Tag Archives: family

07

May. ’13

Decisions

“A lot of people don’t want to make their own decisions.  They’re too scared.  It’s much easier to be told what to do.”
– Marilyn Manson

See that quote?  Yeah, Mr. Manson was talking about me.

Oh my gosh, I so hate making decisions.  I suck at them.  Anything from where we’re going out to eat to what kind of car I’m going to buy to what pair of shoes I’m going to wear for the day – I hate them all.  I want someone to walk around my life with me and tell me what to do.  I want them to point it all out for me.  Lead the way.  Basically, I just don’t want the responsibility for determining an outcome.  If the wrong choice was made and there were bad consequences, I want that to be someone else’s fault, not mine.

But apparently, this whole ‘grown-up’ crap doesn’t allow for that.  I’m stuck.  I have to make decisions whether I like it or not.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were signs like this along the way?

wrongway

Now, see?  If I knew I had road signs in my life to direct the course, I’d be in good shape.  I’d have a lot less to stress over, I know that.  Wrong decision?  No biggie!  Here’s you a little sign telling you to turn around and re-do it.  Easy peasy.

Don’t I wish.

But I guess what I need to do is realize that while, yes, there may be a bad outcome if the wrong decision was made, there could also be a pretty awesome outcome if the right decision was made.  You know?

I guess that’s maybe what it all comes down to.  A fear of making decisions is really just a lack of confidence in yourself.  I guess I never really thought of it that way.

Hmmm.  I should probably stop that.

After all, I’ve made some pretty great decisions in my life at times.  I can think of two wonderful decisions right off the bat.  Those little decisions have bright red hair and make me laugh every single day.  I think I did an excellent job there.  What else?  Well, I made the decision to continue with school when I wanted to quit (being 19, pregnant, and in college was a tough row to hoe, let me tell ya).  I decided to continue taking various classes here and there after graduating which led me to the legal field.  I made the decision to end a marriage where I wasn’t fully allowed to be myself.  I made the decision to pursue my passion in theatre.  I made the decision to start running.

I made the decision to start this blog.

You know, now that I think of it, maybe I’m not such a bad decision maker after all.  I think I’m going to start remembering that.  Starting today, I’m just going to go for it.  When it’s time to make a decision, I’m going to just trust my instincts and jump.  What’s the worst that could happen?  You live, you learn.  You may fall sometimes, sure.  But there are also going to be times that you fly.

And I don’t know about you, but I think I’d rather fly with a few tough landings here and there, than to never leave the ground at all.

***

“It doesn’t matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes.  What matters most is getting off.  You cannot make progress without making decisions.”
-Jim Rohn

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04

May. ’13

I did it!

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”
– T.S. Eliot

racecollage7

Well, it’s official.  I’m a half marathoner.

And let me tell ya…it was HARD!  This course was definitely no walk in the park.  (Ok, admittedly there was some walking, but there was NO park. I swear.)

I really am so proud of myself.  Somewhere deep inside of me, I truly wondered if I could do it.  During my long training runs, my legs were so heavy and so weak.  I never made it up to a full 13.1-mile run in training (11 was my furthest), so I was so scared that I might not actually be able to make it that far.  Especially on this extremely tough course.  It helped me though to see quotes like the one by marathoner Alberto Salazar:  “I had as many doubts as anyone else. Standing on the starting line, we’re all cowards.”  Made me feel less alone.  Made me realize that what I was feeling was what most everyone feels or had felt at some point in their running process.  Even elite marathoners.

But, alas, I did it.  I made it!

And here’s a short list of awesome things from the race:

  • I made a running buddy along the course.  He was an older man from the Winston-Salem, NC area.  Silly me – I didn’t even ask his name. Nor did he ask mine.  But we leap-frogged each other throughout the race.  Kept each other company at times.  Chit-chatted about our jobs, our families, etc.  It was nice running a half-marathon and having a conversation every so often.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Slow and steady, my ass! This is my top speed!”  That made me giggle.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1).”  That made me smile.
  • I saw my friend Kelly who broke her foot during training for this race, out there running anyway after only having been out of her cast for about 2 or 3 weeks now.  I was in awe.
  • I got “I love you” and “You got this!” texts from the man I love during the race. Priceless.
  • I got “Run Forrest Run!” texts from my coworker during the race.  Sigh.
  • I got close to the finish feeling like I might not make it, and rounded a curve and saw my boyfriend Richard’s friends (ok, my friends) standing on the side to cheer me on – the same people who I cheered on during their half marathons and marathons in New York last year. That made me cry.
  • I got to the finish line and saw Richard and my son Jeffrey waiting for me (after their own 5K race) with smiles and cheers.  And saw my son (who never ever EVER remembers or cares to take a picture of anything) poised with his camera waiting to snap a picture of me crossing the finish line.
  • I got this from my boyfriend as a post-race gift:

meshirt

The shirt says “13.1 wuz worth it.”  And yes, it was.  Awesome gift.  Awesome man.  Lucky girl.

And probably my favorite moment from the race:

  • My son’s dad called him to see how the race went.  And without missing a beat, Jeffrey immediately began telling him my finishing time and details from the half marathon.  Momentarily forgetting that he himself had just finished second in his age group in his own 5K and won an award for it.  Talk about a proud mom.  That definitely started the waterworks flowing, and I’m not sure he even realized what he had done.  In fact, I’m sure he didn’t.  Feeling my son’s pride in me was like nothing else.

I know there are a million more things I could list that I loved about this race.  But those are the highlights.  Point is – this was a beautiful experience that I won’t soon be forgetting.

So, in honor of all that I have overcome in training for this race, and in life in general – two divorces, two bouts with cancer, a bad car accident during training, a breakup at the beginning of training (which ended up in a glorious reconciliation mid-training), and just a general past filled with doubt and uncertainty about myself and my abilities – this race is for you.

I can do anything.

And so can you.

***

“The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”
-John Bingham

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02

May. ’13

Community

community

Com·mu·ni·ty \kə-ˈmyü-nət-ē\:  a unified body of individuals
–         Merriam Webster Dictionary

The more I get into running, the more I realize what a community we runners really are.  And these last few weeks have driven that point home for me more than ever before.

First of all, of course, there was the Boston marathon bombing.  Have any of us ever seen such an outpouring of love and respect among our fellow runners?  So many runners donned their printed out “bibs” in honor of Boston and logged mile after mile in honor of all who were affected.  Each and every one of us knew how easily it could have been us.  I have never witnessed the Boston marathon, but I did travel with a group of friends to watch the Wineglass Marathon in New York last year.  The place I was camped out to get pictures of my friends as they finished, was exactly the spot where the bombs went off in Boston.  It easily could have been me.  Or someone I love.  And every runner feels the same.  We are empathetic towards our fellow runners and their families because it hits so close to home.  We don’t know what to do to help, so we run.  We run in honor and respect for the members of our community, whether we “know” them or not.  They are our family.

And on that same note, I have made a few dear friends through running whom I have yet to even lay eyes on.

When I first started running a little over a year ago, I used the Couch to 5K Running plan to get started.  I then “liked” the Facebook page of the same name so I could watch other people through their struggles and successes to know that I was not alone.  Before long, I began posting as well, sharing my own stories and milestones.  It quickly became my primary source for motivation and inspiration and is, without a doubt, the reason I stuck to the plan and was successful.  On this site, I interacted with many people, but a few in particular stood out.  One of whom is my friend, Connie.  Connie was a non-runner who was determined to run a 5K for her 60th birthday.  I was inspired by her story, so I followed her closely and soon began to chat back and forth since we were at the same point in the plan.  We “graduated” almost simultaneously, together with our other e-friend Kristen, and have since all remained close friends and fellow runners.  We are even making plans to all meet in Rhode Island to run a 5K together in the fall.  (Kristen is from Massachusetts, Connie from Rhode Island, and I am from Virginia).

Yesterday, I went to my mailbox and found this:

shirt

A gift from Connie.  A running t-shirt that says “EyeBeeLeaf.”  The note says:

“We believe anything is possible.
  We work hard to achieve our goals.
  Here’s a gift from Connie to wear when you run.
  Eye Bee Leaf.”

How amazing is it that this friend, whom I have never even met, cares enough about me and about running in general to so generously reach out and provide support to another runner?  This truly is a community.  A family.  And it was no coincidence that this shirt arrived just a few days before my first half marathon that is coming up on Saturday.  As my friend Connie likes to say, “It’s Kismet!”

I so can’t wait to meet my friends in person in September!

And while we’re on the subject, check out this message I received on my last blog entry about my fear of this upcoming half marathon:

“Good luck! From Melbourne, Australia!
I just wanted to let you know how much I’m enjoying your writing. I found you when I was searching running blogs as I’m a new runner myself and totally obsessed. You write so evocatively and thoughtfully, and I often find myself smiling or nodding along to your musings! Best of luck with your half, you’ll smash it!
Warm regards, Zoë “

Wow.  Just wow. 🙂  All the way across the world, in Australia, is another member of my “community.”  And I didn’t even know about her until today.

I also received this message from my local friend Shannon this morning with regard to this half marathon:

“There will be a great adrenalin rush in the beginning, but remember to pace yourself and run your race.
There will be people who pass you and you’ll feel you are not doing good enough, but pace yourself and run your race.
You will worry that you won’t be able to finish at some point, but just keep going at your pace and run YOUR race.
There will come a time when you will think “I got this!”  But still pace yourself…and run your race!
It’s a lot like life.”

I hope she doesn’t mind my sharing her poetic words.  They were too good to keep to myself.

So, see what I mean?  We are such a caring community of runners.  Such a family of like-minded individuals from all over, who all know what it is like to change our life one footstep at a time.  I’m so honored and humbled to be a part of such an amazing group of people.

I am a runner.

***

“Running is not, as it so often seems, only about what you did in your last race or about how many miles you ran last week.  It is, in a much more important way, about community, about appreciating all the miles run by other runners, too.”  
– Richard O’Brien

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25

Apr. ’13

Authority

authority

This blog is kind of about politics.  And kind of not.

Mostly, it’s about respect.

I’ll start by admitting that I am not into politics.  I’m just not.  I may be the most “not into” politics of anyone you’ll ever know.  I know myself, and I know to stay out of it to avoid a full-on high-blood-pressure-induced heart attack.  So I steer clear of the subject.

Well, most of the time.

So, while it’s true that I’m not “into” politics, the thing that I am most definitely “into” is people.  Humanity.  Love for your fellow human.  You know, that whole “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” stuff.

Well, something ‘political’ that I saw yesterday just absolutely pissed me off.

I’m not going to lower myself to post it here for you to see.  It disgusts me and I’m not going to spread it any further than it has to go.  But basically, there’s a picture going around comparing the two Boston marathon bombing terrorist suspects to our president and vice-president.  Saying that both are taking our ‘rights’ away (it’s some BS about gun rights) and therefore implying that they should be grouped in the same category.

Did I mention that this pissed me off?

Again, I’m not political.  I don’t have a strong opinion about gun rights or any other topic that whoever created that picture was attempting to address.  But what I do have is this: respect for authority.

Let me tell you a story.

When my son Jeffrey was 3 years old, he despised his pre-school teacher.  And to be quite honest, I wasn’t too thrilled with her myself.  Well, Jeffrey, in his 3-year-old glory, decided that he would take action to show his teacher how much he disliked her.  He somehow discovered which car in the parking lot was hers (unfortunately for her, it was one that was parked closest to the fence at the playground), and then proceeded to do what a 3-year-old deemed an appropriate way to show contempt – he threw rocks at it.

Of course, his dad and I got called into the school.  And, of course, he got in trouble for it.  But during that incident, and in other incidents to come over the years, I tried to instill something into Jeffrey.  Whether or not you like someone or whether or not you agree with them, one thing has to exist at all times.  And that is respect.  Respect for each other, yes.  But especially a respect for authority.  They are there for a reason.  You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like them.  But you have to respect them for the role that they play.

As Jeffrey gets older and more mature, I see this respect growing in leaps and bounds.  He still gets angry, as we all do, but he has learned to keep that anger in check and not blow up every time he feels the urge.  Basically, he has learned to ‘stop throwing rocks’ so to speak.

Now, if some adults could just learn that.

Can’t we just stop it?  Just stop it.  Agree with him, disagree with him, like him, hate him – I don’t care.  But remember that he is the president of our country.  This country that gives you the freedom to run your mouth?  Yeah, he runs it.  If you don’t like him, vote him out.  Isn’t it great that you have that option?  Until then, respect the man and allow him to do his job.  If you have issues you disagree on – great.  Voice your opinion.  About the issues.  Not the person.  There is a big difference between feeling strongly enough to voice your opinion about a subject and choosing to bash another human being.

Put your rocks down and grow up.

***

“Men are respectable only as they respect.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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22

Apr. ’13

Uncomfortable

uncomfortable

I was at my boyfriend’s house over the weekend and his big, sweet cat came and plopped himself on me.  He was stretched at an obviously awkward angle with his little head burrowed into my chest.  Richard made some comment about how much “Mittens loves me” and I responded with, “No, I think Mittens just likes having a comfortable place to lay.”  Richard’s response: “No way.  Look at him.  That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.”

“That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.”

Such a seemingly innocent, yet ultimately profound statement.  I mean, think about it.  How many times does this end up being the case?   Love just really isn’t always all that comfortable.  Ya know?

Let me give you a few examples to explain where I’m headed with this.

I mentioned in a previous blog that I watched my cousin feeding my grandpa in the nursing home a few weeks ago.  I know she got tired of that.  She stood there for a very long time and I’m sure she got tired of all of that standing.  I’m sure her legs were sore.  I’m sure her arms got sore from the time it took to feed him.  I’m sure it was hard trying to understand what he was telling her and what he was asking for through his incoherent rambling.  I’m sure it was…well…uncomfortable.

That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.

I remember watching my daughter once serve as a capo for my boyfriend’s guitar.  No, really.  He was using a capo-less guitar that didn’t belong to him to play a requested song for my family at a holiday get-together.  My daughter jumped up and offered to hold it for him so it would sound right.  She stood there and pressed down on the strings as he played.  It was just so darn cute.  Here, I’ll show you.

156188_4207720234088_345087718_n

And afterwards?  Bless her heart, she had grooves in her little fingers from where she had to press so hard.  But she was so proud to have helped.

That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.

I watched my sister stand for hours beside the incubators of her newborn premature twin babies.  I know she got tired standing there.  I know it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to stand there and hold a syringe up above the babies so that their milk could flow down through their feeding tube.  I know that as a brand new mom it certainly wasn’t comfortable trying to work around all of the wires and monitors to change a teeny tiny little squirming baby’s diaper.  I know it’s not comfortable giving up hours and hours of her days traveling to and from the hospital that is close to 2 hours away while she continues to take care of them during the many weeks they remain in neonatal intensive care until they’re big enough to go home.  But she does it.

jenbaby

That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.

Another example.  I’m training for a half marathon.  And it is SO hard.  I get frustrated with myself at times.  My legs hurt.  I’m tired.  It’s difficult to squeeze in the time required to devote to the training.  But you know what?  I love running.  Why?  Because it’s making me a better person.  In more ways than I can count.  Running all those miles at one time?  No – definitely not comfortable.  But is it love?  Yes.  Love for the sport and love for the me that I’m becoming as I struggle through the discomfort. It’s not comfortable – it’s love.

These are just a few personal examples, but look around and you’ll see so many more.  Watch the coverage from the Boston marathon a week ago today.  I’m sure you’ve seen the picture of Carlos Arredondo.  He is the man who ran alongside a wheelchair holding an exposed leg artery closed for a complete stranger so that he wouldn’t bleed to death.  Comfortable?  No, of course not.  Love for a complete stranger?  Sure looks like that to me.

There are so many examples that surround us at any given time.  Love wears such a vast array of costumes.  And more often than we may realize – it’s disguised in discomfort.

We live in a society where love is portrayed in romance novels and movies to be all butterflies and rainbows.  The prince ends up with the princess.  They live in their castle and with the birds chirping and the sun shining for the rest of their lives.  Must be nice.  But out here in the real world?  Yeah, love is a different story out here.  Love takes work.  It takes sacrifice.  It takes eyes that see past the flaws and faith that believes beyond the impossible.

My boyfriend and I have been through some tough times.  We both have had issues to rise above and move past.  Sometimes we’ve given up temporarily, but we keep finding our way back.  We sometimes find ourselves surrounded by reminders that take us back to things we’re trying to forget.  We sometimes have outside influences that, knowingly or not, chip away at what we’re trying to build together.  And sometimes our own selfishness and insecurities do the chipping without any help.  No, love is definitely not always butterflies and rainbows.  Sometimes it’s just plain….uncomfortable.  It hurts, it’s hard, it takes work.  But yet, we stay.  Why do we do that?  Why are we still here?

Well.  You know.

That doesn’t look comfortable – that looks like love.

***

“It ain’t pretty, but it’s beautiful
Our love ain’t perfect, but it’s wonderful
We’re still learning to be loveable
It ain’t pretty, but it’s beautiful.”

– Clay Walker (It Ain’t Pretty lyrics)
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19

Apr. ’13

Problems?

“The huge problems we deal with every day are actually really small. We’re so focused on what bothers us
that we don’t even try to see our lives from a clearer perspective.”
– Susane Colasanti

problemsblog

I saw the above picture on Facebook yesterday.  The “someecards” are meant to be funny usually.  But every now and then, one pops up that is spot freakin’ on.

(I don’t mean to be snarky with this blog, but if the snark slips out, so be it.)

We humans sure are a bunch of complainers aren’t we?  Don’t believe me?  Go scroll through your Facebook for a minute or two.  Seriously.  Go right now and scroll.  I’ll bet you $100 and a Snickers that you’ll see someone complaining about something.  I’m not saying I’m not guilty of it myself at times.  I am.  But some people just seem to be pros.  For real.

“The people who live in a golden age usually go around complaining about how yellow everything looks.”
– Randall Jarrell

How much truth there is in that quote.  Sometimes I think we just forget to realize how incredibly blessed we are.  And this week is one of those weeks that should drive that point home for you.  And if it hasn’t yet, then maybe it should start now.  Ask yourself a few questions.  For instance – Are your limbs still intact?  Are your loved ones still around you?  Do you still have a place to work?  To live?  Have you gone through the week without being a firsthand eye-witness to a bloody, fiery trauma?

If your answer is yes to those questions, then I’d say you’re in pretty good shape.

Now, I’m not saying people are sick of hearing you complaining.  Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t.  Hey, it’s your life – it’s your Facebook – it’s your soapbox.  Do what you will.  You’re allowed.  But, that’s not my point.

My point is that for you – for your own well-being and your own peace of mind – you should probably stop complaining about things that, in the grand scheme, are really not that big of a deal.  And you know they’re not.  It’s really hard to find peace within yourself if you’re constantly in turmoil.  And that’s what complaining is.  It’s turmoil.  Give yourself (and – ok, I’ll say it – everyone else) a break, why don’t ya?  Chill out.  Relax.  Be calm.  Recognize.

Look around you.  See what others have been through in our country in this one little week.  One week filled with so much devastation.  Fall down on your knees and be grateful and appreciative.  Go hug your kids.  Go kiss your spouse.  Go pet your dog.  Take a big, deep breath and exhale gratitude.

***

“Remember, if you are criticizing, you are not being grateful.  If you are blaming, you are not being grateful.  If you are complaining, you are not being grateful.”
– Rhonda Byrne

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17

Apr. ’13

Little Things

“You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.”
– Andy Warhol

(Let me start this blog with a disclaimer to my child.  No, Kelly – this is not a tribute to One Direction and their song of the same title.  Sorry, kid.)

Ok.  Back to business.

Little things.

I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot recently.  Especially over these past few days.  A variety of “little things” have seemed to catch my attention more lately than they might normally do.

For instance.

I went to visit my grandparents in the nursing home this past weekend.  They have both been recently admitted after battling pneumonia and, unfortunately, the prognosis is not a great one for my 96-year-old grandfather.  Thankfully, they have been placed in the same room so they can spend this time together, although my grandmother’s failing memory makes it hard for her to understand what is happening.  But even with his sickness, and her failing memory, they both periodically asked about the other and looked over to be sure the other was still there.  To me, that was beautiful.  A glance to make sure the one you love is still by your side?  Yes, a little thing in the grand scheme.  But so very beautiful.

Also, while I was there, it was mentioned that my grandmother’s fingernails needed cutting and she hadn’t been able to do it herself.  So, I cut them.  Cutting your aging grandmother’s fingernails? Definitely a little thing.  But it meant something to me.  In my tiny little way, I was able to help.  Little things.

I watched my cousin Amy feeding my grandfather.

littlethingsblog

Putting a spoon to someone’s mouth when they aren’t strong enough to do it on their own? Yes, maybe a little thing. But is it so little? I think not.

Aside from the trip to visit my grandparents (and possibly because of it), other little things started catching my attention as well.

The man I love, for instance.

Now, for those of you don’t know us personally, let me start by explaining something.  I am in love with the quietest man alive.  It’s true.  The spoken word is not his speciality.  One of his favorite quotes is by Mark Twain: “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”  Smart man.  Me, on the other hand?  I never shut up.  We are the proverbial Mutt and Jeff of verbal communication. Well, in public anyway.

But for the past few days, I seem to be “hearing” him much more clearly than I ever have before.

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that he is letting me borrow a vehicle until I can get the insurance mess sorted out from my wreck and can get a new one.  Earlier this week, the vehicle started overheating a little.  So, what does he do?  Gives me his own truck to drive to work so that he can keep it and check to see what’s wrong.  He then fixes it and returns it – with new windshield wipers to boot because it was a rainy day.  Little things?  Maybe.

After dinner one night while the kids played together, I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of exhaustion.  Usually I immediately start clearing the table after we eat (he cooks, so it’s the least I can do), but instead I asked if he’d mind if I went and laid down for a bit.  Not only did he not mind, but he came and laid with me.  We both ended up falling asleep and my daughter got this sweet picture of us:

littlethingsblog2

A nap together as a break from a busy day?  A little thing?  Maybe.

Another example – Mondays are hectic for me now.  My daughter was cast as Annie in our local production and I am a chorus member.  We have rehearsals on Mondays and she also has dance class on Mondays.  It’s hard to be in all these places at the same time, mind you.  So, what does that man of mine do?  Helps.  He picked her up from dance and brought her back to rehearsal so that I didn’t have to leave during chorus rehearsal.  And this followed him keeping her for me over the weekend so I was able to visit my grandparents like I mentioned before.

Little things? 

I’m telling you.  Pay attention.  Those little things speak loudly if you train your ears to hear them.

A few more before I wrap up.

I ran 11 miles yesterday in honor of all who were affected by the Boston marathon bombings.  It was my longest distance to date as a runner.  I wore my printed-out Boston runner’s bib in tribute.  While on the run, a fellow runner saw my bib as he was passing, and reached out and high-fived me.  A high-five from a stranger?  Definitely a little thing, but it sure had a big impact.  (Before the run was over, I got a few car honks as well.)

Also – a new friend of mine who is an ultra runner celebrated my 11 mile run with me as if it were her own personal victory.  Did I mention she’s an ultra runner?  She has run in a 130-mile race. Yes, you read that right.  One hundred and thirty miles.  And she celebrated my 11 like it was the greatest thing on earth.  Little things.

A random sweet text from my son; an email from a friend saying that my blog has inspired them to start running; getting chills while listening to a room full of little girls singing songs at a rehearsal for Annie….

I have to make myself stop.  This list could go on and on and on.

And isn’t that awesome?

Take the time to notice them.  They’re everywhere.  All of these little things are what make this crazy ride called life worthwhile.  Unfortunately, we are sometimes too busy to appreciate them.  But we need to stop that.  These may be the memories that fill our minds one day when we’re looking back on our past – the same ones that we might forget to give a second glance to in the present.  So, stop.  Look around.  Hear the things that aren’t being said – see the things that aren’t so obvious.  Be grateful.  Be appreciative.  Be alive.

Now, go make your list of little things.

***

“Half the joy of life is in little things taken on the run…
but let us keep our hearts young and our eyes open that nothing worth our while shall escape us.”
– Victor Cherbuliez

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05

Apr. ’13

Helpers

helpers

Well, here we are.  The dreaded day after.

Not only am I hurting (holy cow, am I sore!), but now comes the fun part.  Dealing with the car insurance, the hospital bills, worrying about how to get new transportation, worrying about missing work, worrying about driving again and not being with the kids while I’m lying around recuperating, etc. etc. etc.  If I let myself get caught up in thinking of all of that, I could get pretty depressed.  And actually almost did this morning.

But then, I remember.

As Mr. Rogers so eloquently put it in his quote above, I need to remember the ‘helpers.’  Not only the helpers that were at the scene yesterday – most of which I don’t even know their names and will most likely never see again – but also the helpers that are still here.  The ones who have called to check on me, who have read my blog, who have sent out their well wishes through the internet.  My boss and co-workers who are understanding and picking up the slack from my not being there today, my kids for calling and texting to check on me and their dad for graciously taking care of them and telling me not to worry and to stay at Richard’s and rest.  And dear, sweet, wonderful Richard.  Who has taken me in and cooked dinner for me and made sure I was comfortable and asked me how I was feeling every 10 minutes or so.  And who has offered me a vehicle to drive until everything else gets worked out.  My dad, who has called multiple times to make sure I’m still ok, my grandma, my mom, my siblings, my close friends, etc. etc. etc.

I am truly surrounded by goodness.  Sweet, kind, unselfish goodness.

Yes, it stinks that I was in a wreck and totaled my car.  And yes, the aftermath of the paperwork and tediousness may make me crazy for a while.  But I just have to remember to make myself stop and reflect.  Stop and look around and realize how truly blessed and loved that I am.  Remember that I’m not alone and never will be.

Remember the helpers.

***

“You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.”
– John Bunyan

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03

Apr. ’13

Week-old Miracles

Twins

“Hearts entwined
Twenty fingers, twenty toes,
two sweet babies with cheeks of rose.
Born on the same day, two gifts from above,
lives entwined, two babies to love.”
– Author Unknown

A week ago today, my beautiful sister Jenny gave birth to the little identical angels you see above.  She was only 30 weeks pregnant. 

I live about eight hours away from her, and when I got the call that she was going into labor this early, I knew there was no way I would make it in time for the birth.  And given that she was so early in her pregnancy, I was terrified.  I had no idea what to expect, but I’ll admit that my expectations were not good ones.  It was so early in the pregnancy – and there were going to be two babies.  Both of those factors led me to fear the worst.  I was so afraid for my sister.

But – less than an hour after the news that she had arrived at the hospital, I got the call that the babies were here.  Big sister Trinity arrived first by c-section weighing in at a whopping 2 pounds, 10 ounces, followed by “little” sister Serenity weighing 3 pounds, 2 ounces.  Mommy and babies were all doing wonderful!  Of course, since the little ones were so tiny – they were going to have to be transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital in Nashville, TN.  This is about an hour from where their Mommy had to stay for a few more days.  I can’t even imagine what my sister went through during the interim while she waited to see her babies.  She’s a tough one, I know that.

My car didn’t seem to be able to go fast enough to get me there to see those sweet little babies.  I honestly had no idea what to expect as far as how they would look.  But when I saw them for the first time, I was absolutely amazed.  I knew they’d be small…but that small??  Was that even possible?  And they just looked like…well, like babies.  Teeny tiny little babies.  I guess I expected there to be something “different” about them since they were so early.  But nope.  They were just perfect little ten-fingered, ten-toed, crying little angels. 

It’s hard to put into words how much I felt during those days I was able to visit them in that hospital.  First of all, I was simply amazed at the marvels of modern medical equipment.  Thank goodness Jenny had those babies during this day and time when all of these medicines and machines are available to us.  Thanks to incubators, feeding tubes, IVs, etc., my little nieces slept peacefully in their little isolated shelters.  And the nurses were incredible.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll let this picture of little Serenity’s nurse’s “uniform” speak for itself:

nurse

So, in addition to the amazing medical care my nieces are getting – I was also blown away by the sheer miracle of their existence.  Standing there looking down at these little 2-pound humans had a profound affect on me.  As I said to my brother, “It’s amazing that these teeny tiny little babies are going to be screwed-up adults like us one day.”  (Yeah, I’m known for my deep philosophical quotes in serious moments such as this one.)  But think about it – isn’t that crazy!?  We were all tiny babies once.  Maybe not quite as tiny as my little nieces, but still.  Something about that just amazed me when I took the time to think about it.  Everything they are going through right now will not even register in their memory one day.  They’ll go on to be adults and have babies of their own and live, laugh, love, make mistakes, make amends…just like the rest of us.  What a miracle life is, isn’t it?  And watching my sister take care of them – wow.  That too touched my heart.  I remember when Jenny herself was just a tiny little baby (she’s 11 years younger than me).  That little tiny person is now the mom of these little tiny persons.  Crazy, man.  Just crazy.

Here’s a pic I got of her “feeding” little Trinity for the first time (she’s fed breast milk through a feeding tube):

jenfeeding

Oh, I could just go on and on and on with this blog, but I guess I better wrap it up.  I just wanted to give a shout out to my beautiful new twin nieces and welcome them to this world; to pay tribute to my amazingly strong sister Jenny for being exactly the mommy those two babies needed; and to just make a general observation that life truly is a pretty awesome thing. 

Welcome to this crazy ride, Trinity and Serenity.

***

“A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”
– Carl Sandburg

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26

Mar. ’13

Still Small Voice

naysayerblog1

Sounds so easy, doesn’t it?  Someone belittles you, tells you that you can’t do something or that you won’t succeed…just kick ’em to the curb.  Be done with them!

Yeah, well.  Sometimes it’s not that easy.

Sometimes the person who does that to you is someone that is fully involved in your life.  Someone that you can’t just leave.  Maybe it’s a member of your family.  Maybe it’s a boss at a job that you desperately need.  Maybe it’s an ex-spouse who is the mother/father of your children and has to remain in your life.  Maybe it’s an abusive relationship that you’re not able to get out of just yet for reasons only you know.

And oftentimes, because those are the people that may be around us the most, we think they are the people who know us best.  And we put a lot of weight into what they have to say.  As Kelly Clarkson puts it in her Mr. Know It All song lyrics:

“When somebody tells you something ’bout you
They think that they know you more than you do
So you take it down, another pill to swallow…”

Well, guess what?

They’re WRONG.

That’s it.  Plain and simple.  They are wrong.  No need to ‘swallow that pill.’  Because they are human just like you and I are.  And being human, that means that they are apt to being mistaken.  (Pretty often actually.)   And those times that they are belittling you and telling you what you can and can’t do?  Those are those times.

They don’t know you better than you do.  No one does.  You know your heart.  You know what’s in there – what you feel and don’t feel.  Who are you and aren’t, what you can and can’t do.  You know the you that no one else sees.  The one that you might keep hidden for fear of not being accepted by the people in your life who are impossible to please.  But you know it.  It’s there.  You may keep it hidden well (I’m sure you’ve had years and years of practice), but it’s still there.  No matter how much you allow their words to pile up and form a barrier to hide it behind, the true ‘you’ is still there.  It won’t be defeated.  The still small part of you that still loves yourself keeps it under lock and key where no one can touch it.  And you know that.  Don’t you?

I have recently crossed paths with an abused woman.  It has weighed very heavily on my mind.  I’m haunted by the way her eyes look.  So dead, so full of regret and sadness.  And I’m so very very sorry for her.  It’s so easy for people to tell her to leave – to tell her to get out of that situation.  But I don’t know her life.  No one does.  Only she does.  I hope that one day she finds her way out.  In fact, I’m somewhat consumed with hoping for that.  It amazes me that humans can be so cruel to one another.  But in the meantime, until she finds her way, I wish I could tell her this.  I wish I could tell her that I know it’s not easy.  That you can read Mark Twain quotes until you’re blue in the face, but they aren’t going to pave the path out the door.  They just aren’t.  Things just aren’t as easy as they appear from the outside looking in.

But there is something that she can do.  Something that you can do if you’re seeing yourself in what I’m saying.  You can alter that Mark Twain quote a little.  I don’t think he’d mind.  Rather than saying to “keep away” from those people, why don’t we say to “keep YOUR HEART away” from them.  Don’t let what they’re saying penetrate your heart.

As I said, you can’t always keep away from those people.  Life just doesn’t always allow for an easy out.  Sometimes it’s next to impossible.  So do your best to keep that guard on your heart and don’t let those negative words through.  You are your own best friend, ya know.  If you’re not there for you, no one else is going to be.  Stick up for yourself.  Even if it’s just that small little voice inside, let yourself hear it.  Don’t shut it up.  Don’t let them win.  Listen to what it’s saying.  Do you hear that?  Do you hear what it’s trying to tell them?

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re wrong.  You’re wrong.  You’re wrong.”

Keep listening.  Practice hearing it over and over and over again.  Eventually that voice will get louder and louder if you let it.  And before you know it, it will sound almost just as loud as the negative voices coming from the outside.  And then finally, when you’ve practiced enough and you’re fully ready, you’ll see that something amazing has happened.

That voice will be so loud that it drowns out the others.

It can happen.  You just have to let it.

***

“It is the still small voice that the soul heeds,
Not the deafening blasts of doom.”
– William Dean Howells

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