This I Know...Summer 2014

Thanks to Emily Freeman for inviting us to share what we learned this summer at Chatting at the Sky.  Emily is one of the most gentle souls I know, and as I dive back into my backyard travels after a summer off, I am glad to be jumping safely into that sweet space.

This summer has taught me some lessons and true to form, I had to learn them the hard way, with deep growing pains and much prayer.  There are more things I don't know but this I do...

This I know...home should be a safe place.

Me and my circus, we have begun putting down roots in this town, new to them, familar to me.  We are happy to take our time and look for our "long-time" house.  I don't know what it looks like or where it is but this I know...

I know our 'long-time' house will be a safe place.  It will be a place of acceptance and grace.  I love these words from Gary Morland in his post, The Safest Place on Earth:

"Your family is designed to be a place of honest vulnerability without rejection.  Disagreements without anger.  Foolish mistakes without embarrassment.  Failure without shame."

Our "long-time" house will be a place where you can take your drink into the living room and three kids who have moved way more than I meant for them to move can choose whatever color they want to paint their rooms.  (Yes, Nora, even macaw green.)  We already act and sound like a circus, why shouldn't the colors of our home match the way we live?

Our "long-time" house will be a place where it is "all about the heart."  As we make mistakes and fall from the trapeze, we will catch each other.  We will practice life together so that we are ready with our best efforts.  We will applaud each other when the lions and tigers are tamed.  We will live our real lives whether it is showtime or not.

This I know...what I do is not who I am.

People move, jobs change.  In spite of my threats, kids grow up.  My role in this circus is changing.  I have been the planner and orchestrator of all things at home for almost 11 years.  I was mother, teacher, helper, cook and maker of all trivial decisions regarding people shorter than me.  Until this summer.  I have come to the realization that it is time for me to move out of the director's role and into the role of trainer or coach.

Perhaps I yell up to the kid flying on the trapeze, "A little to the left, reach farther, hold tight.  Let go!"

Can I be honest?  This change?  It came much too fast.  I feel grief sometimes, but it is grief for the role I used to have, not the person that I was.  I don't die just because there is a change in what I do.

I need to stop parenting "little" kids who need to be constantly directed and I need to start parenting "big" kids who are ready to begin making their own way.  I need to be the mom who lets those kids fly through the air while falls are still about report cards, fights with friends, stealing pencils and forgetting to brush their teeth.  Let them learn how to fly before falls are about lost jobs, bad relationships, or jail.

I am still the same "who" whether my kids wear diapers or baseball pants.  I am still the same "who" whether I cook their lunch or the buy it at the cafeteria.  I am still the same "who" whether I spend my days at an office or picking up laundry.  The circus may move from town to town, but it still has the same clowns, elephants, and acrobats.

What I do is not who I am.  I am still here.

This I know...people are often most beautiful when they are their most ordinary.

Earlier this summer, I had a bad day.  I trudged along under a cloud, my thoughts going around and around like the strange animals on the carousel, circling incessantly and achieving nothing.  Only not fun.

At the dry cleaners, the same woman works there all the time.  She always says something nice.  Her voice betrays a little age.  We share the same hair color, Preference 9NB.  The fog followed me into the dry cleaners.  We speak, I pickup a tie.  I pay and move toward the door.  The cloud follows over my head.  We are finished with our transaction.

She speaks ordinary words that I don't even remember.  Her words are kind, nice, and spoken for no reason at all except she is nice and we are both people here on this earth at the same time.

This small moment is a gift that reminds me that people are good.  People are better than I think.  Sure, people are sometimes worse than you think but they are also better.  It's all mixed up and beautiful and I can't explain one bit of it because I am not God.

If that woman at the cleaners had stood on a stage wearing a gold suit and making $1,000 and hour to tell me how to be happy, her words would have been worthless that day.  There she was, in her chambray shirt and black leggings, Preference 9NB hair and smiling face saying nice things to every customer, even me, myself and Eeyore, and she spoke a gift of good.

Epilogue

I kept feeling like I needed to tell the woman at the cleaners about that bad day.  I thought she should know that her kindness matters sometimes.  So yesterday I let my crazy show.  I paid for two pair of suit pants and headed toward the door.  I stopped and told her about the bad day and how she said nice things and how I walked out thinking that people really were nice.

She told me that she was real glad to know.  She said that she had her own bad time happenin' and that it was so hard she just had to give it to the Lord.  I told her she mattered.  We both tried to pretend that our eyes weren't misty.

True to form, as my hand hit the door to the sunshine, she offered another parting shot of courage, "Finish well, sister, finish well."

Yes ma'am, it is my intention to do just that, one ordinary day at a time.

What's a Friend for Anyway?

Ever have one of those days?  You know what I mean, days when the only way to get out of bed is to resort to emotional bribery.  "If I get up now, do these three things, make it until this time, then I can go back to bed."

Some days I am my own worst enemy with my self-talk fueled by self-judgement.

Could be too much sugar yesterday, too little exercise, too much caffeine, too little caffeine, or some real life-struggle.

Maybe its just a blue funk, that feeling that hangs around for no good reason at all.

A text from a friend.  She is having one of those days.  How can it be that my encourager, fellow striver, clear-seeing propper-upper is blue?

Her words are the same ones that have been running through my own head today.

What a mess, if she is down, how can she pick me up?  Her own words, spoken to me in past weeks come into my head.  All I can do is speak them back to her because goodness knows, I don't have any wisdom of my own.

Speaking her own words back to her begins to break the hold of my own heart-fog.  I am grateful for her and her striving, clear-headedness and timely propping up.

I am glad to have a friend like her.  She makes a difference.

Sometimes the circumstances we set up in our mind just aren't accurate.  They just aren't real.

Sometimes we stand on one side of a canyon with circumstances and interpretations of our own creation.  But the truth, the real issue, the heart of the matter is on the other side.  And some days, we just can't get over there.

A friend stands in the gap between you and reality.  A friend makes a bridge for you to come on over.

You can leave behind the whispered lies spoken by your own mind and cross to the truth spoken by a friend.  Because a friend stands in the gap.

You can leave the land of loneliness and come into the house of fellowship.  Because a friend makes a bridge.

I don't know about you but I am tired of standing on the doorstep and making nice about petunias and casseroles.  I want to get to the heart of the matter so that if you ever need it, maybe I can stand in the gap for you.

Let's rejoice together, cry together, let's stand tall and strong, together.


Thanks T, you inspire me..."Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep."  Romans 12:15...you and your words, they matter.







More like this?
Iron Sharpens Iron, I wanna be like you...
Love Does, our story
The Truth, and I saw it right there in Sunday School

Nora's Cents

Nora's got good sense. 

The girl is organized, every Build-a-Bear in his or her customized box, little clothes packed in tightly, ready for wild play at a moments notice.

Nora is a shining example of maturity and planning.

Got a big day of softball practice on Thursday?  Why not get your clothes ready on Monday?

Friends, she did not get this from me.

She's a bit of a bag lady with an eye for anything that holds "stuff" and has handles.

She has seven backpacks.

They are packed.

I don't know what's in the backpacks.

Nora knows.

As you can imagine, she doesn't switch gears easily.

She saves her money.  She has a plan.

She's seven.

She considers her priorities.  Seriously.  Softball over events at the library.  Mommy over almost everything. Except the Daddy-Daughter Dance.  Daddy-Daughter Dance takes precedence over most everything else.

Once she has decided, she is amazingly stubborn persistent.  She once saved up to buy her brother a birthday present.

She had FORTY dollars.

I refused to let her spend FORTY dollars on her nine-year-old brother.  After all, I couldn't let her outdo her father and me.  We had it out all the way to tears right there in the Lego aisle at Target.

A time came when she wanted something.  Probably a trip to Build-a-Bear, which is not something to undertake when you're light in the wallet.

I asked her how much money she had to spend.

Nora brought her little brown purse to me, the one with the red flower clipped to the handle.  She had the biggest smile on her face as she opened her purse to show me.

It was empty.

Her small voice, "Momma, you know how the church was collecting for those missionaries?"

"I've been giving them my cents."

"I gave them all my cents."  And she hopped.


Without a thought, without regret and without involvement or interference from her parents.

Because someone needed what she could give.

Nora's got good sense.  She may, or may not, have lots of cents but that doesn't matter.


and a child shall lead the way,
m

For more on the story that inspired Nora to give all her cents, 
read Luke 21:1-4.

More like this?

Nathan and the Bell Ringers
Superman's Secret Identity Revealed
Daughter of Elisha

What I learned in February...

Emily has a standing invitation to join her over at Chatting at the Sky at the end of each month to share what we learned.  Though I doubt any of these things will rock your world, sometimes it feels good to look over your time and highlight a few notes...

WHAT I LEARNED IN FEBRUARY...

1.  The Gilligan's Island theme song.

My kids have discovered the classics.  By that I mean classic television which in our home means: Andy Griffith, Gilligan's Island and old Scooby Doo.  

These shows require no thought and no real parental monitoring.  Every time I walk through the room and hear that song, I can't help but smile.  Funny thing is, all five members of our family can talk about Gilligan's Island together, simply put, it's one more thing we can laugh about over dinner.

I will offer no apology but I will invite you to "just sit right down and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip..."

2.  How to self-publish a book on Smashwords.

Sometimes you do things that you really can't explain.  I used to make all-natural soap and sell it at a farmers' market.  

Using my own hands to produce something so natural and useful was unexpectedly interesting.

Talking with the wonderful people that came to my table was a source of joy.  Mothers with kids, touching and smelling the bars and guessing the "flavors."  Men approaching sideways, sort of sneaking up, as if they don't use soap too.  Older people laughing about their grandmother making soap in a big, black pot.

It was just lovely.  

Here is my little ode to joy...and it cost me nothing but my time.

Making and Selling Soap: A Hacker's Guide

3.  Sometimes changing your mind is good. (Thanks, Emily)

By nature, I am a second-guesser.  I drive myself crazy.  This is hard to share but I recall a time when I agonized in an aisle at Wal-Mart for way too many minutes to admit over the color of a CD player.  "The silver one will go anywhere, but I really want the metallic green.  I should get the silver.  I like the green better."  I left the aisle at least one time only to return and switch my choice.  As a result of this tendency, I often punish myself when I change my mind, even if the reasons are valid.  Please tell me I am not alone.

Sometimes a choice is just a choice, one path among many that all lead forward.  When this is the case and you find yourself leaving one course to pursue another, just as worthy and maybe better suited to your soul, celebrate your position as a higher-thinking mammal and your calling to this new place and simply move on.

4.  Hummus is good, too.

I tried it.  I like it.

5.   So Rejoice is an awesome group.

So Rejoice successfully refocused my attention from their onstage performance to, well, God.  

I forgot to finish contemplating whether their look was more Duck Dynasty or Zac Brown band (neither, they are completely their own), and instead of getting lost in the violin played by the beautiful woman who did NOT look anything like Zac Brown, I got lost in worship.  

I forgot where I was and nearly lifted my hand in the air.  Can you imagine? 

I pray that one day my children feel God the way these people do.


grateful for February and looking forward to March,
m

more?

Love Does, our story

The Truth, and I saw it right there in Sunday School

Stone Soup, a confession

34 Days of Blooming, and what I learned by falling short

Wrapping up the Bloom Where You are Planted series, I am a few days late and a few posts short of the 31.  Here is what I learned when I committed to writing on one topic for 31 days straight, and what I learned when I just didn't keep that commitment.

AS A BLOGGER, I DON'T LIKE TO POST EVERY DAY.
I turned my "want to" into a "have to" it became a chore.  Now I know why some artists aren't that interested in selling their creations.  They just let it pour out when and where it comes.  That's better for me, too.

I may have to let go of some possible futures, but that's okay.  Life is simplified when you let go of unrealistic expectations that don't make sense for you anyway.

AS A BLOGGER, I DON'T LIKE TO POST EVERY DAY.
I never did like worthless words.  Posting every day requires that I have something to say every day, something of worth.

At this time of life, I don't.

Sometimes, I just got nothin'.

BUT WRITING EVERY DAY IS GOOD FOR ME.
Everyone's process is different.

My thoughts benefit from fermentation.

Wallowing in the feelings of the moment, putting them down by whatever means I can as soon as possible, then walking away.  Letting the words ferment, and His Word redeem the moments.

Coming back.

Stirring the pot and finding the blessing.

Adding some hindsight.

Sharing when I am coherent and not before.  

WHEN YOU LOOK FOR SOMETHING, YOU TEND TO SEE IT.
Watching for bloomin' moments to share created a synergy between my plans, my actions, actual life, and my interpretation of that life.

Because I was posting about making the most of life right where you are, I was watching for signs that my family and I were doing just that.  I made plans to facilitate living life fully and acted on those plans.

When life spontaneously happened, my interpretation was already happily prejudiced toward seeing "blooms."

YOU CAN SEE FROM THERE TO HERE.
About a month ago, I was struggling with the feelings and realities of starting over with my family in yet another place.  I wrote desperately about it every day, for two weeks.  Then the writing slowed, the issue became less prominent and the posts wandered.  The need was lessening as the goal was accomplished.

We were blooming.

Only a month ago, I was happy but lost.  Thirty-one (or 34) days later, I am calm and confident in this new life we are building.  Though we still have many decisions to make and adventures to explore, we are so different...in just 34 days.

Thanks for sharing the journey, it means the world.

m

My favorite posts from this series:
Bloom Where You're Planted
My Neighbor is a Super Hero
Love Does, our story
Pecans Come from Pecan Trees

It's Right There, right in front of you

Let’s talk about how “You can be whatever you want to be” is lazy and dishonest, because there are certain things you can’t be and shouldn’t even try to be.

The problem is that most of us look outside of our actual life to find our purpose in life, as if it’s just sitting in someone else’s house, on their cracked leather couch, waiting for us to ring the doorbell, if only someone would give us the address.

Oh, I hope you find where your deep joy meets the world’s great need, as someone once said. But I don’t think that happens by reading lots of books on finding your purpose in life. And I don’t think you’ll find your purpose in life by looking outside of your actual life.

The dirty little secret behind finding your purpose in life is that it’s right there, right in front of you, it’s just buried under the expectation that finding it will solve all of your problems and make you ridiculously happy.

--Steve Wiens at:

http://www.stevewiens.com/2013/10/18/the-dirty-little-secret-behind-finding-your-purpose-in-life/

Don't tell anyone but secretly, I'm a dreamer.  I kinda like that about myself, but this coin has two sides. 

I can see possibility in almost everything but that leads to expectations and some expectations can suffocate reality.

When you see great possibility, you have to remember that it is just a possibility, a potential future.

Possibility is not to be used to measure or judge reality.

When possibility is used to judge reality, reality will never, ever measure up.  

You can't bloom where you're planted today when you are judging your garden by what it may be in the spring.

You can't be happy in this moment when you are judging it by a dream.

You will miss your purpose in this moment when your head and heart are somewhere else.

I know.  Oh, I know.  I write this to myself, as a reminder.

The softness of sweet Seven's cheek surprised me today though I get goodnight kisses from her every night. My purpose in all those other goodnight kisses was to be her sweet momma but I barely remember the brush of her face because maybe I was waiting for her to go so I could get back to what I was doing.

My purpose in this moment is to write my heart to you but I almost missed it trying to check a chore off my list.

My purpose is to love but I miss it even though it's right there in front of me.  

Our purpose is in the faces of our kids, the touch of the one we love, the cleaning and the earning.  Our purpose is in the voice of a friend who says it's all fine.

Feed and water the purpose right in front of you, let it grow into one of those possibilities that fill your dreams.

here and now,

m

The posts people like the most from this series:

Love Does, our story
When a Friend is Generous, what seeds they sow
Do the Next Thing

Pecans Come from Pecan Trees

During one of the two precious hours a week that I am alone, I picked up a book from a box that should have been unpacked, ahem, awhile ago.  The book literally flipped open and there it was.

"Lord, guide my words that I might bless and not curse those who follow in my lineage.  For Christ's sake, Amen."  
--Bill Glass in Champions for Life

Oh my words!  Whether you are a person of faith or not, you know the power of words.  We all know words that bless and we all know words that curse.  Which have I chosen this day?

And this blooming stuff?  I already knew that my attitude had affected my children. When I was stressed, they nearly shut down. As we settle into this life, they relax more every day.  As I make a home, they find a home.  

Guess it's true, the nut, literally, doesn't fall far from the tree.

It isn't just words, but tone, actions and life itself.

It isn't just lineage that is affected but friends, home, landlord, or coworkers.

And this is just me talking here but I think it might be true that you are doing one or the other, either blessing or cursing.  So if my words don't bless, then...

That I might bless and  not curse everything that follows in my path.

What does the path look like for those who walk behind me?

Can I choose to make it a path of blessing?  Yes, I think I can choose to bless, most of the time.

Lord, guide my words that I might bless and not curse those who follow...

Amen.

Continuing to find ways to make the truest life right where you are at this moment, this is the 15th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series. 

Love Does, our story

This is the 10th, or maybe the 11th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series inspired by Mary Englebreit and The Nester's 31 Days series.  

Almost 13 years ago, I traveled from Tulsa, Oklahoma  to North Carolina for a wedding.  

My wedding.

Love does that kind of thing.

Sometimes love even goes out on a limb like that.

We married six days after I arrived and settled into my husband's home.  We worked together, faced trials together, made a life together.

Love does that kind of thing.

We rocked three babies together.  We reached across the dark to feel our little ones breathe.

Love does things like that day after day, long night after night.

I was in North Carolina for almost 13 years.  We made a life but every day there was a moment when I was not at home, because my heart wanted to be Home.

This summer, B applied for a position in Oklahoma so that I could be close to my family.  It was a long shot. 

Did you know that divine intervention is real?

About four weeks later, he was in Oklahoma.  I stayed another month and then he came back to get us, to move us 1,280 miles. 

Let's not pretend.  He came back to get me, to move me 1,280 miles.

Love does that kind of thing.  Love goes out on a lot of limbs.

B left his friends to bring me back to my old friends.

Love does that kind of thing.

He left his family so that I could be with mine.

Love does that sometimes.

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are sweet and smooth and they feed the soul.  These things blow gently like a warm breeze or soothe like cool water.

But love also does.  Love takes action and wields power.  Love has the undeniable power to blow pine trees over in the night and move the seashore, little by little, like the tide.  There is power in a love that does.

Love is like that sometimes. 

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are good.

But I am also blessed by a love that does.

Thanks B,

michele

More Than an Existence

"The purpose of life isn't to arrive at death safely..."
Christine Caine

Days fly by and it would be easy to give in to exhaustion, to wish for the end of our To Do list.  But is that really what we want?  The end of the list?

Maybe the list should be revised.

Our goal, you and me, is not to survive the day but to thrive in the day.

Our goal is definitely NOT to make it to the end but to make the end, the middle and all the rest as full of life as we are able.  We are to make life.

We are here to live and in life, to glorify.

We are gifted for this.

It is through the life we live that others can see life and want it, too.

Wherever we are today, you and me, live well right there.

I feel a cool, clean breeze in this calm moment where I can complete an entire thought while my children play in the Oklahoma sun.  

Where are you really, right now?

When Your Neighbor is Really a Superhero

Neighbors.  They are always butting in.  Then again, maybe that is just a matter of perspective.  

When you are looking for reasons to settle instead of reasons to run, it's like seeing flowers in the sunlight instead of the dark.  Like seeing them the way they are meant to be seen.

As a family we tend to keep to ourselves.  When we moved to Oklahoma a month ago, we leased a home to give us time to find our way around before buying our "long-time" house. 

We moved into an older house with red bricks and a big porch in a beautiful old neighborhood with big beautiful trees, expansive lawns and swimming pools.

We moved in next to McBride.

McBride is 89.  His grown son lives three houses down around the corner in an ultra-modern home built in the 1950's.  My kids call it The Fortress of McBriditude.  We suspect that is where McBride goes when he needs to hide from his public.

You see, McBride is a super hero.

I don't know how they began to suspect it but we are pretty sure it's true.  

Maybe it is the rumor about McBride climbing on his roof.  This rumor was told to Eight and me over the fence by his own son.  McBride's son said that if we saw him on the roof, we should tell him to get the h#)) off.  Eight told me later that he shouldn't talk to McBride's son without supervision because he cusses.  I tried not to laugh at his self-monitoring...be careful little ears what you hear.

I think we actually got the idea about McBride because of  how he mows his lawn.  He is incredibly fast.  Not for an 89-year-old man but incredibly fast for any man.  His aforementioned son said that he mows fast so that he can get in the pool.  He gets in the pool even when its freezing.  This is Oklahoma people.  It gets cold when the wind comes sweeping down the plains.

About three mornings ago I looked out my kitchen window and there was a ladder leaned against McBride's roof.  I know now that he does get on the roof.  But I also know his secret, he doesn't fly.  I will never tell.

Yesterday Almost Ten climbed up in the old sycamore tree between my drive and McBride's.  My husband was watching from the window as he tested a new freedom. When Bob walked out to check on him, he discovered McBride on his way out.  With a ladder.

McBride to the rescue.

My children are delighted to live next to a hero.  My children are delighted to live next door to McBride.

here's to seeing the flowers in the daylight,
m



The other posts from Boom Where You're Planted:
Good to Know
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

It Takes Work to Make Blooms

This is the fourth post in the 31 day series, "Bloom Where You're Planted" and let me say, this takes work!

It's hard to post every day.  It's hard for me to even remember to post every day. 

I am the woman set a daily alarm to remind me to pick up my 4th grader.  Seriously, I am scared to death that I am going to be late to get my boy.  Sure, I would remember eventually...what was I saying?

We are trying to think big, learn the layout of this town and find what our kids call our "long-time" house.

There are boxes to unpack, totally new routines and unexpected expenses.

My temper is often short and there is much hard work.

If you want beautiful blooms and good roots, you have to do the work.  You have to do the work when the earth is still rocky and barren and maybe you can't see anything good.

At least not yet.

Seedlings start small and they are fragile and tough at the same time.  You have to protect seedlings from frost but even tiny plants can grow through concrete.  I choose to keep sowing.

The rules of the harvest say you reap what you sow, you reap later than you sow, and you reap more than you sow.

I will keep sowing.

Roots

This is the third post in the 31 day series "Bloom Where You're Planted" for the month-long blog party at The Nesting Place.  After a cross-country move back to the place where I was raised, this is a time to focus on living completely present in each day.  For you and me, it's the perfect time to stop wishing for what might be and live fully right where, and when, we are at this moment.

I have it easy I think.

My move was back home.  Back to my roots.

I am soaking it up.  Soaking up familiar restaurants, the same old streets, friends that I have known for 31 years and their grown children and grandchildren.  Grandchildren!

Back to my roots. 

Fed by my roots.

Knowing family in new ways-we are all 12 years older now-but loving the familiar sound of their voices, their senses of humor and our shared memories.

Even the land feeds me.  I love the way everything seems to be moving in the Oklahoma wind.  I love knowing instinctively which direction I am going even when I don't know where I am going.  I love the big airy sky open for all to see and the miles and miles of land.  Feels like I can finally take a deep breath.

I love that my kids and husband are seeing me in a way that they never have before.

Never realized that my own roots could feed me this way.  It makes me happy to plant a whole new life here. 

It will take hard work and constant tending to start again in a new place.  I am planning on a good harvest. 

michele

The other posts in this series...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds

Feel free to subscribe by email or if you find it easier (like I do) just like the community page on Facebook at:  Traveler In My Own Backyard

Blooms Start with Buds

The Nester challenged us to write for 31 days on one topic.  I don't have it in me so I've asked for divine help and I am Giving Up On Perfect so there won't be any pictures of my actual "bud" in this post.  However, the commitment is made and I am showing up where I am supposed to be!



Change is good sometimes and in truth, I love change.

However.

When your whole basket of life gets thrown up in the air, you struggle to catch it all and it seems like most of it lands in different places than before.  Well, that can be a little hard on a girl.

We moved. Again. My husband and I gave our word to each other.  One more move before the old folks' home.  I mean it.  When we arrived I found myself closed right down.  I didn't want to unpack or put my things in another cabinet that didn't belong to me.  I didn't want to spend another dollar on a house that wasn't mine.  As far as moving goes, I was done before I got here.

Then my kid unpacked the bird feeder.  He was happy with this find, you know the cheap plastic kind with a green roof.

The front window is really big and as we sat in front of it looking out and doing school, we saw a perfect view of a bird feeder.  If we hung one up, that is.  So I found my shepherd's hook and got my purple flip flops dirty when I pushed it into the thick clay.

The grocery around the corner had bird seed.  A smallish bag with no commitment suited me perfectly.

Wouldn't you know it?  There were mums by the front door of the store.  Big, beautiful mums of that unusual orange color.  That bird lovin' boy likes orange right now.

The kids and I marched out with great ceremony and set our stage, hook, bird feeder, seeds and orange mums in a terra cotta pot borrowed from the rented garage.

A bud, all balled up and tight loosens a little.  The first of the fall.  It's a tiny orange mum.  In case you're wondering.



Other posts you might like:
Bloom Where You're Planted
Superman's Secret Identity Revealed
and the big reveal...
The post where I secretly talk about maybe moving to Oklahoma but I can't tell anyone yet.

Bloom Where You're Planted

"Bloom where you're planted."  

Mary Engelbreit

Maybe I have the heart of a nomad.

I moved 13 times that I can remember--before I was 23 years old.  Maybe I am just not afraid to move.

Maybe I know that this world is temporary and so it's hard to feel at home anywhere.

Less than a month ago, my husband and I moved our family 1,280 miles to be near my family.  That wonderful man changed jobs, gave up some retirement, and spent quite a bit of money to bring me back home.

I lived in North Carolina for almost 13 years and now I'm back home in Oklahoma.

I wasted alot of time in North Carolina hoping for a possibility and wasting some of that present.

God forgive me.

Forgive me for squandering a million little gifts.  Beautiful days at the beach or in the cool of the mountains, mild winters and wisteria vines that covered acres of trees like a big, purple net.  Pine trees everywhere and tangy barbecue sauce that soaked into pulled pork leaving only red pepper and a tangy bite that goes perfectly with cole slaw.  Kudzu.  People, this Oklahoma girl had never seen anything like that before, vines like great, green ghosts covering entire miles.

Forgive me, too, for complaining when I finally got what I wanted.  Complaint is a dangerous thing.

Though I have been transplanted and though we are still in the throes of adaptation, I am making a choice.

I will bloom where I am planted.  This time I will bloom.

I will not compare the two lives I have lived.  I will miss old friends and continue to love them and I will leave this house and make more friends.  I will not get  my feelings hurt because I will choose to love here.

I will look for beautiful blooms that I haven't seen in 13 years.

I will make a life right here.

There are many beautiful things blooming already.  

One kid is at home at the local elementary school.  He is blooming.  This neighborhood just feels good.  The time I have had with family is precious, so is knowing it is not limited by miles anymore.  Old friends have come out of nowhere to help us.   I soak these things right up, and I bloom.

Who would have thought blooms came in the form of Braum's brownie fudge sundae and sweet barbecue beef brisket?  The constant breeze that is sometimes a hot wind and how everyone has a fenced yard because everyone seems to have a dog.  All the wonderful geographical names that come from the Native American language and make me smile because as yet I am the only one in my family that can pronounce them correctly.

My children will really know my family.  That may be the sweetest bloom of all.

The weight of what my husband did for me still surrounds me all heavy at times.  It is as powerful as the summer sun and I bloom.

It feels good to have roots in the dirt.  It feels good to bloom.

m

This post is the first in a month-long series where I get to go visit over at The Nesting Place.  This is quite an endeavor, a post every day for 31 days, but it is good to do hard things, right?  These posts, Bloom Where You're Planted, will be in the Inspiration & Faith category.  I am sure you will find lots of goodies there, enjoy!

Take the City

Sometimes you just want something.  Call it a goal, dream, need or whatever.  Doesn't really matter. Sometimes the thing you want is the right thing. Sometimes it isn't.

Sometimes you don't really know.

In older times, kings sometimes wanted whole cities.

Maybe sometimes you judge the rightness or wrongness of your dream by how easily it comes.  You know what I mean, if you are meant for it, it will happen.  Doors will open.

If you aren't meant for the path to your dream, doors will close.  There will be obstacles.  Maybe that means you just aren't meant to be--just aren't meant to have--just aren't meant to do--that.

I judge my dreams that way, but I think I might be wrong.

I think that stuff I just said about doors opening or closing, I think sometimes those ideas are trash.  Garbage.

Sometimes you have to work really hard for the things you want.  You have to get over obstacles and open doors yourself.  You may have to do these things when you are exhausted and unsure.  You may have to do these things when no one else understands why you do them.

In older times, kings took the cities they wanted by fighting.

The things worth having do not usually walk up and offer themselves to you.  You must take action.  You must do something.

Doors do not open by themselves.

You open them with prayer and endurance and elbow grease.

My friend, my self, what do you do when the door is stuck?  Do you stay outside?  No.  You find a way to get where you want to be.

In older times, sometimes kings took cities by starving out the people they did not want.

Sometimes you must sacrifice something else.  You cannot be all things to all things.  Maybe you have to starve something out to make room for what is important.  Things do not starve quickly, but if you do not feed it, the unwanted thing will eventually go.

In older times, cities did not usually open their doors and allow themselves to be taken.  At least not without divine intervention.

Sometimes there is divine intervention.  We can't discount doors that fly wide open or obstacles that remove themselves.  Say thanks and move forward.

Sometimes the absence of divine intervention is divine.  Maybe fighting the battle brings the reward of becoming a conqueror.  Maybe you will love your city well because of the battle you fought for her.

Sometimes the thing you want is the right thing.

Sometimes you don't really know.

There is only one way to find out.

Take the city.





On a less serious note:
Gifts from Cape Hatteras
My Name is Butmommy...
King Robert of the Wild Hair

small time

Taking a five-minute party break with Lisa Jo Baker this Friday.  Want to know more?  Check it out at: Five-Miinute-Friday.  It's Lisa Jo's party and she gets to pick.  Today she inspires us to write about one thing: small.  It amazes me how folks can interpret one word so many ways.  Click around at Lisa Jo's page and read what other people wrote. As for me, here, have a small piece of my heart.

Small time girl, grown up to be a small time woman.  I'm good with that.  Don't want attention, really, just can't quit talking here on this page.  Enjoying the idea that there are other women out there like little ol' me.

Small town girl, going from one small town to another.  Love livin' where you don't need a cell phone to find somebody.  There are only three places to go.  If your friend isn't home, she's at the grocery or Sonic.  Check your watch and take a guess...Sonic has a happy hour at 2PM.

Small hearts, can they grow big?  Sometimes it doesn't feel like it.  I fuss small words in a big voice and I wonder how my heart got so hard.  Dr. Seuss says the heart of the grinch grew two sizes one day and we all know the wisdom of Dr. Seuss.  Maybe there is at least small hope for me.

Small days, trapping me here in this home.  Trapping me here until I remember what I believe, that this is no small thing that I do, mothering these kids and loving this man and building this home with the hands of my soul.  Big, beautiful, small days.

Small gifts.  Little boxes with big things inside.  Small gifts might just be the best gifts of all.

loving the small,
m

More?
Blessedly Ordinary
More from Five-Minute-Friday: Fall
For your friends, "I Wanna Be Like You"

Gifts from Cape Hatteras

Last summer our family went on a vacation.  It was a miracle.  We almost never go on vacation.  We saved and we planned and we went and it was beautiful.  

Now, during this summer of craziness and stuck inside, we pack and a child heals and we save and we plan, and I return to those pictures and those memories.  I reopen the gifts of Cape Hatteras.

The Gifts:

Relax.  Just sit.  Soak up the good feelings when they come.  Just sit and be empty and be full, both at the same time.

Say "Why not?" way more often than you say, "Why?"

Creation is really, really awesome.  Creation is not tame or safe but it is in-your-soul-beautiful.

Squirrels can crawl under the edges of mosquito tents and eat your bread. They like butter cake but not caramel frosting.  Just thought you should know.

Run and play and don't care how you look.  Floppy hat, floppy shoes, floppy butt, nobody cares just run and play.

Making really fabulous memories doesn't have to cost a bunch of money.  We tent camped on Hatteras Island, which is almost 30 miles out into the Atlantic and only a few feet above sea level. We were sort of perched out in the ocean in a tent and the wonder of being in it all was thrown in for free!

Don't be surprised when the rain comes.  You don't have to be afraid, just get in a tent if you can and plug the leaks with whatever you have.  Find a bright side in the situation, like eating the s'mores supplies even though it isn't perfect.

Don't let it ruin your trip if a crab bites your heel.  However, if he is edible, eat him.  That's what he gets for not being properly subdued by mankind.

Life doesn't have to be perfect.  Don't miss out because you are waiting for everything to be just the way you planned.  You will make the others in your circle miserable but you won't make perfection.

There are times when your hair (or whatever) just doesn't matter at all.  Let it go.

Respect the sun.

Take the best part.  Give up on having everything and just take the best part.

People are nicer than you think and people really do need people.  Real people, in person, to eat ice cream with and tell stories with and ride boats with and it doesn't hurt at all to be friendly.

You never know which little wave is going to move something really big.  Most of the really big stuff starts with one little action.  Islands shift one little wave at a time.

Be grateful when you get to see one of THOSE moments.  My son, Nathan, was afraid of the water.  He was sitting on a boogie board on the wet sand and a big wave came.  Those inches of water picked him up AND HE RODE several feet.  I saw it in his eyes.  That wave washed away fear and replaced it with potential and we had to drag that boy away from that beach.  He asked for swimming lessons last fall and I am pretty sure he has grown gills.  I watched that moment.

You have to be watching to see those moments.


Thank you Cape Hatteras, we are grateful for your gifts,
m

Other posts you might like:
More about Nathan...
When ordinary is a gift...
Our adventure at Tough Mudder