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Mrs. Bucket: “In all the years you’ve been saying your going to get out of that bed, I’ve yet to see you set foot on the floor.”

Grandpa Joe: “Maybe if the floor wasn’t so cold.”

 

These words posted on my kitchen inspiration wall have been calling to me lately.  Especially after my long bout with the flu, I–like Grandpa Joe to Charlie’s golden ticket–needed something to latch on to.  Something to get me out.  Something to give me life.

So I made a pact with myself.  A pact to say yes. If anyone asked or if anything seemed even remotely interesting to me, my answer was decided.  And though there were times I wanted to answer with, “Maybe if the floor wasn’t so cold.”  I  said yes.

Which lead me–last Saturday–to the Phoenix Flea Market.  I said yes.  A decision that then lead to an impromptu family reunion of sorts when Rick, some of our kids, my mom, and two of my sisters with some of their family members said yes too.

(not everyone made it into the picture)

Though the flea market didn’t turn out to be everything that I hoped it would, saying yes has taught me that things don’t have to turn out perfectly to make it worth turning out.  I loved being outside (in the warm weather), I loved seeing my family, and I loved looking at all of the vintage clothing (there were a lot of vintage clothing booths at the market).

And learning that clothes from my youth are now considered “vintage”, was kind of funny and didn’t bother me a bit.

Especially because I got to haggle for this Breakfast Club t-shirt and haggling’s my favorite sport.

This morning my sister texted me an ad for another flea market later this month.  And instead of the usual, “That sounds fun.  I don’t know.  Let me see if I can work it out.”  I said yes.

Because cold floor or not, life’s too short to wait around for golden tickets.

 

 

 

I’ve discovered that someday–as in someday I’ll revise my novel or someday I’ll clean my closet (oh my blessed closet)–is a faraway, magical land where streams are made of lemonade and unicorns dwell.

When my kids were little and afraid of having nightmares, I’d tell them to think about happy things while falling asleep.  “Think about Disneyland, magical pony rides, or a room full of ice cream and candy.”  I’d say,
“Then maybe you can make your dreams be happy.”

I think “someday” is a little like that.  “Someday” keeps me focused on the happy part of my dreams, the magical wonder of my goals, while keeping me securely tucked away from the nightmarish hard work, planning, sacrifice and pain part of accomplishment.

Oh “someday”,  you’ve made me some beautiful promises through the years and I appreciate those butterflies in my tummy, giddy with excitement moments we’ve shared.  I really do.  But the follow-through part?  I mean, it’s lacking.  I can never seem to make it to you.  And my closet–seriously–my closet is driving me crazy.

I guess what I’m trying to say, “someday”, is that I’m ending our relationship, trading it in for lists and deadlines.  I know those are hard words for souls like us and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little afraid of the nightmares I might face (because my closet… Whoa!) but I’ve found that the only way I ever accomplish anything is through list and deadlines.

Take the kitchen “menu board” for example.  If I wake up and write down the evening menu each morning you can bet, come dinnertime, we will be enjoying everything listed.  Right down to the homemade bread and delicious dessert.  If I don’t write it down… well, there’s always cold cereal or Ramen.

But the thing is, “someday”, I don’t want a cold cereal and Ramen life.  I don’t.  And I can see that that is exactly where all of your promises lead.  Cold cereal and Ramen.  And I’m sorry but I can’t follow you anymore. I just can’t.

But now this notebook on the other hand…

This handy dandy “to do list” notebook…

I mean, he’s pretty cute.

 

 

 

“I used to think you had to be special for God to use you, but now I know you simply need to say yes.”  ~~Bob Goff

Years ago I lay awake with a broken foot, marveling at how much pain it could cause.  “This can’t be real.”  I told myself.  “Nothing can seriously hurt this bad.”

I had a similar experience these last few weeks as I lay bedridden with the flu.  “This can’t be real.”  I said again.  “No sickness can be this bad.”

Only, much like my broken foot, it was that bad.  So bad that–though I’m accustomed to pulling myself up by my boot straps and “never being sick”–I had to resign to staying in bed and binging on a ridiculous amount of masterpiece theater collections followed by binging on documentaries about the royal family to answer the questions brought to mind by said masterpiece theater collections (my British ancestors would be so proud).

I was too sick to read or write or do anything of a productive nature whatsoever.

Which has left me to wonder if I will ever–after those long hours of brain numbing binging–find anything of significance to write about again.

But I have to try because I said yes.  I said yes to showing up and doing my best, with a prayer that God will take what I am lacking and make up the difference.

I fear He’s going to have a big job ahead of Him for the next little while.

Unless of course I decide to write a post about the Royal family.  I seem to be fairly well versed on that subject as of late.

When I grow up I want to be a mother and have a family,

one little, two little, three little babies of my own.

Of all the jobs for me I’ll choose no other I’ll have a family,

four little, five little, six little babies in my home.

And I will love them all day long and give them cookies and milk

And yellow balloons,

And cuddle them when things go wrong and read them stories

And sing them pretty tunes….

~~~~~

As a little girl this song was my jam.  I wanted All. Of. It.

And now, when I look at the family picture that hangs in my kitchen, I see all of it.  I see the six little babies (plus two with my Lydia and Jaye), I see the cookies and milk moments, the yellow balloons, the cuddles and tunes.

And my heart is full.

But I also see, when I look at this picture, the 2016 Thanksgiving day from hell.

I see a family late for dinner, an unfinished turkey, chaos and complaining, the broken promise of a green bean casserole (and I take green bean casserole very seriously).  I see a mother who, in desperation, threw on her Dustin from Stranger Things emoji shirt because she couldn’t show up in her pajamas (I love my Dustin from Stranger Things emoji shirt but I’m just saying that it would be better if it wasn’t at the center of our picture) and I see the feud of the century that took place on our front driveway–because I guess we were trying to heed the counsel of President David O Mckay and not yell in our home.

But mostly, when I look at this picture, I see a family.  An imperfect yet oh so very perfect family.  A family full of forgiveness, generosity, genuine happiness and love.  So much love.

And I smile at that little girl, dancing and singing to her jam in her living room so long ago, and thank her for her dream.  Her beautiful, magical dream of motherhood.

It’s all she ever imagined it to be.  And so much more.

 

“I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.”  ~~Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

But when the very good advice comes from others I have found that it can be life changing.

The summer of my fifteenth year I attended a young woman’s conference in Flagstaff and there received advice that I’ve never forgotten.

“Don’t point out your physical flaws to others.”

One of the guest speakers told us.

“I hate this twisted tooth.”  She said, pointing inside of her mouth, “And I used to point it out to everyone I spoke to.  Until I finally realized that people weren’t thinking about my tooth and had I not pointed it out to them they probably would never have noticed it at all.”

I took that advice to heart and–other than an occasional slip or when I’ve felt prompted otherwise–I have remained fairly tight lipped about what I have perceived as my physical flaws.

A gift that in turn has helped me to heed this other very good advice,

“Don’t make others responsible for your self-esteem.”       ~~Lisa Nichols

~~~~~

A few years later I received the advice,

“Compliments are gifts.  Receive graciously and simply say, Thank you.”

I learned, though I can’t remember the source, that when someone offers a compliment they are giving a gift from their heart and if I do not receive it graciously, I selfishly take their moment of generosity and love from them.  I diminish the light that they are trying to share.

Because of this advice I have always been able to feel love toward those who selflessly offer me a compliment and simply say thank you with genuine gratitude.

~~~~~

More recently the following beautiful advice was introduced to my heart,

“I want you to say thank you.  Say thank you because you know God has put a rainbow in the clouds.”  ~~Maya Angelou

A reminder to say thank you in the midst of trial, struggle and disappointment is the very best advice of all.

When my flaws–that I don’t speak of to others–become perceptible to me I can say thank you.  Thank you for the immeasurable blessings that fill my life.

When others are less than complimentary or I find myself feeling hurt or offended I can say thank you.  Thank you that I know what it is to feel loved and that I know the source of all peace.

And when my heart gets shattered–as it recently did–I can say thank you.  Thank you for using this experience to lift me higher than I ever dreamed possible.  Thank you for using it to introduce me more deeply to your Son. Thank you for showing me my strength.

And thank you for filling this world with angels who use their voices–and their very good advice–to remind me to look up and see the rainbow that you have put in the clouds.

And bless me, that I might someday be one of them.

 

 

 

Updated intro to today’s throw back post…

While driving with Jamie last night, she and I spent the majority of the ride discussing the merits of each of the members of the K-pop group BTS (Who has the best voice?  Who’s the best looking?  And oh my gosh Jungkook can dance.  And I like R.M.’s confidence.  And Suga’s voice is seriously so good. And he is definitely my bias).

Seriously, why do I even know what a BTS bias is and more importantly, why do I have one?

And that’s when I realized…

Jamie got me again.

But this time I don’t think I’ll outlast her.

Tuesday March 29, 2011

“Ooo, what if there was a Justin Bieber Just Dance game? Now that would be something.” I asked Jamie on our ride home from school while shamelessly bopping to “Baby, baby, baby oh…” in the driver’s seat.

“Um, yeah.” She answered sheepishly. Then with a nervous smile and an apologetic tone she added, “Mom, I have to tell you something. I’ve kind of lost the Bieber fever. I’m sorry but ever since I saw Rustin Hieber on YouTube I remembered how much fun it used to be to make fun of Justin Bieber and I really want to make fun of him again with Easton, Cora and Kimmie. So I’m just over him now.”

It was at this point that I should have wiped my brow, let out a big old “Whew” of relief and switched discs (being that this Bieber fever affair had started so that Jamie and I could have something special to share together) but I didn’t. I continued to listen, sing, dance and make obnoxious tweeny-bopper hand jesters to match the painfully tweeny-bopperesque lyrics (have you ever made a heart symbol with your fingers? Now that’s a good time).

So whatever. I’ll admit it. I’ve still got the fever for the Bieber, independent of my 9 year old daughter, because–and say what you will about my sanity–his music puts me in an instant good mood.

And wouldn’t you agree that more instant good moods are exactly what’s needed in this big old crazy world of ours right now?

I think you would. So go find your instant good mood maker today. And if you don’t have one try this…

“Shawty is an eenie, meenie, miney moe lover. Shawty is an eenie, meenie, miney moe lover…”

Now that’s gold baby. Pure warm fuzzy, happy dance gold.

 

 

Some years ago I created this wall in my kitchen.

It’s covered with words, colors, inspiration, my family.  Basically all of the things that I love.

A few times through the years I have expressed the desire to take down this creation, opting instead for something a little more “normal”.  But my family has made it quite clear that this must never, ever happen.

My wall is also filled with reminders, ideas for me to ponder.  Like the one I found myself pondering this morning,

I want to be a superhero.  I want to give love, support and service and to make the world a better place.  But often during my superhero dreams I end up judging myself much like this,

I sometimes expect myself to be a tree climbing fish.  I expect myself to be a superhero in a like manner to the other superheroes I see flying all around me.  And when I fall short of this (which I always do, because I’m not a tree climbing fish or a superhero in the like manner of other superheroes I know) I wonder if I have what it takes–if I will ever have what it takes–to be a superhero at all.

“The Psychedelic Superhero” on my kitchen wall reminds me that we have each been blessed with our own brand of crazy, our own brand of quirky and our own trippy unique way of looking at and interacting with the world.  And if I embrace, stay true to and magnify my crazy, quirky, trippy uniqueness as I love, support, serve and try to make the world a better place,

I might just become a superhero yet.

“For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.

To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby.”

 

 

 

“I write when I’m inspired, and I see to it that I’m inspired at 9:00 every morning.”   ~~Peter DeVries

I’ve read this quote every morning for years because it’s been hanging on my bedroom wall every morning for years.  But I never let it fully sink in.  I never really lived it.

I think I’ve secretly–subconsciously–been waiting for some sort of cosmic energy to come and whoosh through me, the planets to align, a sacred calling to summon me or an undeniable sign from above.

I’ve been waiting for the perfect, right, best most beautiful moment to write the perfect, right, best most beautiful words.  And that rarely (and I mean very rarely) happens.

But now everything has changed.

It’s changed because I found my cosmic energy, planets aligning, sacred calling, sign from above answer in one simple statement spoken by author, blogger Seth Godin when he said,

“Do I have a blog post coming out tomorrow?  Yes I do.  I pressed the buzzer on that 10 years ago.”

Seth Godin observed that those who win at life–like those who win at the game of Jeopardy–are they who press the buzzer first.

He explains,

“Press the buzzer before you’re sure you know the answer.  As your brain is thinking, maybe I can… you press the buzzer.  And in that last moment you’re going to come up with something.”

I now know that each day I am going to press the buzzer.  The decision has been made.  Then, while looking my inner Alex Trebek right in the eye, I write.

And somehow, someway…

I always come up with something.

 

Something made me mad this morning.  I mean I was feeling all the feels of ticked offness.  And I wanted HEADS. TO. ROLL.

So I referred to one of my favorite scriptures that says:

Therefore they hushed their fears, and began to cry unto the Lord…

Only I hushed my ticked offness and cried unto the Lord, telling Him that I was feeling very upset and that I either needed help knocking some heads off or softening my heart.

You know, one or the other.

So He lead me to this Maya Angelou quote which instantly softened my heart (because the knocking people’s heads off probably wasn’t going to happen)…

Reading this quote reminded me of all the beauty a new day holds.  And while it originally filled me with the desire to run outside and spin around my yard Sound of Music style, the snow on the ground turned my attention to the fun indoor joys of this bright new day.

Like making my bed in the pretty new way I discovered on Saturday,

fulfilling my goal of folding and putting away the 42 hundred (maybe 5-ish) loads of laundry that currently reside in my bedroom,

organizing the few things that have not yet gotten back to their spots since Christmas,

finding the perfect place for this cute vintage suitcase (I’m quite giddy over the possibilities),

and reindeer slippers.  Always reindeer slippers,

a crackling fire, a clean kitchen and

meeting together at the end of the day with family and friends for dinner and family night tonight.

I guess heads will have to roll some other time.  Because I’ve been blessed with a bright new beautiful day.

And we’ve got plans.