This morning, in the hustle and bustle of our preparing for the day, my husband and I were standing faiirly close together in a tight space. As he reached over my head for something, I happened to be turning toward him. " Are you shrinking?" he asked. "Oh, honey," I exclaimed. " Can you tell? I mean, I've only been watching what I eat for about five days, and I can't tell a difference, but did you notice something?" "Oh. No. Shorter. I meant, you seem shorter."
Believe it or not, I found this funny and even reflected back on it several times during the day. Of course, it inspired me to have an almond Snickers later!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Shopping Around: Some Observations
Younger Daughter needs a fancy dress for an upcoming special event. This will be our third year to participate in this event, and I confess that while I have always enjoyed shopping, the trek for the perfect-yet-affordable dress has become a burden. We have now spent the better part of two weekends and some evening time looking everywhere we can think of within a 110-mile radius of our home to no avail. We sre now left with one weekend to find a dress, and frankly, I can't think of another place we can look. The point of this post however, is not that we can't find a dress, but to share some of the observations I made while out shopping in what turned out to be the North Alabama Territory.
1) There are only so many dresses out there. The few exist, and all others are variations on the same theme.
2) Those same dresses can vary in price by $50 to $400 depending on the particular store.
3) Either good help is hard to find or no one cares anymore. We entered one shop in the Galleria where my daughter spotted a dress very much like what she had in mind. The dresses were hanging on one of those ceiling-level hooks that requires a pole for removal, and there was one on a mannequin right there by the rack. "Certainly, I'll get you one of those dresses, " said the clerk (the lone salesperson on the floor). "What size do you need?". We needed a small. "Oh, I'm sorry" she says, "the only small we have is on that mannequin.". My daughter replied that was fine, she would try on the dress the mannequin was wearing. "Oh, no!, " the clerk said, " we only undress our mannequins on certain days, and today is not the day.". I said, " Do you mean she can't try the small on? "No we don't undress our mannequins unless it's the designated day." REALLY??? Making a sale was less important than observing the correct Mannequin Undressing Day.
4) We're having a mild winter here in the South. I guess that means one can wear hot pants (does anyone still say that?) and heels to the mall though it's the middle of January.
5) Apparently, I cannot pick out a dress of which my daughter will approve. If I want to be sure she won't try something on, I take it off the rack and hold it out for her to see. If I want to be doubly sure she won't like it, I'll say, "This is cute!"
6) Apparently, if I tire of my suggestions being shot down, give up on trying to derive the secret behind dresses that can be considered, and follow along quietly, only offering my opinion when asked, I am not participating or 'helping' in the process.
7)No matter the time of year there are never enough seats and tables in the food court of the Galleria on Saturdays.
8) I love the music they play on the outdoor speakers at The Summit.
1) There are only so many dresses out there. The few exist, and all others are variations on the same theme.
2) Those same dresses can vary in price by $50 to $400 depending on the particular store.
3) Either good help is hard to find or no one cares anymore. We entered one shop in the Galleria where my daughter spotted a dress very much like what she had in mind. The dresses were hanging on one of those ceiling-level hooks that requires a pole for removal, and there was one on a mannequin right there by the rack. "Certainly, I'll get you one of those dresses, " said the clerk (the lone salesperson on the floor). "What size do you need?". We needed a small. "Oh, I'm sorry" she says, "the only small we have is on that mannequin.". My daughter replied that was fine, she would try on the dress the mannequin was wearing. "Oh, no!, " the clerk said, " we only undress our mannequins on certain days, and today is not the day.". I said, " Do you mean she can't try the small on? "No we don't undress our mannequins unless it's the designated day." REALLY??? Making a sale was less important than observing the correct Mannequin Undressing Day.
4) We're having a mild winter here in the South. I guess that means one can wear hot pants (does anyone still say that?) and heels to the mall though it's the middle of January.
5) Apparently, I cannot pick out a dress of which my daughter will approve. If I want to be sure she won't try something on, I take it off the rack and hold it out for her to see. If I want to be doubly sure she won't like it, I'll say, "This is cute!"
6) Apparently, if I tire of my suggestions being shot down, give up on trying to derive the secret behind dresses that can be considered, and follow along quietly, only offering my opinion when asked, I am not participating or 'helping' in the process.
7)No matter the time of year there are never enough seats and tables in the food court of the Galleria on Saturdays.
8) I love the music they play on the outdoor speakers at The Summit.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Good Etiquette Should Not Be Optional
'Tis the season for many things, and for musicians, it is the concert season. I have spent the better part of December rehearsing for, producing, participating in, and attending a variety of Christmas musical concert events. It seems that at each one, I was struck by the utter lack of common decency so many seem to display. There are things that we, as professionals and professionals- in- training, know about concert etiquette that we do not expect everyone to know. These are things such as not applauding between movements of multi-movement works, applauding after jazz solos within a work, applauding after big arias within an opera, etc. We understand that we need to educate our audiences in these matters, and we are happy to do so.
There are things, however, that we should be able to expect any person over the age of twelve to know about attending a public, non-sports event. In case you are one of those that missed out on common sense or just have never been taught proper concert manners, let me help you by giving you a few rules.
1) Please educate your young ones to appreciate good performances and how to behave during one. We want new audience members. We want young people to enjoy what we do. This falls on you, though. If you don't help them know how to behave, they will not learn. If you don't want to encourage proper behavior, please don't bring your young ones. We can't pay attention, YOU can't pay attention, if they are disruptive. Remember, people are not there to hear and see you and your child. We know you want to be there and don't want to miss anything, but if your little one is making a ruckus, please take them out.
2) Is your child performing? Great! Please know that it is NEVER polite or appropriate to wave at them and to expect them to wave back at you. Directors and teachers spend a great deal of time training these young musicians to perform professionally. You demean their work when you boil it down to "I see you!" Tell your child you will be there, supporting them from the audience. They will learn they can do it without you and they will learn to appropriately appreciate your support.
3) It is not appropriate, unless there is a health crisis and 911 needs to be dialed, to speak aloud-- even at a whisper-- during a performance. If your child (or neighbor) is talking to you, please do not talk back.
4) It is never appropriate for you to have your phone on during a concert or movie. Where have you people been who have not yet learned this?? I attended an Alabama Symphony concert at Alys-Stephens Center this year where not only did a woman's cell phone ring, but she ANSWERED IT AND HAD A CONVERSATION! -- Never, never appropriate.
5) It is never appropriate to allow your toddler to crawl around on the stage or in the area in front of the audience. This distracts everyone in the room, and it really is not fair to the performers who have worked hard to prepare the program. It truly does not matter how cute and adorable you think your child is. It does not matter if you believe this is keeping him/her quiet. Please, please, do not allow this.
6) Generally speaking, when attending a concert, unless you are among those performing, you should not strive to draw undue attention to yourself. I attended a standing-room-only concert last night, in an audience of over 3000 people, in which a woman not far from us was wearing a holiday-themed necklace that not only lit-up, but flashed in rhythm. It was not an enhancement to my experience, I assure you.
7) If you are attending a concert in which the performers have worked hard to prepare something wonderful for you, and you don't want to be there, fake it, or stay at home.
8) I would think your parents would have taught you this when you were a toddler, but please visit the restroom before the concert and/or during intermission. If you are among those who have a medical condition that requires you go more often, please sit in the back, near a door. I can't imagine that some of the people I noted going in and out multiple times during the hour-long concert I recently attended actually had good reason to be getting up and down.
9) Remember, people are there for the concert, not to hear or watch you. If you are MAKING NOISE and you are not one of the performers, STOP. Again, I truly do not know why anyone of the age of accountability or above does not know this. If you don't want to be there, please stay home.
10) We really mean it when we say NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY. It distracts the performers and the other audience members. Has it ever occurred to you that a camera flash illuminates objects a few feet from the camera. It will not light up the stage that is a football-field's length from you.
11) Finally, (and this is touchy), unless you are publicly invited by someone on stage to sing along, don't sing along. I hate to say this, but sometimes, even when the person on stage says, "~~And if you know the words, sing along," they don't really mean it. :-) Even if you have a lovely singing voice, it is not generally good manners for you to sing from the audience. If you feel the urge, and you haven't been invited by the performers, and especially if NO ONE ELSE seems to be singing, you should probably keep quiet. I hope I'm not offending you, but if you have trouble matching pitch, you should save your solo for the shower. (Bless Your Heart.)
I'm sure this is not an exhaustive list, but at least it gives you a good idea of what one expects from a polite audience member.
There are things, however, that we should be able to expect any person over the age of twelve to know about attending a public, non-sports event. In case you are one of those that missed out on common sense or just have never been taught proper concert manners, let me help you by giving you a few rules.
1) Please educate your young ones to appreciate good performances and how to behave during one. We want new audience members. We want young people to enjoy what we do. This falls on you, though. If you don't help them know how to behave, they will not learn. If you don't want to encourage proper behavior, please don't bring your young ones. We can't pay attention, YOU can't pay attention, if they are disruptive. Remember, people are not there to hear and see you and your child. We know you want to be there and don't want to miss anything, but if your little one is making a ruckus, please take them out.
2) Is your child performing? Great! Please know that it is NEVER polite or appropriate to wave at them and to expect them to wave back at you. Directors and teachers spend a great deal of time training these young musicians to perform professionally. You demean their work when you boil it down to "I see you!" Tell your child you will be there, supporting them from the audience. They will learn they can do it without you and they will learn to appropriately appreciate your support.
3) It is not appropriate, unless there is a health crisis and 911 needs to be dialed, to speak aloud-- even at a whisper-- during a performance. If your child (or neighbor) is talking to you, please do not talk back.
4) It is never appropriate for you to have your phone on during a concert or movie. Where have you people been who have not yet learned this?? I attended an Alabama Symphony concert at Alys-Stephens Center this year where not only did a woman's cell phone ring, but she ANSWERED IT AND HAD A CONVERSATION! -- Never, never appropriate.
5) It is never appropriate to allow your toddler to crawl around on the stage or in the area in front of the audience. This distracts everyone in the room, and it really is not fair to the performers who have worked hard to prepare the program. It truly does not matter how cute and adorable you think your child is. It does not matter if you believe this is keeping him/her quiet. Please, please, do not allow this.
6) Generally speaking, when attending a concert, unless you are among those performing, you should not strive to draw undue attention to yourself. I attended a standing-room-only concert last night, in an audience of over 3000 people, in which a woman not far from us was wearing a holiday-themed necklace that not only lit-up, but flashed in rhythm. It was not an enhancement to my experience, I assure you.
7) If you are attending a concert in which the performers have worked hard to prepare something wonderful for you, and you don't want to be there, fake it, or stay at home.
8) I would think your parents would have taught you this when you were a toddler, but please visit the restroom before the concert and/or during intermission. If you are among those who have a medical condition that requires you go more often, please sit in the back, near a door. I can't imagine that some of the people I noted going in and out multiple times during the hour-long concert I recently attended actually had good reason to be getting up and down.
9) Remember, people are there for the concert, not to hear or watch you. If you are MAKING NOISE and you are not one of the performers, STOP. Again, I truly do not know why anyone of the age of accountability or above does not know this. If you don't want to be there, please stay home.
10) We really mean it when we say NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY. It distracts the performers and the other audience members. Has it ever occurred to you that a camera flash illuminates objects a few feet from the camera. It will not light up the stage that is a football-field's length from you.
11) Finally, (and this is touchy), unless you are publicly invited by someone on stage to sing along, don't sing along. I hate to say this, but sometimes, even when the person on stage says, "~~And if you know the words, sing along," they don't really mean it. :-) Even if you have a lovely singing voice, it is not generally good manners for you to sing from the audience. If you feel the urge, and you haven't been invited by the performers, and especially if NO ONE ELSE seems to be singing, you should probably keep quiet. I hope I'm not offending you, but if you have trouble matching pitch, you should save your solo for the shower. (Bless Your Heart.)
I'm sure this is not an exhaustive list, but at least it gives you a good idea of what one expects from a polite audience member.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Getting “Busted” at Work
There is a shop in the city in which I work that specializes in women’s lingerie, specifically the foundational type. I am a customer of this establishment, where one can be fitted by experts. The products are not inexpensive, so once a year or so I go in and purchase a couple of basic colors in my size, and I happily make do until time to re-stock. Earlier this week I was beckoned into the office of a friend (I will not use names so as to protect the innocent), who pulled a bag from this shop to which I referred from under her desk and explained that one of the secretaries in the main office had visited the shop recently when there was a big sale going on. This lady had picked up three ‘garments’ that were marked as her size, and without trying them on, purchased them, only to find out later that they were NOT her size after all, and she couldn’t return them because they had been on clearance. She had brought them to work with her for a friend to try on, and by the time they were passed on to me, had been tried by three or four ladies who found they were unable to wear them.
I happily took them home with me,(though I felt I had to conceal the bag as I left the building, since it was clearly marked with the name of the shop and the outline of the --ahem-- female form). I found to my delight, that not only did the ‘garments’ fit me, they were nothing like what I usually purchase. (--Certainly not what Grandmother wore!) They are pretty and patterned and decorative. What fun!
Fast forward to the next morning at about 4:30, when I awoke with a migraine. (Please bear with me, this is important to my tale.) I arose and took my medication as soon as I could, but I knew it would be a few hours before I felt like driving. When I finally did make it into work a little after 9, my head was better, but I still felt sick, and I had to wear sunglasses because the light hurt my eyes. I sat down at my computer and wanted to do the proper, mannerly thing and thank the person responsible for my newfound foundational undergarment wardrobe. --I couldn’t remember exactly who it was, so I set about emailing the friend who had pulled me into her office and given me the bag.
I thought about doing something cute like, “Call me Cinderella--they fit!”, but instead went with the following-- Message Subject: Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders. Message Body: They fit beautifully and are such a nice change from my typical beige and black. Whom do I thank? -- Hit SEND.
Now, here is where you need to know that the first two letters of my friend’s name are the same first two letters of the last name of our, well, I’ll just say top administrator. The lights were dim in my studio, I wasn’t well, and yes, I partially blame my computer’s efforts to make my life easier by filling in the email address it believes I had in mind. I was busy doing other things when I heard the ‘new mail’ tone and went to the computer to see an email from our top administrator that read: Am I missing something?
Oh, yes, dear readers, I had sent that little message to the man who is over the school, who met me for the first time in August, and has since had about four conversations with me.
You know that feeling you get when you’ve done something you would pay good money to reverse or erase, but the trap door isn’t open and the witness protection program is not an option? Well, this is when I knew I just had to be a Steel Magnolia or, as my sister would say, put my big girl panties on and deal with it. (Yes, I realize that is yet another underwear reference, but you must admit it’s appropriate --sadly.) I responded to my administrator that I sent it to the wrong address, that I had awakened with a migraine and still wasn’t myself, and that I apologized. He responded “No problem.”
About that time, the friend who started this whole business by passing along the items in the first place had emailed me back in horror! She then appeared at my door and couldn’t even speak, she was laughing so hard!!
You know that earlier in this year, I was standing in the work room at the college where I teach part-time, talking to my beloved and highly-respected Music History professor, when I felt an odd sensation on my legs. I looked down, and there lay my slip in a puddle around my feet on the floor. This professor, being a consummate Southern gentleman, stepped forward immediately, reflexively, to pick up what I had “dropped.” In my best steel magnolia voice I said, “I declare! I believe I have lost my slip!” to which he replied, “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll let you retrieve it yourself.” (Thank goodness!)
If I had dreamed these incidents, we could analyze what in the world is going on with me and these underwear adventures. Since they happened in real life, I’m at a loss! Meanwhile, I’m happy to have supplied so many with a good laugh. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to wear the things now! My colleagues can’t even look at me without bursting into laughter.
Somebody help me!
We shall never speak of this again.
(My thanks to my friend Kim for the suggestion for the title. She's still laughing, too.)
I happily took them home with me,(though I felt I had to conceal the bag as I left the building, since it was clearly marked with the name of the shop and the outline of the --ahem-- female form). I found to my delight, that not only did the ‘garments’ fit me, they were nothing like what I usually purchase. (--Certainly not what Grandmother wore!) They are pretty and patterned and decorative. What fun!
Fast forward to the next morning at about 4:30, when I awoke with a migraine. (Please bear with me, this is important to my tale.) I arose and took my medication as soon as I could, but I knew it would be a few hours before I felt like driving. When I finally did make it into work a little after 9, my head was better, but I still felt sick, and I had to wear sunglasses because the light hurt my eyes. I sat down at my computer and wanted to do the proper, mannerly thing and thank the person responsible for my newfound foundational undergarment wardrobe. --I couldn’t remember exactly who it was, so I set about emailing the friend who had pulled me into her office and given me the bag.
I thought about doing something cute like, “Call me Cinderella--they fit!”, but instead went with the following-- Message Subject: Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders. Message Body: They fit beautifully and are such a nice change from my typical beige and black. Whom do I thank? -- Hit SEND.
Now, here is where you need to know that the first two letters of my friend’s name are the same first two letters of the last name of our, well, I’ll just say top administrator. The lights were dim in my studio, I wasn’t well, and yes, I partially blame my computer’s efforts to make my life easier by filling in the email address it believes I had in mind. I was busy doing other things when I heard the ‘new mail’ tone and went to the computer to see an email from our top administrator that read: Am I missing something?
Oh, yes, dear readers, I had sent that little message to the man who is over the school, who met me for the first time in August, and has since had about four conversations with me.
You know that feeling you get when you’ve done something you would pay good money to reverse or erase, but the trap door isn’t open and the witness protection program is not an option? Well, this is when I knew I just had to be a Steel Magnolia or, as my sister would say, put my big girl panties on and deal with it. (Yes, I realize that is yet another underwear reference, but you must admit it’s appropriate --sadly.) I responded to my administrator that I sent it to the wrong address, that I had awakened with a migraine and still wasn’t myself, and that I apologized. He responded “No problem.”
About that time, the friend who started this whole business by passing along the items in the first place had emailed me back in horror! She then appeared at my door and couldn’t even speak, she was laughing so hard!!
You know that earlier in this year, I was standing in the work room at the college where I teach part-time, talking to my beloved and highly-respected Music History professor, when I felt an odd sensation on my legs. I looked down, and there lay my slip in a puddle around my feet on the floor. This professor, being a consummate Southern gentleman, stepped forward immediately, reflexively, to pick up what I had “dropped.” In my best steel magnolia voice I said, “I declare! I believe I have lost my slip!” to which he replied, “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll let you retrieve it yourself.” (Thank goodness!)
If I had dreamed these incidents, we could analyze what in the world is going on with me and these underwear adventures. Since they happened in real life, I’m at a loss! Meanwhile, I’m happy to have supplied so many with a good laugh. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to wear the things now! My colleagues can’t even look at me without bursting into laughter.
Somebody help me!
We shall never speak of this again.
(My thanks to my friend Kim for the suggestion for the title. She's still laughing, too.)
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Look Up Here Every Now and Then and Make Sure I'm Alright
As a choral director of a choir of 7th-12th graders, I use many different approaches and techniques to teach music and help the singers perfect it for performance. Because of the great age span, and therefore multiple maturity and musicality levels, in my choir, I vary activities and approaches regularly. We always perform by memory, but use the score as we are learning and perfecting a piece. As with most groups, my choir has a tendency to look down and into the score if they are holding it and referring to it. We use multiple things to 'remind' them to watch, but a lot of times I will light-heartedly say, "Hey, look up here every now and then just to make sure I'm alright!" We have a good laugh, and for at least a time, they hold the score higher and attempt to look over it more often for cues from me.
A few weeks ago, this saying of mine took on a whole new meaning. Our school is in the midst of a major construction project that has many of us meeting our classes in spaces we are not accustomed to, and this semester, the choir is meeting in the theatre. For this particular rehearsal, we were in formation seated on the stage area, which is only about 4" above the floor level. (The seating is elevated.) We perform in this space twice a year, and I always have to remind myself repeatedly not to back off the 4" rise. On this day, the choir was seated and actively engaged in working on a fairly new piece. At this stage in the learning, I move around a great deal, going from part to part and section to section so that I can listen as they begin to put things together. I was moving hurriedly, and skirting the 8-foot Steinway, and on my way from the sopranos around the piano to the altos, my foot hung on the 4" rise and I knew I was going to fall. I felt as if I were in a movie, in slow motion, and even had time to think, "Yes, you're going down, and no, you shouldn't try to grab the piano to stop yourself because you could break your arm." Once I hit the floor with what seemed to me the noise of an atomic explosion, I was able to tell myself not to move for a few seconds so that I could stabilize my equilibrium. By the time I did rise (mere seconds, actually), one of my baritones had vaulted from his seat on the back row to come to my aid. The entire choir had gasped in unison and gone silent. I'm sure they were taken aback by my sudden disappearance, as I went down behind the huge piano that stood between them and me. I was able to be thankful that, especially since I was wearing a skirt that day, I didn't go head-over-heels. That would have traumatized us all!
Once I reassured them all that I was fine (though I had black and blue knees for two weeks!), I reminded them, "I told you all to look up here every now and then and make sure I'm alright. Now you know why!"
A few weeks ago, this saying of mine took on a whole new meaning. Our school is in the midst of a major construction project that has many of us meeting our classes in spaces we are not accustomed to, and this semester, the choir is meeting in the theatre. For this particular rehearsal, we were in formation seated on the stage area, which is only about 4" above the floor level. (The seating is elevated.) We perform in this space twice a year, and I always have to remind myself repeatedly not to back off the 4" rise. On this day, the choir was seated and actively engaged in working on a fairly new piece. At this stage in the learning, I move around a great deal, going from part to part and section to section so that I can listen as they begin to put things together. I was moving hurriedly, and skirting the 8-foot Steinway, and on my way from the sopranos around the piano to the altos, my foot hung on the 4" rise and I knew I was going to fall. I felt as if I were in a movie, in slow motion, and even had time to think, "Yes, you're going down, and no, you shouldn't try to grab the piano to stop yourself because you could break your arm." Once I hit the floor with what seemed to me the noise of an atomic explosion, I was able to tell myself not to move for a few seconds so that I could stabilize my equilibrium. By the time I did rise (mere seconds, actually), one of my baritones had vaulted from his seat on the back row to come to my aid. The entire choir had gasped in unison and gone silent. I'm sure they were taken aback by my sudden disappearance, as I went down behind the huge piano that stood between them and me. I was able to be thankful that, especially since I was wearing a skirt that day, I didn't go head-over-heels. That would have traumatized us all!
Once I reassured them all that I was fine (though I had black and blue knees for two weeks!), I reminded them, "I told you all to look up here every now and then and make sure I'm alright. Now you know why!"
Friday, August 26, 2011
To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn
I have decided I like the way we now refer to the different times in our lives as ‘seasons.’ I don't remember hearing this used in this way until the last few years. Somehow, the word ‘seasons’ seems softer, gentler, easier to handle perhaps than a 'phase' or a 'stage.' That’s why you go through a season when your children go to school, you struggle with an illness, or you need to deal with aging parents, but your teenagers are going through a STAGE. As a musician, I can easily think of concert or performance seasons when I hear the word, and that is always a positive. Seasons, too, are by definition relatively short periods of time. Of course, also by definition, they are going to come around again.
I have often defined my life as moving from one big event to another, and I’m sure many of you feel the same way. What is this mysterious feeling we get that has us both awaiting the next event with great anticipation and grieving the ending of the last event – or season? Why is it that we are either desperately longing for change or mourning the change upon us?
We wouldn’t want to live in the honeymoon stage of our marriages for a lifetime. Morrow and I would still be eating pan-fried SPAM and Beanie-Weenies, for goodness’ sake! We wouldn’t want our children to remain adorable toddlers. Remember that ‘season’ of several years when you either hired a sitter or you didn’t go out to eat-- or anywhere else much, for that matter? Remember when you worked so hard with your children to teach them to speak clearly and understand directions and write their name? Remember how proud and pleased we were when they said “thank you” and “please”? Why does it hurt so much to see them grow up while it at once thrills us to know they are becoming successful, contributing members of society?
I’ve been pondering this a lot lately. Our older daughter is happily involved already in her sophomore year of college. Our younger daughter is very involved in multiple school, sports and church activities, and a good deal of our time with her involves text messages communication or our cheering her on from the stands. We have a lot of quiet evenings at home now, as we watch our children function positively without us. We still contribute to their lives, of course, and I don’t just mean financially. It is touching when they do have to call on us for help or advice. I think one thing that makes it such an interesting season for me is that, aside from the arthritis and general age-related things that cause my body to feel ancient (and I won’t even mention hot flashes), I really don’t feel any older than my daughters are now. I remember being that age, so how in the world could the babies I carried and bore be this old?
And where does that leave me now? What does a mom do with herself when her children become independent? Well, I’ve said this before, but I remind myself of it regularly: If I believe that God is sovereign (and I do), then I cannot doubt His sovereignty when circumstances seem unclear. I had a confirmation just yesterday that I am where I need to be, doing what I need to be doing, right now in my life—just as something I wished I were doing and dearly want to do is not available to me right now. No doubts. I will proceed with JOY and FAITH in His sovereignty and His guidance in the lives of my family and in my life and in every SEASON.
I have often defined my life as moving from one big event to another, and I’m sure many of you feel the same way. What is this mysterious feeling we get that has us both awaiting the next event with great anticipation and grieving the ending of the last event – or season? Why is it that we are either desperately longing for change or mourning the change upon us?
We wouldn’t want to live in the honeymoon stage of our marriages for a lifetime. Morrow and I would still be eating pan-fried SPAM and Beanie-Weenies, for goodness’ sake! We wouldn’t want our children to remain adorable toddlers. Remember that ‘season’ of several years when you either hired a sitter or you didn’t go out to eat-- or anywhere else much, for that matter? Remember when you worked so hard with your children to teach them to speak clearly and understand directions and write their name? Remember how proud and pleased we were when they said “thank you” and “please”? Why does it hurt so much to see them grow up while it at once thrills us to know they are becoming successful, contributing members of society?
I’ve been pondering this a lot lately. Our older daughter is happily involved already in her sophomore year of college. Our younger daughter is very involved in multiple school, sports and church activities, and a good deal of our time with her involves text messages communication or our cheering her on from the stands. We have a lot of quiet evenings at home now, as we watch our children function positively without us. We still contribute to their lives, of course, and I don’t just mean financially. It is touching when they do have to call on us for help or advice. I think one thing that makes it such an interesting season for me is that, aside from the arthritis and general age-related things that cause my body to feel ancient (and I won’t even mention hot flashes), I really don’t feel any older than my daughters are now. I remember being that age, so how in the world could the babies I carried and bore be this old?
And where does that leave me now? What does a mom do with herself when her children become independent? Well, I’ve said this before, but I remind myself of it regularly: If I believe that God is sovereign (and I do), then I cannot doubt His sovereignty when circumstances seem unclear. I had a confirmation just yesterday that I am where I need to be, doing what I need to be doing, right now in my life—just as something I wished I were doing and dearly want to do is not available to me right now. No doubts. I will proceed with JOY and FAITH in His sovereignty and His guidance in the lives of my family and in my life and in every SEASON.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Follow-up to "The Child Wants What the Child Wants"
Imagine my surprise when I found this story when msn.com came up on my computer this morning. I don't even regularly visit msn.com, but here you go--- a story that backs-up my most recent post.
http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/family-parenting/article.aspx?cp-documentid=29737154>1=32050
http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/family-parenting/article.aspx?cp-documentid=29737154>1=32050
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