's not okay to not try again. Maybe this time I will get it right. Grace has taught me that it is okay to fail...I just CAN'T GIVE UP. And for a serial fizzer outer that is a win.  KEEP ON HUMMING ALONG.

Come On In

I sat in church today and it was like I was by myself...just me and GOD. He was telling me don't stop, don't give up. I was moved to speak with my pastor after, something that always intimidates me- only because I have such respect for him and his passion, vision and dedication to serving God.

Simply stated the service talked about community and creating your network that is always there for you and your family; for me it is most commonly known as:  my village.  It's something I have tried to put into words to my inner circle many times. All I can say is I am happiest when my home is full of my people.  It's why I am always the first to open my home...being hospitable and hosting parties and events. It comes natural to me. It's love in action.  Unless you have experienced being brought up in a village it's hard to fathom. But it is so good folks.  So good. Almost necessary.

My mom was my model for this. She knew the importance of friends and family and kept up with them all. It was even in her eulogy... that she fostered those friendships and made it a way of life to just be together and have everything and anything in common. It could be the reason they called for extra traffic control to help at her procession all those years ago...1991. SO LONG AGO. I was so young...but I got the big stuff right from her.

I was raised in a village. They shared sugar and babysitting and happy hours. Birthday parties, sports activities and carpooling. They were there for each other no matter what time it was or how dirty their homes were. I am better for it. It's not about working moms or stay at home moms; its simply about finding the people that you belong to and creating life together and showing up for each other. My girls have a village here and there...and it may look different but it feels the same.

So this was on my heart several weeks ago when I read this brilliant article, you can read here.  And then today again at church...I had to share it. I will continue to love broken human beings...because I am one. So broken. But I need my village to help me...help each other, to be okay. My daughters need to see that people open doors, open hands and open hearts to them. My husband needs to see that people are supporting us and rooting for us to be better again. 

I know its not easy to make the time for friends nowadays - but I have to. It makes me feel whole. Don't get me wrong; me and my husband communicate and laugh and yell and do all the stuff that being married to your best friend allows...but this just makes us better.  It's like the frosting on your favorite cupcake, the bacon to your eggs..the peanut butter to your jelly...the wasabi to your sushi... you get it, right?

So invite your friends to dinner or pick up the phone and tell then how you are feeling. Better yet, ask them how they are? And don't take FINE for an answer. Welcome them warmly and strengthen your friendships. Build into your village- you will be better for it...your kids will be better for it... if we love each other, no matter what...that proves that love does win. That's pretty sweet!

Picture by Furniture Gourmet

 

Pass on the Love

Nothing could make my heart leap for joy more then when my kids "get" the meaning of a random act of kindness. It is something we love to preach but maybe don't do it near enough. We talk about giving and making others feel special and loved as a normal part of our routine. But I guess like all things it can become mundane. Until, something as mundane as going grocery shopping turns into magnificent.

We love Aldis...we avoid Walmart at all costs in our small rural town. They (Aldis) do have the best produce; it has to travel way too far for my liking...  I guess I could plant my own garden and do the farm to table thing...but I will save that for another blog post of things I should do.

So together we made our to do list this morning; my daughters and I. Last stop grocery shopping. Aldis. If you aren't familiar with Aldis it is probably because you have real grocery stores where you live; lucky you!!  You pay a quarter to get a cart; when you return it you receive your shiny quarter back. Seems simple enough.

Today an older gentleman gave us our cart... my oldest daughter said, "Thank you sir!"  and she beamed with pride like she won a trophy. At the end of our shopping I was unloading the cart- alone. I said to the girls,

  "Why do I have to ask you to help me?" Which both of them with their big brown eyes said, 

"Oh sorry Momma!"

Really??? Like you never even thought to help me! What am I doing wrong here!?!? The dialogue in my head wasn't very sweet- I was clearly the worst mom and raising two inconsiderate girls...

Then, my oldest daughter takes the cart and is headed to return it...and she spots a grandma- with a pep in her voice she says, here ya go! and the sweet grandma tries to give her a quarter, because that's what you do at Aldis...rent carts for a quarter. And here it comes...my daughter says,

 "No, its yours- just pass on the love."

What?? Be still my heart. And in that moment, that sweet moment, I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong.

Even in the middle of mundane chores...the sweet may happen. Open your eyes and you may be surprised.

Well, here it is. The most important post. The sweetest one of all. It is the first one. It's been unpublished in my head for years... for only me to see. So why now? Why am I bravish now? I don't know the answer fully. But I think it's because now  I have finally finished something;  I owe it to the people that show up for me, the ones that look up to me, the ones that call me momma and the ones that call me teacher. I must do it for myself yes, but I am also doing it for them...  to do what my heart is screaming to do: write.  SO here goes...everything.

Your voice matters. I challenge you to use it. Loud and bold, quiet and shaky...find a way to use it. As I reflect on the happenings of a community eighty miles north of where I call home I am overcome. I am tired. I am beat down. To fight is exhausting, no? So much anger and pain. Its becoming a fight that is old and tired and I wish for everyone's sake we could come together and show that love and human kindness is the most important thing. A high school in the community rocked by the Michael Brown case stood together in silence today for ten minutes. These young people found their voice. They said everything without saying anything. I wanted to wrap my arms around each one of those 125 students and say thank you. Thank you for being brave and showing people what unity and hope looks like. I guess that is why I was so moved by it. Those students defied the dark, hatred that was swarming around them and refused to give in. They were sweet seekers today.

I know this first blog should be long...and maybe more profound. But this is what I have to offer tonight. It is enough. This is what I wanted to say. I found my voice on this Friday. So I am hoping to come back and write more...and I am hoping maybe someone, maybe you, will find the courage like I did-  to do what ever it is you need to do. It feels scary at first...because shame talks the loudest. But not tonight, I screamed tonight. I wrote.