Another Old Lang Syne

Another Old Lang Syne: (real life version, you know the tune):

met my old lover at the grocery store,
the snow was falling 2 days before Christmas Eve,
i stood beside him at the checkout stand,
and i smiled from behind the candies,

he didn't recognize my face at first,
and then his eyes flew open wide
i went to hug him and didn't spill my purse,
then saw his new girlfriend at his side.

i had a panic attack and ran back home,
crying hard in such a fuss,
i wasn't ready for the impact of
the end of what once was.

This season is a beautiful one...but it can be a tough one, especially for those of you who have experienced hurt and loss, and are lonely. And that can hit us hard, out of blue, stopping us in our tracks, throwing us off kilter and dampening our joy . It's where I've been the last couple of days. Know you're not alone in your pain...it's part of being alive and human and we all have felt it in some form or another. And though I'm not even a big believer in "He's the reason for the season"...remember we have a God who has felt that pain too. He not only gets it but loves us so much he's willing to bear ours. So mourn--cry--grieve--when your pain surprises you in the Target check out line--let yourself feel and remember--then give it to Him to carry. Because we need both arms free to embrace and give all the bags of love, joy and blessings we've also been showered us with this season.

Get Rich Quick! Scheme

At the start of this year I committed to jotting down every blessing that came my way, no matter how small and tiny or huge and wonderful, on a scrap of paper and sticking it in this jar. Why? because I felt pretty miserable most of last year and "deprived" of the things God "should" be giving me... and very discontent. It is only April and just look at this jar! I need to get a bigger one! As a side note, and it really is not a side note but a strongly connected note, I have never felt happier and more blessed and full of joy... though interestingly enough I know I have WAY less this year than last year, in human standards (ie, money, belongings, boyfriend, prestige, popularity, etc.). I can attest that the act of writing little blessings down really has helped me develop a contented soul and feel like the richest girl in the world.

shopping shutdown

i wanted some ideas for "living creatively in small spaces" so forced myself to go to ikea. oh my. i suffered from a almost-fatal case of claustrophobia, shoppingphobia, suburbiaphobia, screamingchildphobia, havingtoomuchstuffphobia, and ihavenolifephobia, and saw a LOT of really bored men, shuffling slowly with shut-down, blank looks on their faces, while their wives/girlfriends energetically talked and pointed and took pictures and asked them, "which do you like better, honey, this one or that one?" the guy in the lamp section pointed and she said, "THAT one?! are you sure?!" to which he just stared at the ground. another couple was arguing in the baby room section and a third guy, in the curtains section shrugged at the question and got the "what does THAT mean?!" the guy in the bedding area was just silent when asked and she quickly said, "what's wrong?! is something wrong?!" i had a mix of the giggles and near-panic attack. i feared i would be stuck in that maze forever until i finally found the entrance and got out of there! NOT how i want to spend my precious weekend time. but i did get some good ideas...

stuff

stuff. somewhere in life we are told to grab it, get it, gather it. so i dutifully obeyed. by the time i was 30 i lived in my big dreamhome in the mountains and oh was it full of stuff. but oddly enough...the stuff didn't bring happiness, contentment, peace or joy. it just left us wanting for more. so we built more rooms onto our dreamhouse, then filled those new rooms with more stuff. then we got divorced (leaving out just a few details there :)). now this weekend i'm moving into a one bedroom apartment with my daughters, and to do this we need to get rid of more of the stuff i've spent my lifetime grabbing. and oddly enough, this feels really good. it doesn't make any sense and it goes against everything society tells us (seriously, where can you find that it's cool for a 40-something to live in a tiny apartment in the 'success' books?!) but oh my. i feel so happy. and content. and peaceful. and joyful. and i think it has a lot to do with saying goodbye to...the stuff.

Real Beauty

I drive a dark green, older-model Saturn named Darla. Though she is definitely not eye candy, and is beginning to show her age, she is a reliable girl and gets us where we need to go. Last night upon spotting her in the parking lot, I was tenderly surprised at how sleek and shiny she looked waiting there in the soft light of the overhead street lamp. Because her chassis is a common one, I quickly glanced at the license plate noting the "VXB" then immediately felt a pang of guilt hoping she didn't notice that just for an instance I doubted her beauty. With a wave of pride I thought, "Dang, I do drive a pretty good looking car!" and inserted my key into her door--only to find it wouldn't turn. I pulled back in alarm and sheepishly looked up, only to see Darla sitting a few cars over, graciously adorned with her dents and scratches, patiently waiting for me to get over myself and climb in so she could take me home.

Somebody Loves You

I never celebrated Valentine's Day as a kid because we were told it was pagan. I always wanted to decorate a bag with red and pink tissue paper and write out superhero or Scoobydoo valentines to my whole class. instead, I would arrive to school empty-handed but the other students would feel sorry for me and would still make me valentines. The teacher would hang a plain brown lunchbag for me that would get filled to the brim. I felt guilty that they all gave me valentines when I gave them nothing but it was so fun to look through them all and see everyone's names, read the cards, and eat the candy. In second grade Timmy gave me a big, wrapped red plastic heart filled with M&Ms and I can still to this day remember how special and pretty that made me feel. One of my kids' and my favorite books is "Somebody Loves You Mr. Hatch". Just the best story of someone becoming a better person because they know they are loved. If you're alone today (I'm with ya) let's not feel unspecial or unpretty -- or even if you're with the one you adore and being showered with love-- let's go to Walgreens and buy a red plastic heart filled with M&Ms and maybe give it to someone who wouldn't normally get a valentine, to make them feel special, and enjoy the joy that loving others as ourselves really brings.

Stretch

Stretch was my favorite toy growing up. I saved my allowance money for months until I had enough to buy him at Kmart. He weighed several pounds and was filled with something like a tasteless (I know this because I tasted it) Karo-syrup-like substance that allowed him to stretch to outlandish lengths and return back to his normal build. I still remember how it felt to poke my fingers deep into his chest and squeeze his arms and legs. I would bring him in by the wood burning stove in the living room so he would be extremely pliable and squishy. At night when I went to bed I laid him in his form-fitting white styrofoam box and covered him with a small blanket. But not unlike Lennie in Of Mice and Men, I squeezed and stretched him so hard over the years that I ripped holes in him, which caused his insides to ooze out. I put Band-Aids on him to keep the gel in but it didn't work. I began storing him in the deep freezer which froze the gel, but after taking him out I could only play with him for minutes at a time before he thawed and was a sticky mess from his wounds. And why I am thinking about this tonight I do not know.