Hunting and Gathering

Well, I’ve been off my bloggin’ wagon for about two weeks; the great giveaway I was planning has only happened in fits and starts and I’ve had to be O.K. with that. It’s weighed on me that I haven’t been true to my word but I’m doing the best I can and that’s all I can do. It is what it is. And, it’s all good.

This time of year is exciting, inspiring, hectic, and wonderful – not to mention overwhelming. Often, all at the same time! And I find I have to remind myself again and again to make sure I am sitting back and enjoying the promise and anticipation, the illumination and the symbolism. To not get so caught up in the stuff that is not important, so that I am able to embrace those things that really are.

Watching my children’s sense of wonder, their willingness to believe, and their downright impatient anticipation is a delight. Trying to make sure I have everything I need for everyone on my list is a challenge. Wrapping up all my grading is a relief. Wrapping up all the presents is a pain. And sitting quietly in my house with all the Christmas lights on and a fire burning is like a prayer – still, contemplative, hopeful. I could sit for a very long time.

If I didn’t have that darn to-do list, and two kids who need me often and hands-on, and yes, all that stuff still waiting to be given away. And the stuff, it has been accumulating. Though I haven’t written about it in the past two weeks, I’ve been hunting and gathering. Goodwill will be happy to see me pull up. A crib, toys, books, clothing . . . I’ve made it through both kids’ rooms and my closet. My husband’s closet might be next – I take no prisoners (he may not be happy about that).

The deal is – I need to get rid of the stuff now because in about two weeks, more will be coming in. And like the give and take of life, we can only handle so much stuff. So I’m trying to purge. And while purging, I might just find those two gifts I hid somewhere . . . perhaps between a rock and a hard place . . . trying to balance all those needs and wants. And as I sit here by the fire, with the Christmas lights keeping me company, I have a feeling it’ll all unfold – exactly as it needs to and in its own perfect time. I'm counting on that.

Red Racers

(Day 2 of the Great Giveaway)

We got our Christmas tree last night which meant I had to go up in the attic to get all the Christmas "stuff" - wreaths, red bows, garland, Santas, tree decorations, lights. After handing down all this stuff to Taggart and Sage - who, by the way, are loving all the holiday ritual - I looked around to see how bad it really was up there. And I sort-of surprised myself because I thought, "This could be so much worse!"

There were only a couple non-Christmas related boxes, which is really kind-of shocking to me. One plastic bin whose contents I could not remember beckoned to me so I decided to take a quick peek before disembarking down the attic stairs. Very little was in it - some baby socks, a play mat, and then at the very bottom, an old pair of Taggart's little red tennis shoes. His and my favorites, as a two-year-old, he wore them constantly. We called them the "red racers". They are like cool red leather shoes, reminiscent of little bowling shoes. But even better. And when they are only a size 6 1/2, they are virtually irresistible. They also were obviously hard to part with.

Well, in the past I've kept things around for the sake of having them around. For the memories. For sentimental reasons. But honestly, we don't need the "red racers" anymore. No need to hold on to them. Let someone else shine in those too-cool-for-school shoes. And we knew just who might like them - our next-door-neighbor's grandson, Lucas. Almost two, we love to find things we think Lucas might perfect for Lucas.

So Sage and I delivered those little red racers next door earlier this evening. They weren't home so we lined them up at the step by their back door. Those tiny little red shoes would bring a smile to anyone's face. And, I'm glad someone else special will have them and enjoy them. So much better than sitting in a bin in our attic for the next ten years . . . so much better.

Good Will

(Day 1 of the Great Giveaway)

Well, it certainly is not the most exciting giveaway news, but I went through the kids' closets this morning and Taggart has a collection of Brooks Brothers and Talbots dress shirts from his cousin Rucker that he will have nothing to do with. They're not "cool", he tells me. So, they've been waiting to be noticed for a year - all pressed and pretty on their hangers - and someone else is just going to have to enjoy them. I gave them away today.

Sage's clothes are so well-loved and well-worn, I was hard pressed to put anything in the Goodwill pile. But the couple salvageable pieces I did find, I have to hide until I unload them tomorrow. She will be furious if she knows. Hopefully she won't find out (or remember!) . . .

Speaking of Goodwill, one great Taggart story to share. Taggart was about three-years-old and he and I were going through his clothes. I'd tell him to either put something in the keep pile or the Goodwill pile. Then, I put the whole bag of clothes to go to Goodwill by the door so they'd be ready to take the next morning.

The next day, Jeff says to me, "What's with that bag of clothes for your hairdresser?" And I'm thinking, "What would Will want with a bunch of Taggart's old clothes???" I asked Jeff what Taggart had told him. And he said Taggart shared that "They were for Will, who cuts mama's hair." Of course, the only Will Taggart knew about was my Will - he had no frame of reference for Goodwill. So, with perfect three-year-old logic and "good" sense, Goodwill was my Will. And he is Good Will, just not the one I deliver old clothes to : )

A Spirit of Abundance

My final day in my month of counting my blessings. And what a month it has been. In looking over the list (below), themes of family, friends, health, time, experiences, and small kindnesses emerged. What I did not see was just as important. There were very few material things that graced my list (well there was wine and chocolate but those are consumable goods and don't add to my clutter!).

I have plenty - MORE - than I need and sometimes even want. I have so much and feel blessed by the abundance in my life. But the things that I am most thankful for are not things at all. My List of Blessings this month reinforced that.

1. The Art of Giving Thanks (a spirit of gratitude)
2. Sweet Sleep
3. Coming Home (old friends)
4. A Chance Meeting (my health)
5. Good Neighbors
6. The Comforts of Home (my home, my family)
7. Sagie Lou
8. Lovely Little Details (my spirituality)
9. Nowhere Else Than Here (being an American)
10. Breathing Space (time to just be)
11. Hearts A’singin’ (a day with my mom)
12. The Optimist Club (a positive outlook)
13. Girlfriends!
14. The Crock-pot Queen
15. A Little Purple Flower (Taggart’s thoughtfulness)
16. Darkness and Light (my freedom)
17. Wine and Chocolate
18. Believing (in anything!)
19. Doing What You Love (work that makes your heart sing)
20. A Blank Page (a free day)
21. Movie Night (quality time with Taggart and Sage)
22. Uncle Chrissy (my brother)
23. Culinary Wheelies (my husband, the gifted cook)
24. Thanks Giving (my mom)
25. Cereal for Dinner (simple things)

So, at a time when we are racing toward Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwaanza, shopping like crazy people for stuff and more stuff, I am going to continue to move forward in my spirit of abundance. I plan to give one thing away each day that I no longer want or need and make room in my life for greater good and abundance (stay tuned for my great giveaway list!). I want to give gifts that people will actually use, need, or truly love. I want to find ways to be thoughtful each day of this holiday season and share the good in my life with others. In the true spirit of Christmas, I want to give what matters: the presents of Christmas and the presence of Christmas.

May we all be so blessed.

Cereal For Dinner

(Days Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine in my Month of Blessings)

Well, I’m almost there and I have to say that some days this has been harder than others - not for lack of blessings but for the energy and commitment it requires to do something every day. I missed yesterday’s entry because I was at my in-laws and after two days of lots of people, lots of food, and not enough sleep, I couldn’t get my typin’ fingers or my sleepy head working last night.

Alas, I’m home today and what I am “oh-so-thankful-for” is the simple things: cereal for dinner, my own bed, our quiet little house. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving full of all the trimmings, wonderful family, and a beautiful, sunny day. All of the Patterson side stayed at GeeGee and Popoo’s – the kids went on adventures in the woods, built a fort, and went deer shining in Uncle Greg’s new pick-up truck. The grown-ups talked, watched football, looked through magazines and catalogues, and drank their fair share of beer and wine. It was a full, lovely couple days.

Now, home, I’m ready to “slim” down. Less food, less drink, more exercise. A quiet night in our warm house and soft bed, something good to read. Did I say quiet? Yes, me and my solitude. I am thankful for the little bit of quiet I might find in any given day. Today, I got to drive home from Gallatin by myself. Forty-five minutes in my own car, soaking up the sunshine and drinking my coffee, it was the most contemplative moment I have had in days. Then, I had an hour in my house by myself. To me, this is such a rarity, it’s a little bit of heaven. Like I said, it’s the simple things.

They are all around us, they do not cost much, and they are just waiting to be noticed. We won’t find them at the mall or on-line – typically just in the tiny details of ordinary days. May those moments tap you on the shoulder, beckon to you, make your heart sing - because happiness is often found right in the middle of wherever we are - and all depends on the lens through which we're looking.

Thanks Giving

(Days Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six in my Month of Blessings)

Yesterday was a swirl of activity – a visit over to my mom’s in the morning, a long walk in the sunshine, a family outing to a greenway, a matinee movie with my mom (The Blind Side – inspiring and wonderful!), and then home to bake a Caramel Pear pie for today’s Thanksgiving feast. By the time I got the kids down at 9 p.m., I had no umph left over for grace or goodness or even simple appreciating - my blog would have to wait.

I was tired and grouchy and feeling overwhelmed. And my dear, sweet mom – who is always willing to lend a hand and do whatever to help me – got the brunt of it. Not so good, the day before Thanksgiving. Really, not so good any day but in light of the fact that I’m recounting my daily blessings, my focus was off last night.

But my slip fully reminded me of why my mom is one of the very best people in the world. She knew I was tired and stressed. She continued to try and be helpful. She didn’t say a word or retort to my mean streak. She loves me unconditionally. She shows it again and again and again. She would do anything for my brother and me – and a few handfuls of other lucky souls. At any given time, my mom is finding some way to be thoughtful or kind to another. Be it having Taggart put money in someone’s meter that is about to expire or having a load of firewood sent to a friend who could not afford it, my mom finds many ways to selflessly give to those blessed souls whose lives intertwine with hers.

We should all be so lucky to have someone like her in our lives. I feel so fortunate to have her down here, getting to be with us on an almost daily basis. That my kids get to really know her and share their lives with her is priceless to me – especially since my dad is not here to know them and share his knowledge and unique presence with them.

I do think, though, that my dad makes appearances in his own inimitable way. I often see a large hawk in the neighborhood and my dad loved hawks. Sometimes it will fly right over me as I run and I am sure my dad is saying, “I’m right here. All is well.” Of course, there’s Phillip in the red truck whom I wrote about in an earlier entry (An Old Red Truck). He gave my daughter Sage three turkey feathers to wear in her hair on her birthday. My dad might have given her such a gift. It made me smile.

So, today, on Thanksgiving, I have so much to smile about. Headed to family and a magnificent feast at my in-laws, it will be a day of fullness all around. The glow of family, the warmth of the sun, the laughter of children playing, the perfection of a meal my mother-in-law has had in the works for a month. A hayride, a walk on the farm, hanging out with in-laws I think the world of – I truly feel blessed.


Happy Thanksgiving - may your hearts be full and happy!

Culinary Wheelies

(Day Twenty-Four in my Month of Blessings)

The first week I met my husband Jeff I went over to his house at lunchtime to let his puppy Holly out. He came home to make a quick sandwich. As he was putting his sandwich together, he said he needed to run out and get something on the deck. He returned with fresh basil. For his sandwich. Which he had grown. On his deck. Wow.

I don’t think I’d ever met a man prior to Jeff who not only knew what basil was but actually grew it himself. And that was just a drop in the bucket for what was to follow. He wishes now, after ten years together, that he had not let on so early that he knew his way around a kitchen. I, on the other hand, have benefited from his culinary wheelies ever since.

Take tonight, for instance. With family in and a cousin traveling through on his way to Arizona, Jeff grilled filets to everyone’s liking, baked garlic-cheese grits, and sautéed green beans with olive oil and garlic. It was a wonderful meal with special people. The perfect beginning to the Thanksgiving holiday.

I am grateful every day for Jeff’s presence, love, and cooking prowess. He makes our family - not to mention our meals - richer in a hundred ways. We are so blessed.

Uncle Chrissy

(Day Twenty-Three in my Month of Blessings)

Last night as I was putting Sage down and she was almost asleep, she whispered, “Mama?” And I said, “Yes, Sage?” She took a deep breath and whispered, “We do love our Chrissy.” And then, she fell soundlessly asleep.

She was referring so sweetly to my brother Chris, whom my two children adore. He flew in from Chicago today for the Thanksgiving holiday and my kids have had a countdown for a couple weeks. Chris is the epitome of the doting uncle. He is fun, loves children, has no kids of his own, and spoils my two with his time, attention, and thoughtfulness. We should all have an uncle like Uncle Chrissy.

The kids help him get his suitcase out because they just never know what might be in it for them. Well, that’s not quite true. Taggart almost always knows there is a t-shirt in store. Patagonia, Chicago Cubs, Chicago Bears, Mexican wrestlers - we just never know but can count on Chris to keep Taggart’s t-shirt collection current and cool.

Chris is also a huge help to me – be it with Singing Heart Press or organizing our garage, Chris is game to take on whatever it is I’m up to tackling. He has no idea how much his patience and willingness to help means to me. This is all aside from the fact that Chris and I are great friends. We speak on an almost daily basis and know the ins and outs of each other’s lives. This closeness defines our family – I am so thankful for it. In a world that is fast and convenient and swirling, knowing my mom and Chris are always right there if I need them is a priceless gift.

Of course, Chris and I know each other’s buttons well too. But unlike our teenage years, we are much less likely to intentionally press them. There were times when we were young where either one of us prayed fervently to God to be an only child – didn’t care how, just do the deal! But God knew better, thank goodness. He knew what was in store down the road and that we would greatly need and want each other in our lives. Today, I cannot imagine my world without the intensity, love, affection, and humor my brother brings to it. It is a much richer, happier, more complete place because of him.

Just ask my kids.

Movie Night

(Day Twenty-Two in my Month of Blessings)

I love movies but since having little ones, I miss getting my regular movie fix. I would be in heaven if I got to go to a movie once a week. I don't care if anyone is with me or not, I'm happy and comfortable going alone. Me, a real Coke, and popcorn, and I'm so good, it's scary. Contentment at its pinnacle. It doesn't take much.

But since having children, my movie-going days have dwindled. My husband's not a movie buff and usually with girlfriends we need to talk more than we need the solitude of a movie, so they've fallen from my priority list. But I sure do miss them.

I've taken Taggart and Sage to a couple kid-themes movies - some are better than others. But this doesn't really do anything for me. And it's been awhile since I've seen a kids' movie that was really good. Friends swear by UP so that's high on my list.

Tonight, the kids and I are actually having our first real movie night - all quietly sitting and watching Surf's Up together. Sage has just gotten to this place - you know, being three and all, she's big enough (or so she keeps telling me). So here we are, her sitting next to me, bouncing along to the music, watching attentively. And I'm thinking, kid movie or not, I could get used to this. Nights often seem harried and rushed - quick dinner, clean up, baths, teeth brushed, stories, bed.

But this seems like a great wind-down to a nice and relaxing week-end. We're all together, looking forward to the friends and family we'll see over the Thanksgiving holiday, and enjoying some quiet time together. It's a good thing. I want more of these. We might just have to make this a family tradition.

p.s. And although I'm loving the idea of this family movie night, it's not keeping me from zipping to a theater this week with my mom and brother. I am dying to see the new Sandra Bullock movie - The Blind Side. I'll keep you posted!

A Blank Page

(Days Twenty and Twenty-one in my Month of Blessings)

I missed writing in my blog last night but it was not intentional. I actually fell asleep while putting Sage to sleep and I’ll count that as a blessing – a night where I went to bed early and slept soundly until Sage called out at 3 a.m. and then we went back to sleep until 6 a.m. Around this house, that’s something to be thankful for. It’s all relative, right?

And today, this Saturday morning, I am thankful for all the promise the start of a day holds. Mornings are my favorite time. Coffee, feeling rested, looking forward to all the good that is possible. It’s like a blank page and a new pen – the day is just waiting to be written upon. Favorite outings, time outside in the sunshine and fallen leaves, good food, conversations with friends, watching the kids build a pillow fort. Having nothing we HAVE to do but instead, letting the day unfold. A story waiting to be told.

Though I don’t know what our story today will be, I plan to make the most of this beautiful day and the time with my family. Unscheduled days are a rarity in our overly committed lives. I value the freedom today holds.

As I finished my run this morning and walked the last half mile home, I lifted my face, closed my eyes, and let the sun warm me. I repeated to myself: “I am love. I am joy. I am happiness unfolding.” Because when I know this, I become this. And in becoming this, I am a positive force heading out into my day and into the world.

So, to a day, a story, filled with great love, joy, and happiness – my own and those whose lives I touch.

Doing What You Love

(Day Nineteen in my Month of Blessings)

Good colleagues are hard to beat. Tonight, I met with five other faculty members with whom I team-teach to talk about how the semester has gone so far and to discuss changes for next semester. These conversations and the teaching I get to do are intellectually stimulating and challenging. They stretch me and I love that.

I love being a mom and being creative with Singing Heart Press but I’ve realized that my work in academia feeds me in a way these other roles do not. I feel really blessed to get to do work I love: be it as a mom, small business owner, or faculty member. That I get to do different kinds of work that fit various aspects of myself, well, that affords me the best of all worlds - how lucky am I?

Now, I am not making millions at any of these but our family does not lack for shelter, food, or clothing (thank goodness for Jeff’s hard work and dedication!). Nonetheless, I do believe, if you do what you love, the money will follow. And one day, in the not-so-distant future, what I am actually paid for doing what I love will be equal to my passion for it.

I am so grateful for the many opportunities I have, for the gifts I’ve been given, and for the chance to share them with the world.

Believing

(Day Eighteen in my Month of Blessings)

My kids and I had an early sighting of Santa tonight and when I say early, let’s just say none of us were even remotely prepared to see him. We are still in Thanksgiving mode, gobble-gobble, looking forward to seeing all of our family next week and there’s Santa, already at the mall getting ready to start greeting the kids on Saturday.

Taggart saw him first. By the huge Christmas tree – yep, already in place for the season – where he greets kids and listens to their holiday wishes. Taggart said, “Mom, is that Santa?” And I said, a bit shocked, “Yeah, I think it is.” Of course, Sage is like, “Where, where?” a little tentatively. She is not so sure about the whole Santa thing. She wants to like him. She does NOT want to sit on his lap.

Well, this Santa isn’t tired yet at all. He’s fresh. Very fresh. Fresh like I’ve never seen a mall Santa. He wanted to chat with the kids; he was seeking them out. He came over and tried to engage Sage. He asked her if she was going to come see him. She said, “Maybe, but I’m not sitting on your lap. Maybe when I’m bigger I will.” Taggart was busy telling me he didn’t think it was the real Santa; he thought it was one of Santa’s helpers. I told him that was a possibility because Santa needs lots of helpers and cannot really be in two places at once.

Santa handed each of the kids a picture of him and told them to come back and see him after Saturday. We left and went to the bookstore but the whole time we were walking away, Sage was asking where the reindeer were. I told her we’d check back, hoping she’d forget. She didn’t. The minute we left the bookstore she wanted to go back and ask Santa about the reindeer.

We got there and I explained that Sage wanted to ask him something. Of course, she had a sudden case of shyness and I had to do the asking so I said that Sage was wondering where the reindeer were. “Oh, the reindeer,” Santa responded. “They are at the North Pole getting ready for the big trip. This is just a quick visit for me to come down and make sure everything is ready. The other thing, though, is that Rudolph has come down with a cold. And you won’t believe this . . . his nose has turned blue. He looks like a police car’s siren!”

Well, this really got the kids’ attention. I think Taggart may even be thinking this is the real deal. At seven, he thinks he knows everything but in certain circumstances he can be swayed. Santa told the kids he’d see them soon and then added “And in the meantime, make sure you are behaving.” Thanks Santa! No really Santa, I mean it. My kids might behave better over the next few weeks but even more, they might truly believe. And believing is one of the best gifts of all.

Wine and Chocolate

(Day Seventeen in My Month of Blessings)

A really special day includes one (or both!) of these. And not any wine or chocolate will do although I’d say I’m pretty easy. I do not require the best - simply one that meets my needs in the moment (sometimes this is easy and sometimes it proves to be a challenge – just ask my husband!).

I’m mostly a red wine kind of girl and that has occurred only after hanging out with my mostly red wine drinkin’ husband for the past ten years. Prior to out relationship I didn’t even like wine and if I drank it, box wine was acceptable. I didn’t know what I didn’t know (and box wines have come along way!). Now, I know only enough to be dangerous, nothing more. For instance, I had a really good Malbec with my brother and now I think all Malbecs are good. My husband jokes that if they have a Malbec on the menu, I’ll order it (this is mostly true).

But the beauty of wine, like life, is that it is never exactly the same – the grapes change, our tastes change, what we are eating with the wine changes. Even over the duration of a meal, a wine changes (perhaps it opens up more or perhaps we like it more because we get less choosy after indulging in a glass or two . . . ). Whereas, when someone drinks a Budweiser and knows exactly what he or she is getting, with wine you have to get to know it. It requires more of you. I like that complexity.

Chocolate, on the other hand, is a need for me in a way I hope wine never becomes. There are simply days when I crave chocolate or notice some lingering desire in the back of my mind that I finally tune into as a chocolate calling. I’m a bit pickier about my chocolate but not by much. I am a dark chocolate kind of girl but beyond that just about anything goes. I don’t require Godiva or Vosges – and in a pinch even semi-sweet chocolate chips will do. But truly, chocolate can right an afternoon for me. Sometimes, it’s that easy.

Oh – and the best news – both of these things are good for me (well in moderation, of course)! How great is that? And now that I’ve got myself thinking about chocolate . . . well, I’ll have to let you know what I find – but as I type, I remember the kids’ Halloween candy. I think it’s beckoning . . . good night!

Darkness and Light

(Day Sixteen in my Month of Blessings)

One of my students is doing her internship at the Victim-Witness Office, which works with victims and witnesses of crimes to navigate the legal system and their court appearances. Our class got to go downtown this morning and sit in on court and observe the proceedings. From the e-mail I got from the Victim-Witness Coordinator preparing us for our visit to simply walking into the court building, I felt like I was entering another world – in reality, I was.

We were told not to wear anything revealing or suggestive. Parking is a bear, the e-mail read, bring cash and coins but leave all valuables in your trunk. Do not bring nail trimmers or pocketknives into the building, the e-mail continued; these may get confiscated. So I planned accordingly. I had to borrow cash from Sage’s birthday stash as I had none and wanted to be able to pay for a parking garage, if need be. I had coins from Taggart’s piggy bank for a meter if I happened to find one. And, I dressed conservatively (long skirt, long sweater) and left any “weapons” I normally carry at home with my other valuables.

While observing, we saw a number of men and women prisoners appearing to discuss their sentences or probationary status. Some were there to explain their readiness to return to freedom and their families. One inmate, in particular, pleaded his case and explained that his anger was under control while his wife and young daughter waited nervously for the judge’s decision. He was told he needed to complete a 26-week domestic violence intervention program but was going to be allowed out on probation today. He looked happy and hopeful at the news of his release. His wife looked happy too; she was also the victim in this case. I hope for their young daughter’s sake, he does have his violence under control. I can only imagine the indelible mark this leaves on a child.

So let’s just say after observing general sessions court for an hour and a half, I am so thankful for my life, my upbringing, the choices I get to make every day. My reality is so different from what many of the people I observed today might ever know or even be aware of. It’s an awkward place to be: sad for them but so, so thankful for the good in my life. The contrast was stark, all darkness and light. It felt so good to step out of the courthouse and feel the bright sun on my face. To know I had places to go, children to pick up, a delicious dinner to look forward to - shoot, even folding laundry seemed indulgent in comparison.

Simply put, my “normal” awaited me. My average, ordinary Monday afternoon suddenly looked exquisite. I couldn't get back to my world fast enough. I truly am so blessed.

A Little Purple Flower

(Day Fifteen in my Month of Blessings)


Today was another absolutely beautiful day. The last two weeks have been unbelievably perfect. The kind of weather I could live with on a permanent basis – 70’s, clear blue sky, cool at night and in the mornings, no humidity. Heaven!

So while out enjoying the day, the kids and my mom and I were busy raking leaves and hauling them on a tarp to the back of our property. As I was returning from one of the hauls, Taggart ran up to me with what I thought was going to be a muddy worm or a dead mouse our something equally icky.

And then I heard him say, “I think it’s the last one of the season.” He was holding out one tiny little purple flower for me – from the vinca that grows around one of our trees by the bridge.

This seven-year-old boy of mine who did not want to help in the yard and who cannot seem to refrain from antagonizing his sister for more than a few minutes, seems to intuitively know when he has pushed me to my limit. He brings himself back from the brink of my mad-at-him-craziness to fully redeem himself - all with the gift of one tiny purple flower.

That little glimmer of sweetness is so good, so necessary. It reminds me that my boy is tender and sensitive inside his growing, bustling, noisy body. That sensitive side balances him – and it grounds me. It will serve him well. My heart is happy . . . how I do love that boy.

The Crock-pot Queen

(Day Fourteen in my Month of Blessings)

I am well known in my household – and in my circle of friends – for being quite the accomplished crock-pot master. And for someone who doesn’t particularly like to cook, the efficiency and ease of the crock-pot is all-too appealing. For me, there is nothing better than dumping five or six ingredients in the crock-pot in the morning, knowing full well that by late afternoon, a warm, wholesome, and hearty meal is awaiting us. All I have to do is throw in a salad or vegetable and bread, and we’re ready. It doesn’t get any better or easier than that.

So, today, I’m thankful for my trusty crock-pot and the handful of recipes that see me and my family through many a cold night. Two of my favorite recipes – White Chicken Chili and Carrot Bacon Soup - make an appearance at our table regularly.

White Chicken Chili
Boneless, skinless chicken breasts or tenders
Chicken broth
White beans (1-2 cans, drained)
Container of fresh salsa
Shredded cheese to sprinkle on top when serving

Put first four ingredients in crock-pot and cook 6 hours on low. Then, pull chicken apart with fork. Serve w/ shredded cheese and tortilla chips.

Carrot Bacon Soup
Small bag of peeled baby carrots
1 potato, cubed
1 onion, chopped
Chicken broth
5 pieces uncooked bacon

Put all ingredients in crock-pot and cook 6 hours on low. Puree’ ingredients in small batches in blender. Enjoy!

I also have a great crock-pot cookbook: How To Make Love and Dinner at the Same Time. It has some delicious recipes but it’s also a really fun read – a great gift for a spouse, friends, or newlyweds!

Girlfriends!

(Day Thirteen in my Month of Blessings)

I’m just in from dinner with one of my favorite girlfriends so I’ll make this short and sweet (it’s late and I’ve had a couple glasses of wine). Life is so much better when you have good friends with whom to commiserate and celebrate. And honestly, isn't discussing money, sex, and parenthood so much easier with someone who truly understands? Now, don’t get me wrong, husbands/boyfriends/partners are great, but there is something transcendent about spending time with girlfriends and sharing our lives. Like all the puzzle pieces make sense - the big picture and the details come into clear view.

The time spent with girlfriends can be ordinary or extraordinary, it never really matters. Simply a chance to talk at length about whatever is going on, to complain about whatever isn’t going on or should be going on, to plan, reminisce, dream . . . it’s all good. There’s enough time, enough wine, and enough compassion to get us through any storm or rainbow. So tonight, I’m thankful to my girlfriends – both near and far. You help me make perfect sense of an imperfect world and you help keep me grounded. Rain or shine, thick or thin, happy or sad, we’re in this together. What more could a girl ask for?

The Optimist Club

(Day Twelve in my Month of Blessings)


Back in high school I was voted into the Optimist Club and I guess it was some big deal. The guidance counselor got letters of recommendation for me and I got a certificate and I think I even put it on my college applications. Go figure! I didn’t even really know what it meant or why I was selected at the time.

But in looking back and in moving forward, I think I’ve always sort of known that things work out and will eventually be O.K. Tough times, unexpected losses, surprises that turn your whole world upside-down . . . sooner or later, life rights itself.

I believe this and I don’t think it’s because I heard my grandmother say to me more times than I can remember, “This too shall pass.” But this is what I know: life marches on. And you can either be on the look-out for the next good thing or the next bad thing . . . it’s your choice every day. But me, I’d much rather be waiting on the next good thing. And when your attention is focused on the positive rather than the negative, good tends to appear – seemingly out of thin air.

I believe in the laws of abundance. What you reap, you shall sow. Give and you shall receive. Ask and it shall be given you. Open your heart to the world, and the world will open its heart to you. Karma, serendipity, coincidence, providence. It’s simple: what you send out, you get back.

I am thankful today for that heads-up on the optimist thing and the nomination into “the club”; it’s gotten me through many a trial and tribulation. Surprisingly, I come back to it often. It took me a long time to believe I deserved it but my guidance counselors and teachers must have seen something in me I’d yet to realize. I’m an optimist, the cup is half full, and there is good waiting to be had right around the next corner. Definitely not your typical joiner, I’m so glad to be part of the club.

Hearts A'singin'

(Day Eleven in my Month of Blessings)


It is rare that I come across a day with absolutely nothing I HAVE to do while my kids are in school. But lucky for me, today was one of those special and much-too-infrequent days. I called my mom and asked if she wanted to drive to Franklin to walk around and have lunch and, of course, she is always game for an adventure. I told her I needed an hour to attend to details that couldn’t wait and then we were off.

We took the scenic route instead of the interstate and drove past a garden shop my mom had always wanted to go in. We stopped and looked and then wandered into another store – Over the Moon – and a small coffee shop we fell in love with called The Good Cup. We were ready to move in – it was that cozy, the coffee that good, and the feeling of friends just waiting to be met made us love the place immediately. We were off to a good start.

Then, we headed to downtown Franklin that, in and of itself, is just so neat and up our alleys, it’s a wonder neither of us has moved there yet. Most of Main St. is locally owned stores that are a joy to wander through. I catch myself breathing contented sighs of appreciation as I look at the handmade pottery and jewelry, the artwork. Beautiful and unique home goods – furniture, lamps, shelves. You name it, it doesn’t look like it was just drop-shipped from Costco, made for the masses.

What we experienced was the character and charm of a small Southern town. From the cute stores to our favorite restaurant – Meridee’s Breadbasket – it all has a down-to Earth feel that you don’t get a lot of other places. Pair all of this with the company of one of your favorite people and it made for a cherished outing that was both rejuvenating and grounding.

When people do what they love and believe in, the energy is palpable. That’s what we got today. And that’s what I’m thankful for – the creativity and ingenuity of others, the risks they take to do what they love, and to share their gifts with the world. It’s what my mom and I are trying to do with Singing Heart Press (work that makes our hearts sing) and why I can deeply appreciate what it takes for others to live and work their creativity well.

I am thankful for all the artists out there who share themselves and their gifts with the world. The world is indeed a much richer, deeper, more vibrant place because of you.

Breathing Space

(Day Ten in my Month of Blessings)

Time to breathe and take in what’s going on around me, I got that today. I got to go for a long run, sit in my clean house (oh so clean, after my whirling dervish act this week-end getting ready for Sage’s birthday party), attend to domestic details, urge and motivate the contractor to get that darn bathroom wrapped up (two months and counting), grocery shop (without kids – so much easier and faster), walk a trail with my mom and kids (well, Lib sort of hobbled because her feet hurt . . . ), and have a quiet, leisurely dinner with my husband while our kids quietly played.

That never happens – the kids quietly playing thing. Oh yeah, and the leisurely dinner with my husband thing. But tonight, the stars aligned and as Taggart and Sage read and played in his room, we got to actually talk without distraction and then go on the deck and enjoy the wonderful meal Jeff had whipped up: tilapia with a cilantro-lemon-garlic sauce, black rice, and steamed broccoli. It was special in the most ordinary of ways – like the night unfolded exactly as I wish most nights would.

So I’ll take tonight. And I’ll hope for lots more like it. And today too – with time to spare, I feel like a quite sane, accomplished, proud mom and happy wife. That’s a great day. Like an answered prayer I didn’t know I’d made, the whole day happened without a lot of pushing or pulling on my part. Happily ever in the moment – that’s what I wrote to Jeff on our one-year anniversary. And that’s what I strive for every day. Some days are just better than others. This was one of those perfect – happily ever in the moment – days.

Nowhere Else Than Here

(Day Nine in my Month of Blessings)


I would be remiss if I did mention somewhere in all of my many blessings how tremendously grateful I am to be an American. It may sound like a cliché but it is true and needs to be acknowledged.

I am not one to get into a political debate and I won’t do that now, but even in light of the many challenges our government currently faces, I would rather be nowhere else than here. I can choose where I live, what I do for a living, whom I marry, what my spiritual beliefs are. Not to mention the fact that - right now, as I type - there are men and women out there fighting for my freedom and to make the world a better and safer place to live.

Because I am an American and that is all I know – other than brief travels to visit other countries - I am often ignorant to a lot of what goes on in other parts of the world. And frankly, sometimes it is extremely hard to consider the circumstances others are facing. Watching Slumdog Millionaire was about as close as I got in the last year and that was only at my brother’s urging (I was ready to kill him for making me go see it ten minutes into the darn thing).

It’s just hard to know anything other than what I am – American. But in the brief glints and glimmers of other realities I perceive out there in this big, wide world, I am always glad to be where I am and to be able to make the choices I make every day. I have a wonderful life, in a beautiful country, that affords me much. I am truly blessed.

Lovely Little Details

(Day Eight in my Month of Blessings)

I didn’t go to church today but I wish I had. I needed it - the spiritual lift I get from the music and the message. There is a synergy when I am surrounded by like-minded people, people who are hopeful and optimistic, who let love and an open heart lead the way, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, good will follow.

An old friend and I reconnected recently over e-mail and he shared that he is an atheist. This is something I just can’t get my head around. I look around and see so much beauty and goodness and cannot help but believe a greater power or energy brings that all into being. Things of such beauty and perfection – a golden-pink sunset, a vibrant reddish-orange poppy, the innocent smile of a small child – in my heart and mind these occurrences are so much more than mere happenstance. They are God’s daily affirmations to us of a loving, nurturing presence that cannot be dismissed.

We see the tiniest bit of grass growing up through a sidewalk crack and may not even notice it. But that piece of grass also has an urge to grow and be known. I think that is how God works. He (She/It) puts all these little lovely details in front of us and our job is simply to notice and appreciate them. And if we don’t, then I guess it would be easier not to believe.

But I do believe. And, I’m thankful for that. I’d have a rough time navigating life – and especially parenthood – were it not for a belief in something much larger than myself but also of myself. My faith is not conventional or unilateral but it is round and strong and anchored in love. It is big enough to know my way is not the only right way; it’s simply the right way for me. It believes in the wisdom of many religions and teachers and solely seeks to love, understand, and connect.

There is a quote I love by Abe Lincoln, “I cannot conceive how a man can look unto the heavens and say that there is no God.” I agree with Abe. I look up at the vast night sky - waning moon in the distance, stars beginning to brighten - and I feel something so much greater, yet a part of me, at work. It makes my heart glad.

And so it is.

Sagie Lou

(Day Seven in my Month of Blessings)

Three years ago today, Catherine Sage Patterson came into our world. It took years for me to consider a second child but I cannot imagine our lives without Sage in it. Many people ask, “Is it harder with your second?” And I can honestly tell them no. It’s easier – she balances us. We’re even now –dad and son, mother and daughter – and she and Taggart have each other. To laugh and play, tease and antagonize. For better or worse, we’re in it for the long haul.

Sage is sensitive and sweet, gentle and affectionate. She can also pitch a fit that might just break glass one of these days and turn the tears on at the drop of a hat. She’s known to go around the house repeating “You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” But saying something and believing it are two different things. Because, she can scream and cry so loudly – and over the littlest thing – that I’ll think she has severed a limb. I race from wherever I am, frantic to understand why she is crying so hard, and her answer might be something like, “Taggart shut him door and locked it!” or “I bumped my toe!”

Minutes later, sometimes seconds and sometimes hours, she’s back. My sweet girl – like the angel of peace has settled its wings over her and blessed her – and she comes into her own once again. She’ll say, “Mom?” And to my “Yes, Sage?” I hear her tell me “I love you.” And all is well in my world. Better than well, it’s perfect. I am so glad she’s here - that she’s part of me - and that I, am part of her. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Comforts of Home

(Day Six in my Month of Blessings)

We are so blessed to have a roof over our heads, a home to call our own. Warm and somewhat charming in a 1960’s ranch-kind-of-way, we moved into this house seven and a half years ago when I was nine months pregnant with Taggart. It holds so many memories for us in that relatively short period of time: Taggart’s birth, the completion of my doctorate and the resounding party we had to celebrate that major feat, a basement renovation, the birth of Sage, the death of Holly (our dog), and life continues to go on and on.

My husband Jeff has been out of town all week – in California for a workshop on Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People (how jealous was I???) – and I scurry around before his arrival home trying to make it look like a relatively effortless week. Dishes done, beds made, dishwasher going, and laundry underway, I’m a picture of productivity. And in just about every way, it’s gone without a hitch. The kids have gone to bed smoothly, we’ve eaten some home-cooked meals, and other than running out of gas last night, I think I’ve pulled off the week with flying colors.

Now, the beds did not get made every morning (but I feel so much better when they do!), the contractor did not finish our master bath renovation by today as we’d planned, and we did not eat a vegetable every night (but two out of three ain’t bad!). Given those setbacks, all in all, it’s been a good week.

That does not take away from the fact that when Jeff is out of town, we do really miss him. It’s a bit of “when the cat’s away, the mice will play” but I think we’d both be quick to agree that at our best, we balance each other and that’s what makes us work pretty darn well most of the time. The kids feel his absence - Sage in particular. She does love her daddy – and told us regularly about missing him and how he was busy trying to find Mickey Mouse out in California so that they – meaning Daddy and Mickey - could call Sage and talk to her . . . yes, Daddy was busy, very busy . . .

But he’s home tonight – just a couple hours ago – and he put Sage to bed without even a peep for her mama to come rub her back and her tummy and get her water and tell her a story . . . feelin’ sleepy yet? (I am . . . surprise, surprise.) As we speak, Jeff is putting together a bike for Sage’s third birthday tomorrow. Did I mention I'm glad he's home???

I read a great quote the other day by Mother Teresa:
I think it is very important for us . . . to put understanding love into action. Where? In the family first and then for others. We must not neglect our homes and go out before we have started inside and begin with ourselves first. Then, because we have practiced that, we are able to give to others.

I am so thankful for my family – for my husband and my kids. And, I need to do a better job of consistently modeling this loving kindness and spirit of appreciation at home before zipping out into the world to spread the love. My husband and kids deserve it – getting the best of me. The rest of the world – well, you’ll just have to wait. I’m busy right now but I’ll get back with you as soon as I can.

Good Neighbors

(Day Five in my Month of Blessings)

Enough cannot be said about what it means to have good neighbors. And I don’t mean the kind that simply don’t bother you or keep their yards up. I’m talking about the kind that remember your kids’ birthdays, bring your favorite donuts over on an early Sunday morning, and who make you feel safe and looked after when your husband is away on business.

I honestly never knew what having good neighbors was like until I met the Brocks. I have often joked that I would have paid even more for our house had I known how lucky we would be in the neighbor department. If they can help, they will. And, you know you can count on them. Caring and considerate, with one of the best tool collections in all of Nashville to boot, they have helped us time and time again.

That’s why tonight, when I was coming home from a meeting and ran out of gas, it was my neighbors I called. Husband out of town, mom home watching kids (me with both car seats), what else was a girl to do but call someone she knew she could count on?

Within thirty minutes two trucks pulled up – father and son – one with flashing lights (ha-ha, did we have to bring more attention to my slip of inattention . . . ?). They both jumped out to assist me and to make sure it was not more than a faulty gas gauge. (It always says it’s full so I use my trip odometer to track my mileage. Little did I know my kids had pushed the button so I was looking at the wrong mileage all week!) So, after funneling five gallons of gas into my truck, and with my promise of baked goods and good karma coming their way, I confidently headed for home.

What could have been really, really bad ended up being nothing more than a bump in the road – thanks to the care and concern of neighbors I feel fortunate enough to call friends.

A Chance Meeting

(Day Four in my Month of Blessings)

I am endlessly amazed at the feats of the human body. Our capabilities for movement and endurance, grace and stress. I was out running today – another absolutely beautiful fall Tennessee day – and was just so darn thankful for my health. My ability to move. To run through the neighborhood. To breathe easily (well, relatively speaking, I was running up a hill at the time).

I passed two distinctly separate things that gave me pause for thought and the motivation to run even better. The first was a coyote standing in the road – looking at me. I had seen this same coyote earlier today and it seemed a little eerie to bump into him twice in one day – and for him not to be more skittish. As I was running, I thought, “Great the thing is probably rabid and it’s going to come attack me – that’s all I need!” It was bad enough when I got hit by a car while I was running and had to explain that one again and again but to also get attacked by a coyote – not possible in this lifetime. I ran faster up that hill. I thanked God for His presence and my safety and while I was at it, I shot the coyote a few positive thoughts too – hope you’re well, hope you find you’re way home, hope you’re not hungry for a 39 year-old mother of two . . .

And then, as I almost reached the top of the hill, I saw an older woman coming down her driveway with a wheeled walker, a companion by her side for support. As I smiled at them and said hello and they looked at me, I wondered if she envied me my run. I stood up a little straighter, picked up my pace a bit (noticeable to perhaps only me because I was nearing the top of the big hill), and ignored the side ache that I’m almost sure was from the two mini-Mounds bars I snuck out of Taggart’s Halloween candy. What I knew was that I was able and this woman in the walker was not. It made me thankful.

Thankful for my body – imperfections and all. Thankful for the body that on any given day, I can find something wrong with, but that serves me better than well and affords me so many opportunities: to run in the warm afternoon sunshine, to jump with my kids on the trampoline in the backyard, to breathe easily and deeply, to perceive deeply and assuredly with all five of my senses, to grow and birth two babies . . .

From a lifetime of battling a body image war, I could spend a lot of time recounting what I wish was different. But today, I am throwing up a hallelujah for what is: me – whole, healthy, vibrant, and strong - dreaming of a movement-filled future for a woman with a walker whom I do not even know. Not to mention a record-breaking time on my three-mile loop . . . thanks to some coyote I think I’ll call Chance.

Coming Home

(Day Three in my Month of Blessings)

Sleeping kids? No, I’ll dig deeper tonight (but God, I’ll take the sleeping kids, so don’t think I’m being ungrateful . . . very, very grateful . . .).

Tonight I am most thankful for old friends. I spoke with two of my oldest friends today and connecting with people I have known my whole life is life-affirming in a way so many things are not these days. In this day and age where speed and convenience and busy-ness constantly overwhelm and drain me, talking to old friends feeds me – the more we talk, the more I want to share. Like making bread and allowing the dough to rise in a warm spot and then baking it in the oven, these friendships bolster and nourish me in a way convenient friendships and store-bought white bread never will. They take time, they have a history, they are worth waiting for, and are always there to come home to.

So, Krystal Stauffer (Nagorski!) and Terri Lynn Wilder, know you are loved and blessed. You are part of my tribe. You are my people. You are home to me. Thank you.

Sweet Sleep

(Day Two in my Month of Blessings)

(Say it quickly. Say it like you mean it. Say it before your weariness dilutes the memory of what was the very best of your day . . .) The very best of my day today, what I am most thankful for was when I awakened at 5:20 a.m. on my own accord. No “Maaamaaa!” at 2:20 a.m. or 3:05 a.m. or 4:12 a.m. A full night of uninterrupted sleep and an awakening that was solely mine – that happens so rarely in my life that I almost don’t recognize my fully recharged self.

Sleep. Sweet sleep. Who knew how coveted it would become when parenthood called? Who knew just how unbecoming sleep deprivation could be?

So as I work to combat that harrowing and unhealthy demon, I find myself knocking loudly on Sweet Sleep’s door. Hoping she’ll answer and that Sage will mind her. As I close my eyes and begin to slow my mind down, a favorite bedtime prayer that my Grandma Mona used to recite with us as children comes to me: “Jesus tender, shepherd hear me. Bless thy little lamb tonight. Through the darkness be down near me; keep me safe ‘til morning light. All this day thy hand has led me and I thank thee for thy care. Thou hast warmed and clothed and fed me, listen to my evening prayers . . .”

I’m thankful too for the gentle memory of my Grandma Mona (Lillian Taggart) – I miss her loyalty, unconditional love, and sense of humor. She was one of a kind. She gave a lot and she expected a lot. She helped shape me and make me who I am. She was strong-willed and tender and she loved deeply and in her own way. May she know how much she’s missed and how thankful I am for her abiding presence in my life.

The Art of Giving Thanks

(Day One in my Month of Blessings)

I wrote the following poem as one of Singing Heart Press’ cards for the holiday season. I thought it was an appropriate opening to my month of thanks giving.

The Art of Giving Thanks

Count your blessings.
Illuminate the good in your life.
Find ways to praise each day.
Acknowledge spirit’s presence.

Forgive past hurts.
Let others know they are in your heart.
Breathe out old energy.
Breathe in love.

Open your heart.
Quiet the chatter.
Notice the details.
Give grace a resting spot in you.

Smile at a stranger.
Compliment freely.
Reach out to others.
Conduct random acts of kindness.

Share your gifts with the world.
Be the kind of person you most cherish;
Tell that person how much you cherish them.
Be authentically you.

I believe Thanks-giving should be a state of mind and not just a once a year observance. I try to cultivate ways of saying “thank you” to myself, others, the world, God, the sun, the trees - beauty wherever I find it - every day. If not, I feel the weight of an ungrateful heart and it’s as heavy as any burden – real or imagined. I want to notice and be grateful.


Today it was an absolutely perfect fall day: cool but sunny, with a crisp cornflower blue sky and the smell of fallen leaves in the air; an invigorating run with Taggart beside me on his bike; a spiritual pep talk at church with my mom; a renewed commitment to my writing. The first day of November was a perfect, ordinary fall day. I am so very blessed.

The Grinch Who Stole Halloween

I am that person who has never liked Halloween. And I still don’t really get it. I don’t like scary things or cheap, plastic spiders, I’m not a huge candy fan, and I have always hated wearing costumes (ugh!). But since I have a seven and almost three year-old, I was out there with the best of them tonight, and as long as there’s no pressure to dress up, I’m good. In fact, it was really fun. The kids made it so.

Sage had three costume options – a doctor, a ladybug, and a giraffe – all of which have seen some face time over the last couple weeks. Alas, tonight the giraffe won out – it was warm and it was easy. Taggart wanted to be something scary – seriously scary. A bit harder to resolve since he’s seven and in my eyes seven isn’t quite old enough to be really scary, we settled for an “escaped convict” costume we found on-line. A compromise of sorts, it was still pretty creepy.

So there we were, out on the town and we go to this great little neighborhood a few minutes from our house. They essentially close the roads, everyone is out in their yards and in the streets, and decorations are as over-the-top as I’ve seen. These people LOVE Halloween. And I’m glad. Because I don’t but I’m happy to come share in their fun and to have my kids share in other people’s love for the holiday I could do without.

But the best part, truly, is seeing the excitement in my kids as Taggart sprints from one house to the next and Sage giggles and says, “Mama, I didn’t know puppies could dress up!” And yes they could – we saw an Oscar Mayer wiener dog, a bumblebee, and a witch. Sage also grabbed my hand and said in a very grown-up way, “Mom? Don’t you just love all the colors of the leaves?” Yes, the innocence and wonder of the holiday, I’ll keep . . .

It was in contemplating Halloween’s meaning and trying to reconcile how my brother’s girlfriend Maria swears that to her it’s better than her birthday or Christmas, that I got clear on my own favorite holiday. And, lucky for me, it’s right around the corner.

Thanksgiving has become the holiday I cherish most. The symbolism of giving thanks for all of our blessings and sharing that thanks giving with the people I love is what has become most important to me. The true meaning of so many holidays has gotten lost in the materialistic shuffle of consumer America but Thanksgiving has done well to hold its own. This makes me happy.

And, as a way to honor Thanksgiving – and to stay focused on what truly matters – I am committing to posting to my blog a detail each day for which I am thankful. My blessings are bountiful – big and small. And even when I feel too tired or small or unappreciative, they are there. And I want to magnify them. A month of blessings, if you will. Please join me if you’d like – add to my posts as you see fit. Perhaps we can create a garden of blessings together - a patchwork of posts where we highlight what is precious to us, grow in our appreciation of each other’s gifts, and remind each other of how connected we all really are.

The Healing Hurt

Down I fall
A simple slip
Skinned knee anew
A pain unmet

A tear, a drop
A sadness rains
A heavy heart
Left there to lay

Unopen, unraveled
Unhinged, undone
A crack divides
The healing hurt

To be lifted
Picked up
Aloft again
Steady as the rain

Hinged open
By light
And truth be told
Love will set me free

My love will set me free.

Lady Tired

I stole away the other day to a place I normally avoid at all costs: Opry Mills Outlet Mall. Mega-big, it’s a shop-a-holic’s fall-off-the-wagon binge. For me, it equates to too much stuff, too many people, and too many fluorescent lights; it’s a generic kind of place I feel bad about patronizing. But I have found one small thing this place has to offer that I can find nowhere else in Nashville . . . cheap, convenient, spur of the moment self-care in the form of chair massage.

Yep. That’s what I went for. And that’s why I’ll go again. The Asian guys at the backrub kiosk are pretty darn good at working out double knots and re-aligning kinks. And I’ve felt like I’ve needed some back work for about four months now. But between the havoc the economy is playing on my husband’s psyche and the fact that we are re-doing our master bath, my penance has been to forgo pedicures and massages.

Luckily, it’s penance with an end in sight because I really miss those forms of self-care. My husband might think that it’s just a hormonal excuse for pampering but to me, they are things that not only feel good but make me feel good about myself; I have made myself a priority for that hour, I get to relax, and I come out feeling more centered. In my book, that’s a win-win for everyone.

So there I was, confidently walking into Opry Mills and heading straight for the massage kiosk. And there were three Asian guys – all of whom were working on others so I wandered the mall for fifteen minutes or so and then checked back. A lean, younger looking Asian man said, “Lady, you want?” and pointed to a chair. I think I surprised him when I nodded yes and started to take my seat. He grabbed a laminated price list and asked “Lady want which one?” I pointed to the $30/35 minute one and we were off.

Now, when you want convenience, you don’t get to be picky. So as this guy started, I knew right away that it would be sufficient but not great. I also knew that I needed my back worked on because as he pushed certain muscles in my upper middle back, I could feel the pull at the front of my throat. That’s usually a sure sign that I’ve waited too long. He would say to me periodically, “O.K. Lady?” To which I’d grunt, “Fine” or “Uh-hmmm”. A few times, he did actually hurt me – which didn’t damage me long-term but did make me call him a few names under my breath.

And then, about half way through, I felt my whole body actually relax. Perhaps he’d loosened me up or perhaps I’d simply let go, whatever the reason, he felt it too. He said, “Ohhh, Lady tired.” And I’m chuckling to myself, thinking, “You have no idea guy. No idea.” Lady is tired. My kids aren’t sleeping well, they are waking me up 2-3 times a night, I’m juggling teaching at Vanderbilt, Singing Heart Press, I’m overseeing a bathroom renovation, trying to be a great mom, and a good wife. I’m caretaker to my mom’s condo which has entailed water leaks and a really mean, mad neighbor below, a broken fridge with a rotten damn butternut squash left in it since May (!), and the purchase and delivery of a new mattress and bed. Yea, dude, Lady tired. Lady need to be here. Lady may come ‘gain next week.

He calls me Lady. I call him names. Looks like a match made in heaven. Or at least a match made in a moment that met both our needs. A match my husband doesn’t – and won’t – even know about if it’s up to me. Hey, there could be worse ways to cheat and much worse people with whom to cheat. In this case, what he knows won’t hurt him. And my confession’s here if he chooses to read this. If he does, I might just owe him $35 – it’s a price I’m willing to pay.

Commit to Something

I went to my son’s school’s Home and School Association meeting earlier this week - the first one I’ve attended in his two plus years at his lovely little parochial school. It surprises me that it has taken me this long to get there. For one, I have three degrees in education so you’d think it would be a no brainer for me to be an attentive and involved parent in the Home and School Association. But the other even bigger thing is that we’ve made a commitment to this school and to our son’s education. We pay for him to attend. And the least I can do is actively participate and be involved.

Truly committing to things you want and believe in takes more than just time or desire; it often takes courage. Because sometimes we just don’t know what’s on the other side of a commitment. Take me for example – staying slightly removed from any major volunteer roles at my son’s school. I am afraid I won’t have the time, that it will take me away from my family, that I will be asked to do more than I willingly want to give.

Sometimes a commitment gives us a goal and some structure. And sometimes, this is exactly what we need. A plan, something to hold onto, something to work toward that lives in the future. Something we can see and count on.

I came up with such a plan recently. Running a marathon has always seemed to live somewhere in my future. And in recent months I’ve come to the conclusion that it would be a great way to usher in my fortieth year. I’m hesitant to totally commit for many reasons but I think if I had a partner I might be more motivated to see it through. Someone to both help me and hold me accountable.

So here’s my lifelong friend Terri navigating her recent losses and working through her grief . . . and I’m thinking this could be good for both of us. The idea is fanned and a flame ignites in me – I feel my convictions growing stronger. Of course I’ve got to try and co-opt her into my plan (I was always good at this – her dad thought I was the brains behind our many schemes but he never gave her enough “credit”: she gave me the energy and motivation for many a well-laid plan).

I tell anyone who is grieving that physical activity – particularly walking or running – is one of the best ways to help yourself when you are sad and muddling through. I keep telling Terri she needs to walk or run – that this will strengthen her heart, quiet her mind, nourish her soul. The on-going banter goes something like this in my almost daily check-ins. “Get your new running shoes yet?” Her latest response was, “Meaghan. I’m depressed! I don’t want to get out of bed. No I haven’t gotten my shoes yet.” “O.K,” I answered, “but when you do I want to tell you about an idea I have. Nothing you need to worry about now but in a month or two we’ll talk more . . . “

I knew she’d need to know more. “What?” she says. “Well, I think we should start training together – when you’re ready of course.” “Training like how?” she asks. “You mean like a mile a day?” “Yeah,” I affirm, “maybe we’ll start with a mile a day and then move to two miles a day in the second week, three miles a day in the third week . . . until . . . we’re ready for a marathon. I think we should run a marathon together.” I put it out there, let it hang for a second and sink in.

“Marathon? Are you kidding? How long is a marathon? When is this marathon?” she asks. I’m feeling lucky – she sounds intrigued . . . “Well, we could do the Country Music Marathon in Nashville in April – it’s 26.2 miles . . ." She says, “You mean we’d run 13.1 each?” And like that, I see our plan taking shape.

“Yes, that’s perfect! We could do the half-marathon in April. And then, if we feel good and up to it, we could do the full marathon in Chicago in October. What do you think?” I ask hopefully. And she says slowly, “I don’t know . . . “

But I think I’ve got her. And I think she needs this. I know I do. I need the connection with her. I need her to motivate me. She needs something life-affirming. The running will be good for her and give her something beyond her losses to think about and work toward. Not to mention as we head into our fortieth year – together – that it will be good for our bodies, as well as our heads and hearts.

So there we have it – a commitment taking shape. My favorite poet Rumi has a line in one of his poems that I love: “Start a huge, foolish, project, like Noah.” Because you just never know what good lies on the other side of your commitments. Here’s to huge, foolish projects – those we dream and those we live. And especially those we commit to. It’s easy really: commit to something, anything. Simply commit. And then put one foot in front of the other and walk (or run) into your dream.