Author Archives: Kami

Don’t Walk Away

Original caption: Ne ties a friendship bracele...

I know more lonely people than I want to. I wish I had more time, more of me to go around to fill that gap in their life. Or better yet, I’d like to take on the role of matchmaker  in the friendship department.

You’d think with all the social media available people would feel more connected and less lonely. But the opposite seems true. People see the “friendships” and banter and simply feel more left out than ever. In fact, it seems to extend the junior high and high school drama into adulthood.

I think people forget that friendship is work. It requires something from both sides. Maybe we’ve all gotten a bit lazy, or too busy, or we’re shy, or we’re afraid of being hurt or judged or rejected, or whatever the excuse is and we fail to reach out. And we fail to accept the hand reaching toward us. You can’t get picky when it comes to friendship. There isn’t an ideal friend, there’s no soul mate of friendship. There are friends. They’ve got your back. That’s all that matters.

Forget “besties” and “BFF’s” and “friends forever.”  Those are a dime a dozen.

For real friendship that matters think “workhorse,” or “perseverance,” think “sacrifice.”

“I think if I’ve learned anything about friendship, it’s to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired, don’t take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.” — Jon Katz

There are literally millions of quotes out there about friendship. This one bangs the nail solidly. Friendship equals work! “Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired.”

Work + Sacrifice + Perseverance = Friendship

which translates into:

W + S + P = Not So Lonely

 

Friendship

Friendship (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What are you willing to sacrifice? Are you ready to give up security? Are you willing to risk being hurt? Can you take the chance on relationships?

How much work are you able to put into a potential friendship? Can you do a daily phone call? Will you listen and not just expect to be listened to? Are you worth it, in your own eyes?

Can you keep trying even when the results aren’t the ideal you imagined? We’re all simply human after all. Can you resist the need to push away? Can you open your own door to whoever might be knocking?

 

 

 

 

Categories: Relationships | Tags: , , , , , | 6 Comments

Counterpoise

English: spider web with fog droplets, San Fra...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s Gratituesday! Today I am grateful beyond thankfulness. I’ve become like a sponge, saturated beyond holding another single drop. I don’t say this in a bragging way, certainly not. No. I say it with amazement and wonder and awe and tears. If I had been told a few short years ago that I could feel such joy I would have laughed, scoffed and denied the silly notion.

Why such unrestrained, ridiculous gratitude?

  • The absolute happiness on my son’s face with his new bride.
  • The smile beaming on my daughter’s face with her CSU cap and gown.
  • The shine of love in that same daughter’s eyes.
  • A pregnancy glow in another daughter.
  • Another wedding in a just a couple of months.
  • Being surrounded by family, extended family, friends, and love.

This seems like more than any one person deserves or should have in one short period. I kind of see it as a counterbalance to a few years ago when my pendulum swung wide and far from gratitude. Maybe it’s a reminder that life isn’t always about the bad stuff, which I believed for such a very long time.

My kids deserve it. They’ve worked hard to get to where they are, to have earned such happiness. Where they are now has very little to do with me. What they have now has everything to do with their  own determination, desires, sweat, experience and even redirection.

Does a word exist that describes this pendulum swing, counterbalance, this overabundant, joy-filled time?

Sure the word is…

Counterpoise.

Sounds delicate, doesn’t it?

It is. Fragile, tenuous, weblike, lacy, barely there.

But, oh so stunning.

Take it in, breathe deeply, enjoy.

Then remember, remember, remember.

Remember.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Joy | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Six Things about My Mom You Should Know

 

Mother & Child

Dear Mom,

It’s no surprise to you I’m a word person. You’d think I’d easily write out thousands of words expressing love and appreciation on Mother’s Day. Instead I find the emotions so powerful, particularly this weekend with my son’s wedding, that I struggle with every word I write.

Maybe a list would help me pull my words together. So here’s a few things that I’ve learned from you, about life, about living, about mothering, about the world.

  • Mother is the center of it all. And with mom comes family. Nothing is more important than that bond we have as family. Think about it. When something happens, everyone’s thoughts go to family. Where are they? Are they okay? I want to find them and be with them. If it’s a happy event, we want to share it with everyone in the family. If someone is missing, we feel their absence more than ever. I was lucky to always have you there at home when I came home after school, after a date, out late. There you were. And there you still are, at the center of our family’s lives.
  • Mom has everything you need. All you need as a little kid is everything; food, shelter, love. And mom is there for all that, twenty-four hours a day. Bad dream? Mom comes in to scare away the demons and brings a feeling of safety into the room. Mean kids? Mom reassures you that you’re still loved and cared for. Everything I needed you gave me; compassion, manners, bravery, perseverance, a good work ethic, an ability to laugh. Everything that adds beauty and dimension to my life you gave me also; a love of music, a passion for books, a reverence for nature, a desire for creating.
  • A mother’s influence lasts a lifetime. I am who I am because of my mom’s belief in me, her loving me no matter what nonsense I threw her way, her willingness to sacrifice and her example of sharing.
  • Being a mother is the greatest gift I know. Motherhood defies definition, how it feels, what it looks lile, how it works. Each mother creates her own mothering style.  It’s the hardest, most aggravating, most fulfilling, most heartbreaking, best, worst, wonder-filled insanity a person can involve herself  in. Thanks for not giving up on such a difficult journey that continues to this day. What a ride it is, huh?
  • The world would stop spinning the right direction without moms. Or at least it would feel that way. Can’t imagine the world without my mother in it. Don’t want to. It probably doesn’t even exist if she isn’t there. I’m sure there’s a law of physics that explains that.
  • Unconditional love is what a mother is all about. And I have felt that from you and have hopefully passed that on to my own children. Thank you for that. I know I wasn’t always very lovable, or tolerable, or pleasant, or kind or appreciative. I think I’ve come a very long way since those teen years, thanks in great measure to your never giving up on me. And I know, thanks to your prayers on my behalf.

I know there’s much, much more that you taught me, but I think those six things sum it up fairly well. Thank you for being the mother I needed. Thank you for your continued love, support, sacrifice and caring. I plan on many more Mother’s Days with you, so stay well, enjoy life, and know you are loved beyond words.

All my love,

Kami

unconditional.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Categories: Family, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Riding the Killer Waves

In her book “The Year of PleasuresElizabeth Berg writes of a woman who loses her husband to cancer. The book focuses mainly on her life after his death. She touches tentatively on the time after his diagnosis, their brief months shared before she became a widow. This quote summed it up for me:

“It seemed to me that this was the way we all lived: full to the brim with gratitude and joy one day, wrecked on the rocks the next. Finding the balance between the two was the art and the salvation.”

English: Breaking Waves, Rocks of Garheugh

When I first read this book quite some time ago I found a much different message than the one I see with the eyes I have now. Now my best friend is battling Multiple Myeloma. You can read about attempting to Laugh at Death here.

Is there balance in a life approaching its expiration date too soon?

Can balance exist in a life with an unknown, far distance expiration date?

Ms. Berg is right. At least, it feels true. We all live this way. Well, maybe not all of us. Maybe just me. And anyone who has cancer or loves someone who has cancer. Particularly if that cancer can’t be cured.

Finding a balance between gratitude and wrecked? Between full to the brim and smashed to smithereens on the rocks of despair? It just seems impossible some days.

Maybe it isn’t finding the balance, but in trying to find the balance that something happens. After all, it’s “the art and the salvation.”

Do I even know what I’m talking about or am I just flailing about looking for answers?

You’re right.

Here’s additional advice from Ms. Berg’s beautiful novel. It’s from the dying husband to the wife who will try to go on living after he’s gone:

“Don’t get too hungry, too tired or too sad.”

That’s good advice for anyone in any situation. It’s particularly great advice if you’re in mourning, or anticipating the unknown yet certain pain of loss through death.

I’m not sure it’s possible to control being “too sad” or even “too tired” when death takes its scythe to someone we love. I wonder if there really is such a thing as “too sad”?

My life is currently incredibly blessed. I’m almost embarrassed by the richness of the plate set before me; “full to the brim with gratitude and joy” very aptly describes now.  Makes me a bit nervous, to tell you the truth.

English: Breaking waves at the beach of Cerca ...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

At the same time I am riding the waves aimed for wretched rocks as I write. There is no getting off this particular wave. Cancer and death will take what they have battled long for. And I will be left empty in spite of all the brimming cups of joy and gratitude that lay in my path and swirl in the very air I breathe. And then what?

Then what?

I can’t imagine the next thing.

I suppose I will try to not get too hungry, too tired or too sad and I will try to find a new fulcrum from which to attempt a balance between wretched and grateful.

Until I have to try that particular new something I will revel in every moment given me.

Call me dramatic. Call me pessimistic. Call me Pollyanna. Call me anything.

I won’t hear you.

I’ll be busy trying.

Lonely Woman Watching Sea Waves on Beach

(Photo credit: epSos.de)

Is the Glass Half Empty or Half Full? You tell me. I’m in over my head.

(The Daily Post at WordPress.com: The Glass)

Categories: Death, Gratitude | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Pencils, Batters, Sewing, Music and Typing?

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for do-overs. Something about second chances fills me with hope.

Eraser

Eraser (Photo credit: plounsbury)

All kinds of second-time-around opportunities surround us that we might not even see as do-overs.

  • A batter taking a swing gets at least three chances, more if a couple swings send foul balls flying.
  • Pencils are built for second chances. An eraser on top implies that mistakes happen and rewriting occurs. That’s not a weakness in the pencil design, it’s a recognition that we humans inevitably goof.
  • Sewing tools include seam rippers that help you take stitches out when something has gone wrong. Tiny snippets of thread undo a bit at a time until the entire length of stitching is removed. It’s then ready for another go at the needle.
  • Practicing piano, or violin, trombone, drums, flute, guitar or any musical instrument serves as many second chances to get it right before a performance.
  • The delete button on my keyboard makes do-overs easy and quick. When I first learned to type the second chance required back spacing then messy white-out followed by drying time, then a retype.

Repairs Ahead

Second chances abound. They serve as reminders that I am a work in progress and so is everyone around me.

My daily do-over starts with the beginning of another day where I have a new chance to get something right today that I made a mess of yesterday. Maybe that’s another reason I like mornings so much.

English: Pencil Eraser Deutsch: Radiergummi mi...

Second’s the Best

Remarriage after a divorce is a blessed do-over. I don’t know the stats but logically you’d think that things would go better in that new relationship because of lessons learned the first time around. Not to mention, there’s that appreciation factor, having lost something, then found it again, you cherish it more, care for it more, keep an eye on it better.

My son ties the knot later this week. This second chance at marriage bubbles over with joy and promise and so many good things. I want to dance across the park, shout over the tree tops, run like a banshee and sing at the top of my lungs.  Don’t worry, I’ll remain dignified and just smile as the happy tears run down my face.

Ah, the blessedness of a second chance.

Pencils ready?

A great song to go along with this idea:

Enjoy a song all about second chances.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Joy, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Words Find Us

Been doing a brief bit of traveling this past week. So naturally my camera snapped some moments. Or at least it tried to.

Photos don’t grab the nuance in the breeze as you eat on a balcony with Pike’s Peak behind you. Photos can’t record the pride a parent feels. Photos miss the exchange of love and light in a look between two people.

Strangely, the word photos I took seemed to speak volumes about all the good stuff going on.

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Categories: Love, The World, Wondering | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Scrabblize: A New Word for the Dictionary

Scrabble game

Scrabble game (Photo credit: jcolman)

Actually I should probably spell the title of this post Scrabble I’s. It sounds the same but means something different.

Let me explain.

About year ago life pulled me up short and quick. One too many sure-I’d-be-happy-to’s, one straw too many on this particular camel’s back, far too many aches on the heart, and far too little sleep. I’d been through a couple of tough years and was working my way down off the teetering cliff edge of stress and worry.

One day it just hit. I couldn’t do it anymore. My body and my brain and my heart all just said, “Nope. No more. Not going another step. Done. Finished.”

Kaput – On Empty

Instead of getting out of bed and getting on with the getting on I dragged myself to the couch and sobbed for an hour or two or three. Then I lay there like a bag of rocks. Unmoving. Unmoved. Worn down completely.

Talked things over with MSH, with a conclusion that I needed a break, needed to get away, regardless of our non-existent resources. He pulled a rabbit out of hat and a few hours later I found myself on a plane headed to my cousin’s house. My return ticket was for a week later with the option of staying longer if I needed to.

I did a ton of sleeping, especially the first few days. I did a mountain of thinking. And got in some high quality nature time. Denver is awesome that way.  And in the evenings my cousin and I played Scrabble, live and in-person, instead of on the internet like we usually do.

As usual she won most of the games

In Scrabble you can get some weird letter combinations on your tray. Seven letters and all of them vowels is a common one. Or all of them consonants, happens more often than I care to count.

It’s not even unusual to get three or even four of the same letter on your tray at once.That’s annoying and kind of useless for scoring the big words and high numbers.

Something weird happened during one particular game. Cue the eerie music.

My tray filled up with “I” tiles.

What the aitch?

Getting a tray full of almost all the “I” tiles was aggravating. Can you think of any words with lots of I’s? I can’t. I couldn’t. Even if I cheated and used a word builder program on the computer, which I don’t do, there was little I could do with that many I’s.

Français : Lettre I dans le Scrabble

There are nine tiles with the letter “I” in the version of Scrabble we were playing. I got eight of them, not all at once, but close together, with six on my tray at one time.

“Maybe the tiles are trying to tell me something,” I said to my cousin.

Ever the wise and thoughtful one, she asked me what I thought it meant to get almost all the “I” tiles.

I figured it was the “game maker’s” way of telling me I needed to think about “I” more often. It was MY turn for a while. “I” needed to take care of my needs, my health, my mental well-being, my basics.

I kind of knew that by then anyway, but this was just a strange reinforcing visual of what needed to happen.

The song by that country western dude came to mind almost immediately, you know the one, by Toby Keith:

“I wanna talk about me

Wanna talk about I

Wanna talk about number one

Oh my me my

What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I see

I like talking about you you you you, usually, but occasionally

I wanna talk about meeeeee

I wanna talk about me”

I didn’t just want to talk about me. “I” needed to talk about and take care of me for a change. The Scrabble tiles were pretty clear about it.

Like Spinning Plates

Spinning Plates Lego Style  (Photo credit: Jameson42)

Balancing Rocks or Spinning Plates

Well, my cousin and I discussed the need for the ever-elusive concept of balance in our lives. That seems a sort of common thread in many of our conversations. How to achieve balance, why it’s so difficult to find, what to drop or add where.

I don’t normally take advice from Scrabble tiles. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. But this one time, it seemed the perfect recipe for finding balance.

To twenty or more parts “U”

add eight parts “I”

for a more reasonable, balanced, livable life.

Stir well.

Season to taste.

Add more “I” as needed.

I’m certain that escaping to paradise for a week isn’t a normally balanced way of adding more “I” to one’s life. But it sure helped mine out.

Not your typical resolution

I returned to real life with a resolve to take care of myself more conscientiously.

I have an almost daily reminder when “My turn” pops up on my computer Scrabble game. There’s often an “I” tile that tweaks my balance meter and causes me to check my “I” gauges.

Writing this blog is part of that “I” time. Every day I focus on “I” for an hour or two, doing what I love, writing, thinking, and then writing some more. Then I get on with my day, taking care of all the “U”s in my life.

crop

(Photo credit: Emma Humphrey)

Scrabble I’s.

Scrabblize. It might not be in any dictionary, but it’s in my vocabulary anyway.

Your turn.

Have you ever gotten a message or advice you needed from an unusual source or in an odd way?

It’d be fun to hear about it, if you’d like to share.

Categories: Mental Health | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

A College Graduation Speech, Sort of, But Not

graduation

(Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

My oldest daughter will graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree in Sociology on Saturday!!

I am one proud mama!

During the ceremony, speeches will echo out across a sea of caps and gowns. Most of what’s said will skip about the room with a low absorption rate. Most members of the audience will focus on one person in the room, their graduate.

It’s a shame there isn’t a way to personalize such a momentous occasion. To hear from each graduate about the circuitous path they followed to arrive at graduation would take weeks, or months, but oh the stories! To get a taste of the audience members perspective of that path would add a dimension never dreamed of before.

To share some small fraction of lessons learned in and out of the classroom while on that path would fill libraries.

I intended to dispense advice in my own little version of a graduation speech for my daughter. After all, I gave a graduation speech at my high school graduation eons ago.

But then, I thought of my daughter and her path to this point in her journey. She’s taught me more than I ever taught her. I’m certain of it.

She arrived in this world already confident and brave and friendly.

Now she is also: A world traveler. Caring. Smart. Beautiful. Open-minded, open-hearted. Anticipatory. Relaxed. Brave, adventurous, fun. Prepared. Strong. Kind. Willful. Opinionated. Easy going.  Friendly.  Wise.

What’s next? Graduate school? Maybe. A career? Maybe. She’s taking the summer to mull it over and relax. It’s been a long winding road.

My Advice? 

  • Be yourself.
  • Trust your feelings.
  • Remember you are loved.
  • Keep your eyes open.
  • Enjoy.
  • Love.
  • Give.

That’s about it. No speech from me.

She has what she needs, she’ll get where she’s going with style and grace and a smile on her face.

Oh, one last thing:

  • Keep in touch with your mom.

That’s all.

I love you my sweet girl!

Confetti

Hooray for you!! (Photo credit: ADoseofShipBoy)

Categories: Family, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Floors and Ceilings

The following is a small excerpt from my Big Work In Progress. I thought I’d share a taste today here on the blog. Enjoy.

“Over a month after returning home from the hospital she still felt tenuous and fragile. And yet there was something in the air, or in her dreams, or in the light coming through the windows that felt different.

Sometimes life surprised her. Waking early, feeling unusually rested, she would climb out of bed feeling oddly energetic. The morning would run smoothly, the day unfolding simply with few glitches. Afternoons flowed like water into an evening. Busy or relaxed didn’t matter. On those rare days life was manageable, easier and, dare she think it, happier.

Occasionally two such days would occur back to back. She tread lightly on that second day, aware of the fragile miracle she was experiencing. Laughter bubbled out. Fun erupted. The children’s mischief and messes didn’t overwhelm her. She could think with clarity. Planning ahead provided hope instead of a sense of dread. Creating a simple meal brought satisfaction.

Even the muscles in her body responded to the difference in the very air around her. She moved quicker and accomplished tasks without achiness or apprehension.

She thought perhaps the medications were helping.

Her husband thought so, too. He’d said as much one evening after dinner. The kids had slipped away from the table and back to a bedroom to play.

Dinner Plate Finished

(Photo credit: bazadwalker)

“Nice dinner, sweetie,” he said.

“It was good, wasn’t it?” she said running a finger along the edge of her plate. “And quick and easy to fix, too.” She felt pleased at the accomplishment.

“How are you feeling lately?” he ventured.

“Mmm. Okay, some days. I guess,” she replied.

He shook his head as if agreeing with her. There was some silence. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something more, but she didn’t.

“To me, your lows seem less low,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“And your highs, your good moments, your good days, seem,” he looked for just the right word, “tempered.”

“Tempered?”

“Yes. Not as vibrant. Happy but not too happy, I think.” His forehead furrowed as he looked at her.

“Hmm.”

“It’s like your meds have placed a floor and a ceiling on your moods.” He had emphasized the word “and” as if it were critical to the meaning of his sentence.

“Hmm,” she leaned her chin into the cup of her hand, her elbow resting on the table. “Hmm,” she repeated. “Interesting visual.”

Genius - Wile E. Coyote - Chuck Jones

In her mind she pictured a cartoon drawing of herself bouncing through a long tunnel, her head crashing into the ceiling, then rebounding to the floor. Seems like she had seen a “Roadrunner and Coyote” cartoon like that once. The hapless Coyote ricocheting off winding tunnels, his hard-hat light clicking off and on as he bounded helplessly along.

She laughed out loud at the memory of it.

“What?” he asked. “Why are you laughing?”

She described the cartoon to him and he chuckled slightly.

“I didn’t mean it quite like that,” he said almost apologetically, a grin spreading despite his efforts to hold it back.

“Oh, I know,” she smiled. Then she lifted a hand to his face across the table. His day old beard was scratchy but only slightly. The warmth of his cheek felt calming. Reassuring.

“Mmmm,” he said, closing his eyes at this unexpected affection. After a moment or two, he reached for her other hand across the table.

There was a squeal and burst of laughter from the kids in their bedroom, then near silence. Other than that, the house was quiet and still.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at her.  She shook her head, her eyes shiny with tears she was holding back. Taking her hand from his cheek, he cradled both of her hands between his.

She couldn’t put words to what she meant, not really, but she tried anyway. In a barely audible voice she said, “Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

“Shh…” he responded, “shh.”

Categories: Writing | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

A Few Precious Years of Laughter

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for the sweetness of elementary school-aged children. In many of them there still abides an innocence and freshness to their view of the world. I heard two jokes today from a friend’s daughter that reminded me of that precious time of life.

Giving credit where credit is due, these jokes came from the mouth of Kyrsten and brought a lightness to my heart and a smile to my face.

“Why did the football stadium get so hot when the game was over? 

-Because all the fans walked out!”

Kawasaki-Electric Fan

Kawasaki-Electric Fan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I love the image of hundreds of spinning fans wobbling out of a stadium chatting about the game.  Don’t you?

Then there was this one:

“Why can’t banks keep any secrets?

– because there are so many tellers.”

Old bank building

Old bank building (Photo credit: Mr Wabu)

Ten years old, bright with a sense of humor that finds delight in simple, clean word play.There’s no guile, no manipulation, no hidden agenda. How wonderful those few precious years of newness and wonder! Reminds me of my own young childhood. How lucky I was to have had that.

Reminders that such a unsullied view of the world still exists make my heart grateful and give me hope.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Hope, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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