Turkeys, To Dos and Perspective

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY THREE

The Program was today. I just spent some time at Bug and Baby Girl’s preschool for the annual Thanksgiving Program and lunch. It was fun times with a cute little turkey and a very handsome pilgrim. We brought our own turkeys made out of Oreos and a plate of cheese slices to contribute to the sandwiches of the crowd. They smiled and waved. They sang. They clapped and touched their head, shoulders, knees and toes. They were happy. And they knew it. It was all the unexpected silliness you would expect from a preschool program.

It took two hours of what was an already busy day if you include the assembling of the cheese plate and the gas that had to be purchased before I could get the van home. I walked back into my office to a piled up desk and an iPad app full of tasks waiting to be checked off. Still, although I may feel a little stretched with this week’s schedule, I just know those were two of the best hours I could spend today.

Yes, I received all the standard reminders of Thanksgiving at The Program. The blessing of the holiday. The food we could partake. The sweet faces and infectious smiles. But this year I was also reminded of what a blessing it is for me to have the freedom to do all the things that seem to be required of Mommies during the holidays.

A year and a half ago when I learned that the company I had worked with for 16 years would be closing, that freedom wasn’t on my radar. I didn’t really have a moment of panic then (I think that came later), but it did seem like a setback. Some limitation (what felt like another limitation) I would need to scrape through. A financial strain. An emotional strain. A colossal change in my normal.

As it turned out, I really didn’t have much time to ponder the limitations. In the same breath she told me she was retiring, my boss/friend/mentor said “you need to start your own design business.” And she proceeded to articulate several ways she thought I would succeed. Wow! It was a new thought to me. The short story is that I did just that, and I was right. It WAS a colossal change in my norm — a change I am now so grateful is my new normal.

Although I could barely imagine it at the time, this experiment of a new business and the decision to work from my home has been a Godsend. It’s given me the opportunity to be that Mom I wanted to be. I wanted to be the Mom who could go on the field trip or organize the party or knock off the afternoon early for snow cones. I’ve also come to enjoy the freedom to cultivate my own mix of design services, consulting strategies and writing skills I can offer to clients. I relish the chance to hone my own commitments into those that most closely resemble my ideal. I love making the determination to give away my time to some of the clients if I feel it’s right. And when it comes right down to the bottom line, I’m so grateful for this chance to provide for my kids in a way I probably wouldn’t have been able to in my previous work situation.

As I look around this office I’ve organized and adorned with design books, color chips, kid drawings and throw pillows, I find that I wouldn’t have my normal any other way. What a blessing to be able to spend my days enjoying tasks and the place I have to do them! What a blessing to be able to lay them aside for two hours to devote that time to what matches with my own priorities — my only responsibility and accountability being the things that matter most to me in work and life. Life is too short to settle for less than that.

Today, full on kid songs and Oreos and burgeoning project tasks, I’m so thankful for the realization that what seemed like a step backward actually brought me right were I want to be. Funny how that happens.

The Pile

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY TWO

Yesterday I spent some time with my little ones outside again. I love the magic that fresh air often provides to our spirits. We’ve been working on a project this year in the back yard. For me, it’s a project to transform the back yard into the back garden. That distinction is lost on the kids, of course. They are simply enjoying the opportunity to dig in new dirt. I’m enjoying the opportunity to reclaim something.

I call it “the pile.” The back corner of my property had been left as a growing debris pile for many years — the place where unwanted plants, dirt, clippings, and limbs were all left to decay. As “the pile” grew, it had become an eyesore. The huge display of rotting and drying vegetation had begun to take over the yard, the view and my enthusiasm. In my mind “the pile” had become a symbol of growing frustration with other areas of my life I felt had been neglected and left to dry up and wither. Areas that seemed to be taking over and squelching my vitality.

Beyond that, “the pile” had become shameful to me. It was ugly. It was unkept. It was irresponsible. It was intimidating. It represented my own resistance to stand up and cultivate the life of significance I really want.

I’m writing in past tense. It WAS. Back in the Spring, I decided to tackle “the pile” and operation reclamation began. I hired someone to come and haul the pile away leaving bare ground. Slowly (with the help of my Mom and the cheers of my kids) I’ve thought through that plot of earth’s possibilities. I’ve marked off areas for plantings. We’ve pruned and cleared unwanted plants. We planted azaleas and tea olive shrubs. We added a wooden swing. With great excitement, we hauled in a funky shaped playhouse for Baby Girl’s birthday. We even added a few plants around its little stoop.

All the while, we’ve been giggling. We’ve been digging. We’ve been getting muddy. We’ve been working. We’ve been planning and imagining. We’ve been ENJOYING that space. We’ve been LIVING in that space.

Yesterday, we put out seed in that space. We bought the rye seed. We stood amazed at how tiny they were. We dumped them into the seed spreader and we rolled them out into that reclaimed earth.

As I think about Thanksgiving and the recognition of bounty it provides, I can’t help but be reminded about the power of sowing seeds. About the need to clear ground before new growth can occur. About the joy and confidence that comes from reclaiming what has been squelched. About the reminder that spaces must be empty before they can be filled. Bit by bit, step by step, cultivating is inspiring. In all its messy stages. It’s admirable. It’s worthy of gratitude for each foothold that is gained.

It’s so easy to focus attention on where we are NOT in this journey of living. It’s so easy to give credence to the place we haven’t yet reached. It’s so easy to discount the necessary small (and big) steps it takes to get there. I’m so thankful for “the pile’s” tangible reminder that green grass — the grass I can’t see now — begins with removing dead branches. It begins with determining that something must be cleared if I am to gain NEW ground. I’m thankful for the reminder that preparing the earth is a necessary step in enjoying bounty.

From Empty to Bounty: 12 Days

DAY ONE

Today is Sunday — the one that’s a week and a half before Thanksgiving. If I’m going to commit to the Eyejunkie 4th Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series, today is the day to begin. I woke up thinking that this morning.

Fourth annual. I can hardly believe it’s correct to even write that. Yet, it is. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog long enough to have a 4th annual anything. But, I guess I have. As I’ve glanced through the  12 Days themes of year one, year two and year three, it’s easy for me to see the changes in my own life — my own heart — as portrayed through this odd little record. It’s easy to see the constant aspects as well.

I’ve spent the last week trying to decide if I really wanted to bite off the daily morsel of a 12-day writing commitment this year. On Friday at the end of a long (and somewhat busy) week, I was feeling the pressure of many things. One of those things was the choice of writing about Thanksgiving for twelve days. The choice of thinking about thanksgiving for twelve days, in addition to everything else that seems to be enveloping my mind. To say it was daunting at that moment is an understatement. Honestly, I really couldn’t imagine how I would do it.

“My life is so empty right now.”

Ha! I actually had that thought. As I sit here taking a rest from the morning playing with Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl, I know that statement doesn’t even approach the truth. I mean, not even close. Yet, I thought it. And although I knew the folly of it almost before I articulated it in my mind’s voice, still there was some element of the statement I had to consciously admit and explore.

My life is not empty. But, at least at that moment, my spirit was. My gumption was. My joy meter. My energy level.

It happens sometimes. There is something about life that squeezes us out — even if we don’t mean to get wrung. Sometimes it’s the reality of grabbing everything we can from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim at least something from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of carving out time and energy and brain space from a multitude of activity to believe we are actually having an experience at all — a life. And, whatever combination of those realities had materialized in my thinking over the last few weeks, the result manifested itself as a sincere and credible feeling of emptiness.

The great chasm between empty and bounty doesn’t really have alot to do with how much is in the refrigerator or the closet or the project list. In my limited experience, it doesn’t have much to do with the bottom line or the season’s record or whatever other tangible poll standings my thoughts may try to calculate.

No, if the last three years of 12-day thanksgiving experiments holds true, the transition from empty to bounty has nothing to do with those things. And everything to do with perspective. An internal perspective, a way of seeing and interpreting that leaves us bursting rather than wanting.

About two seconds after the fateful thought of “my life is so empty” crossed my consciousness, I knew. I knew I was in serious need of a perspective adjustment. There is a certain misery that I imagine results from spending a life running on empty. I believe the joy of gratitude is just the jump start needed to shift the balance. My own experience can testify that the giving of thanks is a heart and mind readjustment. It can provide a recognition that enables me to draw my living from overflow rather than from scarcity. Life DOES overflow. MY life overflows. My life is full of many precious things and people and experiences. I don’t want to claim “living” from any other perspective.

So, the 12-day experiment in the power of gratitude begins again. A journey from empty to bounty. Join me.

The Pull of Legend

On Saturday I read this article about Penn State Athletics. It gave me that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. If you haven’t seen much about the story, I’ll just let you read it for yourself. And I predict you will get that sick feeling too.

I read the article while I was watching the Mississippi State homecoming football game on television with my boys. You see, I have boys. Two of them. And they’re just learning about football and what a college is and which team is the Bulldogs. The article made me spontaneously hug and kiss them, which they have sort of come to expect from their Mommy. So, it was no big deal for them. For me, it kept me awake that night.

Most of my kids’ enjoyment of football games consists of spotting “Bully,” the Mississippi State mascot somewhere in the televised coverage. Admittedly, the homecoming game didn’t have the same audience appeal as the Thomas the Tank Engine story they had concocted and were playing out on the living room floor. Still, we were watching football. And somewhere between the television ad spots proclaiming how college football in the South is part of the year-long cultural fabric and Emmitt Smith selling his favorite tailgating products, I saw the Penn State story.

I couldn’t help but think about what I can only assume is the incredible pull of legend. As college football legends go, I suppose Joe Paterno’s Penn State program is as legendary as they come. It’s a legend you want to follow — to appreciate, to see win. It’s a legend you’d like to see untarnished.

Was that the motivation behind the complete lack of human-ness displayed in this story by so many grown men? Were they thinking of their own individual jobs? The bad publicity? The loss of sponsorship and conference dollars from television broadcasts? From my couch, I imagine that it was all of the above.

For the first eyewitness to this horrific situation, I can imagine some combination of shock and fear prevailed. I would hope that for athletic staff and university administration, the first thoughts WEREN’T the horrific experience of a football program. But, as the story played out through the sequence of events described, it appears that is the exact horrific experience that was at the forefront of their minds.

Something is amiss in legend-making. In legend-keeping. Shock and fear are certainly relevant emotions. But, what else happened while a witness mulled over his next actions? What else happened while the powers-that-be slowly formulated a crisis-management strategy. On that night, a young boy was left at the mercy of what appearances and indictment language tell us is a sexual predator. A young boy was left with no defense against unspeakable acts. And statistics tell us that for victims they ARE unspeakable. The shame and fear and long-term emotional effects of such experiences are difficult to express and therefore, very often go unexpressed. And let’s not forget that silence is one of the most powerful weapons a predator uses to protect himself and allow his pattern of abuse to continue. Yes, the acts were unspeakable.

Sadly, for the grown men in this situation, the events were apparently unspeakable as well — at least outside of the closed doors of a college football legend. What kept me up on Saturday night: The questions. What else happened? What further humiliation was the boy (a boy like mine) subjected to by such a key figure in this football legend? What was the look in his eyes? How did he get home? Did he have a home? Was he subjected to other meetings with this predator? Did he have someone who could help his young mind and soul cope with this life-changing experience? Wouldn’t he be about college-age by now?

On Sunday I read an article about the indictment of Jerry Sandusky. Apparently the language from the Pennsylvania Attorney General’s office specified that Coach Joe Paterno acted appropriately and was absolved of any wrong-doing. It indicated he would likely testify for the prosecution in the case. I was happy to read that caveat to the story. I, like many others, enjoy the mystique of Saturday afternoons in Autumn. I admire winners. I want to see a storied figure maintain his legacy. The legend of Penn State football can remain somewhat intact.

Good. But, what of the boy?

November Bounty

Happy November! It seems almost impossible that 2011 is almost over, but here we are. Last weekend my kids and I visited our family farm and enjoyed some time exploring outdoors. As we were gathering leaves and rocks and other treasures, I was observing the light and the colors. Fall is a random time in the South. It’s random in that you never know exactly when it’s going to hit and what response Nature might make. The typical Fall colors and signature blue sky spread themselves along the landscape from late September well into January sometimes. For this trip, I was noticing the clarity of the colors. The blue sky was astonishingly blue at times. The greens were still quite vibrant in places. The yellows and reds and oranges were popping out in their appropriate tree species with a punch. I sometimes assume November will offer only the most sluggish of colors that are soon muddied out by an overwelming gray/brown neutral. Not so, as we begin the month this year! Even my own yard is ablaze with deep hues. Clear hues.

Clarity. It can be hard to come by sometimes — in colors and in living. As November has brought it’s clear hues this year, I’m also wondering what I’m willing to let it bring for my clarity of spirit. This month, we celebrate Thanksgiving. We focus on the blessings we find in the privilege of living. The bounty.

Bounty is clarifying. Taking the time to recognize the bounty around me pushes aside muddy thinking and muddy priorities. It focuses my attention on what matters. It keeps the main things (and people) in clearer focus. Bounty refuses to allow itself to be governed by regrets or have-nots. It requires that I see a full plate. It flies in the face of all the distractions that come with that battle in my mind. Am I really making progress? Am I really speaking? Am I really moving? Am I really living? Moving my attention to the bounty of each day and each experience helps me live that day and that experience will a full focus and a full heart. That’s my goal this November, and that’s the inspiration for this month’s wallpaper art. Enjoy for your desktop, iphone or ipad!