Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

It’s my birthday month, and I’m celebrating a milestone: a half-century of my life.

Years ago, I roller skated to Kool and the Gang’s song, Celebrate:

There’s a party goin’ on right here
A celebration to last throughout the years
So bring your good times, and your laughter too
We gonna celebrate your party with you

Current mood: bring your laughter and celebrate with me!

The year C20 turned 1, Guy and I turned 30 a few weeks before and after. From November through January, we enjoyed a tiny treat every day for seven weeks. In advance, we made a list of daily celebrations, like a post-dinner walk, a candy cane in our hot chocolate, an afternoon at the park or the zoo. Simple celebrations gave us something to look forward to each day and added so much joy.

I haven’t celebrated my birthday in three years. In 2016, when my birthday fell on the day after the presidential election, I gave myself the gift of stillness; I turned off WiFi, tuned out the world, and spent the day in solitude.

On a whim, I also deleted my birthday from Facebook. A year later I learned not to underestimate the power of social media as most people forgot my birthday.

To be clear, I’m not having an actual party. I’m not a center-of-attention kinda gal. As a child, I cried when my friends sang Happy Birthday to me. Instead, my family is preparing for an adventure together (more on that afterwards). But I’m ready to receive all the love and to celebrate for the next seven weeks: 50, 21, 50!

Let’s go for a walk or grab coffee. Send me a birthday card telling me how I’ve made your life a little brighter. I will happily enjoy gifts: flowers, bubbly, jewelry (wink, wink). Or make a donation to your favorite charity and tell me why you support their cause.

One of the best gifts you can give me: follow my blog! And please share freely and widely anything I write that strikes a chord with you.

As I celebrate this milestone birthday, I’ve also made a significant turn in my career path. And in order to catch the notice of those who matter in these regards (agents/publishers), I need followers on my blog and social media accounts. Your quick clicks to follow/share could make a big difference, and hopefully what I write adds something meaningful to your life.

I recently reread Madeleine L’Engle’s book, A Circle of Quiet. What I first read at 21yo held different nuances as I approach the age at which Madeleine wrote it. For obvious reasons, this passage stood out:

So my hope, each day as I grow older, is that this will never be simply chronological aging–which is a nuisance and frequently a bore…but that I will also grow into maturity, where the experience which can be acquired only through chronology will teach me how to be more aware, open, unafraid to be vulnerable, involved, committed…to understand that I cannot take myself seriously until I stop taking myself seriously–to be, in fact, a true adult.

My mom says that I first laughed at seven weeks old. Most babies don’t laugh until four months old, but there I was, belly laughing on the floor as I gazed at my mom’s New Year’s Eve beehive hairdo, which of course made my parents laugh in response. As I grow into what Madeleine calls, “a true adult,” I’m hoping to take myself less seriously. To be, to laugh, and to celebrate life.

[As I wrote this post, a package arrived on my doorstep containing this candle, a beautiful gift from a thoughtful friend living too far away. This one is called Begin Again, perfect for where I am in life. I’m positively tickled at the serendipitous timing…]

It’s Today!

Last week I wrote that the world’s not ending yet, although in anticipation of a scheduled power outage people doomsday prepped as if it might.

The power went off just before 11 pm, almost eleven hours after originally scheduled. And within two hours, a fire broke out in open space about a mile as the birds fly from our house. Though we weren’t in immediate danger, because we back up to open space, every home on our cul-de-sac evacuated.

Imagine this: Guy was out of town. The kids and I went to bed around midnight. The barky dog woke me, a neighbor banged on my door with the news, and we had to lickety-split pack up our (ahem) sixteen pets. It didn’t even occur to me to grab all the things you’re supposed to: documents, photos, laptop. Nope, I had my kids and our pets and let’s go! We need a better emergency plan…

Fortunately, the fire department quickly got things under control and we returned home before dawn.

Days later, not one but two earthquakes shook the Bay Area, magnitude 4.7 and 4.8. Which prompted the question: power outages, fire, and earthquakes? Maybe the world will end sooner than we think.

Truly, that’s the kicker: who knows when “the end” will come, and what it will look like?

Only God.

So we might as well live every day like it’s our last. Carpe diem and all that jazz.

In the midst of that unusual week, I attended a cabaret concert by the delightful Nicolas King. He sang a song from Mame I’d never heard called, “It’s Today!” Apparently, the lyricist’s mother inspired the song. He came downstairs one day to find her all dolled up, setting the table with the good dishes. He asked what was the occasion, to which she replied, “It’s today!”

Light the candles,
Get the ice out,
Roll the rug up,
It’s today.
Though it may not be anyone’s birthday,
And though it’s far from the first of the year,
I know that this very minute has history in it, we’re here!

Later in the song comes the line: There’s a “thank you” you can give life, If you live life all the way.

Yes. So much yes.

Therein lies the challenge. We get caught up in routine, in ruts, in each day is so much like the other, that it can be difficult to know what will be special about this day. And yet, miracles await even in the mundane.

It reminded me of two quotes. St. Irenaeus of Lyon wrote, “The glory of God is the human person fully alive.” The other I learned as a Sunday school song: “This is the day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24).

So what will you do to celebrate being fully alive on this particular day? I took my dogs on a long walk through the park and soaked in October’s golden light warm on my skin. Returning home, I sat my butt in a chair and wrote hard all day. I took my lunch, a reheated bowl of homemade lentil soup, outside on our patio while I read from Melinda Gates’ book, The Moment of Lift. Later this evening our family will gather around a meal and catch up on the day.

Simple, yes. And good. It’s today!

Surprise!

Parenting can be So Fun!

For example, today, when I told Q14 I would pick him up mid-school day but didn’t explain why. And he didn’t remember or figure out that TODAY is the day he gets his braces off! And I got to surprise him with one of the best surprises an adolescent can receive.

I texted him to meet me outside the band room after class and, as he got in the car, I smiled and handed him his toothbrush. Confused, he accepted it and looked at me for further explanation.

Despite the fact that the only times I’ve taken him out of school this year have been for orthodontic appointments. Despite the fact that, at his last appointment, they told him he’d get his braces off at the next appointment. In February. He still didn’t get it.

I laughed and explained, and he laughed in relief that Mom’s odd behavior didn’t signal something scary. Right, because I’m such a scary mommy…

It’s raining and our house was being cleaned, so I stayed in the car with the dogs while the almost two-hour process took place. He did let me take a before picture…

I raced to the upstairs office when they were done for a quick chat with the doctor and to confirm next week’s retainer appointment. Oh, let’s be real: I raced upstairs to see my kid’s sweet smile.

He tried to play it so cool, I’m sure processing this seismic shift in self-image through the pervasive fog of adolescent insecurity, but inside I know he has to be as excited as his mom who simply can’t stop ridiculously beaming at his pearly whites. He indulged me with an after picture…

We picked up Guy from work and hit Chipotle, our regular post-ortho appointment lunch spot, for a congratulatory burrito before dropping him back off at school for his last class of the day.

The only thing that makes me a little sad? I won’t have a built-in to the schedule excuse for playing hooky with my kiddo. Still, I think now and then I might just pull him out of school anyway. Time together, especially in these critical teen years, is way more important than a PE class on a rainy day.

Thankful Thursday – Celebrate

Oh, friends, what a week!

Thursday to Thursday, I’m not sure there is any adequate way to sum it up, but let’s try this: joy, and grief, and joy… In all, celebrate.

One week ago we were in the final hours of the school year, during which both kids managed to drag out the drama and just about drive their mama over the edge. All is well, thank God, but all became well in those final hours. Sheesh!

Celebration commenced. Baccalaureate services and parties led to graduation and graduation parties. Teen graduated–hooray and hallelujah, amen! WOO HOO!

Honestly, I cried on and off (with greater and lesser degrees of humiliation) Wednesday-Thursday. Maybe I was cried out by Friday, but I made it through graduation tear-free. Perhaps it was the ear-to-ear smile Teen wore beginning to end. Or his willingness to at least quickly allow a hug or give me a quick peck on the cheek. I saw his happiness, his pride, his joy. It overflowed.

Imagine my surprise when, on the first day of “summer,” this late-sleeper woke up early and ready for yoga. When asked to choose my intention, the first word that popped to mind was “release,” which I immediately rejected: “release” held way too much possibility for full-on sob-fest! So I very carefully selected, “Celebrate.”

Yes. I can celebrate. Let’s celebrate: graduation, growth, summer, new adventures on the horizon, life lived and life ongoing.

This week we have joyfully celebrated graduations, and we have–with tremendous sadness and loss–celebrated lives well lived. Tucked between graduation parties, we attended a memorial service for an amazing man, a Navy Admiral, a gentleman who poured his life into his country, his family, his church, his business, and the Boy Scout troop in which each of his sons earned the rank of Eagle Scout.

The Troop in which my boys also participate: one has Eagled; another is on track. My boys attended the memorial service in Class A uniform, and each reported feeling impressed by the military salute (what American doesn’t bow low for a military gun salute?), the pastor’s heartfelt message, and their Scoutmaster Emeritus’s tribute to one of his best buddies, a friend of 30+ years. This man’s son and family have been our longtime dear friends. It was our honor to honor his life with them.

Monday we celebrated the first “school day” of summer, and the Bay Area whooped it up for the NBA win of our team, the Golden State Warriors. If you knew me in my SoCal life, this surprises you; but go on, be surprised at what raising two boys in the Bay Area can do for a mama’s respect for basketball!

Yesterday was the five-year anniversary of my beloved Mor-Mor’s (mother’s mother) heaven-home-going. I miss her like crazy; anyone who ever met her feels the same. When my dad was flying Pan Am jets and my dear mom was working, little Mor was it: on duty, making cookies, wooden-spooning naughty bottoms, keeping all of us–and friends–in line.

Yesterday, I read these verses in Proverbs (14:10, 13):
“Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can fully share its joy.
Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains.”

Grief and joy. They coexist in the heart. Sometimes we lean more fully to one or the other, while on occasion, they lean heavily together. Brene Brown wrote (coincidentally, of her own daughter’s recent high school graduation): “There’s a combination of joy and grief that can take your breath away. The sum of those two parts wells up inside you and holds your breath hostage until you let go of the notion that you can control the paradox and choose between joy and grief. Your breath returns only when you submit to the reality that you are caught in the grips of both delight and sorrow. Both are strong. Both are true.”

We celebrated Teen and his peers who have achieved a milestone in their yet-young lives. We celebrated the well-lived long lives of my friend’s dad and my grandma.

We celebrated the Warriors’ win. And last night we (belatedly) celebrated Tween’s 13th birthday and (early) celebrated Father’s Day with dinner and a movie [Wonder Woman, highly recommend!].

Life goes on. In each day, in daily life, we embrace emotional fullness: breath, movement, work, rest, feelings, enjoyment, mourning. Yesterday I felt like my sweet Mor-Mor moved through the day with me: through waking kids, work stuff, kid and family stuff, and family night out. I felt like she smiled down us, like she would have approved, if she could have been here to do so, that we ‘celebrated’ her departure by celebrating the lives we live in the moment.

Here’s to life, and to fully living in the moment all of this beautiful life that deserves celebrating!

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Pride & Joy

Parents often speak of their children as their Pride and Joy.

My mom has often said that she can’t be proud of her children. Not that she doesn’t have reason to feel pride, but that she won’t take credit for our accomplishments.

I hope it’s not disrespectful, on Mother’s Day of all days, to say: I get that, and I don’t.

7-2-11 006I love you, Mom, and I believe you deserve at least some credit for anything I’ve achieved. Throughout my life you have poured into me love and confidence, strength and energy, beauty and creativity, and countless stories of heroes near and far overcoming odds to live meaningful lives. You have been my model of faith, integrity, and perseverance. You held my hand when I needed courage and patted my back when I needed an encouraging nudge forward. You listened–oh, how you have listened–to my never-ending drama and you spoke words of wisdom in response. Who could count the hours you have spent in prayer for me, from before my life began until this very day?

Yes, I have made my own decisions, for good and ill; I have formed my own opinions which have influenced those choices; but I did neither in a vacuum. Your loving presence has helped to shape the woman I have become, and I am grateful.

Besides, synonyms for Pride include: pleasure, joy, delight, satisfaction. I would never ask you to bear the burden of my mistakes, but I do hope that as you look at me you feel joy or delight, at least from time to time. I want you to feel satisfied in a job well done (so much more than well done).

I look at my own sons through eyes filled with pride, my heart overflowing with pleasure, joy, delight, and satisfaction. They amaze me, these unique individuals, so much their own people from Day 1. The First, who has always slept so deeply because he filled every waking moment with his energetic joy at discovering life; and the Second, who has never slept well in part because his old soul moves him at a more peaceful pace. Like their mama, they eat books; like their dad, they drink nature. They reflect their parents and yet we still have so much to learn from them.

Other times I look at my sons and–I’m sure you understand–my heart aches. I feel crushed when others don’t see them the way I do, when others want to squash their out-of-the-box gifts into neatly-constructed, life-sucking boxes. My kids will never easily fit, just as I don’t. Just as you don’t, Mom. Thanks for teaching me that it’s more than okay to be myself, no matter what others think. More than just a lesson on how to be in this world, I consistently apply it to parenting.

And my heart aches for the moments lost, the opportunities I didn’t grab, the times my impatience got the better of me and I snapped instead of listened. I haven’t done this parenting thing perfectly, but I knew better than to expect that I would. I pray that someday my kids will recognize that I have been a Good Enough Mother, that I did a Good Enough job at this parenting thing, that they have had a Good Enough childhood, and that all the truly good stuff is God’s grace. You do your best, and let God do the rest. You taught me that, too.hands

To my mother-in-law: Of course this all applies directly to you as well, as you have done for your son everything my mom has done for me. Thank You for raising my Guy, this incredible man with whom I get to share life. More than 20 years into marriage and, to this day, he’s still better at the traditional homemaker activities than I am. You nurtured his creativity in the kitchen, and some of our favorite “dates” have been cooking together. You taught him to mend and iron and sew and clean and–hooray!–I have fewer chores. You prayed for him (and for me), nurtured his faith, and showed him the joy of servant leadership, and oh how he serves: his family, his friends, his faith community, and his community. Through your son you have given me a tremendous gift. I can never thank you enough.tent 2And to my Mama Friends: How could we do this messy thing called mothering without each other for support, encouragement, shared laughter, tears, prayers, and adventures? I am so glad my kids know they can call on you when they can’t stand me (c’mon, it happens). God has filled this village with strong, beautiful, graceful women, each with her own challenges and strengths, and I am so grateful we’re trekking this stretch of life’s journey together. Together we are raising quite a troop of energetic, creative, strong young people who are going to change the world in ways we can’t yet imagine. Thanks for being you.