NO LUCK AT ALL

LASDI ©

Photo credit HERE

When I was about seven years old, I was lying in the grass and clover at my grandparents’ house on a beautiful sunny day, looking up at the blue sky and making out what the clouds looked like with my imagination.  I could smell the strong scent of fresh tomatoes on the vine near their shed behind me and felt the slightest breeze washing over me as I lay there.  I lived in the city in quite a rough place, so any time I had the chance to visit them, it was a real treat. 

Though I was young, I was able to give pause and reflection to my surroundings and really appreciated being present in that moment.  It was one of peace and quiet, which I was certainly not used to.  I remember it vividly even to this day. 

I turned slightly on my left side, and looked into the clover patch when by chance, a little lady bug caught my eye.  I was only a kid, but I knew that lady bugs were thought of as good luck.  This was back in the 70s, so I don’t quite remember what specific term I used in my head, but I know I thought spotting her was wonderful.  Or groovy?  Maybe cool.  Either way, in my head, good luck was upon me!

I was watching the lady bug move about when she stopped on one of the clovers.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! I blinked a few times, and sat up on my knees, but never removed my eyes from what I was sure I had spied.  I started to move the clover patch apart with my fingers as the pretty little beetle stuck her wings out from under her shell and took to the air.  But my eyes never wavered from the spot from which she had ascended.  I got closer and kept slowly moving the shamrocks back until I was almost completely nose-down to the ground. 

And there it was: A FOUR-LEAF CLOVER!

I was polarized.  I didn’t know what to do!  This precious stem had three normal leaves as we are used to seeing, and right out of the center was a smaller, more delicate leaf.  I was excited, but cautious.  I didn’t want to run to my grandparents and leave this tiny gem, for fear I would lose it forever.  I didn’t want to just go for it and pick it from the soil willy-nilly, for fear I would crush it in my excitement.  My heart was pounding out of my chest.

But wait!  First, I saw a lady bug, and now this?!?  I was quite a lucky girl!  So I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, all the while staring at this four-leaf clover.  As I reached down, I remember thinking that this shamrock with four petals had unimaginable power.  It WAS a symbol of luck after all, right?

I gently reached down with index finger and thumb and moved to pluck the stem as close to the ground as possible.  Up it came, and I couldn’t believe it.  Still keeping my eyes upon it, even as I held it securely, I stood it up to the sky I had been staring into earlier.  I put it into the palm of my hand and covered it with my other hand, so as not to allow the breeze to carry my new good-luck charm away.

I slowly walked it into the house and to my Grandmother.  Suppressing the urge to shriek to her what I had found, I calmly expressed my delight at the treasure I was harboring betwixt my palms.  With cynicism, she required a look.  I slowly opened up the sanctuary of my hands, smiling widely, knowing she would be so proud that her Granddaughter was now the luckiest girl in the world. 

To my pleasure, she ooed and awed and confirmed not only was that truly a four-leaf clover, but that it meant that luck was indeed, bestowed upon me.  She opened a plastic sandwich baggie and told me to place my clover into it and be ever-so-careful.  She boasted to my Grandfather, my aunts and uncle, and even to her neighbors, encouraging me to show them all the plastic baggie of wonder.

As I rode back to the city, my thoughts were filled with show-and-tell the next day at school.  I placed the luck-filled baggie gently under my pillow that night and woke up elated at my upcoming presentation that day, which I had rehearsed even in my dreams. 

In the auditorium that morning as the classes collected, I told everyone I saw, students and teachers alike.  They all stared in wonder, some taking the bag to get a closer look.  We walked to our respective classrooms, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for all the other students, as I was clearly luckier than any other, and my pride swelled.  And so did my head.

As I stood up in front of all the poor souls that didn’t share in my luck, the teacher suggested we pass around the plastic bag that held the clover, allowing them to see such wonderment for themselves.  Of course I obliged, knowing luck was with me, and I would receive the accolades of my fellow pupils for carrying such good fortune. 

I received the bag back to my own protection while finishing my presentation, stuck it in my desk, passed it around at lunch, tucked it in my backpack to take home.  I walked home with my head held high, feeling on top of the world.

When I got home, I removed the baggie from my backpack.  My heart sank.  I blinked quite a few times to make certain what I was seeing was real.  And it was real.  Much more real than the meek possibility of luck being genuine.  There it was, that four-leaf clover, dissected from all the hands of astonishment, in five separate pieces.  I wondered how it could be!  If the Loch Ness Monster could live for centuries as a good luck symbol, why couldn’t this rarity do the same?

I learned a great lesson that day, even as a child.  I learned that life is intricate and delicate, from lady bugs to four-leaf clovers.  From warm, breezy days, to the smell of tomatoes on the vine.  I learned that we seek and long for tangible explanations to the things we believe bring about good fortune or even bad fortune with our own imaginations.  I learned that we make decisions with free will, and that those decisions can either lead to growth in our lives, or destruction.

I still kept the bag o’clover for days after its inherent demise, but never stopped thinking about how I had made the decision to pluck it, or even allow everyone to put their hands on it, never considering what the consequences could be.  I have continued to learn from that decision, knowing that the decisions we make are our own.  Whether it be to improve our minds, keep our bodies healthy, or make a spiritual decision that could change our eternal life, we get to make the decisions. 

I learned that it’s about living in the present moment while learning from our past and having hope for the future.  We are the clover in the baggie.  No matter what we are surrounded with in this world, the wonderment lies in what happens when we are plucked from here. 

I learned that more important and athentic than luck is faith, family, and the blessings that surround us, even in hard times. 

Most of all, I learned that if it weren’t for the desperate thought of luck, there’d be no luck at all.   

JUNE BUG

©Artwork by: Kiren Garcia of The Captivated Canvas© (copy or usage prohibited)

Have you ever seen a firefly? Or perhaps you know it as a lightning bug. They are spectacular. They are kind of a crazy creation, in my opinion. And perhaps that’s the opinion of others, as well. Their bodies light up from deep inside and they have their own season in life. They don’t sting, and they don’t bite. They don’t eat crops or bother anyone’s garden.

There is even a phenomenon in Southeast Asia, as well as in The Great Smokey Mountains in Tennessee in June when they actually synchronize their flashes!

To their credit, their beautiful light actually releases a dangerous toxin that makes them taste bitter to predators or those species brave enough to attack their brilliance and go for a taste. The defensive steroid they contain makes them unappealing once attacked, which is ironic because their magnificent shine is what makes them tempting in the first place.

There are some sad facts pertaining to these peculiar beetles. They are on the decline. Mostly because of us humans. Yep. Not only capturing them in jars until their lights dim and their short-lived lives are even shorter, but also because we are tearing down their habitats, building our own.

ALL THEY WANT TO DO IS SHINE THEIR LIGHT.

Let me be clear: THIS IS NOT A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT REGARDING LIGHTNING BUGS. Rather, this is a story about how these creatures compare to us - primal nature versus human nature.

Every June, I think of my childhood in New York where fireflies were rare, but they were there. And yes, not knowing any better and being a kid from the projects who rarely got to capture nature, I “captured nature.” Every June I think of my time here in Texas out in the dessert country where they abound and quite frankly light up the sky bigger and better than the stars. Every June, I wonder where they are as I sit in my darling little suburbia, keeping the memory of their wonder very wistfully in my heart.

I recently tried to explain lightning bugs to The Grittles. They are 6, 4, and 3 months, and none of them have ever really seen one, minus on the youtube, of course. I started wondering where the insects have gone and asked The Googla if they are even still around. “They are,” said Google Assistant, “but are quickly vanishing and will one day only be considered folklore.”

I felt a little forlorn for my winged-and-lighted friends. Or maybe it was a self-imposed sadness based entirely on my selfish desire to recapture my youth. As I sat pondering the idea in its entirety, I found myself comparing the life of the firefly to my very own.

I’m kind of a crazy creation, in my opinion. And perhaps the opinion of others, as well. I definitely find myself lighting up from deep inside with joy from my faith, even in some of the darkest times. I know all about seasons in life, believe me. I have seen good times, tough times, scary times, angry times, sad times, and happy times. Though I know those times all depend on circumstances, innate joy continues to be a light in my heart and in my soul.

I have seen the seasons of friends that come and go, regardless of the reasons why. I have seen the seasons of sickness and health, no matter the eventual outcome. I have seen seasons of life, and I have seen seasons of death. Whatever the case, I know that is my lot in time, and my season in life.

I don’t sting, and I don’t bite. You’re welcome. I have taken some beatings in life, albeit not just physical. I have been imprisoned in toxic relationships, held captive by unkindness, and trapped by the exploitation of those in the position of power or authority.

I have never bothered the crops of anyone else’s life intentionally, nor can I say I’ve ever eaten from someone else’s garden without invitation.

Though I certainly don’t fancy myself a phenomenon of any sort, I definitely try to stay in synch with those closest in my life, like The Fam. #WeStandUnited. Whatever flashes are going on in any of The Kiddos’ and Grittles’ lives, as well as The Hubster’s, I try to make certain we are all doing our best to be together, supportive, and encouraging.

I, too, have suffered at the hands of predators or those brave enough to attempt to put out this little light of mine, and to my credit - though I don’t sting or bite - I can definitely emit a defense that can be viewed as unappealing once the attack has begun. The poignancy of that never ceases to amaze me, since it is my magnificent shine that made me attractive in the first place.

I have felt the tearing down of the habitat of my very emotions, my heart, from those wishing to only build up themselves.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS SHINE MY LIGHT.

I exist. I exist now. I am presently here, but I know in a hundred years anything I have said or done has the possibility of only being folklore, if even that. While I’m here I can shine the light inside me to as many people as possible, no matter my lot in time, or how short my season here will be. At the very least, I can leave a legacy that will shine on through those who have received it, and in turn, they shine it onto others as well.

Even as I write this, I am considering going somewhere in June that I know those bugs will be doing what they were designed to do. I want to see them while they still exist. I won’t imprison them in a jar or try to clutch them in my hand. I will simply capture it in my memory and hold it in my heart.

NO MATTER THE SEASON, IF YOU CARRY LIGHT INSIDE YOUR HEART, LET IT SHINE.

THE "OTHER JANUARY"

photo credit HERE

The first month of the calendar year always seems to draw reflection and represent new beginnings for all, and rightfully so. Whether you believe in making New Year’s resolutions, starting a new diet, or creating #goals or not, there is something quite inspiring about the month of January.

February through August, we are all fighting to either keep those resolutions, stay on our new diet, find ways to meet those goals, or have given up altogether. We fight the cold weather and the colds that go along with it; battle the heat of the summer and greet the hay fever blues.

And then it happens. Every single year it happens. Sweet September. The remarkable month of do-over, and the onset of Autumn. Oh, I know for most people it’s just another month, but for The Fam and me, this is the “other January”.

It is the month of controversy most certainly! This is the month people start to ask, “how early is too early to put up fall decorations?” or “we’re starting pumpkin spice everything already?” But not for us. Oh noooooo. We already know the answers to those intolerable questions! It’s NEVER too early, and pumpkin spice everything should be year-round!

September is the beginning of the best season in my family! We know Fall Family Day awaits; that Thanksgiving - THE most important holiday for us - is right around the corner; that the RenFest will be there to greet us as we enter the gates, ready to embark upon imagination and excitement in yet another day we assemble as a crest.

September is the forgiving month of old resolutions to fresh perspective! Gone are all the grumblings of yesteryear, and present is the arrival of seasonal smiles and joy in our surroundings. Grill marks change to roasted hues with intense aroma filling the house. Brights, be gone! It’s shades of gold and warm tones coming our way! Scarves of plaid and wide-brimmed hats for all, thank you very much! In-coming are the sights and sounds of hayrides, pumpkin patches, warm breezes, and giving thanks! Celebration for what’s to come begins to rise up in our very souls!

Yes, like a woman-with-child we wait for the ninth month to arrive, knowing full well it will give birth to our seasonal baby. We treat it intentionally, and with tender-loving-care. We collaborate our design for the remaining months of the calendar year as though our lives depend on it.

Up we go into the attic, and down comes the perennial leaves and plastic gourds. Sure, October may mean a skeleton or two coming out of the closet, but that is in accordance with what we have already displayed for our celebration of what is essentially our New Year!

September is crucial! It is essentially the month that starts the traverse to December, which harbors its own celebration. Without September, we would have no gracious entrance into Autumm. We would crash over into October from August without any finesse, like a belly flop into an empty pool.

September also gives us pause. It is a time of reflection and insight. Like a fall harvest, it is when we feel the most growth, individually and as a family. It is when we cultivate our connection and build our bond with intense purpose. It is the sound of the great love we share for one another at another octave.

Whatever time of year, be sure to create a season for your own growth and intention so that you appreciate the blessings you’re surrounded with. For us, that’s September.

We are ever-so-grateful this month comes around annually. It is “the other January”, but with a bigger and better expression and nostalgia. It is a newer beginning.

Yes. September holds the key that unlocks the door to one of the greatest years of our lives. Every year.

NO THANKS NECESSARY

LASDI© (photo by The Hubster, Adrian Garcia)

Thanksgiving has become a sacred holiday for my family.  More and more every year, it grows into something that means more and more to us every year.

We are careful not to let it be the focus, though.  What I mean is, we don't make it our golden calf.  We don't worship the holiday itself.  But as we get older and become wiser through life experiences, we definitely don't take lightly a day set aside for family, peace, comfort, love, and giving thanks.  

It's been quite a year.  It's been filled with losses and heartaches, struggles and valleys with (seemingly) no visible end in sight.  So what in the world would we be giving thanks for?  Well I know this is going to sound strange, but we will be giving thanks for the losses, the heartaches, the struggles, and the valleys.  Because those are the things that make us value what we have right in front of us that we may often take for granted.

Thanksgiving is such a lovely day, filled with family, friends, decorations, lights, incredible smells, and of course, a cornucopia of delicious food.  But more than that to us, it means loved ones, community, vivid color, illumination, a delight to the dulled senses, and provision.  We are surrounded by reminders of what otherwise might be forgotten: that we have so much to be thankful for.

Some of the more sensible and practical people reading this may be a tad bit cynical, finding it hard to believe that we give thanks for hard times, or dark circumstances.  I don't blame you.  I question it myself sometimes, as I am only human, after all.  I mean, how could a weary soul on it's knees be brought to sturdy feet when there are so many things trying to hold it down?  How can a person not just survive, but even thrive through relentless battles?  How can a heart that aches from breaking continue to beat so strongly, even though more pieces of it fall away?  

With the faith that there is more to this one life we've been given, and the knowledge that the best is yet to come.  With the fortitude of growth through each event or occurrence.  With the magnitude of knowing there is joy to be found, even in the worst places. I've been proclaiming all year that happiness is fleeting; that it all depends on the circumstances.  If then, that is the case, I am NOT a happy camper.  But joy comes when you make peace with who you are and why you are; it is an attitude of the heart. 

In which case, I AM JOYFUL.

Does it make life harmonious and easy to get through?  Absolutely not.  It's not realistic to think so.  Should it give us great pause, though, to realize that even in the worst things we should give thanks?  You'd better believe it.  And I have hope you’ll receive it.

This Thanksgiving in particular, I will be taking mental notes of my surroundings. I will hug the people I love a little tighter, and I will breathe them in a little deeper.  I will chew a little slower and truly savor every delectable flavor. I will move with intention and show an abundance of love shamelessly.  And though I know what a hard year it's been, and that other hard times lie before me, I will seek and find the joy more than ever, and let it resonate with me the other 364 days of the year.  

I will do my very best to give thanks in all circumstances.  And I will pray for You Lovelies to be able to do the same.  No thanks necessary.

DANCE, AUNT FRANNIE PANTS

LASDI©

There is such a free feeling that dancing brings about.  It’s the closest thing to magic, really.  It doesn’t matter whether you’re a skilled ballerina or an “Elaine” from Seinfeld, there is something about dancing that makes the suppressed insecurities come out and fly away; it makes you gain a liberty and brings about a confidence you didn’t know you had.  It happens in an even stronger way when you look around the dance floor and see so many others riding that very same crazy dance train you’re on.

Maybe that’s why some people refuse to do it no matter what.  They are afraid people will see them unbutton their spirit and let go of their inhibitions, and that’s a very vulnerable place to be.

Aunt Frannie was a dancer.  I don’t mean she was some professional reality dance show contestant, or that she went around the house with her tap shoes on.  I mean she rode a crazy dance train in life that when she felt vulnerable or insecure about things, she would look around the floor and see the other dancers in her circle and make some pretty unique moves in order to feel stronger.

When we spin, we tend to get dizzy.  But there’s something about dancing so that when you twirl around and around, you’re living your truth.  Aunt Frannie could twirl like nobody’s business.  There was much twirl in that girl.

When we are furious about hard times, it can make us feel unglued or out of control.  Fury is an emotion that can make us shut down and give up.  Not Aunt Frannie.  Those things made her dance even harder until sweat was upon her brow.  You know why?  Because she knew that hard times require furious dancing.

“Wave your hands in the air, like you just don’t care.”  I love those lines of the song that seem to make everyone’s arms go up and their hands shimmy-and-shake.  You can almost see it in their eyes and smiles as their delight seems to increase while they do.  I’ve seen Aunt Frannie do it.  And it was extraordinary.

Trust me – that lady could do the Hokey Pokey and turn herself around, because to her, that’s what it was all about.

All of us know that life is unchoreographed.  It brings the unexpected.  That’s how Aunt Frannie danced, though each step she took gave the impression that they were carefully composed.  That’s because she was her own choreographer, and not one single wiggle was created without intention.

When we leap, we feel joy.  Aunt Frannie knew exactly where her heart leapt.  No bones about it, her family was her joy.  Her utterly devoted husband of 53 years; the children she raised with a truly organic love; the grandkids that had limitless affection from her; and the great grandchildren that made her dance leaps go as high as the stars.  Cousins, nieces, nephews and friends made her love leap outside the regular boundaries of  the dance floor.  She was very well aware of the joy siblings can bring about, though that never made her dance just like them.  Oh, no.  Aunt Frannie danced to her own tune. 

When she met The Hubster, Adrian, he asked what he should call her.  (The ‘Get Jiggy With It’ dance begins.)  She replied, “You can call me Aunt Frannie.” (a bit of a ‘Two-Step’ thrown in for fun)  After replying with a nodding understanding, (an old ‘Head Banger’ move from the way-back), Aunt Frannie looked up at Adrian and into his eyes (a deep expression of ‘The Tango’) and jokingly said, “Or call me whatever you want, as long as you know I wear the pants in this relationship.” (Dance Off Challenge!!), to which he answered, “Okay!  Aunt Frannie Pants it is!!” (Challenge. ACCEPTED!)

And then there was me.  I have always been honored to partner up with her in the dance of love and life, and ever-grateful that she made room on the dance floor for me when our song came on.  I learned quite a few moves from her, in fact.  Have you heard of Inspirational Dance?  She invented it just for me.

A real dancer has to fill their space with their own personality.  And that is just what Aunt Frannie did.  Much like music, she had the joy of movement and the heart of life.  So, make sure to dance and sing to the music in your own heart, and don’t let one note go without a little sway or one beat-of-the-drum go without dancing.  Let the rhythm help you find your joy, and leap!  Accept the challenge and DANCE.  Just like Aunt Frannie Pants.

Dance with the angels, Aunt Frannie Pants.  And one day, I hope to share the same dance floor again.

THE BEACH AND THE PIT

Photo by Adrian Garcia.  This image is subject to LASDI© by Life As She Does It. Please do not reuse without linking credit.

Every year somewhere around the 4th of July, The Hubster and I go camping on our Annual Beach Date Trip.  It's only one night, but it has become a tradition I look forward to so much, that when we are leaving the beach from one trip, I am already talking about the next one to come the following year.

I am a girl who thrives on tradition; the history of things excites me.  I can't explain it.  I'm the one who buys a beat-up torn-down table because it is that way.  I've had someone ask me as I made a purchase like that how I was going to refurbish it, to which I replied, "I'm not.  I absolutely love the cracks and weathered appeal.  It tells me all about it's character."  The person looked at me like I was mad, and it made me smile.

Building traditions is like that for me.  I believe it creates the legacy we live in the present and the one we leave behind.  I don't think anyone is going to remember things I said or did in 100 years, but perhaps I can build traditions in our family that continue to be passed along from generation to generation and that may make a difference both now and long after I'm gone.

It is crucial to part of that legacy that The Kiddos and Grittles (GRAND Littles) see The Hubster and I make time for one another; that we still date each other.  It is vital to the lifeline of their own marriages and relationships.  Hence, the Annual Beach Camping Date Trip!

It's pretty simple, really.  We take our tent, which we set up in the back of the truck instead of on the sandy beach.  There has to be a thermos of wine and two plastic wine glasses.  We take along hot dogs and tortillas to wrap them in - and don't forget the skewers to hold them over the fire!  

Ah, the fire.  It's essential to a successful night, and I mean ESSENTIAL.  We go around the beach collecting wood and shells to create a pit for the fire.  We roast those wieners, sip our wine, look up at the stars, and listen to the roar of the ocean waves (and maybe a little Enya).

We play verbal games that remind us of how rich beyond riches we are.  We play "What's the Top-Five Most-Beautiful Places We've Ever Been" game, and "Top Three Favorite Restaurants", or "Best Family Vacay Memories".  We talk about our wedding, which by no coincidence, took place on the beach.  We never let any sad or unhappy memories interfere with our date - we have enough of those during our regular-life days together!  #Reality

One of our favorite games is something we actually do on our regular days together, but this time with a twist.  On normal days at dinner together, whether we are by ourselves, with The Fam, or with friends, we play "The Pit and the Peak".  This game is where everyone goes around saying the worst part of their day first (The Pit), and then to end on a good note they must say the best part of their day (The Peak).  

Since no worst part of any day is allowed to be discussed on this date, we call it "The Beach and the Pit".  This is where we sit around that fire pit we built in the sand, and talk about all of the best parts of our marriage - the things one has said or done for the other in order to edify them; the times that stand out to us in a great and fond way.  Now sometimes things are repeated from the same game the year before, and that is more than okay.   And there are the new moments from the time we left the beach the year before to the present that we talk about.

It is so easy for we, as mere humans, to cling to the bad.  It is, in fact, easier to place any good on a forgotten shelf if something bad occurs.  We all do it, really.  But life is too short to allow that to happen, so I will fiercely fight for the memories of the happy things - the good parts - even if it means I fight fire with fire by sitting around one and forcing those memories to the surface.  It is the best medicine for those regular days that bring reality back into play.

Do you have beat-up torn-down memories in your own history that tend to make you feel like you need a refurbished life?  Do you allow them to make you feel cracked and weathered or know that it builds character in you and can create a good-and-long-remembered legacy you can leave behind?  Does it make you look back and feel like a mad person or make you smile?

Real life is not always beachy and full of fun and games - trust me, I know.  But it is definitely what you make of it and what you allow it to make of you.  Don't put all the good on a forgotten shelf.  And mark out those times to remember the peaks - even if it means you must fiercely fight to do so.  And in order to see you are rich beyond riches, let the fondest pit be the fire.

OH, CHRISTMAS TREE

LASDI©

Christmas is coming!  I love the Christmas season.  I don’t really have a standout favorite thing about it.  Well, that’s not true.  I LIVE for Countdown to Christmas on The Hallmark Channel.  But rather than have to decide what I like best about the holiday, I choose to like all of it equally: the decorations, the Christmas music, the lights; ALL of it!  But there are certain branches of Christmas that kindle special memories and spark a few flames in the heart.

We are definitely a family that stands united and that stands on tradition.  For us, Christmas starts the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  Every year we go pick out the perfect-not-perfect tree. When The Kiddos were Smalls, we went together as a family and it would take us hours to find the right tree.  Even though they all liked something different, we wouldn’t leave until we all agreed on one.  The Hubster and I would nearly always agree on the tree we liked, and of course, each Kiddo would choose a different one.  At that point, it was time for all of us to go to each tree everyone liked and “sell” the others as to why that would be the Christmas tree for the house. 

But no matter which one we ended up deciding upon, we knew what awaited us when we got home.  Christmas-tree-decorating-day meant The Hubster climbed into the attic and brought all the packed-up Christmas boxes down for us to deck the halls, and it also meant cinnamon popcorn and homemade eggnog.  We turned on Christmas music (the classic kind, of course) and away we would go.

Now that The Kiddos are Talls, they still hold that day as the day for putting up the tree and getting their ornaments up in their own homes.  And so, still, do we.  Now each year, The Hubster and I go and pick out our own tree knowing it’s a reminder of times gone by.  For the last few years the tradition has been for Aunt Lu to come with us and help us choose.  The three of us still do the walk-and-find.  My choice is not always what most people would want, though. 

When I go a-tree huntin’, the big winner is always one that stands up straight, because I believe we stand up straight when we’re confident about life.  We shake the tree, and if the needles fall off right away, it doesn’t get picked.  That means it’s not healthy enough to last, and I intentionally choose health for The Fam so that we can last and be together as long as we can.  To pull a tree out and see if it’s rounded all the way around or flat on one side, and that the trunk is large enough to be grounded into a tree stand, is a big deal.  My goal for my family and myself is to be sure we are grounded, and well-rounded in everything we do.  I especially like the ones that are a little imperfect; the ones that maybe have some sort of gaping hole or seem to have some branches that jut out further than the others.  I like the ones that are blemished in ways that show the flaw, though it may be a little hard to see.  Isn’t that how we are as mere humans?  We try so hard to look a certain way or stand out, knowing each one of us is imperfect on the inside, though it may just barely be enough for anyone to see.

Once we find the precise tree, we place vintage ornaments on it with the greatest care.  Each one gets unwrapped and hung in just the right place.  Now I know some of you have that ornament OCD The DAUGHTS talked about in her blog, The Untidy Tribe, but as for The Hubster and I, we just put them on the tree where we really believe they belong.  If that means a couple hang close to one another, then so be it.  Even with that, there is a parallel to what we feel for our family and community not just at Christmas, but every day – we want to hang close to one another, believing we are in the exact right place with the right timing for each season.

Christmas is coming!  How have you stood united with those you love?  What traditions have you kept or created to give a sense of who you are and the legacy you build to tell your story?  Do you embrace your imperfections, no matter how you decorate the outside?  How do YOU choose YOUR Christmas tree? 

“Oh, Christmas tree, how lovely are thy branches.”

The Perfect Blend

https://www.flickr.com/photos/rgarciasuarez74/4012174390/

When I met Adrian, it was clear we had similar "baggage". We both came from a not-so-amicable divorce, we both had children from that previous marriage, and we both were never going to get married again. (Ya see how that worked out, don't ya?)

These days, we live in a society of blended families. It's the norm, really. People never used to be as surprised to hear an older, married couple say they were celebrating their 25th, 40th, or 50th wedding anniversary. Nowadays, it's astonishing just to hear if someone hasn't been divorced at least once. And yep - I'm part of that society.

After we started seeing each other on a serious level (sounds so mature, doesn't it?), we knew that we weren't just seeing each other, but also each other's children. Then, when we got married, we knew we weren't just marrying each other, but becoming part of the parental units the children would share. I am a person of faith, and I can tell you that the moment I accepted Adrian's proposal, I prayed he would be an example of a man that would buy the truth and not sell it; gain wisdom, instruction, and understanding, and then deliver it to our children. I prayed with all my might he would put aside all judgment and generously share with the children his unconditional love he had for me, and that he would have a "Joseph-spirit", (Joseph, the step-father of Jesus, who, in my opinion was the greatest step-father who ever lived).

I prayed he would be the perfect father, and that together we would be the perfect parents.

Um, NO.

Though at the present time I am the richest woman in the world, it has not come without its trials, pitfalls, difficulties, and snags. The process has been less-than-perfect. There have been disagreements, arguments, knock-down-drag-outs, and moments we are less-than-proud of. We have seen illness, death, valleys, and psychiatrists. We have had seasons where we gained friends and family, but also lost friends and family. We have shared in drama, defeat, lost savings; had powerful, emotional lows, and scraped the bottom of life's barrel. And we did it all together.

Don't get me wrong, we have all - Adrian, me, AND the kids - worked at it with all our hearts, and the price of the success we share as a family unit came through that hard work and dedication. Because with all of those things, we have also seen grace, mercy, compassion, and triumph over illness. We have been taught endurance, grown in faith, strength, and perseverance, and learned to trust. We have celebrated the peaks, marriages, each other, life, and love. And we did it all together.

We have a beautiful family, and we are protective of that. We live a charmed life, always enjoying the things that most people don't see right in front of them, and we are joyful and thankful for that. But if it was all taken away from us tomorrow, we would remember that life is a big canvas and we threw all the paint on it we could; we would remember that we made the decision to be a family and commit ourselves to making it a success; we would remember that without the valleys there would be no peaks. We would remember that we were given the gift of being like a unique wine - the gift of being intricately perfected and blended.