With what you have...

I was talking with a friend today about fund raising, when something from my past came to mind. Once upon a time, I devoted my entire life to playing the flute. I still do not know exactly why I majored in English instead of music performance, but English felt right at the time. I spent most of my four years in college in the Music department, practicing flute way more than studying my English texts. But here's the story:
In the sixth grade, I wanted to be in the band in the worst way. I didn't figure we would be able to afford an instrument, but I had to ask anyway. I remember the conversation like it was yesterday. My dad told me they would do everything they could to get me a flute, but I had to practice or it would be sold. I had to be serious about it. So, I played on the borrowed school flute for a while. The director let me come in at lunch and play too. We had a night meeting where the music stores brought in their instruments for sale. We looked at some used ones, but my parents just weren't liking them. I'm not sure why, because I knew a flute for me would be many sacrifices in other places. I didn't say a word, I just followed and watched. They settled on a brand new Artley flute and I was in AWE. My hands were shaking when I got home and took it from the case. I started practicing and played late into the night. My parents didn't even make me go to bed. By the night's end I was playing the last songs in the beginner songbook. Those were supposed to take me months to get to. This went on for many years. My junior year in high school, I auditioned for region band. I won first chair, beating about 500 other flute players. This meant I was ranked #1 in the eastern counties of SC. Now, if I had been a football player, this would have been on the news. I digress! Having made region band (they picked 12 flute players)I had the opportunity to audition for All-State band. I would complete against all the winners from every district in SC. Well, my flute broke. Two weeks before auditions. We went to have it repaired and the repairman said that it was just completely worn out. “How long do you practice each day?” The repairman couldn't understand how every pad, gear, screw was completely worn out. I had been practicing 2-3 hours everyday for 6 years. He said I needed a new flute – it was beyond repair. I went home empty handed and locked my room door and cried. Two weeks away from what I had worked so hard for and it was about to all be gone. A brand new flute was out of the question for us at this time. I prayed. I put it in the Lord's hands and asked for Him to help me. Saturday morning came around and my parents went to garage sales. When they came home my dad was beaming from ear to ear. He handed me a flute and said, “This lady bought it for her daughter who never practiced. It looks like new, and it was only $50. Play it for me and make sure it works." My dad, being raised Baptist, always wanted me to play “Amazing Grace.” I played. It was perfect. I was so happy.

Two weeks later, I auditioned for State and placed 8th chair. At this point I had won out over 550 players. As I sat in state band rehearsals, I was surrounded, ahead of me and below me by girls with $3000+ flutes. And there I was, the only one, with my $50 garage sale flute and I was still happy. If you want something bad enough, you take what you have and you give it 100%. Work your hardest, and you will be blessed. Our example was a child born in a stable and raised as a carpenter. Give it all you've got, never give up, and you will be happy. My parents had to ask me to STOP practicing. I drove them insane I know, but I'm so glad. Music has been a blessing in my life and it was worth every minute I practiced.
Work with what you have, add faith and hard work, and everything else falls into place.

Metamorphosis

This time of year brings back many memories. Fall changes everything in the air; smells, textures, colors, it's all in the process of metamorphosis. This time of year, in 2004, I was in the middle of a divorce. I had made the decision to move out of my house (his house), and move into MY house. Seeing as I had a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and no job, this was going to be difficult to say the least. But I had decided to make it happen. So, I prayed, and then I prayed some more, and more. You get the idea. Finally one day I had some news that my aunt and uncle's rental mobile home was vacant and the rent was only $200 a month. It was a quick walk right through the woods to my parents home, and I knew my boys would love that! Excitedly, my dad and I went to check it out. It was hard to swallow. Holes in the wall (I could see the OUTSIDE from the inside), rats nests in the oven – it was falling apart. My dad looked at me, I looked at him. He said something like, “we can make it work.” I believed him – I always believe my daddy. So, the work began. I watched my dad constantly turn trash to treasure, he made something out of nothing over and over again. He used scraps and leftovers from other projects. We painted, hammered, patched and prayed. My mom cleaned and cleaned until the whole place reeked of the wonderfully sanitized smell of Clorox. The day came and 5 elders from the church in 3 pick-ups moved everything I owned all in one trip, and then unloaded it in my new home. It was home. The metamorphosis had begun. From wife to single mom, homeowner to renter, together to alone. What should have been a sad day, and I did shed a few tears, ended up being remarkable. I KNEW I could make it, I was independent, my boys were happy and I would be okay. To this day my boys still comment about how much they loved our little “trailer in the woods,” It was the happiest stop on earth. They often recount their wonderful memories of that home. I felt like it was a spot blessed from above. I discovered through this process that I thrive on independence. Being forced to make all the decisions all the time brought me “back to life,” and it was a good life. A family member told me, “It's so nice to have Christy back.” Perhaps we all need a "metamorphosis" in our lives, perhaps we all need something to bring us "back to life.”
Photos taken in October 2004 on the property where I was renting:

Clouds

I aimed my camera heavenward today and snapped a shot of these beautiful clouds. I don't know why I took this photo - maybe it was just because the clouds were so perfectly "pillowish," or maybe it was because today is the only day I will stand under THIS sky. Life changes so fast, from instant to instant, breath to breath.
The flu has run like wildfire through my home for the past two weeks. We are finally coming out of its clutches and I am feeling so thankful. It was a great joy to witness these beautiful clouds, another day. Fall is here and I can already picture its warm colors perforating the skyline. Sometimes it's just enough to be alive.

Joy in Your Posterity

My children make me happy, they make me crazy, ill, frustrated, proud, jubilant, joyous, afraid [insert your own adjective here], being a mother causes one to run the gamut of emotions! Yet it's this very roller coaster ride that causes me to wake up each morning glad to be alive, happy to have another day to be a mom, blessed just to have those sweet spirits around me for a little longer. In the end, it is this joy and/or pain that children bring that makes my life so fulfilling. This week's joy:

~Having Caleb recommend a book to ME, instead of vice versa. WOW. It's a book I haven't read too. I'm very excited about this.
~Having Lacey request a “group hug” from her brothers.
~Having Dylan tell me, “I need to get organized.” I had to ask him to repeat that one!
~All my boys had their noses in a book on the way to school this morning.
~Watching and listening as Lacey sang her baby doll to sleep.
~Cody finally setting his own alarm clock and waking himself now.
~Watching Lacey dance -- I fight the tears back every week!
~Caleb, “It's okay if I outgrow you Mama. That just means I'll be able to take care of you better one day.”

Little moments, sweet memories, joy in my posterity.

Dance

Lacey is absolutely loving dance! From day one she walked right in and found her “polka dot” on the floor. Today was her third dance class, and the first day she paid me any attention at all! She is usually focused in on the teacher and won't even look at me. Today she decided to look at me while videoing and she got all confused! I'll hide next time!
In those sweet baby blue eyes I can see her determination and her resolve to do well. She concentrates and for the most part is very focused. Part of me wants to say, “Lighten up, just have fun.” But, people have been telling me that for years and it has never worked!! I can see so much of me in her personality, some things I wish I could change. I just hope she finds good friends who will love her and accept her for whatever she becomes – even if she is too “serious” and even if she does need to “lighten up.”
I wanted to take dance as a child, it just wasn't in the budget. I wrote story after story about ballerinas and a magical world full of dancers – my mom still has these stories. Every time we would go to the library, I'd find a book about ballet. Now, I have the opportunity to have a little ballerina of my own and it's thrilling. I am just so thankful for the opportunity. What a blessing.

Missing

School in in session, and I miss my boys terribly. Several years ago, when Lacey was an infant and very mommy dependant, I was excited for the boys to return to school. Now that Lacey is not so attached, I had a summer where we all could do things together. We could take walks, swim, just enjoy the break. Now that they are back in school, the alarm clock, the homework, the football practice – it all seems to get in the way. It makes me miss them – the quality time – so much. I miss waking up to boys “camped” on the living room floor, casually pouring pancake batter on the griddle (because we had no schedule). I miss the hours of Slip & Slide, and late movie nights. Precious times. Maybe it was my imagination, but the weather seemed a bit cooler this morning as we loaded up the van. We still have many hot days of summer, just not many “free” days. I am thankful for every moment I am given to enjoy my children. I wonder if they miss me...

Peeking through the trees - sneaking a photo.

Moment

What a moment. A few weeks ago, before school started back, I caught Dylan furiously writing on little white slips of paper. I didn't want to interrupt him, but I couldn't help myself. I asked him what he was writing and he said, “I'm writing all about my favorite parts of summer vacation. If I don't write it, I might forget. I had so much fun that I don't want to forget.” Needless to say, I broke into a mile wide smile. He was writing ,voluntarily, and he was enjoying it! This was one time spelling errors and such didn't bother me one bit. He loved our vacation and didn't want to forget any part of it – priceless moment!

Write. Wrote. It has been written.

After a talk with my mother, we've concluded that I should not be a hermit. Maybe I should be more “hobbitish” and enjoy the comfort of dear friends, but fiercely exclude all that could be deemed villainous. I keep asking myself, “what is the point?” After pondering and researching, I LOVE to research, bear with me here, I'm basking in my geekdom; I found this spectacular quote:

“We sleepwalk through most of our lives and every once in a while something happens outside ourselves that forces us to pay attention in a new way...And we suddenly realize that the world is so much richer, and more magnificent, and more wonderful than we had felt for a long time."
--Scott Russell Sanders

Eureka! This is the point! These magnificent moments seem to be finding there way into my life quite often lately. Perhaps it is because I am in constant effort to find and enjoy them. Seeing the world in a “new way” makes each day something unique, a challenge. Just to notice the color of the leaves or the smell of the air can be invigorating. How many people who have passed on would havegiven anything to have just one more day on earth, even if they came back in the middle of a horrendous hailstorm? And yet here we are, living breathing, we have heaven all around us. Nextly, I love to write. I'm not much on crowds and speaking up to be heard, but writing – ahhh, it is that first breath of salt air at the ocean, that one little snowflake fluttering to the ground that might mean school is out, it's the way you felt the first time you kissed the man that would one day be your husband. Get the picture? I have to write.

Still there is this one “bite” that I can't swallow, and that is how to deal with those who do not like me. Those who read my blog just to have someone to make fun of. Those who take what I write and somehow claim that I am bashing them. Not hardly. I would not waste my energy. I guess I will always have to guard my heart, my blog, to some extent. However after giving a friend advice this week to not let mean people “run her off.” I must take my own advice and not be forced into hiding. Maybe a break here or there, but not into hiding. I know I'm not doing or saying anything wrong or hurtful, and as long as I know this, I have some shelter from fear, from people who have hate in their hearts.

Thank you my friends whom endure my rantings and bouts of indecision. Thank you , Mama. I'm so blessed to have you still in my life. Five years, cancer free this month.

The Point?

Just wondering, really what's the point? This blog thing – I love it one day, hate it the next. I like to write what I think, what it on my mind. I DO LOVE to write. I like to chronicle my life and the lives of those of love. It's a journal of sorts, with photos included. BUT – don't most people hide their journals under their mattress or something? I have never hidden my handwritten journal, but it's only in the vicinity of near and dear, trusted family members. So, I have my heart out on my sleeve so everyone can read it – WHY? I don't have an answer. I think life is just easier when I take the advice of my husband. He basically stays out of everything and everyone's way. Can't get hurt, can't get talked about, you can't talk about anybody because there is no one to talk to when no one is there. Do I need people to read about my life – or do I just need to live it (and write about it) like “they” aren't there? Wasn't it Emerson who promoted a life of solitude? I'll have to research that, my brain is slowly leaking info and Ralph Waldo may have just fallen out. Maybe I could get out of crisis mode if I stayed away from that which causes the crisis.
I HAVE to update my business blog, business Facebook, business site. I'm thinking that my personal life should no longer be everyone else's “business.”
Or maybe I just need a break, some space from Blogspot. Bottom line, I just don't want to “deal” anymore. I think I need to revert back to a former self, a “closed book,” an “enigma.” I've been doing a lot of walking lately, and when I walk I think. I think of lots of topics to write about, my take on life and it's struggles. I begin to type and I think again, what's the point? I usually call a friend when I feel this desire to shut off all of humanity and be a hermit. This time I'm just going to be a happy loner. Maybe my desire for solitude will last three days or three months. I really don't know. What I do know is that I will be walking (exercising), thinking, reading, writing (I have a book in my head that needs to get out, a fiction novel), studying scriptures more, enjoying my family, planning for my young women group, living – all in private. If this is a phase, I'll see you all next week. If not, sorry I missed you, please feel free to leave a message.

"None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone."

"Nothing can bring you peace but yourself."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Spiders and Flies

The classic poem, "The Spider and the Fly" is a favorite of mine. I read it to my classes at the beginning and end of every school year when I taught. Many times throughout the year, when I noticed something was "afoot" I would say, "Remember spiders and flies" and they knew what I meant. I also read the poem to my children before school starts. Trickery and flattery have been around for a very long time. I have fallen prey in my lifetime to people pretending to be something they are not, pretending so that at some point they could "drag you up the winding stair." It happens to everyone at some point. I just hope my children are wise enough to figure out the plots, plans, and secrets of evil people and stay far, far away. Public schools are, no doubt, full of spiders.

The Spider and the Fly
Mary Howitt

Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."


"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"


Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"


"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."


The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!


And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Mary Howitt
poem first published in 1829