Words From Across The Pond

Today I'm starting a new series;  it’s only five weeks long so it will fit perfectly with the five Mondays that we have in November.

During a de-cluttering phase that I went through back in January, I got rid of everything that was on my refrigerator.  You know...pictures, various magnets, notes, etc.  I had never thought about it before, but it was actually stressing me out - the constant look of disarray was really starting to bug me.  It was such a simple thing, but I was so happy when I was able to look at the clean, white refrigerator.

Over the course of the year, I’ve collected five new magnets that now reside there.  Before you think I’ve gone and cluttered it all up again, let me assure you that it still looks wonderfully tidy.  All of the magnets are white with black lettering, and they’re all the same size!  (Uniformity makes so very happy.)  They align perfectly along the top and they serve as reminders to me whenever I need a kick in the pants or a little extra help getting through the day.  I thought that I’d share them with you (in the order that I purchased them); perhaps at some point they will encourage you as they have me.

The first one is a reasonably famous quote by Winston Churchill.  It reads:


“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”


So simple and yet so profound.

How often do we find ourselves in the middle of difficulty and we’re so paralyzed with fear, indecision, or pain that we do nothing?  We just remain there as if we're physically stuck.  I’ve been there lately more times than I care to count.  I love being able to read this simple quote and be jarred to movement.  It reminds me that I don’t need to have all of the answers, I don’t even necessarily need to have a coherent plan, but I do need to do something.  Sitting and wallowing in whatever hell I find myself in doesn’t help me; taking a step and looking for a solution, even if I change paths a million times before finding the right path, is a good thing.  It’s doing something.  It's being proactive.  It’s not giving up and allowing myself to be defined by or controlled by my circumstances.

So I'm trying, with a little help from Winston, to remember to keep going.

The Undefeated

I spent this evening watching a football game.  The Broncos (officially my team these days, but that's another story) were hosting the Packers.  Neither team had lost a game yet, so the graphics going into each commercial break showed a big banner that read, "The Undefeated." Normally I am able to tune out silly graphics, but for some reason the words stuck with me and I began to notice them each time they popped up.  

About halfway through the game, I realized that today is indeed November 1st and therefore the beginning of yet another NaBloPoMo.  Earlier this year I had thought about participating again, but honestly I haven't thought about it in months.  Suddenly, I was faced with making an immediate decision.  After all, there are only a handful of hours left in the day!  All of the usual doubts filled my mind: I don't have enough time, I don't have anything interesting to say, nobody reads it or cares about it anyway, why bother blogging one month of the year and then letting it sit dormant for the other eleven months...  The list went on and on.  Still, I couldn't shake a nagging feeling of failure if I let it go.  This would be the eighth year of Snow Comes Up; I'm not great at this, but am I really ready to call it quits?  Was this just my OCD talking, or was this really something that I wanted to do?

As my brain argued with itself and I continued to cheer Denver on to another victory (wahoo!), I finally put it all together:  the blogging, the doubts, and the football game.  

This year has been hard.  Ridiculously hard.  I have struggled in ways that I had never imagined and had to walk down a path that I never thought would be required of me.  My life, in many ways, has been turned upside down.  I have felt, for so much of this year, completely and utterly defeated.  I don't mean that in a flippant and cliche kind of way; I have been completely broken and have had to fight each and every day to put all of the pieces back together.  Defeated.  

Except that I'm not. and the goofy NBC graphic reminded me of that.  As I read "The Undefeated" over and over, 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 came to mind.  Actually, it hit me like a ton of bricks!  It reads:

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

While walking through dark moments, it is easy for me to feel crushed, to despair, to feel abandoned and destroyed.  To feel defeated.  But that's a lie.  That's the enemy talking.  The reality is that I am, in fact, none of those things.  I may be going through times of trial, but I am being held by a Father who created me (Psalm 139) and who has delivered me (Psalm 56:13).  

I am...Undefeated.

How does this all relate to the blog, you ask?  Well, it really doesn't.  Except that it was a reminder to me that even in the muck of this life, there is hope.  There can be healing.  There can be restoration.  And there can be normalcy.  And for that reason, I will try my hand at writing again this month.  I will continue to put one foot in front of the other, I will remember Who holds me, and I will once again try to find the joy in putting even my most ridiculous thoughts to paper (well, to the Internet) this year.  And I promise you, some will be exceedingly ridiculous.  Will I complete all thirty days?   I have no idea.  

But regardless, I am undefeated.

Done

Thirty days of posting!  I did it!  The posts might not have been of much quality some days, but I am pleased with myself for getting something in writing each day. I had anticipated this being one of my weaker years.  I'm in a very weird place right now.  Introspection has shown that there are really two big factors contributing to my perpetual funk.  

The first is the coming of the empty nest.  In less time than it takes to cook a baby, we'll have no kids living at home.  I realize that this is part of life and that everyone goes through it; I don't think that I have the market cornered on loving and missing your kids.  It's possible that being an only child (of an only child) has shaped me a little differently than many though; I cling to those close to me very tightly because there are so few people close to me.  The value that I place on family time is exorbitant.  It's made for some wonderful traditions and memories over the years, but it is also making the coming changes very hard.  

Similarly, the other big factor is family related as well.  I'm having a rather difficult time with the changing dynamic in my family due to my mom's illness.  I won't get in to all of the details as some are personal, and some will just sound like me whining.  I'll just say that I'm not dealing with it very well and leave it at that.  

Both of those things, as well as a few other issues, have kept me in a continuous state of yuck for a while now.  That's why I've tried so hard this month to take my eyes off of myself and focus on being thankful.  It's harder to wallow in your own junk when you're trying to keep a stream of thanksgiving going.  I think I'm on the right track; I was given a great reminder this morning when our Associate Pastor quoted Philippians 2:3-5.

"Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves.  Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had."

What perfect words to keep me going!  As I enter this Christmas season with substantially more baggage than I usually carry around, I was admonished to keep my attitude in check.  Instead of thinking about myself and what I'm dealing with and keeping my eyes inward, I am to look at how I can serve others and lift them up!  It's such a freeing thought, really.  Whether it's serving my family, my friends, or complete strangers, I need to be mindful of opportunities that I have to make a difference for other people.  I'm excited! 

My final thought, since it relates to my current situation, is a movie quote that I heard the other night.  Bonnie Hunt says it at the end of Cheaper By The Dozen 2 (I may have been watching it and crying a little bit the other night).  It's a beautiful quote and it helped me put things into perspective, even if for just a little while.  I'll leave you with her time-appropriate words, and wish you a wonderful holiday season and a very Merry Christmas!  Thank you for taking this journey with me.  -xoxo

Letting go is the hardest thing you can do as a parent.  

You have to settle with the past, engage in the present, and believe in the future.  

That vacation at Lake Winnetka reminded Tom and me that 

we're always learning as parents, and that the bond is forever.

Even as the kids grow up and venture out on their own, 

we'll always be with them and they'll always be with us...

because life is a voyage that is homeward bound.

The Making Of A Singer

Today I'm taking you all the way back to last Friday. 

You may recall that I posted pics of the Mr. and I in Santa Monica.  Well, the reason that we were in Santa Monica with multiple days to kill is that kid #2 was selected to and participating in the SCVA Men's Honor Choir.  He had two days of rehearsals (over 9 hours each day!) and then a concert on Saturday evening.  

Before I post a couple of pictures from the event,
I thought I'd share just a few memories from his musical journey.  

One of his earlier musicals.
He was very concerned with the hole in his sock,
but he recovered in time for his solo.

My sweet, enthusiastic angel.
Had to include a picture of Joseph; my eldest was quite the performer too!

Not quite as rambunctious, but still doing all of the motions!

Trying his hand at acting - the first time in a dramatic role!
He was the nerdy professor in this particular play.

Helping to lead worship at VBS.

Debut as a high school singer - a member of the Men's Ensemble.

His first season with the Chamber Choir.

The ever-faithful fan club.

Swiped this one from someone's FB page!
Matthew and six of his choir buddies - each of them made
one of the SCVA Honor Choirs!

Words cannot express how happy I am that Matthew has pursued singing.  It makes my heart so very happy and so incredibly proud.  He has a beautiful voice and I love it when I am able to pick him out in a song.  For SCVA, he was in the Men's Choir (they also have a Women's Choir and a Mixed Choir); we couldn't have been more thrilled.  There's just something about a good, quality men's choir.  As I watched him sing and listened to the beauty that those young men produced, I was literally moved to tears. 

One final check before it was time to head to the concert.

My illegal picture!
You weren't supposed to take pictures, but my silly attempt
yielded this funny result.  You can actually see his face twice -
once with his eyes opened, and once with them closed.
I'm looking forward to the arrival of the professional photos.

Buds.
These three were all in the Men's Choir.

I look old and horrible and show every bit of my lack of make-up.
But I love my boy. 
And I'm now shorter than he is.

Keep singing, Matthew.
Always keep singing.

Every day, for the rest of your life -
whether you're in a concert hall or your living room.
Make music in some way every single day.

It will help you express joy in the good times,
and it will bring you comfort and peace through the rough times.

Don't ever stop.
Ever.

I love you.

Random Thoughts As I Wait For The Pies To Cool

I really do think that I broke my finger last week. 

I just listened to part of a wildly inappropriate song during some movie credits.  No idea what the movie was - we turned it off.

Three pies, a massive apple turnover, fudge, and peppermint bark...probably way too much dessert for six people.

I love my new Christmas lights.  SDG&E will love me since they're the old energy-sucking kind.

My nephew said that if I set up an account, he'll Snapchat with me.  Do I want to?  Could be fun.  I'd love to keep in contact with him more. 

My husband knew most of the answers on Jeopardy this evening.  He should go and win us some money.

I love that I get to have Thanksgiving all over again tomorrow.  I can't wait for the mashed potatoes.  I hope my parents bought enough butter, because it really does take a mountain of butter.

I skipped the gym today, so I should probably to in the morning.

I'm happy that I can hear both of my children upstairs.  Sunday is going to come too soon.

My mister will be traveling next week.  I'm going to be insanely lonely. 

I really should start Christmas shopping.  I could to go to Target right now.  I was tempted a few minutes ago.  Then I thought better of it.  I don't like shopping or people.

Watched two movie trailers yesterday (before watching Divergent) and both movies had high school kids having sex.  Really?  I mean, I know that they do, I'm not stupid.  But do we have to advocate it so boldly and make it seem so nonchalant? 

I miss having acrylic nails.  They really made my ugly hands look better.

College waiting for #2 seems more stressful than it did for #1.  Two of the nine accepted him already; would the rest please follow suit?

I don't want to go back to work on Monday.  Can I just call in sick until January?


Goodnight, my friends.  Happy Thanksgiving!

The Good Stuff

Thankful indeed. 

The Wall

A few weeks ago, folks celebrated the 25^th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.  As I saw photos and video clips on the news, I was reminded of the time that we spent in Berlin; it’s hard to believe that it’s been six years!

History has always been my favorite subject and back when I was in middle school/high school, I fell in love with Europe and the World War II/post-war eras.  I’m not really sure why, it just resonated with me in some weird way.  I’m half German; at least I’m embracing the culture of my people!  (Andy says that’s where I get my stubbornness and my constant need for order and efficiency.)  I’m would never classify myself as “a reader,” but I’ve devoured countless books on the topic.  If it takes place in Europe between the 30’s and the 50’s or 60’s, I’ll read it.  Same with movies.  I was one happy lady when I finally had the opportunity to visit Germany.

My favorite place?  Berlin.  We were only there for a couple of days and nights; I wish we could have stayed for a month!  I was so happy there and I will always cherish the memories of the time spent there with my Mister.  It’s my happy place.  I'm not kidding about that - ask my masseuse!  The food, sights, romantic nights, walks in the rain, countless photos…we spent part of the time on our own and part of the time with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law (who is German).  It was absolutely perfect. 

One of the highlights for me was a walking tour that we took of famous historic Nazi/WWII sites.  We spent several hours traipsing around the city visiting all of these incredible sites and buildings that I had spent a lifetime reading about.   History came alive!  We felt the lingering oppressive air in parts of (what used to be) East Berlin.  We touched bullet holes that remain in the walls more than sixty years later.  We saw memorials to those who lost their lives.  We read the texts from a press conference in which a Party official said, "Niemand hat die Absicht, eine Mauer zu errichten!"  (No one has the intention of building a wall!)  But that was clearly a lie.  We saw the Wall.  And although there is no way for us to comprehend the enormity of what that meant to those who lived on the other side, separated from their loved ones, we stood there and soaked it all in; we breathed history and we imagined what it would have been like to be living there in another time.  

So today, as I ponder the recent anniversary of the opening of the borders, I remember those who gave their lives attempting to flee and instigate change, and I’m thankful for those who helped to bring an end to a terrible time in history.  I pray that it can be a reminder of lessons learned and that history won't repeat itself.  I am grateful that I had the opportunity to walk those very streets and I am ever hopeful to one day return for an extended stay. 

In my own very minuscule way, I remember the Wall.  

The Post That Really Isn't A Post

There are days that are happy and wonderful and you have an endless amount of potential blog topics.  Unfortunately, there are also days that are (for no one particular reason) exceedingly difficult and the thought of sitting down and writing makes you want to either pull your hair out or crawl under a blanket and hide.  Perhaps my Mr. is on to something and that's the folly of NaBloPoMo.  Why put so much pressure on oneself for thirty days out of the year when you don't generally blog for the other three hundred and thirty five?  At any rate, once I've committed to doing something I can't really quit.  So in the spirit of thankfulness that I've been working on this month, and in an effort to take the focus off of my negative thoughts, there are five things that I am thankful for right now.

Despite my grumpy attitude towards him earlier,
my husband is out back right now putting up my Christmas lights. 
(They won't go on, but they'll be ready.)

The smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies
lingers in the house for a very long time.

I got a prime parking spot at Target today
and there were surprisingly few people there
for eleven o'clock on Sunday.

The weekend that we had in Santa Monica.
You saw the pictures of the date day,
a post about the real reason for the trip
will be coming later this week.
Phenomenal trip.

My eldest and his friends are hosting a
pancake party in their apartment tonight.

for some reason, that delights me.  

Sorry for not being witty or thought-provoking this year.  I've been on a weird personal journey lately.

AC the Oblong

My husband has a great many talents; among them are his phenomenal mind and his sharp wit.  If you know him, you know what I’m talking about.  He’s crazy smart and wickedly funny.  

He’s never been one for NaBloPoMo; he sits at a computer all day so the last think he typically wants to do when he gets home is sit down at our desk.  When we went to Europe a handful of years ago, he decided to start a blog, mostly as a way of documenting the trip.  If you have some time to kill and want to be completely and thoroughly entertained, I would suggest that you go back and read through his posts.  He detailed, in a way that only he can, his weeks there while working and then our time on vacation afterward.  Hysterical.  

I’ve been after him to guest blog for me for a while and he’s always declined.  I mean really, he’d be much more interesting than I am.  I was super happy when a few days ago he decided to post something to his blog!

I don’t know whether he’ll post often or once a month.   

Some days he might have us laughing, other days he might cause us to stop and think for a while.  He’s been in more of a pensive mood lately.  

Regardless, I’m so looking forward to his posts.
I think you’ll like them too.

You'll find him at MostlyTrivialPursuits.
Check him out.

A New City With A Cute Guy

Today.

The most perfect of date days.

 

Goodnight.

The Worst Kind of Text

At the gym this morning, I almost cried.  I don’t mean that in a figurative way either; I literally had to pause and fight back tears.

The news story that was being reported was regarding the shooting that occurred last night at Florida State University.  They were describing what happened and showing photos that the students had taken with their cell phones as they were barricaded in their classrooms.   Tables, chairs, anything that they could find they had moved to block the doors.  You could see students huddled together and talking on their cell phones.  They mentioned that many of the students sent texts to their parents and loved ones.  They showed one in particular; a girl had texted the following to her mom:

“There’s a man with a gun in the library.  I love you.”

As soon as I read that, I immediately felt sick to my stomach; it took my breath away.  Stop for a second and think about that…imagine what it would be like if you were going about your evening and you received that text from your child.  It’s terrifying.  And it's becoming all to common. 

We as parents spend the greater part of two decades shepherding and watching over our children.  We keep them fed, clothed, and protected.  Mama (or Papa) Bear is never too far away and can be ready for battle at a moment’s notice if our children are endangered in any way.  And then we send them away.  We send our precious babies out into a big, scary world…alone.    

I had a small glimpse of it when John moved out last year.  It was very strange to see him (via Facebook) with people and in places that were foreign to me.  It was just such a new concept, not knowing what he was doing.  It was awful when he got sick.  It was bad enough when I thought he had the flu.  It was the first time he had been sick away from home and I wanted to jump in the car and take him some homemade soup!  It was magnified a hundredfold when we realized that it was a much more significant illness.  Not being there?  Not being able to immediately and practically help him through it?  The endless guessing game and hours of conversations with my Mr. trying to determine when was the appropriate time to step in?  Hearing pain in my son’s voice over the phone?  It was terrible.  I have never felt more helpless in my entire life.

I’ve heard people say over and over that you just have to “give them to the Lord,” and that “He’s got them in His hands.”  I know that in my head.  I believe that He loves them far more than I ever could, which really is beyond comprehension.  I believe that nothing is going to surprise Him.  But I also know that He quite routinely allows horrific things to happen to those He loves.  Therefore the whole “giving them to the Lord” idea feels a bit like a Sunday School answer to me.   I know that praying for them is what I’m supposed to do.  And I do.  I really do. But it just doesn’t feel like enough.  Knowing the evils of the world and the crap that life deals you sometimes, I find it very difficult to reconcile the hands-off approach with my mother’s heart.  

They’re grown.  One is gone and the other will be out of here in nine months.  They are independent.  And that’s how it should be.  But when my phone rings (or I get a text) and I see that it’s from one of them, the excitement of hearing from them is always momentarily delayed as I wonder what might be wrong.  I inadvertently cringe inside for a slit-second until I hear that everything is okay.   Maybe that will lessen in time; we’ll have to wait and see.  It's not like I"m going to love them any less or the world is going to suddenly get better.

Growing up is hard. 
Stepping aside to let them grow up?  That’s even harder.