Month: December 2017

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Writing

I can’t write. I’ve been trying for weeks. I’ve started approximately eleven different blog posts, and they all fizzle in the second paragraph and I can’t quite remember where they were supposed to go. My emotions ping-pong from my heart to my head and then ricochet to the base of my neck before they settle into my gut. And the feelings move so fast that I can’t identify them. What’s that twitch in my left eye? Fear? I can breathe in peace and beauty for a second before a pause converts it to worry. I laugh joyously for a moment. Then two. Then ten. I am on a roller coaster of my own making. I seek peace and then I am bored. I crave activity but battle exhaustion.

Some of this is the holiday season. Some of it is my natural state. Some of it is my body’s response to my missing routine. Summer vacation feels this way, too. The ying-yang balance between accomplishment and relaxation has eluded me for my whole life. I want to be able to relax and enjoy things and I crave a feeling of achievement and productivity.

I resentfully clean the house while my husband relaxes on the couch, chiding, “Will you just SIT DOWN for a minute?”   He’s right. I hate it when he’s right.

So what next? I don’t really know. I don’t have a happy ending or a neat little bow to wrap this one up. I have this niggling sense that I need to do something differently, but I’m not quite sure what that is.

So here’s what I’ve done. Tell me what you think.

#1. I’ve hired someone to clean my house twice a month. This is supremely uncomfortable for me, but I have many friends who claim this small action has saved their sanity.

#2. I’ve visited the library. I can’t always write, but I can ALWAYS read. I’ve checked out 8 books in the past two weeks, and I’ve only got 3 to go. Reading centers me in a way that nothing else really does.

#3. I accepted the invitations for Christmas brunch and dinner with friends. I hesitated at first, but 20/20 hindsight tells me it was an excellent decision.

#4. I went sledding with the kids, even though it was 8 degrees outside and I really didn’t want to. Turns out, we had a blast.

#5. I am currently binge-watching “Stranger Things” with my eleven year old. This is totally NOT my genre, but there’s some serious bonding happening over conversation about a fantasy realm that nobody else in the family understands.

And here’s what I think I still need to do:

#1. Buy a lottery ticket. Because, hey, you never know.

#2. Get a therapist. Seriously; I’d love your recommendations.

#3. Meditate more.

#4. Laugh. Play stupid games. Cuddle these kids.

#5. Give it to God.

You know what’s crazy? I ALREADY KNOW how this works. I know that stressing about money doesn’t fix money problems. And inexplicably, faith and a perception of abundance have always been more effective at helping to relieve that burden. The same goes for my relationships. When I try to impact how others perceive me, I become less appealing. Believing in my own worth fills me with a spark of joy and purpose that is so much more attractive. When I worry about being productive, I become frozen with anxiety, but when I have faith in my own purpose, I can accomplish so much!

The title of this blog came from the quote, “Inhale grace. Exhale your gift.” For me, this is always the solution, even when I lose sight of it. Sometimes it feels overly simplistic; maybe it even sounds trite. But when I breathe in purpose and strength and grace, I can use that to find and feel and focus on my gift. I can remember how to be exclusively and beautifully ME, and how to share that gift with the world.

I sat down to write today, not sure it would go anywhere. I stopped worrying about being funny or insightful or sharing a story. I sat down to write because I needed to express something. The proof is in the pudding, I guess. Inhale grace. Exhale your gift. Thanks for reading.

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Christmas Shopping

It is December 21st, and I keep hearing about ‘last minute shopping’ on the radio and TV commercials. For the record, my idea of ‘last minute shopping’ is driving around on Christmas morning trying to find an open gas station that sells gift cards. Until I reach that point, I am not conceding to the ‘last minute’ message. I am not succumbing to panic. I have DAYS. To be exact, I have 4 days. 96 hours. 5,760 minutes. I have PLENTY of time.

On my way home from work, I will get to CVS for stocking stuffers. Later tonight, I will email gift cards to out-of-state relatives while I sip a glass of wine. Sometime tomorrow, I will stop at Walmart for underwear and socks. OF COURSE it’s a busy time of year. OF COURSE the budget is stretched thin. OF COURSE I feel pressured to get a million things done.

In the past weeks, I have missed the fundraiser deadline, skipped the football banquet, forgotten the electric bill, and lost important meeting notes. I have been too lax about screen time and too angry about dirty laundry. I skipped Christmas cards entirely, and I still haven’t made the goddamned cheesecake.

But last night I taught my boys to play blackjack. It was fun and silly and totally enjoyable. My husband and Bea went to church to rehearse a song that they’re singing together at the Christmas Pageant.  I heard it was beautiful, and great for the two of them to have some time to connect.  Once everyone was in bed, my husband and I met some friends for a few drinks and an impromptu double date. There were both tears and laughter, and for a little while, I forgot about the endless tasks and the lengthy shopping list and the jam-packed calendar.   I let go of the pressures of the holiday season.

And I realized that, ultimately, I get to decide whether these things are the center of my holidays or just the frame.   I can choose whether I am frantic or focused. I can decide what my priorities are. I can choose whether I contribute napkins or elaborate reindeer-faced cupcakes to the class party. I can decide whether dinner is home made or takeout. I get to determine if my gifts will be elaborately wrapped or stuffed into gift bags. I can choose whether to perceive scarcity or abundance. I can choose to focus on my failures or celebrate my successes.

Today, I’m choosing to celebrate. Most likely with takeout and wine, and who knows…. Maybe even with cheesecake.  🙂

 

 

 

 

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Cheesecake

When I was a young, single woman just out of college, my roommate received a springform pan as a gift, and she asked me, “Haven’t you always wanted one of these?” The answer was a definite NO, because I didn’t even know what this thing was. For those of you who share my ignorance, a springform pan is a type of cake pan with removable sides. Mostly, these are used to make cheesecakes, but they’re useful in other types of baking scenarios as well.

The thing is, I’ve always been a really crappy baker. I don’t like directions and recipes and measuring things. The terminology always seemed confusing and pretentious. What’s the difference between ‘fold’ and ‘gently stir?’ When you’re told to mix, do you need a mixer, or might a spoon be sufficient? Why do things need to be ‘sifted together?’ Would the whole thing be ruined if I sifted them apart, out of spite?

So back when I was a youthful, tequila-shooting, pool playing, waitressing 24 year old, I decided that I would never need a springform pan. And for the most part, I haven’t.

Granted, I’ve changed a bit since then. Now I’m more of a middle-aged, coffee chugging, story reading, boo-boo kisser. The thing is, I am still decidedly NOT a baker. It’s a joke in my house. If it requires measurement or a recipe or any sort of ‘leavening agent,’ I’m out. I can mess up a cake mix from a box, and if a recipe requires me to sift anything, I will inevitably ruin it.

But, I need to make a confession. My husband will attest to this. At least twice a year, I come across an online recipe that I get excited about. Most often it’s a form of cheesecake topped with some sort of decadent chocolate. I swoon and salivate, and click on the recipe… only to find that it requires (you guessed it) a springform pan. Which (of course) I DO NOT OWN.   I mourn the loss of possibility. I consider buying a turtle cheesecake from the local supermarket. I keep scrolling, with the goal of finding a cheesecake recipe more suited to my own limited abilities. These recipes are often sad substitutions, mixed into pre-made graham cracker crusts and lacking the luscious appeal of a treat created in a spring form pan.

“But,” I remind myself, “You are NOT a baker. You do not NEED a springform pan. You KNOW YOURSELF. Why would you spend money on a kitchen tool that is so obviously out of your league?” I’ve been having variations of this conversation in my head and also with my husband for approximately ten years. You do not need to point out how pathetic this is. I’m aware.

So the last time I encountered such a recipe (apple cheesecake with a pumpkin crust), it was the night before Thanksgiving. And I shushed that little voice in my head. I told her that I was going to check Home Goods for a springform pan while I was shopping that night. I wasn’t sure I’d find one, and I had no idea how much it would cost, but I committed to checking it out. So I did.

My inner monologue sounded like this: “They probably don’t even have one. They’re probably like 50 bucks. Oh, shush. Just look. It can’t hurt to look. Yep. Just as I thought, they don’t have…. Oh, wait. There’s one. No, there’s like ten. Wait, there’s a whole SHELF of these damned things?”

Ladies and Gentlemen, do you know how much a springform pan costs? I’ll spare you the suspense- $5.99. LESS than SIX DOLLARS.

I bought me a springform pan. I almost bought two. After ten years of agonizing over this purchase, I practically skipped out of the store. I called the hubs. “Guess what I bought?” I didn’t even wait for him to guess. “A spring form pan!”

“It’s about damned time,” he replied. Because I know him so well, I could hear the enthusiasm straining behind his exasperation. He wanted cheesecake, too.

I brought home my brand new pan. I set it in the cabinet, excited to put it to use the very next day. I stocked the pantry with the necessary ingredients and dreamt of cheesecake.

That was twenty-three days ago. The pan is still in the cabinet, and the ingredients are still in the pantry.

It turns out, I do know myself. I haven’t yet used my new purchase. I like cheesecake in the abstract, and I love the idea of making my own. It just hasn’t reached the top of my to-do list just yet.

But something beautiful has happened. I learned to shush that Negative Nelly whispering in my ear about all that I cannot do. I have now become the kind of person who believes in my own potential. Watch out world. I’m going to turn all that doubt into something delicious.

And I could make a cheesecake AT ANY MOMENT.

 

 

 

 

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A Writer’s Voice

The writer in me

She cajoles and she whines

Let me out. Set me free.

Right now! It’s my time.

 

And the mom (in me, too)

She soothes and she shushes.

Relax. Settle down.

What’s with all this fussing?

 

Small tasks occupy

Every moment of time.

And I cling to hold on

To the thoughts in my mind.

 

The teacher in me?

She says, “Wait your turn.”

Take a breath. We’ll get there.

There is much more to learn.

 

The wife in me whispers,

“Just wait ‘till he sleeps.”

Jot down a note and…. the thought?

It will keep.

 

But ideas float away

Like smoke on the wind.

Swallowed by moonlight;

Will I find them again?

 

 

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Admiration

My father never passes a stranded motorist on the road. He stops to help. EVERY. TIME. The man has a heart of gold, and automotive skills to match.

I have a friend who consistently mails out her Christmas cards on the day after Thanksgiving. They contain beautiful, professional photos of her kids, and are mailed using festive holiday stamps. I am baffled and inspired by this.

One close friend is a single mom to two kids, one with Autism. She is gentle, full of love, and also a fierce advocate. She is one of the strongest people I know.

I have a sibling who manages to coordinate a ‘family gift’ from eight siblings to our parents every year. Her organization is admirable and her patience is endless.

A friend from church consistently makes meals with ingredients I can’t name. She tries not to use the same recipe twice, and her entire approach to food leaves me awestruck. She is equally savvy about wine, and I am so grateful to be able to learn from her. And drink with her.

Several close family members live life with depression and anxiety. I’ve watched them develop strength and grace and self-awareness that astounds me.

My mother in-law has an incomparable sense of style. With random yard sale knick knacks and a little spray paint, she can turn any room into a showpiece. Her home is magazine worthy and once all of these small-ish people move out of my home, I hope she’ll teach me all she knows.

My husband has a voice that literally brings people to tears. Last week, he sang the communion hymn at church, and even our pastor got weepy.

I had an aunt who never forgot a birthday. Like, ever. And she sent a card, snail mail, every single year. I still have them in a box, and I can hear her voice from heaven when I re-read them.

I have several sisters who don’t take any crap from anybody. They learned this from my mom. They are all strong, independent women, and they stand their ground even when it gets uncomfortable. I call them when I need a pep talk. Or someone to call the cable company for me.

Other friends make beautiful handmade gifts. Some consistently and gently have difficult conversations with their kids.   Some home-school. Some run marathons. Some play instruments. Some volunteer with the homeless.

This list could go on for days. I look at the people I love and I see so many gifts. I could tell you something admirable about everyone I know.

But admiration has its down side. Noticing what’s amazing about others sometimes compels me to judge myself. I take the gifts and achievements of my loved ones and hold them up as a standard to be met. I look at what I lack and I analyze myself in comparison to all of these incredible, talented, gifted people. And I forget that each of them, too, is innately flawed and fallible. The thing is… every single one of these people doubts themselves. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

As we move into this holiday season, as we each attempt to do our best to move through Advent with an open heart and a joyful waiting and a sense of perspective, let’s be gentle with ourselves and celebrate the gifts of those around us.

When you get that beautiful card from your friend, just enjoy it. Let her know how much you admire her. And mail your card cobbled together with individual shots because the kids won’t all look at the camera at the same time. Or send New Year’s cards. Or skip it all together. The world won’t end.

When Facebook shows you another creative “Elf on the Shelf” shenanigan (and your elf hasn’t moved in three days), congratulate your friend. Laugh at the silliness.  And keep the ‘elf crutches’ on hand for the next time you forget about the little guy.

When you forget to send the holiday napkins to school or wind up stopping for another last-minute gift card at a gas station, take a moment to remember what YOU do well. Somebody out there admires YOU. Pause for a moment to remember why.

And if you’re searching for a special holiday gift this year, find a way to let YOUR people know what you admire about them. It’s perhaps the most meaningful gift of all.