“Children have to be educated, but they have also to be left to educate themselves.”– Ernest Dimnet
He’s 17 now, but this is a little conversation we had last year:
“Children have to be educated, but they have also to be left to educate themselves.”– Ernest Dimnet
He’s 17 now, but this is a little conversation we had last year:
“Yes, Mother. I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me.”
– Alice Walker
This post is a short ode to the motherpluckers of the world.
I salute you.
The women (particularly moms) who still find the time to pluck their eyebrows and stuff like that during their uber-busy lives. (Wait…what did you think I was saying? That’s the name for them, right? Motherpluckers? Well, sheesh, what do you call them? Anyway….)
Let me just say that you chicks amaze me. I don’t even have small children anymore, but Richard and I have three teenagers and one pre-teen between us and let me tell you – getting myself ready to go anywhere falls LAST on the priority list. By the time everyone is up, fed, bathed, and clothed, I’m usually standing in a towel with dripping hair while the rest of the family is wondering why I’m not ready to leave.
If I manage to get out of the house with pants on, I’m doing good.
How do you ladies do it? How do you have the manicures and the highlighted hair and the perfect makeup? TEACH ME, OH WISE ONES!
Eh, I guess I’ve made it this far with my bushy eyebrows and frizzy hair, so I suppose I’ll be alright. But still – it’s hard not to look at you guys with the adoration that my teenage daughter reserves for boy bands. I’m in awe. Mesmerized. Obsessed.
But, I’m guessing those same women may look at me and wonder how I find the time to run, don’t they? I’m sure they wonder how I squeeze that into the day – and sometimes I wonder that myself.
I guess all of we moms wish we had more time for the things we can’t seem to fit into our busy lives, don’t we? I suppose I should just look at it like this: If we’re all finding time to do at least something just for us – whether it be running, plucking, reading, or whatever else makes us feel better about ourselves – then I’d say we’re probably doing alright.
“Get busy living, or get busy dying.” as my buddy Stephen King says. As long as we’re living, we’re not dead. If I manage to leave my house with two daughters with French-braided hair and two sons with their bellies full, then I guess my bushy eyebrows are a small price to pay.
Hey, at least I’m wearing pants.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do… 😉
“The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness. When you become a mother, you are no longer the center of your own universe. You relinquish that position to your children.” – Jessica Lange
“The highest happiness on earth is the happiness of marriage.”
—William Lyon Phelps
So, remember that post I wrote a while back called “I do?” Well, guess what?
On November 1, 2014, Richard and I were married. FINALLY!
I wanted to wait until I got the professional pics back to write a blog about our wedding, but I just decided that I couldn’t wait anymore. There were so many magical moments that I don’t want to let slip out of my memory. I figured I better get them out here before they’re lost…I’m not a spring chicken anymore, ya know. So, here goes!
Well, first of all, for those of you who aren’t local, or who weren’t present, November 1 dawned with a slight surprise. After mid-week temps in the 70s, November 1 decided to be the day that the first snow fell. And we’re not talking flurries here, people. We’re talking Snow. With a capital S. Wanna see?
Yep, we got a good 3-4 inches of snow overnight, and it was still falling. Now, mind you, our wedding was to be held right here at our house. In our living room. We couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to affect the turnout, but honestly we weren’t all that worried. We had a very small wedding planned that consisted of mostly family and a few close friends…it was the reception later that might be affected by the weather. As for the wedding, most of the people who were going to be present were already safe and secure inside our home anyway, so we were good to go! No worries, right?
And then comes the call from the hairdresser.
“Um, yeah, the weather is a little too rough for me. I’m not going to make it.”
*Sigh* So, I’m not the “hire a hair dresser” type anyway, but I was actually looking forward to this. This lady had offered to come to our house and get myself and my daughter and my step-daughter (awww…”step-daughter”…yay!) ready so that it would be at least one less stressor on my plate. So, I hadn’t done anything to “plan” any kind of hairstyle for any of us, because it didn’t have to be my problem. Ha…wrong. Welcome to “this is your problem now.” Crap!
No worries, though. With family surrounding me, we had this covered. First, up stepped my five-year-old niece Emaree. She got me all brushed out and ready to go. What more could a bride need, right? 😉 And then, after she had us all tangle-free, her mom – my saintly sister Cathy – stepped in and finished the job. Thank God for sisters! I think we ladies probably looked even better than we would have if the hairdresser would have shown up, don’t you? (Thank you, Cathy!!!)
So, hairstyle catastrophe averted, it was on to the ceremony.
After my fantastic husband-to-be drove to town to pick up our photographer and bring her to the house to keep her from having to drive in the snow, everyone was officially present and accounted for, including our three impromptu flower girls. Impromptu flower girls, you ask? Well, let’s just say that we had three little girls that were bound and determined that a wedding is just not a wedding without flower girls.
So, my wonderful aunt Stacey made a last minute dash to Walmart for some flower petals and…voila! Flower girls.
(Hey, if the ladies aren’t happy….no one is happy. Capisce?)
[Thank you, Kenzie, Emaree, and Elise….you girls were perfect!!!]
The ceremony was short and simple, but not without that special Edmondson sentimentality thrown in here and there. For one thing, we got married in the very spot that Richard’s mother and late father were married in – in front of the fireplace in the living room.
At the beginning of the ceremony, Richard lit a candle in front of a picture of his father to honor his memory and make him a part of our special day. Also, together with the picture of Richard’s father, we placed photos in the window of all of the weddings and receptions before ours that took place in and around this home. (Ours was definitely not the first union of love in this spot, and I have a feeling it won’t be the last.)
After many tears were shed and rings were exchanged, we then joined as a family to participate in a sand ceremony, with each of us adding our own color sand to the glass jar representing the joining of our two families. And there it was….the deed was done. Our new family was officially complete.
Then, a few hours later, it was on to the reception! Here’s where we were surprised by the turnout. Apparently the weather didn’t stop many people, we had a house FULL of love and laughter that evening. So many people dropped by to celebrate with us…and oh, the food! So much food!
Speaking of food…I almost forgot to mention our wedding “cake!” Instead of going with a cake, we decided to do cupcakes. I had that in my head from the beginning (seemed less formal somehow and that was kind of the theme to this whole thing) so an idea hit me one day. One of our little theatre buddies, Rowan (age 14), is quite the little baker. Oh, who am I kidding? We’re talking child prodigy here, people. For real. So, I asked Richard a few months ago how he would feel about us hiring a 14-year-old as our wedding cupcake maker. His response? He absolutely loved the idea. And the finished result?
The kid’s got some mad skillz, yo. We were thrilled….and so were our guests!
Oh, there were just so many wonderful, unique, amazing things that happened as part of my wedding day, that I just don’t know how to list them all in one blog post. From a winter-storm related power outage during the reception (yep…that happened), to my former theatre director giving me “notes” after the wedding (yep…that happened too…”Okay, next time a little less weepy and a little more in control of your emotions”…), this wedding had it all, my friends. Memories, galore.
And then some.
If you were a part of my wedding day, near or far, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. We felt the love that day, for sure. Not only the massive amount of love that we felt for each other, but the outpouring of love from our friends and family as well. We have never felt so honored.
It was the perfect day…winter storm and all.
Check back for another blog post after we get our professional photos back! I want to give mad props to my friend and photographer Bobbi Jo in that post and showcase her and her excellent work. I can’t wait to show you!
Thank you for traveling through my wedding day with me by reading this blog. I can’t wait to come back and read this over and over throughout the years and remember how very happy I was on November 1, 2014. And how very “right” it all felt.
Here’s to many, many years of bliss!
“It’s hard being a girl. There are a lot of body image issues that come up and I think the best thing we can do for our kids is lead by example.”
– Cheryl Hines
Some of you may remember me mentioning a while back that I am now helping coach a new Girls on the Run team in our area. If you’re not familiar with Girls on the Run, we are basically what the name implies…girls on the run! We have a team of 3rd – 5th grade girls and we meet twice a week…not only to run, but also to talk about the qualities and values we need to have to be the best ladies we can be out here in this big ole world. And believe me, I’m learning just as much as the girls are. No doubt about it.
Which brings me to the topic of today’s blog.
One of the things the other two coaches and I have discussed is the importance of participating in both the physical activities (running, warmups, etc.) and the mental activities (lessons about our character, etc.) right along with the girls. It’s one thing to tell people what they should do, but it becomes a whole different lesson when you show them. It means more. For instance, if we expect the girls to do 20 laps, then we get out there and do 20 laps with them. If we are teaching a lesson about the importance of not gossiping, we have to make sure we don’t find ourselves in situations where we, as adults, are doing just that. You catch my drift?
We have to not only lead these girls, but lead them by example.
Now, I thought I was doing a pretty job of this whole concept. I mean, after all, I’m currently training for a marathon…surely I’m leading by example as far as running is concerned, right? And when we have our lessons about character traits, I’ve been willing to share personal info from my own life (including the parts I admittedly need to work on myself…I mean, who knew that listening was actually a part of the process when I’m arguing with my fiancé, Richard? Hey…you learn something new every day, right?) But earlier this week, something caught me slightly off guard. My “lead by example” strategy got challenged.
One of our girls was talking to me during our laps, and she mentioned how much trouble she has with her “crazy hair.” Now, this wasn’t the first time this girl has mentioned her hair, so I know it is somewhat of a sore spot with her. Like me, she has been “blessed” with a head full of curly hair. And, as we all know, the straight-haired girls want the curls and the curly-haired girls want to give them to them. I understood this girl’s dilemma quite well. Taming the mane does not come easy.
So, we had a conversation that went a little something like this:
Her: I have so much trouble with my crazy hair!
Me: Why do you call it crazy hair? You have great hair!
Her: You don’t understand. It’s curly and frizzy and everywhere all the time.
Me: Oh, I definitely understand, silly. Mine is exactly the same.
Her: *quizzical look* No, it’s not.
Me: Well, sure it is.
Her: I can’t tell. You always wear it back.
And here’s where I had to actually stop myself from saying what was on the tip of my tongue. Because you know what almost came out? What almost spilled out of my face was, “Well, that’s because my hair is horrible and I can’t do anything with it.”
Didn’t I just finish telling her that we had the same hair? If I said that, what would I be telling her about her own hair?
I can’t remember exactly how I finished the conversation. I think I told her something about how as you get older, you find more ways to fix your hair and different products that make you learn to like it better, etc. Which is true. But you know what I usually do with my crazy curls? Straighten them. And when I don’t have time for that, I pile them in a ponytail or in a bun. I hide them.
Here’s where I need to learn to lead by example.
If I tell this little girl to embrace her curls and learn to love them…all while mine are hidden from view, is she going to hear me? Is she going to learn to accept herself for who she is and not try to “fix” what she perceives as an error to make herself more “acceptable” to her peers? *sigh* I’m guessing not.
Time to lead by example.
So, today, my crazy curls are flapping around for all the world to see. When I get to practice in a few hours, that little girl is going to see that she and her coach have a little something in common…curly, “crazy” hair that we are learning to accept and appreciate. Together, we are going to show each other that this thing that makes us unique, somehow also makes us the same. And we are going to learn to be proud of that fact…not try to hide it.
So, thank you my little Girls on the Run student for showing this old gal a little thing or two.
Are you leading by example in your life? Something to think about, isn’t it? The little people are watching…don’t forget that.
“An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.”
– Mahatma Gandhi
“I don’t give a shit if kids take too many selfies or listen to bands I don’t like. They’re smarter, braver and care more than we give them credit for, and that’s pretty much always been the case.”
– Zack Foley
(I hope you’ll pardon my French with that quote above, but censoring it just wouldn’t have packed the same punch.)
I had been toying with a blog idea in my head for a while when I scrolled through Facebook and the above quote caught my attention. A friend of mine was quoting a friend of his and what he had to say fit right along with the blog I had in my head. So, I asked permission to share it and there you have it. And here’s why I liked it so much.
So incredibly true.
Case in point: my daughter, Kelly. Those kids Mr. Foley refers to in his quote? Oh yeah, my kiddo fits it to a tee. That little selfie-taking, weird-music-loving teenager of mine is everything that quote describes. Especially that last part.
A few weeks ago, my boyfriend Richard and I were…um, let’s say…having some “issues.” Okay, let’s just call it what it was. We were fighting. And it was bad. Now, if you haven’t heard me mention this before, Richard is a very quiet man. VERY quiet. So, when I say “fighting,” what I mean is…we weren’t speaking to each other. (Even I get tired of yelling when no one yells back.) These non-communication fights have a tendency to drag on forever, as I’m sure you can imagine, since nothing ever gets talked about or worked on, and this particular fight was no exception. And while we try to hide our arguments from the kids, they aren’t dummies. We go from being the happiest, cuddliest couple in the world to not wanting to be in the same room? Yeah, they kinda figure something is up.
Well, this time, Kelly wasn’t having it.
She sent both of us a group Facebook message. And I want to show it to you. Now, I’m editing it a bit to keep out the details of the argument (I’d hate to broadcast publicly how WRONG Richard was, ya know…bless his heart…), but I’ll put enough here for you to get the gist. Check this out:
“Okay. Y’all are getting on my nerves again. Fighting over really stupid stuff…..To be honest, you both are acting like middle schoolers. You guys get in a fight, don’t try to fix it or don’t want to talk about it, and just act like you don’t care. You do. I know I’m only 14 but I have sense….I know you both love each other and I know you care about each other, so start acting like it…Suck it up and be the couple all of us know you are.”
Okay, so I’m aware that I could be mad that she spoke to adults like that. The whole “ya’ll are getting on my nerves” and “suck it up” parts aren’t the most respectful terms she could’ve used, of course. But you know what? She was absolutely right. Absolutely 100% right.
She didn’t know every detail of the argument we were having, but it really didn’t matter. The details aren’t the point. The point is that, even at 14, she could see that we weren’t handling things the way we were supposed to. She could see the love that he and I were forgetting during our anger. She could see that we needed a reminder to “be the couple that everyone knows we are.”
Now, I’m not sure how Richard immediately felt when he read this (after all – we weren’t speaking), but me? I instantly felt the tears coming to my eyes. Not only because I knew she was right…I so love that big doofus-head boyfriend of mine with every ounce of my being…but because she cared enough to stick her nose in and try to get us back on track. That took guts. And a heart.
And I’m so proud of her.
(By the way, Richard’s written response to her message? “No fair – why do you get to be the smartest one in the family?”) Heh.
Now, with all this said, I just want to clarify: I’m not saying the kid knows everything. (Although if you ask her, she’d probably disagree with that statement.) She still has lots and lots to learn yet. (Don’t we all?) But what I am saying is this: sometimes it sure does help to look at things through the simple, caring, knowing eyes of a child. They see a lot more than we give them credit for, and they have a lot to tell us if we’ll take the time to listen.
Sometimes the details just don’t matter. Sometimes, you just have to get back to the heart of the matter…the love that lies dormant underneath all the chaos. And sometimes…a lot of times, actually…it takes a child to help you do that.
“In youth men are apt to write more wisely than they really know or feel; and the remainder of life may be not idly spent in realizing and convincing themselves of the wisdom which they uttered long ago.”
– Nathaniel Hawthorne
“The important thing is that men should have a purpose in life. It should be something useful, something good.”
– Dalai Lama
I visited my grandmother in the nursing home over the weekend. She has Alzheimer’s Disease and is, unfortunately, in the later stages. Meaning, she has no idea who any of us are. And while this is still heartbreaking, most of us in the family have gotten used to it. We know what’s coming when we visit her. We’re ready for it, and we expect it. We’ve learned to live with it.
Unfortunately, however, she hasn’t.
One thing she kept repeating over and over again during our visit was this one same question, “What am I supposed to be doing?”
Each time she asked the question (not remembering she had just asked it seconds earlier), I would respond the same way, “You’re not supposed to be doing anything, MawMaw. Nothing at all.” And each time, she’d say, “I’m supposed to just sit here?” I’d tell her yes, and then the cycle would repeat itself.
And then, in addition to her question, I started noticing other things around the room that seemed connected to what she was getting at.
Now, we weren’t visiting in my MawMaw’s private room. When we arrived at the nursing home, she had been moved to the ‘day room’ for activities with the other residents (which she didn’t seem to want to participate in). So, while visiting her, we also saw a lot of the other patients. And while there were a variety of levels of illness (as well as a wide variety of personalities), one common theme seemed to stand out at me. The theme that my sweet grandmother was trying to convey with that one question she kept asking me.
The search for purpose.
Take one lady for instance. She kept pushing her little wheelchair around firmly explaining to people that they were not allowed to go certain places. In fact, she’d block their path if they tried. (Which in one case resulted in a kick to the leg of the other person in his wheelchair as he was simply trying to go through the doorway. Yikes!) While little Miss Bossy Pants was an annoyance to all concerned, I started to realize that she was just appointing herself with a purpose. A misconstrued purpose, maybe, but a purpose nonetheless. Her job was to tell people where to go and not to go.
And this same lady at one point (when everyone was apparently in their appointed places and she had allowed herself a break from guard duty), rolled herself over to a hamper near the door and, with curiosity, opened the lid and peered in. What she saw was a mound of dirty, used towels. So, what does she do? One by one (until the nurse caught and stopped her), she pulled them out, placed them neatly into her lap, and started folding them and putting them back into the hamper.
She had found a purpose. Folding laundry.
Another woman sat at her table and made bread. No, she didn’t have any flour or shortening or bowls or an oven or any of that. Not that you or I could see, anyway. But nevertheless, she sat at her table and mixed and kneaded the dough, placed it on the table, patted it out, etc. It took me a while to figure out what she was doing, but once I did, that same thing hit me again. She had found her purpose. She had to bake biscuits. And she was content in doing so.
In every person lay the same idea. One woman chose to sing, another chose to yell at her kids (who weren’t there)…the list goes on and on. What looks to those of us in our “right” minds as unnecessary chatter and activities, to them are anything but unnecessary. They are, in fact, very necessary. To their livelihood. To their well-being.
To their sense of purpose.
Which brings me back to my MawMaw. While sitting there, I was reminded of a quote I once heard. I couldn’t remember it exactly, but when I got home, I looked it up.
“I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain, not to shrink to a grain of sand. Henceforth will I apply ALL my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy.”
– Og Mandino
Those are some powerful words there. How much do we take our purpose for granted? How much do we complain when we have to go to work, or when we have to drive kids here and there, or when we have yet another activity to have to show up at or to have to devote time to? Do we ever just stop to bask in the beautiful, yet forgotten, meaning of it all?
We have a purpose.
I turned to my sweet grandmother, with all of this on my mind, and I finally had an answer for her. The next time she asked me, “What am I supposed to be doing?,” I had her answer.
“MawMaw. All you have to do is just let us love you.”
I know that wasn’t enough for her. And I know she won’t remember my answer for any length of time. But regardless of whether it seeps into her aging mind on some level, it still remains true. No, there are no more children to take care of. No more laundry to fold. No more dinners to cook or beds to make or groceries to be shopped for. My MawMaw is right – there is nothing left that she is supposed to ‘do.’ It is time for her, whether she wants to or not, to simply rest. That’s all. Just rest. And to a woman who spent her life as a wife, mother of nine, step-mother to many others, and grandmother and great-grandmother to too many to count, I’m sure that’s a tough blow to take. But whether she realizes it or not, although there are no physical activities left for her to take care of, her purpose still remains strong and true.
She’s still here because she still has a lesson to teach us.
She may not realize that, but I do.
Thank you, MawMaw. Because you are serving your purpose, I’ll now go on to serve mine.
(And I’ll try to remember to appreciate every moment of it….)
“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.”
– Carl Jung
“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.”
– Edith Lovejoy Pierce
I sit here overwhelmed with the feeling of joy and happiness that this first day of the New Year has brought me.
I rang in the New Year with a group of friends that I am blessed and privileged to have come to know in the past few years. We have shared a stage together, and now, we share our homes and our lives. Our children have become friends, which warms my heart to no end. In fact, after ringing in the New Year, we brought a group of them home with us for a sleepover. As I type this, four teenagers are playing outside in the vast backyard of our new home (after promptly informing me, mind you, that my breakfast was awesome because they had to eat ‘healthy stuff’ at their homes. Heh. Oops.) I finally live in a community where I actually know people well enough for our kids to have sleepovers together. This may not sound like that big of a deal, but to a roaming nomad Army brat such as myself, finding a place that feels like ‘home’ is no small feat. I have found it.
I also woke up to this email this morning:
My heart is full as I realize that something I wrote touched a heart in Saudia Arabia. Saudia Arabia! This world just isn’t as small as we think it is, is it? Months ago, I sat with a cat curled on my lap and the man I love made a comment about it. And now, because I took the time to turn that into written word, it has touched a heart across the world.
Really. That’s all I know to say about that. Just…wow.
Tomorrow, I will head in to a wonderful good-paying job that I worked hard to work my way up to. I will then leave work, and I will come home to a man who loves me with all of his heart, and I’ll know that just by looking at his adorable little dimpled face and seeing that smile that lights it up when I get home. I’ll also know it by watching him chop wood to bring in to build a fire in our wood stove. I’ll know it by watching him tinker with my car to make sure everything is in working condition. I’ll know it each time he picks up a guitar and asks me to sing with him, and making me feel like I’m good enough to do it. I’ll know it by accepting the glass of wine he hands me after a long, stressful day, or by sitting down to the wonderful meal that he has cooked for me. I’ll know it by feeling his hand reach out across the table and slip into mine and squeeze it before we begin to eat. I’ll know it by the kiss he plants on my forehead before we slip off to sleep in our big, warm bed. I’ll know it because…well. I’ll just know it. Because I pay attention. Because I look for it. Because I believe it.
I am a blessed, happy, healthy woman. And I intend to spend 2014 continuing to see and appreciate those blessings that surround me, and will try my best to not take a single moment of this precious life for granted.
Won’t you join me?
Happy New Year, my friends.
“Write on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Love is when you like someone so much that when you look at them, you just want to kiss their face.”
– Riley, age 12
My boyfriend’s son and I were having a conversation a while back (we do that a lot actually – there’s just something about that kid…) and the topic of “love” came up. I can’t really remember the details of what was said, but I remember asking him what his definition was, and his answer was what I quoted above. You just want to kiss their face. I jotted it down (that’s what we writers do) and knew that I wanted to use it one day, but just wasn’t sure how. I mean, it wasn’t exactly “deep” or “meaningful” or anything – but there was just something about it that struck a chord in me and I didn’t really know why.
I think I may have just figured it out.
In the past few weeks, I have seen two of my friends go through heartbreaks. And in both of these circumstances, the men that were supposed to have loved them, have hurt them. Deeply. As I have listened to their stories (feeling my own heart break right along with them), I have come to realize something. Something that humbles and moves me with a feeling that it is hard to even put into words.
I will truly never know what that feels like, ever again.
I mean, I’m the chick that blogs about hurt and pain all the time. About rising from your circumstances and about forgiveness and about moving on, and blah, blah, blah. But as I have listened to what has happened to them at the hands of the men they loved, I know, deep in my heart, that I will never be using that kind of pain as my motivation for future writings. Why is that? Because I know, without a doubt, that Richard will never hurt me like they’ve been hurt.
I know what you’re thinking...yeah, right. We ALL think that about the person we love, and then we find out something later on that shatters our illusions. Everyone is going to hurt you, no one is perfect. Get your head out of the clouds, stupid blogger girl.
Ok, I get that. Richard and I are going to hurt each other at times, there’s no doubt about that. I hear what you’re saying. But here’s the difference.
Richard would never intentionally hurt me. Nor I him.
That’s the difference.
Let me explain. Any problems that he and I have had over the time we have been together (and there have been plenty) all seem to have this underlying theme to them. If we took each and every one of our disagreements and misunderstandings and dissected and examined them, you would see that at the heart of each and every single one lies one common denominator: trying not to hurt one another. In trying not to hurt one another, we have made some stupid mistakes. We have withheld information, withheld communication, withheld necessary information at times – all just to try to avoid hurting the other. And then, when this information is unearthed, it causes a problem. Now, I’m not saying that this is exactly healthy, per se. We need to work on that, I know. Hey, we’re just as screwed up as the rest of the couples out there in the world are, I know this. I’m not trying to say we’re not. We don’t know what the heck we’re doing either. But the major difference that exists here is this. We never ever try to hurt one another. You know?
And that is what I’ve seen my friends going through.
With both words and actions, these men have shown their women things that have crushed them. Sure, the men think they have excuses for what they’ve done (don’t we all?), but the cold, hard fact is this – they have done something on purpose that they knew, without a doubt, would break another person’s heart. And that really, really, sucks.
Which brings me back to where I started this blog. 12-year-old Riley’s quote.
“Love is when you like someone so much that when you look at them, you just want to kiss their face.”
Look at the relationship that you’re in. Right now – take stock and look around. Assess your partnership. Get rid of all the stupid little details that don’t matter at all – throw out the things that just annoy you about him/her, or vice versa. Throw out anything that has happened in their past before you ever came along. Throw out any of the daily minutiae of money issues, work stresses, kid struggles…forget all of that for just a minute. Just look at your partner with the simplicity of that 12-year-old and ask yourself this.
When I look at him/her, do I just want to kiss their face?
And maybe more importantly, do I think that when they look at me, they want to do the same?
There’s something so tender and gentle about kissing someone’s face. It’s not like a full-fledged kiss on the lips. For one, you don’t really get anything in return – the kiss is just for them. It’s not selfish, it’s not passionate, it’s not greedy. It’s just a simple show of love towards the person that has captured your heart. Whether it be a kiss on the cheek or a kiss on the forehead, either way it’s a kiss that is full of giving, not receiving. And I think that’s so important to pay attention to.
Ask yourself if you are giving this kind of selfless love to the person in your life. And then, if you’re in the circumstances that my sweet, heartbroken friends are in, ask yourself this same question as the recipient. Are you receiving this kind of love?
Turns out, this 12-year-old may have known what he was talking about. Love is selfless. It’s tender and gentle and would never ever hurt you on purpose. Love is a gift.
Real love is a kiss on the face.
Do you have it? Don’t settle for anything else until you do. Trust me on this one.
“A man’s kiss is his signature.”
– Mae West
I got the sweetest text from my mom yesterday. It was in response to the latest batch of blogs I had mailed to her. If you missed it, in one of my previous entries I mentioned that my mom doesn’t have a computer, so I print out and mail all of my blog entries to her. She’s my biggest fan. (Maybe my only fan?? “A blog only a mother could love?…” But I digress…)
So, this is what her text said: “You are one strong woman! I wish I only had a portion of your strength.”
I read that, and then went back and re-read it again. First, because my mom is just awesome. Who doesn’t need to hear stuff like that? I’m so lucky to have her support. But secondly, I re-read it because it sounded so familiar to me. And I couldn’t quite place why.
Then, it dawned on me.
When my daughter was only 2 years old (she’s 13 now), I could already see the fiery strength of her personality. I remember watching her one day and just being able to visualize with such clarity what a strong woman she was going to become one day. I saw in her the person I wish I could be – strong, determined, feisty. And when I saw those things in her, I wrote this poem:
Ounce of Strength
Look at you.
I’m amazed at your abilities,
At your determination,
At your strong will.
Nothing can stop you!
I watch you in awe.
You adapt to change so quickly.
You remain steady
Even when the world around you changes.
You amaze me.
You inspire me.
You are my constant.
What I wouldn’t give to have just a little of your ability –
Just one iota of your determination –
Just one ounce of your strength.
Turns out I was right. She’s still a little superwoman. Full of an unending energy, wit, and strength that astounds me at times. Nothing gets to that girl. She is who she is and that’s just all there is to it. Stubborn, dedicated, determined little Kelly.
And after getting that text from my mom, it finally hit me. All of that is also how my mom sees me.
Wow. I’m not sure if I ever realized that before. That’s pretty awesome.
And you know what? I’m willing to bet that her mom sees her exactly the same way. Which makes me realize something else. Maybe, just maybe, I just might have had a little something to do with Kelly’s personality. And you know what else? My mom had a little something to do with mine. And her mom had a little something to do with hers. And so on, and so on.
Hmmm. Well, how about that!?
We need to remember that more often. Really let this thought sink in:
Who we are will manifest in our kids.
And you know what? If we’re careful – those manifestations may just end up being some really great things.
And thou shalt in thy daughter see,
This picture, once, resembled thee.
– Ambrose Philips