Tag Archives: relationships

Positive Thinker?

“If you’re not making mistakes, then you’re not doing anything. I’m positive that a doer makes mistakes.”
– John Wooden

Ok, I feel kind of bad.

I was just speaking to someone over the weekend who had never read my blog. I was explaining the types of writings I do – uplifting blogs about everyday events that have hidden lessons in them. (I thought that was a good way to describe it – there’s definitely not a particular theme to this thing, that’s for sure…) So, they said they’d love to check it out and would do so as soon as they got a chance.

Then, I got home and clicked on the link to my blog, and realized what the first thing would be that this person would see. A blog called “WTF.”

guideposts3Heh. Oops.

And then, I check the mail.  What do I find?  The April edition of Guideposts magazine. Now, I’m not necessarily a subscriber to Guideposts, although I have been mysteriously receiving issues starting a few months ago (Grandma, was that you?), but I was expecting a stack of the April editions to arrive.

Why is that?

I was notified a while back that a quote from one of my stories (Scars) was chosen to appear in a section of the April edition of Guideposts entitled “The Up Side.”  This is a section that contains uplifting quotes by sometimes famous, sometimes not famous (obviously), people who are “positive thinkers.”  guideposts1I knew the magazine was coming, but the thrill of opening it up and rushing to page 15 to check out the Up Side section was pretty cool.  I opened it up to page 15, and the first thing I see is Sandra Bullock.  Woohoo!  I’m listed in the same section as Sandra Bullock?

How do ya like them apples??

And then I flipped the page to the second page of quotes.  Page 16.  And there I was.  Seeing my words – my quote! – in black and white was pretty awesome, to say the least.

 

guideposts2 guideposts2

How cool is that!?

And then, I flipped back to page 15 and read that subtitle again.  “Quotes from Today’s Positive Thinkers.”  Awesome.

Oh…

Wait a minute.

“Positive thinker?”  Ummmmm, yeah.  This positive thinker is the one who just wrote a blog called “WTF” and ended it with “Sometimes people truly suck.”

*embarrassing laugh*

Heh.  Oops.

So, let me just explain a little.  Last week sucked.  It just did.  Even “positive thinkers” are apparently human.  That last blog is not really who I am.  I was hurt and I lashed out.  It happens.  People don’t suck.  That was a harsh statement.  People are who they are, and it’s up to me whether or not to let their actions affect me.  And, most importantly, it’s up to me whether to allow them to remain in my life or not.  In this case, I chose the latter.  (And I feel great about that.  Really.  You should try it sometime – it’s very freeing.)

So, yeah.  I just had what I like to think of as a little “hiccup.”

packBut see this quote?  I came across this a few days ago, and it made me feel so much better about my situation.  I love the part that says not to “unpack and live there.”  That’s great advice.  I had my little fit, and now I’ve moved on.  Time to regain my Guideposts title of ‘positive thinker’ and keep moving forward.

So, to my regular blog readers, let me thank you for allowing me my little setback.  I appreciate you sticking around.

And to you, new blog reader from the weekend, I hope you’ll stick around and get to know the real me.  The me that does not let outside forces break my spirit.  Temporarily?  Maybe.  But forever?  Ha.  Not a chance.

There’s too much good in this world to let the occasional Negative Nancy spoil it.

***
“If you have a positive attitude and constantly strive to give your best effort, eventually you will overcome your immediate problems and find you are ready for greater challenges.”
– Pat Riley

WTF

wtf

Yep. You read that right.

W.T.F.

That sums up the weekend I just had.

You know that feeling where everything is going great and it feels like life has finally evened out for you?  You’re floating along, things seem to just be working out the way they’re supposed to, all systems are go.  And then suddenly…BAM!  Out of left field comes a sucker punch that completely knocks you off course.

Well, that’s what happened to me this weekend.  And oh no, one punch wasn’t enough.  Life had to hand me TWO of them, not to mention all the aftershocks to follow.  But I’m just going to concentrate on the one punch for this blog.  The other one – well, who knows.  You may hear about it one day.  But not today.

Now, I’m going to withhold specific details.  And I probably shouldn’t be blogging about it at all.  A part of me thinks that talking about it publicly will just fuel the fire and makes things worse for me.  But then there’s this other part of me – this slightly bigger part – that feels a little differently .  You know what that part is telling me?

Screw ’em.

And that part is a heck of a lot louder than the other part so it wins today, my friends.

I live in a small town.  But the difference between me and the other small town dwellers is that I have not been here long.  In fact, I have never been anywhere long.  I’m a nomad of sorts.  The military brat in me has never really disappeared, which has caused me to float around from here to there, even as an adult, and never really put down roots.  But in the past few years, I actually thought I had finally found a place to call ‘home.’  I go places and I recognize people.  I walk through Walmart and invariably see someone I know and stop to chat.  I start seeing people that I work with out and about in their personal lives and stop for a quick “how ya doin?” conversation.  This may sound like everyday humdrum happenings to most of you, but not to me.  It was new. And I loved it.

But this past weekend?  This past weekend showed me the down side to this small town living.  And to be quite honest – it has made me want to start dragging out the luggage.

Apparently there has been a rumor going around for the past few weeks that I tried to break up a marriage by calling the wife and telling her that the husband had been cheating on her.  Apparently I “witnessed” this.

*sigh*

Now, before I go any further, let me tell you a little story.  A few years ago, my coworker and I were leaving work at the same time.  I was following behind her making my way through town heading home.  I noticed traffic was a little slower than usual, but just went on listening to my music and singing and daydreaming like I always do.  Once I finally made it through the traffic jam and got moving again, my cell phone rang.  It was my coworker.  I answered and she said, “Wow, that was a bad wreck back there, wasn’t it?”

Say what?  A wreck?

I had driven by a friggin WRECK, people.  And I hadn’t noticed a thing.

THAT is a perfect example of my attention to detail.  I am clueless.  A bomb could go off beside me and unless a piece of shrapnel pierced my skin, I probably wouldn’t realize it happened until I turned to walk in that direction and fell into the crater it left behind.  You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not.  We all have our flaws, and that’s my big one.  I’m self-absorbed.  I have no idea what is happening around me at any given time because I’m too busy living in my own mind.  That is just the way it is.

And yet…

And yet, I managed to witness some secret rendezvous between two people I barely know and actually cared enough to go out of my way and tell the wife (whom I also barely know) about what happened.

Excuse me for just a second while I turn this BS meter alarm off because that thing is BLARING.

So, here I have been, roaming around this cutesy little small town, smiling and waving at all the people that I thought were my friends and acquaintances, thinking that all was well in my happy little bubble – and all the while I was being secretly hated.  Talked about. Defamed.

And sure, it’s easy to say, “Oh just shake it off.  It doesn’t matter what people think.”  But you know what makes it matter?  What makes it matter is that the people I do care about believe it too.  And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.  I remember an old friend once telling me that the hardest thing to prove is the truth.  If you’re trying to prove a lie, you can make up whatever you need to as evidence to just tangle the web a little more.  But when you’re defending the truth, all you have is the truth.  And apparently that just isn’t good enough these days.

So, am I going to pack my bags?  I don’t know.  I hate to think that one little incident could make that happen.  But when that little incident stretches as far as it has and has affected the foundation of trust that I have built with the people I love, then that makes it not such a little incident anymore.

I am a good person.  I just am.  That’s all there is to it.  And while that may sound like I’m tooting my own horn, believe me when I say I’m not.  In fact, I’m sick of being a good person.  I’m sick of turning the other cheek, of doing everything by the book, of looking out for other people’s feelings and considering others before I take actions.  I’m SICK of it.  I’d love to just take one day off from my personality and just go give everyone involved with this thing the punch in the throats that they deserve.

But I won’t.  Because I am who I am.

I’ll just continue to cry behind closed doors and watch the people and the life I love slip away because of something utterly and completely beyond my control.

Sometimes people truly suck.

***

“Laws control the lesser man…Right conduct controls the greater one.”
– Mark Twain

#tbt Poetry – Silence

In keeping with my “Throwback Thursday” poetry idea from last week, here’s one from 2011.  (Didn’t throwback too far with this one.  Truthfully, I seem to have misplaced my old poetry folder in my recent move, so I’m still searching.  I’ll get to the really old ones as I soon as I find that darn thing….)

***

Silence

Nothingness.
Quiet.
Confusion.
Silence.

Memories begin to drift back to the noise…
Back to the happiness,
the lights, the sounds,
the laughter
Spinning around at top speed on a merry-go-round
Filled with smiles and giggling children and chirping birds
“Tickets, get your tickets!”
Come ride the ride!

Then suddenly…

Silence.

Where did it go?
Was it even real?

I want my money back.

silence

#tbt Poetry – Forgotten Mistress

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.”
– W. H. Auden
I see everyone posting these “Throwback Thursday” photos on Facebook, so I have decided to do my own little blog version of it.  Every Thursday, I plan to post an old poem that I wrote, together with the approximate year it was written.  I used to write a lot of poetry back in the day (not great poetry, mind you) before I started writing the essay/short story style writings that I now prefer.  So, let’s dig out some of this old stuff and broadcast that old undeveloped talent, shall we? 😉

First up, is Forgotten Mistress.  Written in 2003.

Forgotten Mistress

I am looking in the window-
Standing on tiptoe to see-
Watching the life go on inside
The life that doesn’t include me

I see the family that loves him
Who will always welcome him home
I see the good times that abound
As I stand here all alone.

I wonder, Does he see me
Out of the corner of his eye?
Am I included in his vision
As the walls keep me outside?

Am I the secret no one mentions-
The dirty reminder of a fall?
Or have I already been forgotten
Not even thought about at all?

I know that I should turn away
From this sight I cannot bear to see
From watching the life go on inside
The life that doesn’t include me.

But yet, I stand here waiting
For that invitation I will never receive
And I’ll remain outside this window
Until I can find the strength to leave.

mistress

Story about a Dog

“We fear things in proportion to our ignorance of them.”
–  Christian Nestell Bovee

I want to tell you a story about a dog.

LUCY2And it’s not just any dog, mind you.  I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Richard’s sweet little german shepherd, Lucy.  Isn’t she the cutest little booger?  So incredibly sweet.  So lovable.  So happy.  And so…*ahhem*…um, how shall I say this?…unintelligent?  Heh.  Bless her sweet little heart, she’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the box.  But she sure makes up for it in sweetness though, that’s for sure.  Well, I have a story about one of Lucy’s recent…let’s just say mental lapses…that I thought was pretty interesting.

Now Lucy is a little over a year old and, all her life, has been taught that she is NOT to come in the house.  She’s an outside dog, and that’s always been perfectly fine with her.  Well….now here we are faced with this awful winter we’ve been having, so we decided to try to bend the rules a little.  With sub-zero temps and wind chills to boot, it was time to let Lucy in the house.

Heh.  WRONG.

Lucy was having NONE of that.  You don’t teach a dog not to come in the house and then invite them in.  No way, not Miss Lucy.  Her daddy said a long time ago that she wasn’t supposed to be in the house and that was that, by gosh.  We cajoled, we pushed, we pulled, we begged…but she wasn’t budging.

So, on to Plan B.

Richard, being the sweetheart that he is, decided that he couldn’t bear knowing that all she was going to have as shelter would be a drafty garage.  Yes, it would block the worst of the wind, but it still wasn’t all that toasty in there.  So, he rigged up a little space heater for her right next to her dog bed.  That way, she would at least feel the heat from it as long as she stayed in her bed for the night.  Problem solved.  We’re going on a few months of this space heater warmth for Lucy on these cold winter nights and all has been working just fine, thank you.

Until yesterday, that is.

*sigh*

Now, I mentioned that Lucy is a sweet little thing right?  Sooooo sweet.  Smart?  Eh.  Notsomuch.

I left early in the morning for work and Richard was close behind.   We both had very long days yesterday, consisting of real estate work here and there and followed up by rehearsal (for me) and sound work (for him) at the theatre until late in the evening.  And then, after topping the night off with a quick bite to eat and a glass of wine or two at our favorite restaurant, we finally made our way back home.  And what did we find when we got there?

Lucy.  In the garage.

Stuck.

And by “stuck,” let me explain.  This space heater that I described to you is a long, low-to-the-ground type.  It resembles a baseboard heater somewhat.  Before Richard had left for the day, he went into the garage through the open door (on the opposite side of the heater) and Lucy had followed him in.  As he was leaving, he shut the garage door behind him with Lucy still inside, knowing that it was ok to do so since Lucy could easily go out the side door that we always keep open for her.  Well, what he didn’t realize, was that the heater (which was not on, by the way) had been pushed to the side just slightly and was now…um…”blocking” Lucy’s path to the side door.

Now, I mentioned this heater is low to the ground, right?  And by low to the ground, I mean probably 6 inches.  Tops.  So this 6-inch tall non-functioning space heater stood between Lucy and the side door of freedom.

It took us a minute to realize what the problem was once we got home.  I was the first to arrive and was shocked that Lucy didn’t come flying to me with her tail flapping as she always does.  I heard her whining in the garage, but she wouldn’t come to me.  I walked a little further in and saw that she was just standing there.  That’s it.  Just standing there looking at me.  (And crying, the poor little thing.)

So, I called to her.  “Come here, Lucy.  Come here, girl.”

Still.  Nothing.

That’s when I realized that she was refusing to step across the little heater.  I walked over and simply pushed the heater a few inches to the side, and let me tell you – you would not believe the happiness that burst forth from that sweet little dog.  She bolted out of that garage, went straight to the yard to ‘take care of some overdue business,’ and then came bounding back to me for her “Hello, I’m glad you’re home, I love you, I love you, I love you” kisses.

When Richard got home, we laughed about that silly dog being “stuck” in the garage, all because she refused to step across the heater.  But then the more we talked about it, the more we realized that, although the heater wasn’t hot at the moment, Lucy must have learned (the hard way, I’m guessing) that that heater could be hot.  So, she figured it was best to play it safe.  Even if it meant imprisonment.

Now, you guys realize I’m a writer right?  And one thing I’ve noticed about we writers…we simply cannot see a situation in only a literal sense.  Oh no – there is always a deeper meaning to just about everything.  This time was no exception.

I thought about poor sweet Lucy and wondered how many times I’ve done that myself.  How many times have I chosen imprisonment and sacrificed my freedom, simply because I was afraid to attempt something that may have hurt me in the past?  And how many times was that thing that I thought was going to hurt me, simply just there for my benefit and not going to hurt me at all?  And how many times have I, due to being ignorant to the harmlessness of the obstacle (simply because I was not willing to test it out), therefore remained in the tiny, lonely, confined space of my own making?

And while we’re on the subject – how many times have you done that?

Pretty dumb, isn’t it?

So, yes, maybe this was just one instance of a not-so-smart doggy getting stuck in a garage behind a heater.  Or…

Or.

Maybe this was one of those lessons that life puts in front of you all of the time…if you’ll just take a moment to stop and notice it.

I don’t know about you, but I sure do know that Lucy was pretty darn happy to be free.  Maybe you should give freedom a try yourself.

LUCY1

***

“Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is freedom.”
– Marilyn Ferguson

To My Valentine

“At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.”
Plato

To My Valentine….

Valentine’s Day’s
the time they say
to show what they mean to you;
Chocolate bars,
sappy cards,
dinners just for two

Candlelight talks,
moonlit walks,
Sweet music to serenade
One night to show
that special glow
From the love you both have made

It sounds so nice
most don’t think twice
They throw their all into this day
And while I do understand
most couple’s plans
For us, it’s not quite this way

The lives we lead
are busy indeed
And are filled with much to do
With four kids between
(and most are teens!)
Little remains for me and you

With their needs galore;
clothes, concerts and more
Birthday presents around every bend
The wallet stays bare;
(surprised we even have hair!)
And before we know it, the money’s all spent

So we find other means
(not requiring much green)
To show the love that lies within
Those arms that you place
around my waist
Those sweet dimples in your grin

The hours you spend
shoveling snow with no end
So my little car can get out of the drive
The errands you run
when I’m coming undone
From the stress of these busy lives

Your sweet, gentle ways
through these hectic days
That keeps me from coming unglued
Every kiss that you place
upon my grateful face
Shows how much I am loved by you

I hope mere words are enough
to thank you for your love
For all the many loving things that you do,
Valentine’s Day and the rest
I am loved by the best –
Thank God for the gift that is you.

valentine

V-Day Giveaway

“A bell is no bell ’til you ring it,
A song is no song ’til you sing it,
And love in your heart
Wasn’t put there to stay –
Love isn’t love
‘Til you give it away.”
~Oscar Hammerstein, Sound of Music, “You Are Sixteen (Reprise)”

Ahhhh.  ‘Tis the season for romance, right?  Chocolate hearts, teddy bears, lovey-dovey sweet nothings….

Blech.

I know, I know…I’m very happily in love and should be happy about Valentine’s Day, right?  Well, I am happy that I’m in a relationship with such a wonderful, amazing man.  Don’t get me wrong.  But the idea that it should all be centered around one day?  Eh.  Pardon my French here, but I just think that’s a bunch of BS.

And besides, I haven’t always been deliriously happy on Valentine’s Day.  As some of you may remember, this wasn’t the case for me last year.  Richard and I had split up.  (And, believe me, Richard just loooooves when I bring this up….).  I wrote a blog (a year ago today actually) about how I had attempted to see Valentine’s Day in a different light that year.  And it worked for a while.  It really did.  But then, a few days later, you’ll see the blog I wrote on the day after Valentine’s Day.  (Aptly titled “The Day After Valentine’s Day…” Man, I was creative back in the old days…)  I had psyched myself to get through that day, and then felt the sadness all over again once it was over.

So, again, yes, I am much much happier this year.  I’m so grateful that Richard and I made it through the hurt and sadness and found our way back to each other.  But regardless of my status this or any year, I still hate the thought of the turmoil that Valentine’s Day puts people through.  I know many people who are recently single who are bracing themselves for the dreaded V-Day just as I had to do last year.  And why is that?  Isn’t every day hard enough on the brokenhearted as it is without having to rub their faces in it once a year?  And if you’re not amongst the brokenhearted and are in a loving relationship now like I am, should you really need one particular day a year to remind you to be good to the one you love?  And do you really need to be pressured into buying expensive gifts to prove said love?

Well, I certainly don’t think so.

So…with that rant out of the way…let’s get to the point of this particular blog.  I decided that maybe I should do a Valentine’s Day give-away of the Chicken Soup for the Soul book that my story is in.  While, yes, it is a book filled with happy love stories, it’s also a book filled with real love stories.  And some of them, just like real life, don’t necessarily have such happy endings.  The book is divided into subject headings and one of them is entitled “Let’s Forget this Ever Happened.”  Another is called “It’s Not Me, It’s You” and contains a story called “Worst Date Ever.”  Anyway, you catch my drift right?  These stories are real.  And I think it’s important for us all to remember that there are a variety of “statuses” out there on stupid stinky ole Valentine’s Day.  If you’re not one of the ones in a happy relationship, don’t sweat it.  When we’re in a place of sadness, it’s easy to get it into our head that we’re the only one feeling this way.  That everyone out there has a partner and we’re the only one who is alone.  Well, you’re not alone.  Ever.  And here’s how I want to show you that.

If you read this blog, I want you to comment below.  (If you’re reading this on Facebook, you’re welcome to comment there too if you can’t figure out how to comment on the actual blog site).  I want you to tell me what your relationship status is, and how you plan to ‘celebrate’ Valentine’s Day.  And I want all the stories.  From the good to the bad to the ugly.  If you’re happily in love and plan the sweetest V-Day on the planet, go ahead and tell us about it.  We’ll try not to gag.  And if you’re miserable and hateful and spiteful and grumpy – I want to hear your thoughts too.  Really.

Why am I doing this?  I want people to read the variety of answers that I hope to get.  I want people to see that in the answers to this question, there probably lies someone out there in the same position you’re in…as is always the case, no matter the circumstance.  We are just never ever alone.  Really.  We’re not.  Will my plan work?  Eh, I don’t know.  But I’m willing to bet that if people participate, it’s at least going to be entertaining to read, don’t ya think!?  And keep in mind, I don’t want an essay or anything.  Just one sentence will do.  Whether it’s “I’m single and I plan to curl in a ball and cry into the wee hours of the morn,” or “I’m deliriously in love and plan to chronicle ever single moment of my dinner/dancing/smooching lovefest on Facebook for all the world to see,” we want to read them all.  Well.  Sort of.  😉

Chicken Soup Dating GameAnd, then, on the dreaded V-Day, I will put all of the commenters names in a hat (or bowl or scattered all the floor, whatever) and I will draw a name at random at 3:00 p.m. and will send the winner an autographed copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dating Game.  Check back here on my blog for the winner’s name and instructions on how to claim your prize.  If you’ve already purchased a book from me, enter anyway!  You can give it as a gift, maybe even with a copy of this blog so they know why you’re giving it to them.  Or, you may even opt to participate but not accept the prize and allow me to draw another name.  Either way – you’re a winner.  Right?  Let’s spread the love, people.  (And if I wasn’t a struggling, broke wannabe writer, I’d give you something better than a book, but hey – you can only give what ya got, right?…)

So.  We good?  You understand the rules?  Ok, then.  Let’s do this.  Ready, set….comment.

Seriously.  Show someone they’re not alone this Valentine’s Day.  That may just be all one person out there needs to know.

***

“If you have only one smile in you, give it to the people you love.”
– Maya Angelou

Kindness

kindness

Something happened at work a few weeks ago that I still can’t seem to shake from my mind.  It wasn’t anything earth-shattering.  It wasn’t something that would normally make any kind of long-lasting impression.  And yet – for some reason – it has stuck with me.  And for a writer like myself, that means I probably better sit down and let my fingers and the keyboard figure it out for me.  So here goes.

First of all, I’m a real estate paralegal.  Not sure if I’ve ever mentioned that in this blog before, but there ya go.  That’s what I do in my real life.  You know, so I won’t starve.  Basically, I do the legal paperwork for people as they buy, sell, or refinance their homes.  Now, I’ve always worked for attorneys, but I haven’t always specialized in real estate.  My first job right out of the gate was for an attorney who handled a variety of practices, including domestic relations.  That was the department I worked in.  I would sit in and listen to the depositions of people who were going through divorces.  I would field the phone calls of irate exes who wanted this, that and the other and wanted it no later than yesterday.  I would see tears fall as people came by to pick up their final divorce decrees.

In other words, it was depressing as crap.

So, as soon as I started working more in real estate, I decided that was the way I wanted to go.  There were MUCH less tears shed over the transfer of ownership of a building than there was over the transfer of people’s children and marital statuses.  So, a real estate paralegal I became.

Now, for the most part, I made the right decision.  There was definitely less drama here in this side of the legal field.   People selling a house were usually happy.  They got money.  People buying a house were usually happy.  They got a house.  People refinancing a house were usually happy.  They lowered their payments and got a better rate.  So yes, the real estate field was a relatively calm and happy place to be.

But then?  *sigh*  Then, there was the real estate crash a few years ago.  And things just aren’t quite so black and white anymore.

Refinances?  A nightmare.  To get a loan to go through, people have to give everything shy of a pint of blood from their oldest offspring.  I’m not exaggerating much, trust me.  And sales?  A lot of times we have sellers who are actually bringing money to closing in order to get their property sold.  Yep, you read that right – they have to pay to sell their house.  We see that way more often than you’d think.  And don’t even get me started on the foreclosures…  Just take my word for it, this real estate stuff is not all sunshine and lollipops anymore.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, here’s why.

In the course of a normal business day, I try my absolute best to maintain a friendly demeanor.  I really do.  (Well, with clients, that is.  Not with my co-workers…I’m not that good of an actress…)  But sometimes?  Well, sometimes it’s just hard not to slightly snap back when I’m on the phone with people who are getting snippy with me.  Especially when the person on the other end of the line happens to not even be our client.  When doing a purchase transaction, oftentimes the buyers and sellers will retain separate attorneys to represent their interests in the sale.  Most of the time, I’m handling the buyer’s side of things since I’m doing the closing paperwork (the buyer’s attorney is the settlement agent – meaning we conduct the closing).  Now, I’m telling you all this boring mumbo jumbo because it’s important info for you to know in order to understand this particular incident that won’t leave my mind.

So, here I am, in the midst of working on a closing that is scheduled for later the same day.  As is par for the course these days, I’m down to the last minute working on the stressful details to try to wrap things up so the closing can be completed.  I’m waiting on a signed document from a seller who, like I explained above, is not our client, when an email pops up from the realtor representing said seller.  The email states:  “Melissa, there may be a delay in receiving the settlement statement from the seller today.  Her husband just passed away this morning.  She will get you what you need as quickly as she can.”

Wow.  Her husband just died?  What a tragedy.  Knowing the circumstances now, of course, we are very understanding and will accommodate in anyway possible.  A delay in receiving her signature?  No problem at all.  Totally understandable.

And then, the phone rings.

No sooner had I clicked off of the email than I heard the seller’s voice on the on the other end of the line asking for me.  Now, although she introduced herself, she did not once mention what had happened to her this morning, and probably didn’t realize I knew.  She just immediately started…how do I put this?…complaining.  Every single thing on the settlement statement that she needed to sign was wrong.  I didn’t do this right.  I didn’t do that right.  Her property taxes were already paid and I was showing that they weren’t.  (FYI – They weren’t paid.)  She went on a tirade about all the things that was wrong and that I needed to fix IMMEDIATELY.

Whoa.

So, let me tell you how the Melissa who had not just received that email might have responded.

“Ma’am.  Your taxes are NOT paid.  I called the county tax office to confirm and they told me so themselves.  Would you like their number?  I’ll be glad to give it to you.  Any and all other concerns will need to go directly through your realtor or your attorney – we do not represent you.”

The end.  (And you can rest assured that there would probably be a little snip to my tone of voice as well.)

But the Melissa who had just read that email?  The Melissa who now knows that this poor woman has just lost her husband this very morning?  Well, here’s how she responded.

Ma’am, I’m sorry there are so many problems.  Let’s deal with them one at a time.  As for your property taxes, I understand you’re from Florida and the way Florida and North Carolina pay their taxes differs and may be what is causing the confusion….”  And so on, and so forth.

Because I knew what she was going through, I softened my tone (and my attitude) and helped her to understand what was wrong.  Together, we went through each issue item by item and came to an understanding and an agreement.  By the time we hung up the phone, she sounded much more pleasant and even somewhat relieved to now understand what she had perceived as issues.  She never told me what had happened to her that morning.  Not once.  She provided no explanation whatsoever.  She was just a somewhat frantic, understandably distraught woman trying to take care of necessary business that had to be attended to in the midst of unthinkable sorrow.  And I knew that because I had received that email just prior to her call.

But what if I hadn’t?

And how many times have I spoken to people just like her without receiving an explanatory email beforehand?

Yep.  Makes you stop and think, doesn’t it?

Now, believe me, I’m preaching to the choir with this one.  I need this lesson as much as you do, probably more.  But I’m asking you to do what I’m going to try to do from now on…treat everyone as if they’re fragile.  You know?  Sure, maybe the hateful person you’re dealing with has no excuse whatsoever to be acting the way they’re acting.  Maybe they’re just a jerk.  Maybe there’s no sad, heartbreaking explanation for their horrible attitude.

But, then again. Maybe there is.

Maybe there’s more to the story than you know.  Maybe they’re under a stress that you can’t even begin to imagine.  Maybe they’re hanging on by a thread.

Maybe they just lost a loved one right before speaking to you.

We just never know, do we?

Something to think about.

***

If we knew each others secrets, what comforts we should find.”
– John Churton Collins

 

Aaliyah

“I run because I can.  When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run, what they’d give to have this simple gift I take for granted, and I run harder for them.  I know they would do the same for me.”
– Unknown

Hey there, Blog World.  I would like to introduce you to someone.

Ladies and gentlemen: meet Aaliyah.

Aaliyahblog2Is this not the most gorgeous little soon-to-be-5-year-old you’ve ever seen?  And now, I’m going to tell you the story of Miss Aaliyah, and how she came into my life.

As some of you may know, I’m a runner.  If you’re new to my blog, you may not realize that fact since I haven’t really talked about it in a while.  I just ran my second half marathon in November (after running my first in May), and have been a bit of a slacker ever since.  As I’m sure a lot of runners will understand and relate with, I was having a bit of a post-race slump.  But as the New Year approached, I started to remember some promises I had made to myself.  One promise, in particular.

Last year, I insisted that 2014 would be the year I ran my first marathon.

I even started a training plan and had a race picked out for April 2014.  Well, I’ll just be quite honest with you…that idea fizzled.  If you’ve never trained for a distance race, let me explain what happens.  Pretty much everything in your life has to take a backseat to training.  I’m not kidding.  Even when you’re not running, you’re thinking about running.  The things you eat and drink change, the amount of sleep you get changes (or at least you stress over the fact that you’re not getting enough), your weekend plans have to revolve around your ‘long run’ day.  Etc. Etc. Etc.  And I only know all of this from training for a half marathon.  Training for a full marathon?  Yeah, double all of that.  It’s a commitment.  A big one.  Because of the holidays and the cold weather and the release of the book, Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dating Game, that contains my story (woohoo!) and all of the hoopla that went with it, I decided I didn’t quite have the time to devote to training for a marathon just yet.

And then, I found Aaliyah.

irun4A few months ago, prior to my running slump, I stumbled across the Facebook page for a community called IRun4.  After I started doing a little research, I found their website and got pretty excited about the whole idea.  Basically, this is a program that ‘matches’ runners with children with disabilities.  You strike up a friendship with the child’s parent and you dedicate your logged miles to the child.  It’s really a way to motivate both sides.  The parent and their child (if they’re old enough to understand) know that there is a practical stranger out there in the world who cares about them and what they’re going through, and the runner is provided with a reminder of how blessed we are to have the health and ability to do this thing we love to do: run.  Another benefit?  It increases awareness.  Awareness of some of the illnesses we’ve never even heard of that these beautiful children (and their parents) are living with everyday.

Well, yesterday, after an almost 3-month spot on the waiting list, I received notification that I had been matched.  With beautiful little Aaliyah who lives in Texas with her mommy.   After speaking online with her mom, I was introduced to a disorder that I had never heard of.  Little Aaliyah has what is called Rett Syndrome.  The best way I know to describe this is to use a phrase I have found on many of the websites I’ve researched:

Imagine the symptoms of Autism, Cerebral Palsy, Parkinson’s, Epilepsy and a variety of anxiety disorders all rolled into one little girl.  That’s Rett Syndrome.

This is what Aaliyah has to battle every day of her life.

Now, this is all new to me.  All I know about the disease is what I’ve read since hearing the term for the first time yesterday.  I don’t live with it every day like Aaliyah and her young mom do, so I don’t really know what life is like for them.  But I plan to learn.  And I plan to do more research and I plan to become more aware of what little Aaliyah’s life is like.  And until I can find another way to support the disease itself, I will do the only thing I know to do here in my little world half way across the country from her – I will run for her.  Each time I put on my running shoes, I will say a little prayer for Aaliyah and her mom and send good vibes and love their way.  And I will hope that they feel them.

AaliyahblogAnd….I will start searching for my first full marathon somewhere this fall.  What better reason to go the distance, right?  First on the agenda:  training for another half marathon in early May (the same one I did as my first half last year).  With Aaliyah’s little spirit cheering me on, I think this is going to be a successful running year.

So, little Aaliyah in Texas – I am going to do my best to not let you down.  I will earn the distinction as your running buddy and will do all I can to promote awareness of what you are going through.  I will keep you in my prayers and in my heart and will remember you and your mommy and hope that you know that each step I take from this moment on, is for you. 

Because, after all….

Aaliyahblog4

One little girl out there in the world is going to know that she is thought about and loved.  I won’t let you down, kiddo.

Here’s to a 2014 filled with running successes and wonderful new friendships.

***

In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.  It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.  We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” 
– Albert Schweitzer

Jesus

jesus

Yep.  That’s the one.  You did, in fact, read that title right.  This blog is about Jesus.

Now, don’t worry.  If you’re not religious, I’m not going to preach at ya here.  Believe me, I’m the last one to do that.  I’m not sure I fall in the ‘religious’ category myself (whatever that word means…).  To be honest, I’m not sure what I believe at all, so I’m sure as heck not going to tell you what to believe.  I just want to tell you about something that caught my attention yesterday.  And maybe, just maybe, it might mean something to you, too.

First, a little background.

I was raised in a Baptist church.  Southern Baptist at that.  For most of you, no further explanation is needed here.  For the rest of you:  let’s just say that it is thoroughly ingrained in my brain that pretty much everything I do is going to send me straight to Hell.  And with that being the case, it’s also ingrained in my brain that I better have my heathen butt in church every Sunday morning in order to atone for everything I’ve done throughout the week, and to plead and beg for the Big Man to reach down his big, scary, arm of fear to alter my Hell-destined course at least long enough for me to make it back to church the next Sunday to start the process all over again.

You follow me?

Ok.  So, as you can probably tell from my veiled bitterness in that last paragraph, I’m sure it’s needless of me to say that some of that ‘teaching’ is starting to fade a little as my adult mind starts to mature somewhat past all this (somewhat).  In fact, I have turned into what some (read: my grandma) may refer to as ‘rebellious.’  Pssssh.  Innocent lil ol’ me?  Rebellious?  But alas, ’tis true.

And yet.

Yet, rebellious little heathen mind and all, I still feel that incessant pull to go to church.  And, most of the time, I still heed to that pull.  Why is that, I wonder?  Eh, that’s a topic for another blog, I suppose.  The point is this: even though I don’t do the “resolution” thing per se, the New Year still comes tapping on my shoulder every year reminding me that it’s time to reassess and maybe work on a few things here and there.  And, in this case, 2014 seemed to be reminding me that it was time to get back to attending church.

Now, as luck would have it, Richard and I finally found a church that felt like ‘home’ to us a little over a year ago.  Even though we’re not the most regular attenders there ever were (see above: I’m working on that), we still both feel like we’ve found a place that feels a little more comfortable to us than most.  They just seem to be focused on that whole “love thy neighbor” stuff, rather than hell fire and brimstone, and we both seem to like that.  We like that a lot actually.  And, since our kids loved going to Sunday school, we even managed to find our way into our own adult Sunday school class.  After a somewhat prolonged absence, we all trudged back yesterday to work on this ‘regular attendance’ thing, and were greeted with hugs and a genuine collective “welcome back” that made us realize how much we had missed it.  (And, incidentally, there were no “Where have you been?”s at all.  Imagine that.)

So, there we sat in our Sunday school class, studying the book of James, when something seemed to absolutely jump out of the Bible at me.  (Me! Heathen rebel and all!)  Sitting right there in the second chapter was this phrase:

“…mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13, NIV

Wait…what?  Did I just read that right?  Mercy?  You mean that whole “It’s ok, I understand that you’re human and you’re going to make mistakes” thing?  THAT is going to win over “You messed up chick, pack your bags for your trip to Hell?”  Surely not.

Yet there it was, people.  Right there in black and white.

Now, granted, these weren’t actually Jesus’ words.  But they came from James, who was Jesus’ brother.  And by brother, I don’t mean “brother in Christ” or whatever.  I mean, brother.  Brother as in, “Moooom!  Jesus turned my water in to wine again!  Make him stop!”  That kind of brother.   James actually grew up with Jesus.  Physically grew up in the same house with the guy.  So, if I were a betting woman (which I’m not, betting is a sin…), I’d say that James probably knew where Jesus stood on things.  Wouldn’t you say?  And according to James, that’s how it works – mercy TRIUMPHS over judgment.

So, why did that affect me so much?  Here’s why.

Most of you who know me, know that part of my…um…issue with church, the Bible, religion, etc., lies in the fact that some people tend use this book as their weapon when suppressing the rights of some of the people I love most in this world.  Who am I referring to, you ask?  Oh, I’m so glad you brought up that question. [*drags out soapbox*]  My gay friends, that’s who.  I’m not sure why gay rights is such an issue to me…I mean, I’m not gay.  As far as I know, my children aren’t gay.  No one in my immediate family is gay.  And yet, for as far back as I can remember, I have felt such a stirring in my soul that gay people are not “sinners” and therefore, should not be treated any differently than me.  And yet, how could that be?  The Bible says so right there in black and white that they are.  How could I have been brought up the way I have, and yet still feel in my gut that something somewhere isn’t right with all of that?

Well, there you go.  Maybe James just answered that for me.  Maybe, just maybe, Jesus was not sent to judge us.  What?  No judgment?  Maybe he was sent to show mercy.  To ALL of us.  Maybe he was sent to remind us that it is NOT our place to make rules or judgments on people based on what ‘sin’ they are or are not committing.  In fact, maybe it’s not up to us to hypothesize on what is or isn’t a sin at all.  Whether you are a firm believer in the Bible, or the biggest atheist that ever walked the planet, either way you HAVE to admit that there are inconsistencies in that thing.  Right?  Come on, don’t lie.  You know they’re there.  One page will say one thing as plain as day, and then you turn the page and there’s the exact opposite.  And you’ll have people say that the inconsistencies just lie in differences in ‘interpretation’ and blah, blah, blah.    Ok, I get that.  But I don’t think James left much for interpretation, do you?  Mercy triumphs over judgment.

Mercy triumphs over judgment.

To me, not only does that mean that’s how God will treat me, but that means that’s how I should treat everybody else.  It is not my place to judge.  It’s not your place to judge.  It’s not the government’s place to judge.  Why is that so hard to understand?  Could someone explain that to me, please?  What am I missing here?

If you still fall in the category of belief that homosexuality is a sin, then that’s fine.  You believe what you believe.  But let me tell you something.  As for me?  This girl is a Sinner with a capital “S.”  I mean, I’ve sinned a BUNCH.  I mean a friggin major TON of sins.  I could fill this blog for YEARS with all of them.  But you know what I get to do?  Marry the man I love.  One day (yes, maybe against his will, but whatever…), I’m going to marry Richard.  And no one is going to stop me.  Scarlett “S” emblazoned on my chest and all, I will still get the chance to say “I do.”  And it is so incredibly unfair that my gay friends have to travel to other states to be afforded that same courtesy.

Mercy triumphs over judgment.

Man.  Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone lived by that part of the Bible?  Oh hey – since picking and choosing which parts to go by seems to be the norm these days, is it too late to cast my vote for this verse?  I’m straight so I still get a say in the matter, right?

*sigh*

I know, I know.  My SPF 250 is packed and ready to go….

***

“Let’s make a law that gay people can have birthdays, but straight people get more cake–you know, to send the right message to kids.”
– Bill Maher