The beauty in everyday events.

We have a hole in our backyard. I didn't dig it. My kids didn't dig it. It's about 4 inches across and about as deep. For several weeks, the hole just existed - with the dirt that was dug out in a little mound beside it and grass nearby - dying as a result of being uprooted.

I knew what dug that hole. The same thing happened last year. It was a mama rabbit creating a proper den for her little offspring...tiny baby bunnies that would be born in just a short time.

Last year, four little bunnies found themselves growing up in our backyard. I watched over them as though they were my own babies. During one particularly harsh spring storm, one of the babies decided to see what all the fuss was about and in the process of checking out the thunder and lightning, became cold and very wet. I have no idea why I went into the back yard to check on them, but it's a good thing I did as this little bunny was gasping for breath and was as cold as the rain pelting it.

I saved his life that day.

Ok, well it's a little life, but it still counts. His brothers and sisters were smart and stayed put - nice and dry. I took him inside the house, wrapped him in a towel, then heated up a microwavable neck warmer and wrapped that around the towel. All the while, I stroked his little chest and tried to get him to breathe normally.

After two hours and a lot of TLC later, he seemed to be doing much better. I put him under my daughter's desk lamp and dried out his fur, then carefully returned him to his den. I named him Rupert.

He grew up with his brothers and sisters and they all hopped off to make their own little marks on the world. We still see signs of their presence everywhere... especially in my flower beds. But, it's ok. I enjoy sharing. I enjoy knowing they visit - even when we aren't looking.

We should all appreciate the world around us and find the beauty in everyday events.

Salt and Ice

Gracious, I haven't posted here in months.

My youngest daughter had a little science experiment a few days ago. She was to take two ice cubes and see what happened when salt was sprinkled on one of the ice cubes. Which one would melt the fastest?

Of course, anyone over the age of 10 probably knows the outcome, but one of the things that gave me pause for thought was the way the ice cube with the salt sprinkled on it actually looked like when it started to melt.

Every little sprinkle of salt created a hole in the ice. It didn't melt evenly. The ice cube remained intact, but the salt bore a hole through the ice wherever it landed.

As I reflected on this, I realized how much it reflected my own life. Each little sprinkle of salt represented a negative situation. While I still remained whole, each negative (life's events aren't all cheery, right?) had an effect, to varying degrees, based on how large the negative event was.

The larger the piece of salt, the larger or deeper the hole. The more significant the negative event, the deeper and/or wider the wound.

Pain is inevitable.

Sure, the ice continued to melt because that's what the experiment was designed to show. Fortunately, people do react differently than a piece of ice.

I am still here.

To be clear, the holes are still real.

And I do believe that nothing happens without a reason.

Wiping the Slate Clean

I went shopping for a new laptop today. The one in our home is at least 6 years old - and still works beautifully - but it is dated and doesn't operate quite as quickly as the PC I use for my work. In considering the implications of switching all of my work from the PC to the laptop (with a docking station), it occured to me that I would be starting with a fresh slate. It's quite an amazing proposition to consider - not just from a computing standpoint - but from a way of life perspective.

What if you could wipe the slate clean? What if you could load the programs of your choice and start from where you are and move forward?

I think of all the downloads I've made on my PC and it's stunning to realize that it continues to work in spite of how much junk I throw at it. To be able to get rid of those now-unwanted programs is such a blessing. Oh, sure, I could uninstall quite a few of those programs anyway, but who takes the time to do that? I surely don't. I simply look at my program files with furrowed brows and gasp at the file names I don't recognize.

What if I could look at the file names in my mind? Would I delete any of them?

What if I could dump the crud out of my life and start from where I am without all the baggage of the past? What if I could start right now and load fresh programs where I could begin new memories and feel free again?

And yet, what would I choose? Would I want to live differently than I do now? How would I factor in the people who mean the most to me? It's not as simple as I would like it to be - even in my imagination. Life is complicated. Decisions are complicated.

Of course, if I dumped the crud, I'd probably be apt to repeat mistakes. Well, I do that now. ;) But at least having memories of the icky stuff repels some distasteful options. If only we could be guaranteed not to have to go through the same crud twice.

We are irrational beings. We want it all. But, we are unwilling to pay the price for having it all - or, if we do pay the price - it takes the form of consequences. Just consider the sub-prime mortgage debacle. If more people had read the fine print or thought through their actions more thoroughly, they would have made (or should have made) different choices.

A foreclosure isn't something you can wipe off of any slate. Nor is a divorce. Nor is a hasty, angry word.

I suppose that uninstalling the bad stuff isn't such a great idea after all. Some of the good would likely get mixed in with some of the bad. The lessons from a myriad of consequences would be lost. Poor decisions would be repeated and I'd find myself at 65 exactly where I am at 43 - and what's the point of that? I'd be no farther along and simply have more wrinkles.

I guess I'll just enjoy my new laptop and be thankful that I can start anew with it. Perhaps it won't be another 6 years before it gets replaced, but when it does, it will be loaded with a lot of stuff I really don't need - and I'll love every minute of it.

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A hammer and a bed

My sister, Debra, and her oldest daughter have gone on missionary trips to Honduras for the past two summers. They look forward to it... even though they will work for hours in the sweltering heat building houses for people they hardly know.

This past summer, my neice spent 3 weeks working side-by-side with people from all over North America in an effort to make a difference in the lives of a handful of people who live on a hill in a distant land that most folks don't spend much time thinking about. My sister could only take 2 weeks of vacation, so she couldn't spend as much time there as my neice, but since she cries nearly every day she's there, it's probably for the best.

You see, Honduras is not a particular pleasant place to live. Families live in conditions that most of us would find impossible to comprehend. Debra has seen children literally dig in a dump for scraps of food. In a way, I'm glad I have not gone on one of these missionary trips as I fear my heart would be left there. How could one watch a child digging for scraps of food and not be touched forever?

Before Debra left this past summer, I asked her to do me a favor. I asked her to use the money she'd otherwise spend on my birthday present to purchase something that she could take down with her to Honduras.

She bought a hammer.

It's such a small thing, really. A hammer. But put it in the hands of a seventeen year old and add a handful of nails and a few pieces of wood, and before long, you have part of a roof.

That roof covers the bodies of people just like you and me. They deserve to have shelter - a place to call home.

Unfortunately, many of the children in the area where this mission is are not taken care of by their own families. I read a newsletter last month by the lady who runs this mission area and she reported that some [children] have been abused, raped and neglected. They run the streets at such tender ages it tugs at the heart. One young girl, aged 10, has been repeatedly raped and abused. She is mentally disabled and has no home. Her 6 year old sister tries to care for her, but she, too, has been horribly neglected - and likely sexually abused, too.

This Christmas, I have asked my parents and my in-laws to forego presents for me and send the money to this mission. The mission will purchase beds for a shelter that was built earlier this summer for children just like the ones mentioned above. What may be donated may not be enough to buy a lot of beds - or perhaps even one bed - but it's a start. This holiday season, my list of wants is inconsequential.

There isn't anything I need that trumps a bed for a child.

_____________________________________________________


If you want to help a child in need, please send your contributions here:

Casa de Esperanza
P.O. Box 9222
Columbus, MS 39705

The newsletter I receive is sent by Terri Tindall. You can put your contributions to her attention.

_____________________________________________________

Making a Difference

Last April, I made a decision that has impacted my life in a way I didn't think was possible. I'm not even sure I gave much thought to the amount of time it would take or the number of phone calls/emails I would receive on a consisent basis. At the time, I simply knew it was a job that needed to be done and I was fairly certain that no one else would want to do it.

Even though I have lost plenty of sleep worrying and balled my hands into fists over the many frustrations, I do not regret one single moment of the time I've spent being the band booster president of my daughter's high school band.

This is from one of the band students:

Michele Wisniewski:

"Through the years I have come to comprehend that band isn't just an elective, it's a state of mind; everything from playing till I can't feel my jaw to the sweaty brine that gradually dribbles down my brow symbolizing the end of a practice. One may ask why anyone could take pleasure in doing such a thing, but they would understand instantaneously if they could sense the thrill, the sheer pleasure one gets as they feel the rubber pellets underfoot that mark the beginning of halftime. Being in band has brought immense opportunities into my life and shall surely enrich it for years to come."

Being where I am, right now, makes a difference in the lives of over 170 students. Most of them don't even know my name. To them, I'm just another "band mom" - but it's a name I wear proudly - because what I do day-in and day-out matters to these kids.

I'm only one band mom in a sea of dozens who perform a variety of duties at each event. We work together to make sure the students have everything they need - from a meal before a performance to plumes in their hats. It is a coordinated effort that offers each student the best opportunity to play well, to enjoy themselves, and to succeed.

Life is about choices - a series of choices - that allow us to help others in little ways and sometimes in big ways. Every choice is important. Every choice can make a difference.

Never, ever, pass up an opportunity to do something nice for someone else.

What I have found is that the choice I made last April has given me some lovely benefits, too. I feel good about what I am doing. I have made some friends I cherish. I feel more pride than ever in watching the band perform.

Make a difference in someone else's life and you'll make a wonderful difference in your own as well.

If you are interested, our band needs some assistance in purchasing new equipment. We keep growing. ;)

There is no cost to you in any way. Just as you make your on-line purchases, do so through the site below and the companies that participate will make a donation to our band.

It's painless - and it makes a big difference in the lives of a lot of young people.

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Mighty Hawk Band Boosters

Give voice to your thoughts.

We have a cat in our house. His name is Jake and he's been with us for more than 13 years. He's not so much a cat as he is a furry pillow with feet, moving from room to room, decorating the carpet, back of a loveseat, dining room chair or cedar chest. He doesn't really play very often, but he does "meow" from time to time. Like a newborn baby, his cries sound pretty much the same, so it's up to me to figure out what he wants. Is he out of food or water? Does he want some affection? Would he like to go in the backyard?

When a little one comes into this world, there is really only one means of communication. The problem is that you can't always discern if the cries are for hunger, affection, sickness or wetness. It's trial and error until those cries become more distinguishable (mad vs. hungry).

Many people suffer from the same unfortunate problem, even as adults. Oh, it's not about the "cry" so to speak, rather their lack of REAL communication. I know far too many people who lack the ability (or perhaps desire) to truly communicate their wants, needs, desires and hopes to others. And it's so unfortunate. How sad it is to see so many precious people keeping so much bottled up inside.

Words can accomplish many things. They reflect thought, emotion or information. When I talk to someone, I want to KNOW them. I want to FEEL what they feel. I want to learn from them. Otherwise, what is the point of talking to each other?

Of course it is easy to understand why so many people don't want to open themselves up to others. When I was student teaching, I even saw it in the little ones. It's all about fear. No one wants to put themselves on the line if they might be rejected or laughed at. (I did a great lesson on this, though, and it helped a lot. I'll have to post here about "The Dot" by Peter H. Reynolds sometime.)

On the other hand, much of our ability to overcome such fear is our belief in our own self-worth. A tremendous number of people suffer from low self-esteem or low self-confidence. I have had to work on this myself at times - and it's not easy - but the rewards are extraordinary. (Note: I also need to post about keeping track of successes.)

One quote, and I cannot remember to whom to attribute it is: "The criticism that hurts the most is the one that echoes my own self-condemnation." So, if my youngest child says, "Mom, you're getting fat." and I feel like a slug, it's because I already have that thought running around in my mind. If I felt and looked great and she told me that, I'd say to her, "You need glasses. I look awesome."

Kids are great at telling the truth, aren't they? When I was student teaching, I went to class one time with my hair naturally dried and it was very, very wavy. One of the boys said, "Mrs. Vaughan, your hair is messy." I said, "It's not messy. It's the natural look. I'm starting a new trend." He blinked twice and accepted it. ;)

The thing is, we have to be free to be ourselves, to express ourselves, to believe in ourselves. I can't harbor self-doubt just because some elementary school boy thinks my hair looks like a wreck. Nor can I (or should I) allow anyone to make me feel like my thoughts or words aren't worth speaking.

Nor should you.

Give voice to your thoughts. Share your feelings with others. Communicate. And listen to others when they express themselves.

The world will be a richer place.