25 Outfits Of Christmas

"Are you an elf?" a lady at the bank asked. I giggled "no, I dress like this every day of December." I was in Santa knee high socks, a white skirt, a red blazer, and a Santa hat. Cheery and fully in the Christmas spirit. It's something I've been doing for a few years now, dressing full out Christmas every day of December up till Christmas.

Some days, especially days when I'm just staying home, I ask myself "why am I doing this? do I really have to get dressed today?" And, as I've been told by some friends, my outfits can get a bit... overwhelming... when seen every day. Or that they simply run out of complements, there's only so many variations of saying "fun socks" one person can come up with. But then I remember I'm not doing this every day for them or even myself.

I'm doing it for those strangers in the bank, putting a smile on their face. The kid in Walmart who points and says "look mommy, an elf!" Or the lady in JoAnn’s buying Christmas socks as a gift for others but is too afraid to put on her Christmas hat for fear of looking strange. Or for the little girl in Hobby Lobby who smiles at my Christmas Minnie Mouse ears. Or for the Santa in the mall who gives me a friendly wave, renewed hope that there are still some people out there full of Christmas Spirit, even as the line for a picture is short.

It's for every stranger, every child, every friend, and yes, even me, for the days when the Christmas spirit is just a little hard to find. Maybe I can be the one to change that. If I put a smile on one person’s face today I did my job. Isn't that what Christmas is all about? Christmas makes me so happy I think I'd burst if I didn't share this joy God has put in my heart with everyone I meet.

Don't be afraid to let your light shine. I let it shine through my outfits and friendly smile. Hmm… maybe I am an elf after all… How will you spread the Christmas Spirit this year?

Costumes And Characters: Mary Poppins

Last year I shared a blog series about the different characters who make up the chapters of my book, my life. Well, here’s the next one. Mary Poppins. It started last October when I decided to dress up like Mary Poppins for Halloween. I had the whole outfit just perfect, she is “practically perfect in every way;” after all. I even had the kids in tow. They were my aunt and uncle’s foster kids. And the fact that I was dressed as Mary Poppins turned out to have more hidden meaning than I realized.

These particular kids had been with us for about six months at the time, and every minute of it was an adventure. We certainly had some “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” moments, which was good because “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down”-the memories being the sugar, the medicine being that we would have to say goodbye. The goodbye came that same day as it was the day they went back to their mom. It was hard to let go. To tell you the truth I don’t know that I ever really did, or ever truly will. And that is why this next character is Mary Poppins. Because I am coming to realize being a nanny and doing foster care aren’t all that different from one another.

Mary Poppins comes into a broken family to show them what they are missing. The foster family takes the children into their home when the parents become unable to care for them. Mary Poppins shows the children love and teaches them the balance between fun and responsibility. The foster family shows them love, gives them structure, room to grow, everything they need while their parents figure out their lives.  Mary Poppins cares for the children while nudging the parents in the right direction until the family learns how to do it on their own. The foster family takes care of the children, but it is up to the foster care and the court to determine how to help the parents and decide when they have proven themselves. When they determine they have, they send the kids back, leaving the foster family behind, sometimes to never see them again. Mary Poppins teaches the family how to be a family, and then she must leave. Though it breaks her heart to see them go as she lets the wind take her away, she must leave. And that is what makes the story of Mary Poppins very much like foster care.

Mary Poppins is a nanny. A nanny who I am sure has cared for many, many children and who must then leave those same children, perhaps to never see them again. Nevertheless, she must do her job and be there for them in their time of need. She knows she must leave when the job is done, yet she does it anyway with joy and grace. Something I am trying, and failing, to accomplish. Foster Care is technically a job, and some people do it for the money I’m sure, every system is corrupt. However, for some people the “job” is to be there for those kids, even when they know it’s temporary.

After those kids had gone back to their mother I started having a new approach when it came to the kids who came to stay with my aunt and uncle. I did everything I could to make sure they were happy and healthy, while still knowing this may be short term. Treating it like Mary Poppins would. Teaching them, loving them, giving them tools they’d need for the future, all while knowing I may never see them again. It wasn’t easy, still isn’t, but I have learned to use every moment, every adventure, as a way to better prepare them for whatever troubles lie ahead, just as Mary Poppins would.

Mary Poppins is “Practically Perfect in every way” and I am far from perfect. Especially since, “practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking,” and sentiment is always muddling my thinking… However, it is clear she is saddened by her leaving the children, so I suppose even Mary Poppins is still only human (or Time Lord as some may suggest). Still, despite my emotions often getting in the way, there is hope for me yet. Mary Poppins is also quite fond of order yet knows when and how to have fun. Now that is a balance I am getting the hang of!

It is a delicate balance of giving these kids all my love without losing myself in the process. Between knowing when to be stern and when all they need is a little love and a little fun. Knowing when to hold them close and when it is time to let go. Giving them the tools they need to conquer whatever troubles lie ahead and help them grow into the amazing people God has called them to be. I don’t know how Mary Poppins does it. How she manages to love, teach, and leave these children time and time again. Though, I would imagine having friends like Bert to lighten your heart, a loving yet stern outlook on life to keep you balanced, and a little magic along the way wouldn’t hurt… I suppose it’s time I find some magic, or a Bert, of my own… It looks like I’m going to be in this Mary Poppins chapter for a while…

Boston Red Sox

October 27th 2004. Everyone in my family knows exactly where they were that night. It was a historic night in history and we are all proud to say we had the honor to witness it. I was at home with my mom, dad, and my sister who had decided to go to bed. It was the day after my birthday. I had just turned nine years old. It was a clear night, a night that promised a blood moon. What a perfect night for The Boston Red Sox to play the World Series. If they were going to break the 86 year curse and have their victory, tonight would be the night.

I was still young, but I knew since I was born that I would be a Red Sox fan. My mom says that she remembers her Grandfather would listen to every game, but he never saw them win the World Series. I was brought up to know that if I wasn't a Red Sox fan, I would probably be disowned (not really, but it would definitely disturb the piece) My cousin claimed he was a Yankees fan once, I don't know if he still is or not but I think he learned to keep it to himself if he wanted to keep the peace.

So, there I was, on a clear October night watching the Red Sox game with my mom and my dad, and thousands of other excited fans wondering if tonight would be the night. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I knew it was important. And I was excited. I remember that my mom and I would run outside and look at the blood red moon, then run back inside to watch the game. I remember as it got closer and closer to the end of the game, the game became much more important. And I remember that the second it was over we were all jumping around the living room. They had won.

Then came the emails, the phone calls, my whole extended family was ecstatic! 86 years without winning the world series and I can say that I was alive to see them break the curse and have their victory! Now that I am old enough to choose a team for myself, I really can't choose any other team. Here's why. I know people who just go with the winning team, they route for whoever won the world series last year. And I know people who just pick the team who does the best overall. Or they pick the team from where they grew up or where they live. Well, I pick the team with history. A real story to tell. The underdogs. The team who never gave up even when they went 86 years without winning the World Series.

In my opinion, the best baseball fans are the ones like my great grandfather. The ones who stick by their team no matter what, even if they have to wait until they are in heaven to see them win the world series. I choose to continue to support the Boston Red Sox to honor the Great Grandfather I never met. And so that I can proudly say "I am a Red Sox fan and I got to see them break their 86 year curse" what other teams fan gets to say that? And I will continue to believe that it was because of the red moon.

I am proud to say that I am a Red Sox fan, and one day I hope to see them play in Fenway Park next to the Green Monster. Maybe someday I can say I saw them win another World Series while I was sitting right in the stadium watching. But for now I’ll settle for celebrating in my living room, and with my own grandpa, as I will certainly be doing after their amazing win tonight!!! Go Boston Red Sox!!! Congratulations on winning the 2018 World Series!!!

Costume Creating

It was Wednesday. Half off day at Salvation Army. And I was on a mission, as I usually am when I’m in Salvation Army. But this time it wasn’t for myself, no, my costume was already finished. This time I was shopping for my dad. And shopping for my dad when he’s not with me isn’t easy…

We were all dressing as Disney Characters for a Halloween thing at the zoo we were going to with a whole group of us. So, he gave me a shortlist of possible characters he could be and off I went, on a mission. At first my mission was unsuccessful. But the second Salvation Army was a success. A gold colored… trench coat…thing…? I really don’t know what it was but it was $3, would fit, and would be perfect for one of the ideas on his list. So I brought it home.

He disappeared to try it on as soon as he saw it, coming out with a full smile on his face. We still had no idea what this thing was…a robe…? A dress…? But it fit, and it would work for the character it was intended for. Next thing I knew he was rushing around the house finding/making the rest of the costume pieces, boyish excitement evident in his eyes. The engineer at work. He had always put a lot of thought into his costumes, usually not telling us what they will be until he shows up in them, faking disinterest until the big reveal. Like when he was saying he wouldn’t dress up for my pirate feast, only to finally come downstairs dressed as Jack Sparrow. And he’s told us about costumes he had made as a kid. His favorite being a dragon costume so big he had to walk to the Halloween party because he wouldn’t fit in the car. But I had never actually watched him in the process of making his costumes. It was intriguing, fascinating, and it made my passion for costume creating begin to make a lot more sense. It was hereditary.

I’ve always loved creating costumes. If you remember my series around this time last year about costumes, you’ll know there were several characters I defined different chapters of my life by. Those weren’t just personalities; I actually dressed up like all of those characters. Some of them I continued to work on and perfect for years. My pirate wardrobe is now so extensive that I can simply pull out pieces on any given day, like I was just getting dressed on a random Tuesday, and pull together a pretty epic pirate outfit. My Mad Hatter costume recently got an upgrade, I just bought a new pair of fairy wings the other day, and I’m always on the lookout for more costume pieces. It’s thrilling to go hunting for the perfect piece to make the costume complete. Even more thrilling to watch it all come together and know I made that. I didn’t buy it premade at a store, I made it myself! And usually a lot cheaper than those store bought costumes. This year my costume involved some complicated sewing. But I don’t mind. I’m going to look fabulous. I’m going to freeze… but it goes with the costume so I guess I’ll just have to live with it.

Until now I always thought I was a bit crazy for putting so much work and thought into my costumes. My mom has never been big on dressing up, until she gets excited about a specific costume idea that is. And my sister loves to dress up, but doesn’t take it to quite the extreme I do. I thought I was alone in my passion. Now I know I’m not. Now I know my dad gets just as excited as I do. It was fun working on this costume with him. I hope that maybe we’ll get to help each other with our costumes in the future.

Have fun making your costumes everyone! It’s a day to be someone you’re not… or maybe… someone you really are but don’t usually show… Hmm… there’s a new way to look at it… Have a safe and happy Halloween Everyone!!!

Adirondack Air

My family and I recently took one of our "Random Adirondack Adventures" where we head into the Adirondacks and stop where we stop and see what we shall see. This particular one involved a beautiful scenic drive, a view of the mountains, a walk through the woods along the lake, a little shopping, and some dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in Old Forge.

While we were eating our picnic lunch with a view of one of the many lakes in the Adirondacks my mom comments that the Adirondacks just smell better. I have to admit, she is  %100 right. But it's not simply the smell, it's the air itself. The woods, the lakes, the mountains, the miles and miles between towns and houses. It's just... Clearer. Fresher. Better.

Several years ago we went to some of the Great Camps. Those fancy ones from over 100 years ago where all the rich people would come up to the Adirondacks to "camp". Doctors would actually prescribe a trip to the Adirondacks as a cure for whatever ailed them. It was for the clean air. And they were certainly on to something, I'll give them that. Not necessarily for actual sicknesses, but for mental health I could certainly see how it could help. And the clean air couldn't hurt their physical health either.

Whenever I’m feeling a bit lost in life or upset about something a trip into the Adirondacks always helps. There’s nothing like being on the top of a mountain and seeing the world spread out before you to put life back into perspective. And realizing that you just walked uphill for over an hour just to get that view, appreciating that the best views take a little hard work.

Or kayaking out to the middle of the lake early in the morning and seeing nothing but water surrounding you. Just you and your kayak. Silence. Peace. A loon calling in the distance.

Or sitting in the woods surrounded by the birds and chipmunks and such. Surrounded by God's beautiful creation and realizing that every little creature was created for a purpose; and so were you.

Or sitting around a campfire with friends and family and playing music or telling stories and being truly in the moment. Being reminded not to take everything for granted such as the people around you, being able to grab some fast food, or going to the bathroom in the middle of the night without having to walk outside in the dark and cold...

I am, and forever will be, an Adirondack Girl. I will always look forward to those "Random Adirondack Adventures" wherever they will take me. And perhaps you'll join me on one sometime soon and see for yourself what makes that Adirondack air so special. If you’re having a rough day today, well… I'm not a doctor, but consider this a prescription for some Fresh Adirondack Air.

The Old And The New

This past week I went to Boston. I hadn’t been in years and I certainly don’t remember much of that trip so I wanted to go again. I wanted to see the city that was a city before there was even a country. I wanted to see the places where the book I’m reading takes place. I wanted to imagine what it would’ve looked like 200 years ago. But as it turns out, I didn’t have to imagine too hard.

We got there and there was this instant sense of history. We walked up the stairs from the train to find old brick buildings surrounding us. Later we would discover we were mere feet away from the site of the Boston Massacre. We would explore the Quincy Market where, though the shops are new and food more...imaginative than it may have been in the 1800’s, it still had that marketplace feel. We would walk the Freedom Trail and see old churches, state buildings, cemeteries, Paul Revere's House, and the church where he hung the lanterns warning the people the British were coming. The alleys between the brick buildings were almost too tight for a car, some turned into walking paths in the older part of town. It wasn't hard to imagine a time when walking or a horse drawn carriage were the main forms of transportation. No need for wide roads for that.

Then there was the U.S.S Constitution. Though the majority of the ship had been refurbished so it wouldn’t sink (it was 200 years old after all), it still was cool to see this beautiful sailing ship sitting among the newer construction. Oh how I wanted to climb up into that rigging! I wanted to sit up as far as I could go and look down on the city below, imagining what it might have been like to sail into the harbor.

Not everything was just as it was 200 years ago though. Boston Commons, where the original purpose was to give the cattle grass to eat, now serves as a park for visitors and residents. I looked up to see an old church steeple standing out against a new glass skyscraper. The aquarium now takes the place of the docks where the ships would find rest. Yachts, speedboats, and fancy sailboats now replace the frigates, brigantines, and schooners. But the ocean is still the same, the brick buildings still line the streets, and the history survives. The old mixes with the new to create a flourishing city both functional and proud of its history. As it should be, seeming as it was one of the first cities in this beautiful country.

As a country, as humans, we have become so used to just throwing something out or tearing it down when it's old. Doesn't matter if it still works, it's so last season, it goes away. I couldn't tell you how many times I’ve watched an old pharmacy get torn down just to build a brand new one in its place. What a waste! When Boston needed stations for their underground trains did they tear down all the historical brick buildings to "make room for progress"? No. That brick building we saw that was the site of the Boston Massacre was actually cleverly disguising a train station. Sure, the Quincy Market building was redone on the inside to be up to code I’m sure, but the outside was as beautifully old as ever. The old cobblestone streets still intact where possible, the old churches still in use, the old state building turned into a fancy restaurant.

You don't have to tear something down to make room for "progress" you just have to use your imagination and make what’s old new again. That's how we should progress. That's how to preserve this country’s history while still making room for all the new shiny things. It will be a very sad day when we realize that all that’s left of our history is a meaningless plaque marking a spot that no longer has anything to do with what it is supposedly marking. Boston did it right. I think it's time for the rest of us to follow their example.

Up In Steam

Driving along, on our way to our family reunion. Little did we know everything was about to go very wrong. We had just crossed the border into Pennsylvania when we start hearing this clicking sound. Then Dad realizes the heat gauge is indicating that the van is too hot. Next thing we know we're pulled over to the side of the road, van stalled, steam pouring out of the hood. Well it just kept getting worse from there. We managed to cool it off enough to roll down the road, but every gas station Google claimed was there was not. We finally rolled into a little gas station where the van stalled again and started letting off more steam. The man there directed us to another mechanic where the same thing happened. Rolled in stalled and steaming.

It felt like we were sent back in time to 1985 or something. Old town, roller skating rink up the hill, old sandwich shop on the corner. It was bizarre. We went and found some food while he looked at the van. Thankfully he was able to fit us in and felt bad for us. I was very excited to find a rig pop at the sandwich place. Pretending everything was going to get better. It did not.

We came back to bad news. it wasn't going to be easy and it wasn’t going to be cheap. And it certainly wasn’t going to be quick seeming as it was a Friday afternoon. So what to do? Ideally we would be able to get the van back to our mechanic where we would hopefully be able to either fix it or at least get more than what we would get selling it for scrap there. The other issue was we were exactly halfway between where we came from and where we were going. So go home or go to the reunion? We wanted to go to the reunion. But how to get there?

Rental cars were virtually nonexistent. And none of them let us pick them up there and drop them off at home. We had to get home eventually somehow. After hours on the phone we finally found a rental car. The last one in the area, but it wasn’t going to fit all our stuff. So... camping gear left behind in Pennsylvania we took off to Maryland.

Thankfully we were able to find places to sleep even though we weren't camping like we originally planned. We had a good weekend, but what to do come Sunday? Our van is still in Pennsylvania with half our stuff. Locked in the mechanics shop. And the rental car still needs to go back 3 hours from home to where we got it from.

We got home and mom had to turn around and leave again on Monday. We got the van towed back across the border at least and mom was able to find a ride home from the rental car place. We now have a new car and are making plans about what to do with the van. It all turned out ok in the end. Not like we may have hoped. But sometimes that’s just what happens.

Sometimes your plans go up in smoke, or steam as the case may be, but you need to make the best of it, keep pushing forward, sooner or later things will fall into place and cool down. We had fun at the reunion and we were able to get the van back to New York, mom found a way to get home from Pennsylvania without a car, and we were able to find a new car in a reasonable amount of time. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make the best of it. But I, for one, will not be going back to Pennsylvania any time soon.

Braids: An Appreciation Post

As some of you know, if you know me personally that is, I have braided my hair for the summer. Well… Not the whole summer… Only four weeks. Four blissful weeks of my hair in over fifty little braids. I had first done it when I went to the island a year or so ago. I figured I’d fit right in with all the tourists and, at the very least, it would keep the ladies on the beach from nagging me to let them braid it for me. But I would quickly find out that these braids are a lifesaver when it comes to the heat. So, up into braids my hair goes for the summer. And I am so glad I did! Not only am I able to leave them down and not have all the little strands make me overheat, I’m also able to put it up and have it stay there! My hair is so soft and thin that I couldn’t put it up in a high ponytail or a bun without it falling out in a matter of hours. Unless I put dozens of bobby pins in to hold it that is. But not with my braids! A couple ponytail holders and I had a bun in my hair all day long! Through three jobs, one of them being in a pool, and it still looked good enough to go out after work!

On a normal day, especially one when it’s really hot, it can take hours for me to do something with my hair to keep me from overheating AND that will stay in throughout the day. So having my hair in braids has literally given me like half an hour more sleep every morning. And man I don’t know what I would do without that! I will have to take my braids out at the end of the week unfortunately. But it was fun. For a girl who can’t cut her hair for fear of it not growing back fast enough, these braids were a fun way to give me something different for a change.

I have had a few people think it was strange that I decided to put my hair in braids this summer. And I totally expected that. But that’s ok. I’m strange and I’m ok with that. The benefits far outweighed the consequences. I will certainly be braiding my hair again in the future, but I’ll go back to my regular hair for a while first.

Dance Partners

 

The music playing, people bouncing up and down to the beat, a Saranac soda in my hand: the perfect recipe for a good night. But it's missing something. A special ingredient. My dance partner.

My sister and I have been dancing together literally forever. Since she was old enough to walk we would dance. Sure, we took some formal dance lessons like most little girls did. Ballet, tap, jazz. But the kind of dancing I’m talking about doesn’t come from carefully practiced choreography. No, the dancing we do is purely letting the music take us where it will, reading each other’s thoughts, making it look choreographed when it’s not. We could ask the other to dance with a wordless glance, know what the other was going to do before she did it and move accordingly. It's a connection I have with no one else. A connection that goes so far beyond dancing.

I think this is the case with many relationships. Each relationship develops its own connection. Its own special something that makes it different than every other relationship. And every once in a while someone really special comes along and the connection goes even deeper than that. It’s a connection that I very quickly realize cannot be replaced. A connection that is so unique to this one special person that no one can truly fill that void should he or she ever leave.

 I have and have had this connection with a few people over my lifetime. My sister being one of them, someone who, no matter where we are in life, we still have a bond so strong it can never be broken. A friend I met in Roatan being another. Though we’ve gone several years without seeing each other and go weeks and sometimes months without talking, we still have this special connection between us. A love for adventure more than likely the reason. Then there’s a friend from a few years ago. Someone who, whenever something happened in my life, he was the first person I wanted to tell, the only person I wanted to talk to. Someone who, now that he has not been in my life for some time now, I find no one else can truly fill the spot he left behind.

 

So yes, the music is great, the drinks delicious, and the night beautiful, but it needs that one last ingredient. Yes, I will certainly dance with other people other than my sister. I’ve even been blessed with a great group of friends who go out with me now. And yes, some of them even dance with me. I will have that special connection, whether it’s dancing or something else, with many others. Someday I will get married and my husband will dance with me (he better anyway), and we will have a special connection that only we share. But my sister will always be my first dance partner. I will always cherish the times I got to, and get to, dance with her. We will always have a special connection that is ours and ours alone and it will go far beyond dancing. And that, my friends, is something special indeed. That is something to be cherished.

                         

Rest In Peace Dear Bridge

RIP dear Pooh Sticks Bridge. You were the location of many lovely childhood memories. Playing Pooh Sticks, watching as our carefully chosen stick would drift down to the water below. Then running to the other side, careful to watch for cars of course, to see whose stick would make it under you first and appear on the other side. Then there were the times we would kick sand down the drainage hole, mesmerized by listening to it make that lovely sound as all the little grains and small rocks hit the water below. Watching as the rocks plopped into the water, making delicate ripples in the water always moving.

Then there were the times I would use your perfect positioning to attack the tubers below with my water gun. Your height and concrete wall being the perfect spot to hide from any who dare fight back. Then there were photo shoots, walks with friends, and long phone calls. And yes, still some games of Pooh Sticks even as we grew older.

Then, as I grew older still, sadly whether I won at Pooh Sticks or not was the least of my worries. So I took to sitting on your strong concrete wall to watch my reflection, reflecting on life. Watching and listening to the serine wildlife that surrounds you, remembering a time when that very spot was filled with the sound of childish laughter. Not a care in the world but winning at Pooh Sticks. And as I grew I found your wall grew so much shorter, and you were growing older as I was. The green moss growing thick atop the stone and your cracks growing ever longer.

It has been a wonderful 20 years dear bridge, but sadly all things must come to an end eventually. The sweet reminder of my childhood now only found in my mind. Now I must let you go and make room for a new bridge that will be built in your place. But you will live on forever in my heart and mind dear Pooh Sticks Bridge. Perhaps your now crumpled pieces will be given new life; perhaps you will have the chance to hear the sound of children’s laughter yet again. I can only hope…

Baby Steps

There’s this little girl I’ve been spending lots of time with. When I met her she couldn’t walk. She barely crawled. But soon she was eagerly crawling all over the place. Just like any little child, we tried to help her learn to walk. First we would have her walk while holding our fingers. It was slow at first; she was nervous and would only do a little at a time. One day after church we were trying to get her to walk between two of us. She would start, but still hold onto a finger if she could. Then she would reach as far as she could to grab onto the next person. She’d take a couple wobbly steps on her own and fall into the next person’s waiting hands. Sometimes she would be too smart for us and manage to grab a chair in between. Or she’d just give up and sit right down on the floor or start crawling instead.

You know, we don’t just learn how to walk as babies. The learning to walk extends far into our adulthood. If you think about it, we're always learning new things and, more often than not, falling while doing so. But there will always be another goal to try to walk to, another reason to get up and try again. And there will always be someone there to pick us up when we fall. If not our parents, our friends, our family, then God will. And as I watched that adorable little girl fall on the floor again, and this time decided I would just stand by and wait to see what she did, I realized sometimes the ones we love do the same. They don’t always pick us right up off the floor before we even realize we had fallen. If they did, then how could we ever learn how to get back up again? And before I knew it she found a chair within her grasp and pulled herself back up, not needing my assistance but knowing I was standing right there if she did. It made her stronger, just as getting back up on our own when we fall makes us stronger.

She was here a while ago and she not only can walk all on her own now, she picks herself up when she falls and keeps going. But sometimes she’ll still grab for a finger or a pant leg even though she really doesn’t need it.  And that’s ok. We all need a little confidence boost every once in a while. A little support, even if it’s just for doing something we always do.

I'm still learning to walk. Everyday there's something else I'm learning to do or trying to get better at. I find strength in knowing God is there watching me and making me stronger. I know my friends and family will pick me up when I fall. And trust me, I fall more often than not. But I'm getting stronger. And before I know it, I'll be walking. And before you know it you'll be walking too.

Photo by Chloe 2014

Field Of Future Wishes

I was driving to work this morning and I simply couldn’t keep the smile off my face. The sun was shining, the trees were green, there was fun music on the radio, and to top it all off I drove past a field bathed in a sea of yellow. Dandelions. A whole field full of dandelions. If you’re one of my long time readers you know how much I like dandelions and know that I have written a post about them in the past. Well, as I drove past that beautiful yellow field, I realized every single one of those dandelions is a future wish, just waiting to be made, waiting to come true.

You’ve all heard it. How if you blow on a dandelion when it’s all that white fluff, make a wish, and you set all the seeds flying in one breath, then your wish will come true. I, for one, have made hundreds of dandelion wishes. As I’m sure many of you have as children, if not even now. Everyone’s got wishes of one form or another. Some are big, some small, but all equally important to the one doing the wishing. Dandelions don't discriminate; they accept all your wishes equally. And there are certainly plenty of dandelions to go around. The wisher, however, seems to be becoming more and more rare.

Why is it that wishing on dandelions, wishing at all, is seen as so silly as adults? We all have wishes, but why are we so afraid to admit it? Is it because we’re afraid they’ll never come true? Afraid of getting our hopes up only to have them crushed by reality? Well, we can't just wish on a dandelion and expect our wish to come true the next day. That, in fact, is silly. We need two things to make our wishes come true: faith and hard work.

Making our wishes come true takes faith. Before we can sufficiently work for something we need to actually believe it can happen. We need to believe our wish can in fact come true. How many of us just put off our dreams and wishes as wishful thinking? Talk ourselves out of them before they even have a chance? I know I do. We need to trust that if our wishes are supposed to come true, God will make it happen. He has the power to make our dreams a reality. But we need to believe that, believe in our wishes.

Once you fully believe in your wish and go blow on your dandelion, well then you need to work for it. We can’t just expect everything to come to us. Making our wishes come true takes hard work. If I wish for the chance to travel across the country for example, well I may get the chance, but will I have the ability to if I don’t have the money to do so? I need to make sure I have a job and enough money in my bank account before I can realistically go. Or if someone wishes for a better job, do they have the qualifications for it? Do they have the education or skill? Perhaps before their wish can come true they need to go back to school or work their way up the ladder, learning as they go, to get the job they want.

Blowing on a dandelion probably won’t make your wishes come true, but it’s a good start. Every one of those bright yellow dandelions in that field will turn white soon and I know I won't be afraid to wish on them, blow all those seeds off into the heavens with my wishes in tow. With faith like a child has when blowing on a dandelion, I will trust that my wishes will in fact come true If God wants them to. As long as I am willing to work for them and believe in them. What will you wish for on your dandelion?

Tie a Rope to a Tree

"Tie your shoelaces to my shoelaces I'll tie a rope to a tree"

These are lyrics to a song my mom likes. She manages to work these lyrics into normal conversation on a semiregular basis. I had never really thought about them before, probably because she always gets the words wrong, but I found myself thinking about them the other day. I had been hanging out with a friend and he was encouraging me to consider doing something. It wasn't something bad, and he meant well, but it contradicted what I believed I was supposed to be doing at the time. Needless to say, my head started spinning. But then I surprised myself, I was able to stop myself just before going into a tailspin and remember what God had told me on the subject. I spoke to my mom and felt much better after that. I thanked her for keeping me tied to all the right things and that's when I realized the importance of these lyrics.

"Tie your shoelaces to my shoelaces, I'll tie a rope to a tree"

To me, the tree represents my morals, my faith, God. It's a symbol of stability and all the things I should never let go of, no matter what anyone else says. And I need to stay tied to that tree. When I feel like my hands are slipping, I need to go back and strengthen my grip. The rope is my family and friends, the people who keep me tied to those morals, and to God.

We have little control over what storms will threaten our hold. There will be times when we will be blowing so violently around that tree, lost in the temptations of the world, that we get dangerously close to letting go completely, lost in the storm. There will be other times where it is so calm and sunny that we may find ourselves just... Wandering off. It is easy to lose sight of the important things when everything is going well.

I don't know what The Choir intended the song to mean exactly, but I know what this line means to me. And it's reminded me that we can't stop ourselves from blowing around in the inevitable storm, but as long as we are strong enough to hold on to what’s important, that tree will keep us from blowing away completely. And for that reason, I will strengthen my grip and enjoy the ride!

Your Mother And Mine

Today, as you surely know, is a day to honor some of the most amazing people in the world, our mothers. Whether she be your birth mom, adopted mom, foster mom, anyone who is a mother in your eyes, be sure to let her know how much she means to you today and every day. "A mother, a real mother, is the most wonderful person in the world" in the words of Wendy Darling, and I couldn't agree more.

My mom is the best mom I could ever ask for. I fondly remember her singing me "Little Ducky Duddle," or "Jesus Loves Me," if I couldn't sleep. She'd read to us, even long after we were capable of reading ourselves. She still kisses me goodnight and I hope she never feels she has to stop simply because I'm "too old for that". We never stop needing our mothers, no matter how much we might pretend we do.

As I grow older my relationship with my mom has grown and matured. She is "The helping hand that guides you along" from when you're just a baby through adulthood. For me, my mom has helped me through some really tough times that I simply wasn’t ready to deal with on my own. But with her help and guidance, I am now more prepared to handle the challenges that are bound to come up in the future.

Moms are amazing people. They have to be to put up with us, right? In the words of Wendy’s song,

"What makes mothers all that they are?

Might as well ask what makes a star

Ask your heart to tell you her worth

Your heart will say, heaven on earth

Another word for divine

Your mother and mine"

Again, simply couldn't say it any better myself! So, to all those moms, foster moms, adopted moms, friends moms who treat you like their own, aunts, grandmothers, any mother like figures out there, Happy Mothers Day! You deserve it!

 

Little Voice

You know that little voice in your head? The one that tells you to do something or not do something. Sometimes it sounds like your mother, sometimes you know it's God. And sometimes you listen and sometimes... Well sometimes you don't. Well just like all of you I have that little voice. Most of the time it's just telling me I should go somewhere or not go somewhere, whether I actually listen or not doesn't have any serious consequences. But if I had... Well if I had listened I might not have ended up regretting my decision.

My mom tells a story about that little voice in her head once telling her not to park in a specific parking spot. She didn't listen and came back out to her car to find a dent in the door. Most of the time you can laugh it off and promise to listen closer next time, no matter how ridiculous it might sound. But then there are other times when the consequences might be more than just a ding in your car door...

Sometime last month that little voice in my head told me I should text a friend of mine. See how she was doing. I hadn't talked to her in forever. She was a friend from a long time ago, another life really, so I thought it might be awkward to send her a text out of the blue. So I didn't listen, or simply forgot to since I was working at the time. Either way, I didn't... And now I will always wonder what would've happened if I had...

A few days ago I received news that no one wants to hear. She had passed away that same month.  I still can't wrap my head around it. I think I might be in shock, or simply denial. We hadn't really spoken in years, but I still prayed for her from time to time. Still fondly remembered the times we had together. I always figured our paths would cross again in the future and we had plenty of future for it to happen. Only that future was suddenly cut very short.

A while back the same thing happened. The father of a family friend. We had drifted away from the friend, but I still tried to keep in touch with his father. I wanted to hear stories of his time in the Navy and any other stories he would tell me. I hadn't checked in in a while when I heard that little voice. I never got to send the message. Days later I heard the news.

We always think we have all the time in the world, until we don't. Where do we get that idea from anyway? Years go by and things happen. Life happens. And then it's too late... I know I’m being really gloomy and serious here. Trust me, I know it doesn’t always happen that way. But the times it does certainly make me wish it never did.

I think all those little times, the ones that didn't really mean much one way or the other, were God's way of testing me to see if I was actually listening. Sometimes I was and sometimes I wasn't. Unfortunately the times I wasn't were the important times. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you never know what life will throw at you and at those around you. And if that little voice in your head tells you to do something, you should probably do it, because you might not get another chance. I know that I, for one, will be listening a lot closer from now on.

Swords and Sailing Ships

Most girls squeal about boys and movie stars, I squeal about swords, sailing ships, and castles... But then again, I am not most girls... Nor have I ever pretended to be...

Sure, I dream about the day when my Prince Charming will come and sweep me off my feet, but that is far from the only adventure I have in mind for this story. Oh no, I have renaissance festivals to go to, a pirate island where I must search for buried treasure, and several stories of my travels (both real and imaginary) to write so I may be a published author as I have dreamed to be. I will not have the story of my life be a long and boring story. No, there will be much adventuring within the pages of my book.

Girls of today are lucky. We no longer live in the time when we are expected to sit around and wait for a man to come marry us so we can have a family and the cycle goes around again. No, we have the right to find true love. And not only that, to find adventure of our own in the meantime. Yes, I plan on marrying someday and having a family, and what a grand adventure that will be! However, there is so much life to live in the meantime! So many things to do and see while I wait on God's ever so perfect timing.

As you can probably tell, my heart and mind have been filled with tales of grand adventures. The longing to embark on some such adventures is strong, but trust me, adventuring I shall go! As soon as I save up enough money that is... Perhaps a trip to Boston this summer? Back to Virginia Beach in the fall? A trip back to my beautiful island this winter? Oh the possibilities are endless! But the adventuring does not have to be far. No, perhaps a trip back in time to the Renaissance festival in the meantime. Or a treasure hunt in our local antique shops? A trip to the beach where we will pretend we are marooned on an island! A kayak trip down the winding waters of our creek, or should I say… the jungles of South America? Oh, the adventures you can go on with just a little imagination! But now I am rambling...

My point being, there is not only one ending to our story, not even one genre. Your story can be a sci-fi, mystery, self-help, drama, fantasy, romance, adventure book if you want it to be. I hope my story will be a love story, but that's not all it will be, no that's certainly not all. I will continue to squeal over my swords, sailing ships, and castles. And yes, occasionally the sailors and princes who go with them... But for now, I shall plan my next adventure!

Ship Painting By Jessica Page

Imagination

As I look outside this April morning, and find fresh snow covering the ground, I find myself lost in a daydream of beaches, palm trees, the ocean, pirates, buried treasure and daring adventures. Adventures that, as a child, were not too far away on a fine, snowless, April day. In my imagination at least. But why must we only have imaginary adventures as children? Why do I find it so much harder to let my imagination run wild now that I am an adult, when it was so effortless only a few short years ago?

Perhaps it's because I know too much now. With knowledge comes loss of childish innocence. I know, though I hate to admit it, that the pirates I read about in stories simply do not exist in today’s world, flying is only for the airplanes and birds, and finding your true love takes more time and patience than the story books would suggest. And something as children we would contribute to magic, now has a scientific explanation. The world becomes so much darker and boring when the imagination one had as a child becomes harder to come by.

As a writer, you can probably imagine how this lack of imagination might become an issue. Every day I fall deeper and deeper into reality and it has become nearly impossible to pull myself back into the imaginary worlds of my stories. I find myself criticizing the unrealistic aspects of it all and forget why I’m writing in the first place. I don't write my stories to re-tell what "realistically" happens in the world we live in. I write to give people an escape from this boring, imaginationless life. I write to give people hope that with a little faith, some hard work, (and yes, occasionally a little magic and imagination) anything is possible. Hope that life doesn’t have to be what it seems to be.

Imagination is a crazy thing. You don't need to buy anything to have it, you can be by yourself or with a group of friends, you don't have to be good at it, you just do it. Imagine what it would be like to live in a different world, a different place, to be on a daring adventure, or a relaxing vacation. And once you start imagining, you'll realize some of the things you’re imagining have become dreams. And you know the wonderful thing about dreams? Dreams have a funny way of being able to mold themselves into reality. Dreams can come true. And perhaps it won't turn out exactly as you imagined, but with some hard work and a little faith, your imagination can carry you to a whole new reality. One where life maybe isn’t quite so... Ordinary... One where the ground isn’t blanketed with fresh white snow in April...

Finding Sunsets

So I was on my way home a while ago, I had a lot on my mind and was having a rough day. Then I saw something that brought me peace. I was driving over the hill when something in my mirror caught my eye. The sky was beginning to turn pink, a brilliant painting in my rearview mirror. It was so beautiful I had to pull over and watch the sky transform.

Ever since I was really little I have loved when the sky is pink. My mom would call to me when the sky was beginning to get that lovely rosy shade and I would run outside to watch. The pink mixing with the blue and bleeding into the white fluffy clouds creating a wonderful feeling of whimsy, like a sky full of cotton candy. As I grew older watching that spectacular painting change right before my eyes still holds just as much magic as it ever did when I was a child. I’ve seen hundreds of sunsets over the years. Brilliant ones in the Caribbean over the ocean, ones that seem to go on forever while flying over the clouds in an airplane, and ones over the field on my way home; but this particular one, as I was driving home that day, was different. This one wasn’t just another sunset.

I was upset, my plans were disrupted again and I wasn’t sure how on earth I was going to get back where I was supposed to be. But then I saw the sky. It was like God was saying "I painted the sky pink for you tonight, just to make you smile. Do you really think I'm going to let your future fall apart, just because of a few bumps in the road?" Nope, I'm going to be just fine. Because my future is in God’s hands. And if God loves us so much that he will paint the sky pink just to make us smile, why would He let us down when it comes to planning our future?

As I watched the colors in the sky that night I was reminded that God painted that sunset, and He made each and every one of us to be just as amazing and our lives to be just as beautiful as that spectacular masterpiece; because we, just as that sunset, are His creation. I also realized that sunset meant I made it through another day. It may not have been easy and there may have been a few tears, but I survived. And just as the sun disappears peacefully beyond the horizon in a magnificent display of color, only to rise new and fresh in the morning, so should we. Because God is holding all of our tomorrows, and that is what brings me great peace every night I watch the beautiful sky turn pink.

LOVE

Love, what is love? One of the most complicated questions. The question becomes even more complicated due to the limitations of the English language. “Love” can be shown and felt in hundreds of ways, yet, we only have one word for it. One word to express love for a friend, family member, or a “significant other” alike. It’s no wonder we end up with misunderstandings. Someone thinking we said we loved them with intentions of a romantic relationship rather than as a friend. This far too often leads to not telling someone you love them at all, even though you do, for fear of it being misinterpreted. I have come across this far too often. I have guys who are friends who, though I do love them, it is not in a romantic way, therefore I don’t tell them and am careful of how I show it for fear of my intentions being misinterpreted. Makes me wish we had a different word for a romantic love verses a family or friend type love. And that isn’t unheard of.

There are different languages that have multiple words for “love.” Did you know that in Greek there are 4 different words for love? Each meaning a different kind of love, from a romantic kind of love to more of a brotherly love. I’ve heard there are some languages that have 90 or more different words for love. Could you imagine? 90 different ways you could more accurately express the love you feel in different situations. Even having 2 or 3 words for love would drastically decrease the times the word gets misinterpreted.

I can love a guy without wanting a romantic relationship with him. In fact, that’s what God calls us to do. To love everyone. Our neighbors, family, and enemies alike. But that does not mean that by saying “I love you” or showing my love by the things I do means I’m looking to be romantically involved. I should be able to tell anyone I love them without having to add on so many extra words in explanation so that there isn’t any confusion.

However, I’ve decided to stop letting the fear of being misinterpreted run my life. I will tell my friends I love them, adding on all those extra words if necessary. Everyone deserves to be loved and know they are loved.

 

If you would like to continue the conversation, please do! Comment here or on my Facebook Page! Thanks for reading!