27,375 Days

27,375 days……that is the average life span of a human on Earth. If you’re wondering, that is around 75 years. Of course, this number might fluctuate depending on genetics, environmental factors, accidents, and how well you take care of yourself.

When I first saw this number, I gave no initial thought to where I fell on this continuum until I did the math. Hmmmm….I was surprised to realize how many days I have already lived to this point; but, the real surprise was the number of days left between where I am today and the “average”.

This gets a person to thinking. In the movie “Shawshank Redemption”, Tim Robbin’s character says to his inmate counterpart (played by Morgan Freeman), “You get busy living, or you get busy dying.” During the course of my mother’s illness, she would protest many opportunities for assistance doing things and she certainly didn’t like feeling limited in her abilities. She wold rebuke us around her by saying, “Life is for the living.” Wise words.

As I have moved into my 50’s, I think about her quite a bit. I try to remember that when she was my current age (51), she was in the process of dying. She knew it. The end was coming and she was sucking the marrow out of each and every day. My mother was born on March 21, 1951, and left this world on December 4, 2002. She lived 18,887 days.

18,887 days. The distance between the “average” and her life span seems like a lot in my mind.

On Saturday, September 3rd of this year (2022), I officially outlived my mother by ONE earthly day. I saw more sunrises and sunsets than she did. This fact was not lost on me. I can’t say precisely what emotion I felt when that realization fell over me. Elation? Sadness?

No.

I laid down Saturday night to close out my 18,888th day of life with an acute sense of purpose and gratitude. I have an opportunity to carve out a second “half” of life that my mother never saw this side of heaven.

In the last six weeks, a lot has happened in my world. My first grandchild, Thomas, was born. I started my 30th (eeek) year in public education. I made a heartbreaking decision about how I would move forward with the rest of my life. In these few weeks, I have held both joy and sadness, delight and anger, hope and disappointment, and dreams hoped for and a life released.

27,375 days.

18,888 lived.

This is my one, wonderful life. I have actively participated in its creation. I have actively participated in dismantling some of it along the way. Life is for the living.

How will you live yours?

The Ugly Pink Couch

Circa May 1989.

I was in the home stretch of my senior year in high school. There was a sense of childlike excitement in our small two bedroom apartment – me, because I was a few weeks away from graduating and my mom…..well.

Let me back up. I’m getting ahead of myself.

My mother was married three times. Her second marriage was to a very mean man (that’s the nicest way to say it). After ten years of verbal, mental and physical abuse to us both, we left. My mom found a small two bedroom apartment to rent. The only furniture we had was her bedroom suit and mine. We had a small window of time to move out on a Saturday afternoon in the sweltering July heat. We took those two rooms of furniture, dishes, our clothes, a tv, a microwave and two foldable lawn chaise chairs for the living room. We left behind so much else. My mother sobbed that Saturday when we weren’t strong enough to put the piano in the back of the moving truck.

Throughout the 88-89 school year, my mother took every opportunity to work extra shifts at the hospital or teach CPR classes. She was determined that we would make it. I worked two jobs – Baskin Robbins and Domino’s Pizza – to help out and kept up with my studies and extracurricular activities. We made the best of our situation. I think the peace of mind in knowing she was out of that marriage was worth it all to both of us.

Sometime in the early spring of 1989, she told me that she was going to start looking for some real furniture for the place. I was happy that she felt strong enough to do that and I knew she had been saving every extra cent to make that happen. She went to a furniture store outside of Louisville called The Cherry House. When recounting the trip, she was elated with her selections and couldn’t wait for the pieces to arrive.

Fast forward to that week in May.

My mom was attending a nurse’s conference in San Francisco that week. I was given strict orders to check the answering machine every day and clear my schedule for the arrival of her new cherry wood furniture. When the big day arrived, I was excited to see all that she chose for our place – a dining room table with four chairs, a low buffet, a roll top desk, media cabinet, one side table, an oval glass coffee table, an armchair, and a couch.

Not just any couch, mind you.

Because it was the crown jewel of the living room, it was unloaded last and covered in plastic. It was so covered, that I could barely see the color or design.

Wait a second. What?

Did I just see pink?

No….there’s no way that couch is pink. Hold on. Is that a huge hydrangea flower with a country blue ribbon on that cushion? No way. This has to be a mistake.

In my best 18 year old “grown up” voice, I said, “Uh, sorry. Excuse me. I think there is a mistake here. I don’t think this is the correct couch.”

To which the delivery man replied, “Uh, yes. Yes it is.”

My fear was turned into a nightmare when they slowly peeled away the plastic to reveal a pink couch with a hydrangea floral pattern accented with a country blue ribbon. It was hideous. Who orders a pink couch? With a hydrangea pattern? Who?

My mother.

The couch grew on me as time went by. When Grace came along and I would visit her and Mac in Charlotte, that couch was my napping space. That couch was situated in their basement family room and many a gatherings took place with people vying for a seat on that couch. When Mom was sick with cancer, we would sometimes retreat to the cool basement family room and snuggle on that couch  – her shrinking shoulders wrapped in her cashmere shawl. I held her small frame amid the pink background and hydrangea flowers patterned on the cushions. Several months later, I snuck down to the family room and sat on that couch after her funeral. Somehow, I imagined her sitting there next to me.

In the years since her passing, a lot has happened. Another daughter was born….Mac (her third husband) passed and that pink couch came back to Tennessee with me. That next year, I packed that pink couch on a truck and set off to start a new chapter as a divorced woman and single mom. On nights when the girls were at their dad’s house, I would often sleep on that couch and let the big pillow cushions surround me like my mother’s arms.

More recently, that ugly, pink couch found its place along a wall at Cate Cabana. The only creatures that sit on it are our dogs, Jake and Bella. Every couple of days, I vacuum the cushions to get the dog hair off. Dave will sit in the mornings on that couch and rub the dogs’ bellies. Other than that, it sits alone.

I know it’s time. Everything has a shelf life….

The thought of parting with it brings me to tears. Not just tears, but sobbing. It’s not just an ugly, pink couch. It symbolizes the grit and tenacity that my mother mustered up from deep inside her to create a new life. It symbolizes her hope in that new life – hope for peace and love. It is so much more than a couch.

In a couple of days, some men will come and load my mom’s ugly pink couch onto their truck and take it away to a donation center. I will keep a swatch of fabric for myself and hope that someone out there can make something from it that I can keep as a reminder of its story in my life and the life of my mother. It is my hope that someone will walk into that donation center, sit down on its big cushions and dream of a better life for themselves.

No, it’s not just an ugly, pink couch.

Life in Barren Places

I am always amused when I stumble upon something that is a prime example of the impossible. It’s as if God is saying to me, “Watch this. See what I can do.”

Today, Dave and I walked along our favorite stretch of beach on Edisto – away from the homes and people and toward the barrenness of sand, discarded shells, and the surf. On the marshy side of the dune, we came upon vegetation growing in what seemed to be the most unlikely of places – sand. Yet, stretched before us for several hundred more yards, were patches of green seemingly growing from nothing.

This got me to thinking about how God works in our own lives.

We are meant (and often called) to do hard things. Hard things may come from our own hand or the doings of others. In this case, neither source is important. What is critical is how we open ourselves up to these times of struggle.

Will we see these moments as an enemy meant to trample us?

Or, will we allow ourselves to entertain the idea that such moments are friends sent to prepare us for what is coming next?

Is it possible to shift our mindset in order to grow into new life instead of shrinking into the barren landscape around us?

I couldn’t help but to think of a dear friend who is in a season of barrenness in her work. For this friend, the work is just hard – daily it is hard. So hard that she questions whether she heard clearly the call to a new profession. Lately, her struggle has resulted in an anxiety and weariness that has been hard for me to watch her go through. Yet, I know that in these years when the work in hard, there is a time coming when the harvest will be plentiful. She will see that her care and love for others – even those who are difficult to love – will plant a seed in one of her students or colleagues. She will wake one day to see growth where she thought none was possible. I know.

I have been where she is and I know that the waiting is hard.

God invites us to sit with him in the spaces that are being carved out in our lives and to wait for Him. His timing is perfect and so we must wait. His way is wise and requires the faith to dream of the life that hides in the reality of barren ground around us. I believe that just our dreams and hopes are testaments to God’s creativity, commitment, and desire that we have life to the fullest.

I invite you to look around at the landscape surrounding your own journey. What do you see around you? Can you sit in your space with God and look deep into the seemingly barren landscape around you and dream of the life that He is preparing? Can you sit with others and offer them that same vision of hope?

Let’s dream and wait for life to come springing forth from unexpected things.

We can do hard things.

 

Mundane and Holy Days

It’s almost spring here….just two more calendar days, in fact. Between the weather whiplash of snow and sun, I am seeing evidence that holiness is emerging from the ground in the gardens here at Cate Cabana.

Small reassuring pieces of evidence that the cold and dark are about to give way to the warmth and light. It can seem like forever after that first peeking of life pushes through the hard earth. Forever, it seems, as the life that was buried beneath the ground last fall struggles to break free.

Life can seem like that at times. It’s never easy when those monotonous , mundane moments coincide with winter’s cold and bleak days. Those days have stretched before us  until we all thought hope was lost – lost to the endless gray skies and constant rain.

But hope floats; or at my house, it comes forth on thick stems with long leaves and a bud of life ready to burst open and announce that something holy is about to happen. A miracle, really.

Miracles in the mundane.

Mundane days give way to Holy Days.

Seems a bit strange, but I’m beginning to believe that life – the real, honest-to-goodness type of life – happens in the mundane moments of everyday living. You know those days: the same drive to work, the endless loads of laundry, the shuffling of kids between activities, and the bills that need to be paid. All of those little pieces of life that seem to go unnoticed by us….the pieces of life that seem so repetitive and boring…..well, that’s where a life is made.

Piece by piece…minute by minute.

It’s where we are shaped and formed.

I’m thinking that God watches us in these small, mundane moments and holds His breath to see if we will notice the Holiness that exists in tandem. Will we give thanks for a life made up of packing lunches, tucking in little ones, and passing conversations with colleagues? Will we see the abundance in the stuffed lunch bag? Will we recognize the importance of speaking love and prayers over those in our care? Will we allow our hearts to minister to another in the kindness of a smile and exchange?

Little mundane moments packed with a heaping dose of Holiness.

I can’t speak to much except this deep desire to experience every single moment I am alive. To fall into a bed of cold, soft sheets after a long day. I live for the unexpected hug from one (or both) of my daughters, to hear their voice. I love when Dave holds my hand and how mine fits perfectly inside his. There is nothing better than sharing an unexpected funny moment with a friend until our sides hurt and tears run down our cheeks. The taste of chocolate and the smell of coffee in the morning. The coolness of morning and the dew sparkling in the sunlight. A chorus of frogs on a warm, almost-spring evening. The joy in being greeted after a long day at work by two adoring dogs.

Consider the following quote by Yara Shahidi: ‘Oh, to live into your most authentic self – realizing that who you are is enough. Being grounded in your calling, in the “now”, and realizing that life is lived in the tiny moments of the mundane. Loving for the sake of love and sprinkling kindness like confetti at a surprise party.To be fully seen without feeling the need to “perpetuate a facade for the sake of love or support.”’

Oh Father….with each passing moment-even moments that seem routine and mundane- may we find in each one a Holiness, an invitation to live fully present, fully real, fully into who you have called each of us to be. Amen….

This is the human experience I strive for each day.

Stuck on ‘Repeat’

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

― Maya Angelou

It happened.

Again.

Wednesday morning, families in Parkland, FL got ready for another day. A special day. The day we celebrate love…..love of all kinds.

Teenagers awoke and busied themselves for another day of learning. Parents and guardians said goodbye and I imagine they told them to ‘Have a great day.’ Most probably heard ‘I love you.’ Or so I hope they did. But seventeen families would not see their loved ones come back home.

Back in 1996, I was a 25 year old educator with just 3 years of teaching experience. I sat in a graduate level class and listened as my professor told us, ‘If you want to get a glimpse at our society, look inside any typical public education classroom.’

The funny thing is, I don’t remember the name of that professor, but I have never forgotten those words. They were as true then as they are today. After having spent the last 25 years as an educator, the picture of American society is often disturbing and sad. The 19 year old shooter from Wednesday’s latest tragedy, sat in a classroom once. I wonder what his teachers thought of him then; what red flags did he raise all of those years? Given the imprint of his internet steps, I’m going out on a limb to say he raised quite a few.

In the aftermath of Wednesday’s shooting, I have read and heard statements of outrage from all sorts of people. It seems that once again, this country has polarized itself among extremes. We have girded up our bodies with the ‘all or nothing’ armor defense, as if that stance is productive and solution-oriented.

What I’m most sad about are the arguments of oversimplification.

‘This is a mental health issue.’

‘This is not a gun issue. It is a heart issue.’

‘Evil has been around since the beginning of time.’

‘This is a Republican issue.’

‘This is a Liberal issue.’

‘This is……’ Go ahead reader, fill in the blank with your own theory.

Are any of us willing to use one of these flimsy arguments in the face of a parent or family member who has just identified their child’s bloodied and destroyed body and now faces the horrific task of making funeral arrangements for a young person whose life was meant for more?

This is OUR problem. This has become the face of our  modern American society.

The solution isn’t as easy as policy, laws, Jesus, or metal health professionals. It is a combination of it all. ALL. Not an either/or issue. This is not the time to play the blame game. This isn’t the time to have a knee jerk reaction.

It is time to have some very hard conversations. Time to speak truth. Time to shut up and listen. Time to ask some very difficult questions.

Like…

What are we willing to concede as individuals in order to do what is best for the greater good? (Think of the anti-smoking in public campaign.)

Can we agree to look at the holes in our process for gun ownership with a more honest and discerning eye?

Can we agree to honor the Second Amendment in a way that allows for those on the entire spectrum of this issue to hold space with one another and make it harder to put guns in the hands of those who don’t need them?

Are all kinds of guns necessary for the private citizen to own?

Is the gaming and entertainment industry willing to look at their products and own their promotion and glorification of violence?

Is the public willing to speak up and get in the business of others who are saying, doing, and acting in a way that signals a red flag and a cry for help?

Will our houses of worship get into the trenches with our families and communities to bring a message of hope and love to all and not to only those who believe and live in the way they endorse in their pews?

Will we work in our communities to bring families together and help our young people find a sense of purpose and belonging?

See, I believe that we have a generation of young people walking through this world broken, starving for attention, belonging, and the hope that their life matters. They have grown up in a world where ‘likes’ define your worth and a text is considered an intimate relationship. They live in an era where social media makes it easy for people to say what they want without consequence or regard for the person receiving their message. They watch adults tune out. They sit in backseats with adults overdosed on drugs in the front seats of their cars. Many adults are too busy, too tired, too self-absorbed to interact, look at and speak to kids so they put a device in their hands.

Are we willing to push the pause button and reset?

We can no longer expect our under-funded, over-tested, underpaid educators to pick up the slack with our lessons, our initiatives, or our bodies when the bullets fly. How much more are we going to demand from our educators? I’m not sure where the boundary lies, but I can tell you that I believe our society to be way out of bounds.

I barely slept at all that night.

The next morning, I got up and readied myself for another day. With my office lights on, I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed my walkie-talkie and walked to the classroom of my friend, Ami. Waiting with her was Vickie, a new educator on this journey. The three of us formed a circle and laid hands on one another as Ami prayed. Minutes later, I positioned myself at the inner doors of our building like I do on most mornings. I greeted each sweet child as they entered and exclaimed with great enthusiasm that I was thrilled to see them. I called most by name and gave hugs to any and all who needed one before starting their day.

For those parents that chose to walk their precious child inside on Thursday morning, a remarkable thing happened.

A look passed between me and them. Subtle. It might have been missed on any other day. Not on this day.

A look of questioning from them….a look of promise from me.

 

 

 

Thoughts on a Rainy Weekend

The rain has settled in for the remainder of today. 

My windows are open. There is a rhythmic drip, drip that falls from the gutters. Cars splash through water that has collected along the street. David has found the perfect jazz station to set a reflective tone for the remainder of our day. 

Rainy days at home call for snuggles, hot coffee, dogs by your side and time for reflection. 

My friend Sherrie is not a fan of rainy days. I don’t mind them as much. It seems that with age, I satisfy my soul with a healthy dose of introversion. So a steady rain helps me.   

I won’t lie, Reader. This has been a tough week. 

This time of year is hectic at work and it seems that I can’t find my way above the never-ending list of things to accomplish. I know David has felt the same with projects and deadlines. The week even took its toll on Grace and Anna. They ran in two track meets on Thursday and Saturday. Exhausted – all of us. 

But even with everything going on, God has sprinkled lessons, hope, wisdom and just enough comfort to remind me that He is there and able. All I must do is believe. 

  

On Thursday, I was part of a three person team sent to a local university to represent my school district at an education Job Fair. To be honest, the timing of this little trip was terrible. I had so many things at work that needed my attention and I felt distracted when we first arrived. But as the afternoon progressed and we met with almost 80 students who are just a few weeks from graduating, I felt caught up in their excitement for the opportunity to be part of the community of educators. They didn’t bemoan and complain about the high stakes accountability for teachers based on students’ test scores; nor did they talk about the frustrations when parents refuse to take responsibility for their children and want to blame the schools; I never heard one of these young people feel defeated by a public perception that public educators are failing or that people discount how hard we work. 

I heard none of that. Instead, I heard enthusiasm and a determination to make a difference in the life of a child, no matter what. They didn’t ask about salaries and benefits. They asked about opportunity and the chance to leave a mark on someone’s life. 

Suddenly, I was transported back to 1993 when I too was a giddy, idealistic 22 year old, ready to set a blazing trail of knowledge in every class I taught. Yes, our work is hard. Yes, it takes everything out of me from time to time. But it is good work. It is necessary work. 

That same evening, David and I watched Grace and Anna as they competed in a county-wide track and field meet.  These two creatures, who are the very reasons I am a mom, amazed and astounded me with the grit and determination they brought to the track that night. One picture that David captured of Grace, shows a fierceness and perseverance to complete the race before her – no matter what. I couldn’t have been more proud of them at that competition and the one they found themselves in on Saturday. They amaze and humble me. Being their mom has made me a better person. 

While sitting in the stands at CAK yesterday, we struck up a conversation with a couple whose son was running for Bearden H.S. Track team. David and I had watched this young man’s performance, speed and agility with awe all afternoon. Our conversation with Mr and Mrs Foster was special, to say the least. They have been married for 26 years, have two sons who not only are successful in sports but academically as well. They both had an infectious laughter and ease between them as a couple – down to earth. I thought of them later as David and I ate dinner. Odds are, we will never cross paths again. But their love story and friendship was so encouraging to us – the 6 month newlyweds. 

  

While our newlywed love story received some encouragement yesterday,  earlier in the week, a childhood friend of mine announced that she and her husband had made the painful decision to divorce. 

My heart immediately broke for her and her family. She was courageous and announced their decision publicaly on Facebook so as to avoid other people’s careless assumptions about their private life. 

Many years ago, I didn’t have that kind of courage. As a result, my private life was chewed up into little pieces and  spit back at me by small town gossip. That is hard to recover from. What I dread for my friend is the inevitable awkwardness that will accompany this break-up. Friends and family members won’t want to take sides and yet they will. Conversations and interactions – even simple mannerly greetings will be awkward. Some people will have the maturity and courage to do what is right in their treatment of you – others will not. 

I used to take such treatments personally. Age and experience have taught me that such encounters are a reflection of the other person and not me. Case in point: Yesterday  at the track meet, David and I were completely ignored by a couple that mean the world  to us. Completely. We both tried to get their attention to say “Hello”, but our efforts were ignored I’m sure it was directly related to who they were sitting with. But it was so obvious, even my daughters noticed. This observation elicited a barrage of questions as to why they would so blatantly ignore us in public. I could not give them an answer that would satisfy or help them to understand all of the complexities of the situation.  I sat there and tried to imagine any possible scenario where David or I would purposefully ignore them and to be honest, I couldn’t think of one. I reminded myself that this was a reflection of them and not of us. 

I later discovered that one of those people had sent me a text saying they weren’t trying to offend anyone – it was just an awkward situation. I chose not to respond but ponder and acknowledge the hurt I felt. The situation has been awkward for a number of years but this was the first time we were ignored entirely. Offended? No. Hurt? Without a doubt. 

 

Mostly today, I am reflective and grateful for the simple things I do have that make my life colorful and more wonderful than I feel I deserve. 

Today, I am thankful that I married my best friend – he always has my back, his love is deeper than any ocean, he makes me laugh and I feel safe in his hugs. 

Today I am amazed at my two daughters who show me more about life than I could ponder alone. 

Today, I am grateful for friends and family who are simply the best at making me laugh and encouraging me to be better than I thought possible. 

Today, on this rainy Sunday, it is good to be alive. 

Be blessed…..

Risking It All for Love

Love.

I love you.

Ich liebe dich (German).

Je t’aime (French)

Te amo (Spanish)

Ti amo (Italian)

Ek het jou lief (Afrikaans)

Ana behibek (Arabic)

Ik hou van jou (Dutch)

S’agapo (Greek)

Ani ohev otach (Hebrew)

Phom rak khun (Thai)

Every language has a phrase for the simple words “I love you.”

Hang on. Did I say simple? Love is by far one of the most complicated emotions that humans can experience. I don’t have scientific research to back up that statement, only my own experience; but think about all the ways we love….the things we say we love (I love chocolate.)…..poems and songs written about love…. there were wars that began over nothing less than love…..

David and I were having a very emotional discussion this week on our commute to work about the love I have for my daughters, Grace and Anna. As much as I tried to quantify and put it into words, I failed. My reaction to that feeling of love for them became very physical, instead. Suddenly my throat restricted, my chest was tight and tears flooded my eyes. The mere thought of loving them was overwhelming to my body’s system.

How do you express that depth of emotion?

I can’t.

I think of  the days when they came into this world. The instant they arrived, my heart swelled to a limitless capacity. There is nothing they can ever do to diminish the love and care I have for them. Sure, they may make decisions that disappoint me, but to stop loving them? Never. The most wonderful feeling in the world comes to me in the quiet of the mornings when I creep into their bedrooms to wake them up for school. Unknowingly to them, I sit on the edge of their bed and watch them sleep, drinking in the immediate film of our story together as parent and child. I can’t remember life before they came along. I can’t imagine life without them. My love for them makes me relentless in my protection of them and their well-being.

This level of love also has a flip side – fear. My deepest, darkest fear meets me in my dreams from time to time. I fear that they will need me and I won’t be able to get to them. The dream, however their need for me manifests itself, wakes me from my sleep with a panic that grips my heart well into the wee hours of the morning. I have talked with other parents who nod with sympathy and understanding at such fears and nightmares; but, rarely do we speak with any detail about it.

I wonder if we ever stop to consider the risk of loving someone so much? If we would have known the way our heart would live outside of our bodies for the rest of our lives the moment they were born, would we still have risked it all? I want to think so because the fabric of our lives is so much more brilliant for having loved so very deeply.

Loving deeply.

Loving others is always a risky undertaking. We trust that when we love someone it will be returned. It will be respected. It will be worth it. Our hearts and lives will be safe in the hands of someone else. However, there are times when loving someone means getting our hearts broken. It is a risk you take. Worth it?

I was a skeptic for a while and such cynicism showed itself in pithy essays on this very website in recent years. In my late 20’s, I entered into the bonds of marriage with the hope that I would do it better than my parents before me- the cycle of divorce would end with me. That hope was met with problems that left me disillusioned and with no way to work through the disappointment i faced. I spent several years after my divorce, dismissing any thoughts about letting someone get that close again.

Until…..

I woke up one morning while vacationing at the Isle of Palms in October of 2013 and imagined how my life might look several years down the road. That picture included this wonderful man I had spent every bit of  my free time with over the course of many months. Startled at my own imagery,  I looked over at David and thought, ‘I want him to be sitting next to me on a beach somewhere when we are old and gray.’ I couldn’t imagine wanting anything or anyone more. Was that a scary point in time? You better believe it.

My adult relationship score card: MARRIAGE 1 – Kelli 0. Add insult to injury –  a  long-term relationship I had post-divorce that was just as destructive in its own right. The odds had not been in my favor.

Suddenly, I found myself willing to risk it all, again, after everything I had been through and every mistake I had made. I remember looking over at him while he was reading and felt like I was home. My heart had found a home.

The next spring, not long after he proposed to me, one of David’s closest friends asked, “Is it worth it?” He responded, “No doubt.”

The best we can ever do in love is give it all we have – for better, for worse.

Give it all, over and over again, living with the mad hope that it is not in vain. Believing that God made us for this.

I have to believe that God created us to love and love greatly. He created us in His image – each and every, single one of us. When I try to assign a quantifiable value to my love for my daughters or David, I get stuck with only the physical reaction that those emotions conjure up inside of me. I then marvel at God’s love for us and the sacrifice He was willing to make to demonstrate that – the giving of His one and only Son. Could I have done the same for humanity? Would I have been willing to sacrifice Grace or Anna to save a deprived world? No way.

But oh, how our Father loves us – to do the unthinkable for those who may choose to turn away from Him. Now that is a boundless love. Was it worth the risk? He seemed to think so.

He risked it all for love…….

Be blessed this week as we celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Looking Backwards to Move Forward

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” ~Soren Kierkegaard

As we say goodbye to another year, many will begin to make resolutions – those intentions to make better choices and break old habits in the new year. Interestingly, I came across a study that was conducted in January 2014 out of the University of Scranton. The researchers compiled an interesting list of statistics from their findings that focused on the habits and decisions that come with Resolutions in the US. According to their findings, the top 10 resolutions made in 2014 were as follows:
1. Lose weight
2. Get organized
3. Spend less, save more
4. Enjoy life to the fullest
5. Stay fit and healthy
6. Learn something exciting
7. Quit smoking
8. Help others realize their dreams
9. Fall in love
10. Spend more time with family

Of the people who participated in the study, only 8% reported success with the resolutions they had made. Additionally, 75% of participants were able to maintain their resolutions for the first week, but that number dropped to 46% by the end of the first six months. In years past, I have been like the 45% of Americans who made a resolution, but I then fell in with the 92% who were unable to maintain and/or find success. So a few years ago, I gave up making resolutions altogether and focused on year-end reflections, instead.

“I don’t think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.”
~Abraham Lincoln

First……Looking back to 2014

My favorite experience: October 11, 2014…Oceanside wedding to David on Folly Beach in South Carolina with 28 of our closest family and friends

My Biggest Accomplishment: recovering from knee surgery quicker than anticipated

My Favorite Memory: May 31, 2014 on a sailboat in the Gulf of Mexico at sunset when David asked me to marry him

My Favorite Book: “The Tiger’s Wife”
Restaurant: Cafe Pacifica
Movie: Interstellar

Then……Looking Ahead to 2015

Five Books I Want to Read: 1. “Gone Girl”
2. “Neverhome”
3. “The Constellation of Vital Phenomena”
4. ” Lucky Us”
5. “Land of Love and Drowning”
Four Places I Want to Visit: 1. New River Trail (from Pulaski to Galax, VA)
2. Monticello
3. Outer Banks, NC
4. Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
Three Things I Want to Do: 1. Finish writing my book of short stories, blog weekly, and finish short book of haikus
2. Devote one weekend a month to an outdoor activity with David and the girls
3. Set aside a designated amount of money from each paycheck and put it into savings
Two Things I Want to Learn: 1. Knitting
2. Learn more of the Italian language
One Thing I Want to Continue to Do: serve others through my work

So after spending time reflecting on the wonders and blessings from 2014 and trying to map out my journey for 2015, I came across a blog post written by Parker J. Palmer. He is a regular contributor to OnBeing.org. His perspective on life and living has resonated with me for many months. Today’s reading struck a deep chord. He claims that instead of making resolutions or goals for the coming year, we should allow five questions to guide us down the unknown path we will begin journeying on as we start this new year.

These questions include:
* How can I let go of my need for fixed answers in favor of aliveness?
* What is my next challenge in daring to be human?
* How can I open myself to the beauty of nature and human nature?
*Who or what do I need to learn to love next? And next? And next?
* What is the new creation that wants to be born in and through me?

Wow….those questions really get to the heart of the type of life I am striving to live and challenge you to do as well. I think these questions will be my own set of guiding tenets to carry me through a year that is bound to bring joy, sorrow, love, loss, challenges, victories, and every sort of thing in between.

Regardless if you make resolutions, reflect on the year behind, set goals for the year ahead, or live life in the questions rather than the answers; I sincerely believe that the only way we can live our most authentic lives is to show up and be present for each moment…..find God in all things…..love unconditionally…..forgive freely…..and give thanks at the conclusion of each day. That seems like the very best way to live.

It is my great hope, Reader, that 2015 will be your best year yet.
Live well…….

My Favorite Experience….our wedding

Living Your Life’s Epitaph

In today’s world, it is easy to be busy. Yet, busyness doesn’t mean you are living.

Consider the last funeral you attended. How was the deceased portrayed during the eulogy? Were their earthly accomplishments perceived as their crowning glory? I hope not.

I am at a turning point in my life personally. Recently I have decided that the world’s definition of success just isn’t for me. Our modern society recognizes work weeks that extend well beyond forty hours – more like 60 or 70. If you put in more time, then you must be more dedicated to your work; you must have a deep passion for what you do. If you live in a mighty home and drive the very best cars, then that is a symbol that you have made it. If you answer every email on the weekends within minutes of its arrival, then work is your priority.

I dismiss those claims and more. I am no more or less passionate about my life’s work whether I work forty hours or sixty. In fact, I am most productive and a better administrator when I prioritize myself among things that need to be taken care of during a work week. I encourage members of my staff to do the same. I don’t get up and pour my heart and energy into my school for the hopes of recognition, promotion, or some big end of the year bonus. I don’t receive any of that. I do it because I want the people in that building to be the best at what they do, and I am there to do whatever I can to support that cause. I live simply and modestly.

I recently read an article about the amount of emergency room visits and diseases that have its roots buried deep with the soil of stress. Further, studies have shown that by embracing the popular definition of success (power, position, fame, and money) you are less likely to feel happiness or a sense of purpose. In fact, you are more prone to bouts of depression and anxiety.

Hmmm….seems to me that the message we have been sold is false.

I wonder about how people will remember me when they come together just after I have passed and celebrate my life. What stories will they tell? Will my children remember my likeness with fondness and love? Will my words of wisdom resonate into their darkest hours? Will the love I showed them comfort their souls when they are afraid and alone? Will friends recount tales of my adventures, quirkiness, and the things that made me laugh? Will family pass down my recipes and tell of times when I made certain dishes? Will the sea and surf kiss one another with remembrance of my love for them both? Will the scent of fresh brewed coffee and the gritty sweetness of a mango remind my loved ones of me? Will the azure blue of the Caribbean be a reminder of my travels?

I hope for all of these things and more.

I reject society’s view of success and will spend my days embracing something richer, deeper, and packed full of meaning and purpose.

My epitaph will read:

She loved wholly.
She laughed mightily.
She lived fearlessly.
She worshipped continuously.

Live well, Reader….and live your epitaph.

One Last Time….For Now

Well Reader…..here we go, one last time as we have known it.

Since Jan 2009, I have opined and reflected on the mysteries of life and love in an open, public blogging forum either as “Twisted Elf” or “Elfinfun”. During this time, I have enjoyed expressing myself through writing and many of you have indicated that in some way, big or small, my words have been a source of inspiration. I am humbled….

However, since my uncle’s death last July, I have failed to produce or write anything that I felt worthy of uploading for the “World Wide Web” to read. Oh, it’s not that I didn’t try; there were many times that I opened my laptop with the intent of producing an essay with some sort of pithy insight into this life we all find ourselves working through.

But, every single time I sat down and stared at the screen and blinking cursor, I couldn’t type. The reason? Well, in all honesty, I had nothing to say. It was more than writer’s block. That wasn’t it. No, I just had nothing to say. After a couple of months, I stopped trying to write a post. I stopped trying to force myself to reflect and then spew forth the wisdom I thought I had gained. Instead, I took a look at the landscape of my life and inside my heart to search for the answers as to why I had stopped posting on “Bent, Not Broken”.

After all of these months, I have found my answers.

For the past five, almost six years,I have been on a very personal journey and I invited all of you to join me. I’m not sure if that was a very wise decision, but I made it anyway. More often than not, the stories I have written over the years were done so for my benefit, even if I didn’t recognize it at the time.

This journey of mine has been filled with public disgrace, failure, redemption, forgiveness, loss, discovery, struggle, success, and glimpses of love. I have grown professionally and personally along the way, but in some respects, it has come at a great cost.
My actions have hurt others and I have been hurt by the action of others. I regret those hurts I have caused, more than anyone could possibly understand. As painful as it was to be hurt by the words/actions of others in my life, I can’t say I ever regret having those experiences. The brokenness I experienced, allowed the light to get in.

In these years, I have learned…

….the power of forgiveness from both ends of the spectrum – as one who needed forgiveness and as one who needed to forgive in order to move forward.
….life is short and we need to get busy living.
….there are two sides to every story.
….I have not been given permission by God to judge anyone, neither have you.
….people are fickle and you can’t be offended by that. Some friends can live with you through your mistakes; some cannot. It is best to sort those individuals out early on, and then get busy moving on.
….divorce is not necessarily an indication of failure; sometimes it is the way in which two people can learn to become better people – alone.
….when someone shows you who they are the first time – believe them. A leopard never changes his spots.
….change is sometimes necessary for growth. It is scary, though.
….setting clear, defined boundaries in your life is a healthy way to live. You owe no one an apology or explanation for those boundaries. You do it because they are right for you. Period.
…..real, true, gritty friendships are the best gifts in the whole wide world – Kate, Karen, Ruthie, Amanda, Ashley
…..when you least expect it, you will meet someone who knows your history and will love you anyway.
….you must be careful who you tell your story to. If you tell it to the wrong people, it becomes part of your debris field.
….there is no shame in having a personal therapist. I love having a third party person to bounce things off of and help me to see things with greater clarity.
….being vulnerable is indicative of being real.
….prejudice/bigotry is a learned behavior. There are people all over the world who don’t live like me, believe like me, or look like me and yet have taught me more about living life and what it means to be human.
….kindness never goes out of style.
….I don’t have to know God’s plan. I just have to trust that He is in charge. That is enough for me.

There have been so many “A-HA” moments over the years and so much of who I am has changed – for the better. There are still things I am working on and probably will for quite some time.

These days, my life is so full and complete and some of that has kept me away from writing on my blog. My girls keep me busy….being a school administrator and professor rounds me out professionally…I am writing my first fictional novel…I am formulating a new relationship that is loving, respectful, kind, normal and healthy. I have travel destinations to explore and moments to capture with words and photos. I am making plans today that will lead me to a beachside cottage in the future.
Most importantly, I think the reason I stopped writing is because I have come to a place of peace. I have made peace with my past, who I am, and the possibilities for what my life can be in the future.

My blog as “Elfinfun” cannot exist as it has in the past.
“Bent, Not Broken” is who I am today. I don’t know what my blog will look like after writing this piece. I am still trying to find my “new” voice. I promise that when I do, I will invite you to come along on whatever fantastic journey I decide to embark upon. I hope you will join me.

Live well, Reader.