Captured in the Moment

Lessons in the Stream of Life


Leave a comment

Hitting the mom jackpot

SCAN0466

Photo Credit: Simply Black & White Photography, Keller, Texas

Some days you just feel like you’ve pulled the arm on a coin slot machine and silver dollars are pouring all over your feet! That’s how Mother’s Day was for me yesterday, and I wasn’t even in town to spend it with my boys.

Instead, I’m away enjoying the generosity of my husband and anticipating a photography workshop several hours away from home. Since my youngest couldn’t be home from college in time for the big day, we had already decided to consolidate our Mother’s Day and Father’s Day celebrations in June, so I skipped out of town a couple of days early to visit a close friend that lives near my destination. Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting much to happen. Mother’s Day was on pause as far as I was concerned.

Maybe that’s why the flowers and text from my youngest son, phone call from my oldest son, and text from one of my shared sons lit up my sky like the 4th of July. (Isn’t that a line in a song?) It’s hard to express how blessed and overflowing your heart can feel at all the goodness in your life sometimes – just like those coins pouring from the slot machine. It just keeps flowing out in a stream that puddles at your feet and grows into mounds the longer it goes.

It’s the next day, and I still feel the glow of the gratitude to have such loving and giving young men call me mom. I’m grateful for their love and their appreciation for all I’ve given them over the years. In return, I am greatful to them for being one of the most significant sources of refinement that I have ever had. I doubt they will ever know the many gifts that they have given me that have molded me into a far better person than I ever was when I held them (or met them-I’ve been blessed with an extra helping of shared sons) for the first time.

For me, the true blessing in motherhood is in understanding that the experience will forever change me in ways that I never could have anticipated. I am a better human being thanks to the joys and challenges of being a mother.

 


Leave a comment

Man’s search for meaning

IMG_1795 copy

I know – I’m stealing the title of a very famous book (Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, 1946) as the header for this post, but it’s the one that fits. I haven’t yet read it to know if I’m stealing his ideas, so I’ll risk being repetitive. All I know is that we all look for it at one time or another – that sense of purpose that makes life on this Earth mean something.

I ran across a quote from an old blog post by Terri Savelle Foy today that really made me think about purpose and about how many of us may have missed the boat on our own purpose by buying into the belief that our contributions only matter if we’ve done them on a large scale – you know, been famous for saving a corner of the world in some way that makes newspaper headlines. It made me wonder how many days I’ve wasted and left no positive footprint. I asked myself a big what-if question – what if our most important purpose is in the day-in and day-out kindness we offer to loved ones and strangers?

The more I think about it, the more right that option feels, and it helps me to see how we can all have so much more influence than we are led to believe. What if we helped that frazzled mom quiet her crying baby instead of scowling at her in anger for failing to control it? What if we smiled at people and looked them in the eye, acknowledging their presence, instead of passing them by as if they are invisible? What if we held the door for the person behind us? What if we told them they had the most beautiful color of blue eyes we’d ever seen?

We don’t have to be rich or have lots of free time. We don’t have to have any extra resources except for being present and being mindful that we have a choice to be kind or a choice to be hurtful in that split second of our encounter. What if our choice to be kind changes the whole trajectory of someone else’s day? I think of the times that I’ve been the recipient of someone else’s kindness, and my heart kind of swells at the realization of how often I have the opportunity to make a difference in another person’s life with one small act, word or expression. I don’t want to waste any more days being caught up in things that won’t matter when I’m gone. I want the time I have left on Earth to count, so before I run out of it, I’m making a commitment to look up and to participate in a positive way. I get more clarity all the time – we only have one chance to make a difference in the right now. Just do it! (Yes, I’m stealing again – this time from Nike, but it fits.)

                         Your life is precious. Every single day you live is a day recorded in history never to be relived again.

Terri Savelle Foy

 

 

 


Leave a comment

We may never pass this way again

IMG_0769

Post, Texas April 16, 2016

Several years ago, I began making more road trips than I ever have – visits to my parents, moving kids to and from college, weddings, funerals, and girl trips with my friends. Most of my travel is getting to some place for a specific purpose and then turning around for home – definitely nothing to get too excited about! But this last couple of years, I’ve started to wonder more about the places I visit as well as the stops along the way. I find the lure of the billboard advertising “the best thumbprint cookies in Texas” almost too much to pass up, and I find myself veering off the highway more and more often to indulge those little wonderings.

Over time, I’ve come to appreciate taking the road less traveled when opportunity allows. My excursions tack a little extra time on to my trips, but I take a lot of pleasure in finding the occasional treasure along the brick-paved streets of long-abandoned downtowns, the beautiful detail of historic buildings, and the faded paint of advertisements on the brick walls of buildings. If I’m lucky, I find a local cafe, a bakery  or a cute little place to shop to help break up the drive. I figure I may as well see what there is to see while I’m in the neighborhood.

In the back of my mind, I hear the words to an old Seals and Crofts song, We May Never Pass This Way Again. I am reminded that life is short and that I must make a conscious choice to seek joy in each day lest I get lost in the monotony of my routines. For me, this means taking everything in and avoiding the temptation to take it all for granted as I speed through life. It means stopping to feed my curiosity on the road and at home – by seeing what is around me and enjoying something every day that I’ve never noticed before.


Leave a comment

Fraidy Cat

beta fishI’ve got to admit that I’m a big chicken about a lot of things, but nothing as much as putting myself out there in the world. Like a beta in a fish bowl, I feel like ducking into the floating ivy and disappearing when anyone stops to take a closer look at me or what I’m doing. That’s exactly why I decided to start this blog a couple of years ago. There’s no better way to get over your fears than to just plop yourself out in front of the whole world where even perfect strangers have the opportunity to take jabs at you that make you want to run away!

If you’ve read more than this post, you’ll see that my initital efforts have been half-hearted – okay, maybe invisible – but lately I hear life whispering in my ear to “just do it” and see what happens. Maybe I’m a little naive, but when I ask myself, ‘What’s the worst thing that can happen,’ my best answer is that someone might be mean to me and say hateful things. The one thing I know is that I won’t die, and in the process I might just connect with someone out there that experiences the same things in life that I do. It’s always nice to know that you aren’t completely alone in your craziness, right?

There’s something about the latter stages of mid-life that really challenges me to move through my fears and experience life in a more raw state of uncensored feelings. Add to this that I’m supremely exhausted from all the stimulus that incites unnecessary fear in my life, and I feel like I’m ready to jump from the cliff and trust that it will take me to far more interesting internal places and joy than I’ve ever experienced. If not, there’s nothing lost, and I’ll have chalked up a new experience. Works for me!

 


Leave a comment

Clearing cobwebs and clutter, Part 2

IMG_0739It’s kind of embarrassing when you start to realize just how much stuff one family can have when there’s so much lack and suffering in the lives of others. I’m pretty sure now that this exercise in downsizing was as much for me to learn something about myself as it was to diminish our possessions and have a greater appreciation of what is really necessary to be happy in this life.

Don’t get me wrong, I understood all this in my head. I’ve always considered my family to be generous with our resources, but it’s different when you begin to really get it on what I call a soul level. It’s like the light going on and understanding that you don’t need all the stuff you have just because you can have it – and also understanding that somewhere along the way all that stuff we have becomes a burden of maintenance, storage, etc.

Needless to say, I’m not out of the clearing stages just yet. With each new day, I get a little more clarity and I shed a little more of the stuff I thought I really needed to move with me this time. Sometimes it’s painful to acknowledge that a hobby I had for years just doesn’t interest me anymore. I gaze at the hundreds (maybe thousands) of dollars of stuff I have to enjoy that hobby, and something in me begins to wheedle and bargain to make a case for keeping it. It tells me that I have so much money and time invested. What if I need it again? The tape rolls over and over in my brain until one of us wins.

I’m happy to say that six months into our temporary home, we are really beginning to own what makes us happy and rid ourselves of what doesn’t. We’ve found that it is seldom our stuff that brings us joy – unless it’s our memorabilia like photos, old baseball jerseys, and yearbooks. But even so, I’m seeing that those things are of no use to us unless we can enjoy them, which doesn’t happen buried in a box and lost in the hidden spaces of our home.

I’m condensing the boys’ things down to the things I really think will matter. Ticket stubs to every game they ever played have made it to the recycling bin along with a heap of other questionable treasures. What remains are the things that I know hold special memories for them, and the rest are those that hold special memories for me in relation to them (along with a little note telling them why I kept it). I figure when I’m dead and gone, they will find it, look through it fondly, trash what is meaningless, and save their own treasures.

I am finding a great lifting of my spirits as we lighten the load of stuff around our home. I find I laugh more and enjoy life more. Perhaps clearing our physical stuff is just a metaphor for something greater. Whatever it is, I’ll continue sorting and letting go. I like the end result, and I know my kids will appreciate that I’ve already done most of the dirty work one day when we kick the bucket and it becomes their job to clean out what remains!

 

 


Leave a comment

Clearing cobwebs and clutter, Part 1

IMG_0736About this time last year, my husband and I set a plan in motion to downsize and simplify our life. It seemed simple in theory – just get rid of everything we don’t want or need, list the house, move somewhere new, and live happily ever after in our new, neat-as-a-pin, cozy digs.

I suppose life works that way to get us moving – a sort of unintended blinder like most of us have when we decide to have kids. If someone told us the whole truth and nothing but the truth of how it’s really going to be, we might just hit the NO button and stay snug in our comfort zone or move on to the next bright idea. One thing’s for sure, change is seldom what we think it’s going to be – at least in the beginning.

Let me paint you a picture. For eight years, we lived in a 3,100 square foot home with two young sons, a dog, and all of the stuff that comes with that. Believing the boys needed more space, we moved up in the world to a 6,000 square foot home. I had so much storage space that about half of it was empty, and I had good intentions of keeping it that way. It was nice to have a little wiggle room and space for entertaining our large family at the holidays. I never imagined we could actually fill it up. After all, I prided myself on being neat and free of hoarding tendencies. Eight years later, we were full up!

What’s that they say about about pride? Oh yeah – it comes before a fall (Proverbs 16:18). And fall I did!

Once the decision to downsize was etched in stone, it became clear that strangers would now be browsing through our home while we weren’t looking. They would be opening closets, drawers, attics and garages in an attempt to decide if our place was the answer to their prayers. I was horrified to see that we were indeed occupying a large territory of our home with STUFF. Even worse, the stuff was stuffed anywhere it would fit. I had even gone so far as to neatly organize all the stuff in pretty boxes, but I’d long ago forgetten what was even in them.

And so the process of clearing the cobwebs and uncluttering began. From April until August, I dived headfirst into the task of letting go so that my house would be suitable for showing once it debuted on the MLS. I greeted each day in workout clothes and flip flops, no makeup, and with lots of determination. With the exception of the friends that would drop in to make sure I was still alive and eating, I was for all intents and purposes AWOL from the world.

I tossed trash, donated clothes and household goods, and sold a lot of items to bank for the new things I would need in the next home. I felt great about my work and was all set to make a smooth, painless move when the time came. I felt gloriously unfettered, but I would soon learn that the freedom I felt was only temporary.

Lacking a place to go when your house sells earlier than expected introduces all kinds of new panic. We weren’t ready. Our new dream home had yet to materialize. It was a bit of a shock after so many years of home ownership to finally conclude that our best choice was to lease rather than to rush into a purchase of something we didn’t love. We firmly established that we would not store anything except for holiday decorations and the contents of our garage, so we sold our large-scale furniture and filled the bed of a large junk removal truck before finally moving into our new 2,500 square foot townhouse bungalow with our boxes of keeper stuff and a U-Haul truck containing our remaining furniture.

I seriously felt like we’d come over with little more than the clothes on our back, so it was another shock when the boxes piled in and filled up more than two-thirds of new place. Clearly, all of this stuff that we couldn’t live without was not going to fit in the dozen or so cabinets and handful of drawers that the new place offered. There was no attic, two less spaces in the garage, two less bedrooms, no office. I’m pretty sure I wanted to sit in the floor and have a good cry. How could I have so significantly missed the mark?

Round three of divesting began with a renewed commitment to succeed…

 


1 Comment

I have something to tell you…

Andrew & DogsThe fabric of our family was torn when my oldest nephew lost his battle with mental illness, depression and alcoholism and took his life as the days of January came to a close. Our loss is fresh – our hearts are laid open and overshadowed with grief on a daily basis. I trust that it will ease as the days pass, but in the meantime I’m searching for a silver lining in a very dark cloud. I’m unwilling to believe that Andrew’s death will leave us with nothing more than a heavy heart and a profound guilt that we might have done something to change his path.

I know if I linger in my sadness, I will be swallowed up in the darkness, but I also know he would be devastated for any of us to get lost in the awful place that took the light from his eyes and left him hopeless. So, I’m asking myself what he would want me to take away from this loss in these days following his death. He and I spent a lot of our time together pondering the essence of life and happiness.

Lately I feel moved to connect and reconnect with the people I care about. Somehow I feel he’s urging me to have no regrets as I move forward. He’s inviting me to get real and share thoughts and feelings with the important people in my life before it’s too late.

And so, I have something to tell you…you know who you are, I hope.

I’m sorry that I’ve let the busyness of life overtake me for so long. I never meant to get lost in it and lose my ties with you. Nor did I mean to make you feel like you were less important to me. I am beginning to understand that commitment to the things of this world has limits, and relationship priorities should trump all else.

I love you with all my heart and soul. You are my family. You are my friend. I wish I’d told you more often. I promise I will say it more in the days to come.

You give my life texture, richness and meaning. Without you, I am less me. We are interwoven as intricately as any tapestry through our relationship and our experiences.

You challenge me to be a better person even when you don’t know it or I’m not willing to admit it.

I’m so proud of you for all of your accomplishments and the person you are.

I forgive you and myself for the things we’ve said or done that have come between us. I no longer wish to hold on to the petty things that divide us. I relinquish my need to be right for my need to have you in my life.

There is more to be said – more than I can cover in the text of this post. I promise you I will say it as we move forward.

Andrew, if you can hear me or see this, I love you. I have always loved you, and I am grateful that we connected so deeply over the past few years. I wish I could have helped you more and told you one last time just how precious you are to me. You have made my life deeper, wider, more colorful, fun, understanding, and loving by being in it.

If there are guardian angels out there, I trust that you are watching over your flock of family and friends and guiding us through the pain of living life without your smile and your goofy laugh. It’s the picture I hold and the sound I hear when I think of you…our beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy. We miss you.

In memory of our lunches, our yoga sessions and the hours of philosophical discussions, I leave with the words of one of our favorite authors:

“Your time on this earth is a gift to be used wisely. Don’t squander your words or your thoughts. Consider that even the simplest actions you take for your lives matter beyond measure…and they matter forever.” ~ Andy Andrews