My Epic Year Peeps

In looking over the basket of Christmas cards we received from people this year, I feel blessed to have so many great friends. Some went above and beyond and contributed to making this an Epic Year for me. There were a few “wounded souls," however, that I had to say good-bye to. One thing I am realizing about myself is that I have a tendency to befriend the wounded so I can fix them. But, I’m learning the hard way, usually the wounded don’t want to get healed, and I end up getting hurt in the process.

But this post is about the peeps who made ‘10 really blessed for me. There were lots, but these are the stand-outs.

My Prayer Warriors, especially Valerie, Mary, Ron and my Prayer Team, who were always available to pray for me and my family at the drop of a hat. They asked, they were faithful, and I am so grateful. I’ve counted on them over and over again this year.

My Best Girlfriends (and they know who they are), who pursued me and loved me through thick and thin. They made themselves available for listening or laughter, a quick Thai lunch or evening glass of wine. Whatever would I do without my girlfriends?

Our Couple Friends, like Lauree & Dave, Kellye & Todd, Peggy & Butch, Bonnie & Joe, and Karl & Nancy, who made our Date Nights even more fun. Super Hubs enjoys them as much as I do.

My Parents, who win Outstanding Grandparents of the Year in my book. I’m overwhelmed by the ways they’ve built into my children this year, and have planned thoughtful, fun events for them with an energy level that I envy. To my offspring, they are “Santa Claus Meets Disney World.”

Chris & Cintia, my brother-in-law and sister in-law. They invited us to their Cabo San Lucas time share in October, and what a week of fun in the sun we had! We swam, relaxed, dined fabulously in the resort cliffs overlooking the Pacific. It was a magical.

My Neighbors, Sandi and Brian, who kept a good eye on Rock Star and fed him well while we were in Cabo. He thinks of them as second parents, and it was great to be able to relax, knowing he was in good hands.

Uncle John and Aunt Susan, who heard Rock Star’s longing to visit his beloved Boston, and invited him out for a week. They entertained him, encouraged him, and touched his life. His trip to Boston was the highight of his year, and that in turn blessed me.

My Yoga Instructor, Kim, who has been gentle and super encouraging. She helps me to appreciate the power of staying in the moment and appreciating what I can do instead of focusing on my limitations.

Sibyl and Ruth, spiritual mentors who have helped me to better identify God’s voice in my life and point me toward practices of spiritual formation. They are who I aspire to be.

My Pharmacist and Allergist, both who helped to improve my quality of life. My asthma had gradually gotten so bad this year that I thought chronic coughing and labored breathing was normal. I felt miserable for months. Through their combined kindness and wisdom, I am now the happy owner of a healthy set of lungs.

Jamie Ford, the author of Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. I wrote a little blurb about his book being one of my favorites, and he commented on my little obscure blog yesterday. I was so excited that I texted some Book Club members and did the Snoopy dance. A famous author! Commented on my blog! What a great guy! He made my day, and now makes My Epic Peeps list right as the year ends.

Thank you, my Epic Year Peeps. You made my 2010 richer.

Epic Year Favorite Books

The countdown is on......2011 is almost here!
I love the New Year with its fresh new beginnings. But after a difficult couple of years, 2010 was a very good year for me, so I'm not anxious to say good-bye. I’ll call it my Epic Year, and blog about my Epic Year Favorites over the next couple of days.

Books, books books. Let’s talk about them. One of the best things I did in 2010 was start a Book Club. That was on my Bucket List of things I thought I’d do “some day,” and I finally decided to just make it happen. I invited five friends that I knew were avid readers and interesting people, and voila: The Chocolate Pie Book Club was born. (I cannot tell you how we came up with our name. It’s Top Secret, and they'd have to kill me if I let it slip.) The other members have inspired me, challenged me, and made me giggle over and over. I really think a more accurate name for our Book Club would be: Friends Who Wine And Dine Together Monthly While Discussing A Book They May Or May Not Have Read. We are, on occasion, delinquents who don’t always finish our homework. But we consistently have fun discussions, and we always, always laugh. The Book Club meeting is one of my monthly highlights.

I read a ton of great books this year. Many were chosen by other Book Club members, some were required reading from the Spiritual Formation program I’m in, and some I happened upon on my own. (I really must put together a list of favorite authors and keep it in my purse. I develop Author Amnesia when I’m in the library, and wander aimlessly through the aisles, feeling overwhelmed and confused. But I digress.) I agonized over this list, because it’s like choosing between horseradish-encrusted medallions or shrimp scampi for dinner. There were so many delicious reads for me, but I narrowed it down to my three favorites per category.

EPIC FICTION FAVORITES
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
This was, hands down, my absolute favorite fictional read of the year. I read it on vacation last summer and could not put it down. It was informative, inspiring and an absolutely delightful read.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
This is a devour-under-the-covers cozy mystery, complete with English moors and ghosts. So yummy! It kept me guessing until the end.

Hotel On The Corner Of Bitter And Sweet by Jamie Ford
This is a sweet, sad, intriguing love story about a friendship between a Chinese boy and Japanese girl in Seattle during World War II. I skipped a Date Night with my husband to finish this. That's how good I found it.

EPIC NON-FICTION FAVORITES
Prayer, Stress and Our Inner Wounds by Flora Slosson Wuellner
This easy-to-read compact book was filled with wise and inspiring ideas on how to pray for emotional and physical healing of self and others. Loved it, loved it, loved it! It’s a book I was longing to read without even knowing about it. It appealed to my Prayer Warrior-ness. Now I want to read every book the author has written. I want to meet the author. I want to be mentored by the author. I want to pray with the author. Short of saying I'll stalk the author, I'll admit I have been deeply touched by her writing.

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
The subtitle is “Non-Religious Thoughts on Christian Sprituality” and it is exactly that. I had a bit of an attitude before I read this book, and was prepared to not like it. But I was pleasantly surprised, and loved and agreed with Donald’s thoughts and musings. He writes in a down-to-earth humorous style that appeals to me. I’ve bought copies to share with several young friends.

Pray All Ways by Edward Hays
This book reinforced my belief that there is no division between the divine and the secular; that we can commune with God through all different ways. I re-read this book over and over, and a new revelation jumps out at me each time.

So, there you go. Happy Reading!

Christmas '10

I’ll be real and admit we’ve had some atrocious Christmases, the kind that are written about in newspaper columns or turned into a prime-time comedy episode. I think most people have, if they are honestly reflective.

I spent one Christmas in an ER when Butterfly was four and very sick with pneumonia. I ate a lonely Christmas dinner of a Snickers bar when she was fast asleep in the hospital room she’d been admitted to that evening. We’ve spent the holiday with relatives in which too many people were packed for a week in a small house with one bathroom. Tensions ran high, and there were some snarly moments I’d rather not remember. We’ve had awkward Christmases with hurt feelings and egg-shell walking. Last year, we lost my father-in-law the week before Christmas. We flew out to NY for the funeral in the midst of the East Coast Blizzard of ‘09, arriving back home two days before Christmas Eve. We floated through the holiday season doing the minimum and numbing our emotions. I will forever be grateful to the friends that were there for us through all of that.

This Christmas was amazing. We spent a laid-back Christmas Eve as a family, playing Apples To Apples, dining out, enjoying a Devotional together around the Advent wreath, and then watching A Christmas Story in front of the fire. Little Squirt kept a vigil by the computer, tracking Santa’s journey on NORAD. Children of the Millenium are a bit more techy than children of the 70s. I used to scan the night sky for a red light, which, in retrospect, had to be an airplane. I’d scream, “I see Rudolph!” which would be my parents excuse to bounce me into bed for the night.

The big surprise gift of the Christmas Day was Little Squirt’s Bearded Dragon, who was quickly whooshed from Butterfly’s bedroom to the family room early on Christmas morning. Actually, we were all suprised by Little Squirt’s non-reaction. We thought he’d be over-the-moon joyous, as he’d talked of nothing else for the last month. But he said he knew his BFF Santa would come through for him, and he wasn’t surprised at getting the Beardie. Later, after we’d gotten Rex the Beardie situated in Little Squirt’s bedroom, my youngest came down the stairs with big, sad eyes. “My dragon doesn’t like me. He always wears a frown when he looks at me,” my tender-hearted child said.

We spent Christmas afternoon at my parents' house with family. It was warm and fun and relaxing. We enjoyed a dinner of lasagna, beef stew and cupcakes. I had a sing-along at the piano with my two-year-old niece, and we watched a wrestling match between Little Squirt and my four-year-old nephew. Good times.

Now it’s over for the year. All the weeks of shopping, planning, baking and wrapping, and it’s over in one fell-swoop of a 24 hour period.

Meeting Flame-O

Little Squirt wants a lizard for Christmas. Not just wants. He covets, he longs for, he's begged for a lizard! The lizard is actually a downgrade, as his original want was for a pet dinosaur. After we explained to him that dinosaurs are obsolete, much like the VCR, and they don’t sell them at Petco, Little Squirt decided he’d settle for a lizard. He’d seen one he liked when we were in Cabo San Lucas in October. This little stalker had perched on a wall in the restaurant we frequented on the beach, and watched my son for the entire meal. He was there again later that week, and Little Squirt thought it’d be fun to have a pet lizard just like the Mexican one that would run all over the walls of our house and scare his friends. I informed him about the reality of pet lizards living in terrariums. He was disappointed, but still persisted.

We did a little research. I polled pet shop employees and friends, and Little Squirt read a book from the library about lizards. We decided on a Bearded Dragon. Little Squirt confirmed his decision by asking Santa, both in person and by letter. He told me, today (and I quote), “I won’t have delight on Christmas morning if Santa doesn’t bring me a Bearded Dragon.” So how could we say no?

With Little Squirt in school today, Super Hubs and I set up a terrarium, then made a visit to Petsmart. There were four baby Bearded Dragons available. Three were hanging out together on a rock and being all cliquey. I really hate cliques. The fourth little guy was the tiniest, sitting by his lonesome self in the corner. He was the newest. He’d just flown in from FL by Fed-Ex a few hours before, and was trying to warm up. I’ve always had a heart for the underdog. We took him home and called him Flame-O, the name Little Squirt has chosen for his new pet-to-be.

While Super Hubs added a big rock and cactus to the terrarium, I bonded with Flame-O. He closed his eyes and melted into the palm of my hand. I couldn’t see him breathing, and thought he was dead. “Oh, dang the luck, I've killed Little Squirt’s $60 Christmas dragon, ten minutes after leaving the store!" I thought. I’m grateful that Flame-O opened his eyes just then, or I would have had a breakdown. Apparently he was just taking a little nap.

I think Flame-O is acclimating well to his new living quarters, considering his traumatic cross-country trip last night by air. He’s living covertly in Butterfly’s bedroom until Christmas. Currently, he’s sunbathing on his rock underneath the UV light by the heating pad. It’s 80 degrees in his pimped-out crib, and I’m feeling kind of jealous. Did I mention he has his own pool? If it weren’t for his diet of live crickets, I’d consider moving in with him.

Super Hubs and I have always let our kids get pets of their choosing. I am a firm believer in letting children wonder and learn about responsibility and the beauty of creation by taking care of a living creature. Pets are part of the making of a happy childhood, in my opinion. They do come with a cost of time and mess, but happy memories are priceless. Le’ts hope Flame-O makes years of memories with my boy.

Moose And Black Ice

Having lived in the Midwest since I was 5, I am accustomed to brutal winters. I really don’t mind them so much, although, given the option to move to Hawaii, I’d trade my Uggs for a lei faster than you can say “Waikiki Beach.” But, for now, like typical Midwesterners, we make do, don our winter woolies, whine and complain to our neighbors, and get through the coldness like soldiers. Soon enough it’ll be spring again.

But the worst thing about the winter, in my humble opinion, is the hazardous driving conditions the bad weather brings. This morning was one of those times when we opted to stay home all day because of the blizzard the night before. We’d been “living” at church for the past four days for Little Squirt’s long rehearsals. He was in the children’s choir as part of the two-night Christmas show. He was tired from being out late several nights in a row, and we were tired. I canceled a church meeting, and we decided to enjoy a comfortable Sabbath at home in front of the cheery fireplace.

But Rock Star begged to go to church. He wanted to drive himself, but I was a bit leery. There was a few inches of snow on the ground, and the winds were howling. I worry about my teens when they drive in the winter. As an aside, I also worry about my teens when they don’t drive in the winter. I worry about my teens in general, no matter what they are doing or not doing. Somebody’s got to do the worrying in the family, and I do it really well. So it’s become my job. In character, I told Rock Star, “No.” No driving today.

But he continued imploring. He wanted to go to his youth group and see his friends there. Please, couldn’t he take the car? He’d gotten up early and showered, even. Super Hubs backed him up and said the roads seemed to be clear. It was two against one. So I thought and I worried and I thought some more. And I felt guilty about saying no. It wasn’t as if Rock Star wanted to take the car to hit the strip bars. He wasn’t asking to pick up supplies to make crystal meth with his friends. He’s a good kid who simply wanted to go to church on the morning after a blizzard, and he promised he’d drive carefully. And what good parent doesn’t allow their teenager to go to church? So I relented. But then I lectured him on everything I could remember about winter driving. I covered black ice and defrosters, driving into a skid and avoiding moose collisions, just for good measure. I could have passed as an employee of the DMV with my safety tips. My anxiety melted away as Rock Star nodded his head intelligently. Who was I kidding? He probably only heard, “Blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

He drove off with the car, promising to text me upon arrival. Twenty minutes went by. Then another ten. I texted him, “R u there yet?” The clock ticked, my anxiety rose, and then Super Hubs received a text. Rock Star had hit some black ice on a side street close to church. The car fishtailed, and hit a fire hydrant. The bumper was smashed on one side. He was otherwise fine, but shaken.

Super Hubs drove to church to bring him home, and then took the car to the shop. As Rock Star came in the door, I bit my tongue to keep from saying, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to drive today!” Instead, I hugged my tearful son, feeling so grateful he hadn’t hit a semi or gotten badly hurt. Bumpers can be repaired.

But the whole point of my post is this: In the animal kingdom, the injured member of the pack is viewed as a liability to the other members. The weak one is often left behind or killed by the members. But not in my little pack. In a crisis, my kids come through for each other. Little Squirt, horrified that his big brother was in a car accident, weepily made him a card, covered with hearts: “You are my buthr. I dont wot you to git hurt. P.S. I wish you a mare Crismus.” Butterfly called her bro from college, speaking words of encouragement and advisement, as only big sisters can do.

I’m proud of my little pack. Rock Star felt the love.

Waiting......For A Long Ago Birth

It was the perfect night, if you didn’t mind the cold. I certainly didn’t. Not last night. One hundred luminaries guided the way to the chapel, where we were treated to a beautiful Advent service. It was led by the team that leads my spiritual formation program. The spiritual director of the program is a woman whom I’ve admired for a long time. She’s also an accomplished author whose books I’ve read, over and over.

Super Hubs and I were a little in awe as we were invited back to her home for a Celebration. Her beautiful house was nestled amid a grove of large, snowy pines. We enjoyed delicious food and wine by the toasty fireplace. She was warmly hospitable, and truly present to everyone in her house. The real deal.

Last Christmas season, her writings inspired me to resurrect our Advent Wreath. It had been camping in a box in the basement for the past 14 years, when we left our childhood Catholic faith for an evangelical, non-liturgical church. A longing in me had surfaced to begin celebrating the rythms of the church year and teach them to my children. This author helped me to see this as a spiritual practice, and to appreciate the thrill of inhabiting the story of the Christian year.

So, for the second year in a row, my Advent Wreath proudly sits in the middle of my kitchen table for the month. We light the appropriate candles over dinner, read a devotional with the kids, and pray together. I am pretty militant about making my family eating dinner together on most nights. I asked, the other evening, over a lit purple candle, for specific names of people that we could be in prayer for. Rock Star shared a name that was on his heart, and Super Hubs and I did as well. Little Squirt shook his head. “I’m not going to just pray for one person,” he said. “I’m going to pray right now for everyone in the entire world.” And he proceeded to say a long, 8yo-literate prayer that covered all people on the planet.

So, if you are reading this, know that the faith of a little boy brought your name straight up to God one frosty evening last week.