May you be blessed

Many years ago, I worked with the most interesting fellow. He was a sweet, sincere man from outside of Houston with a heavy Texas drawl and a slow, deliberate way of talking. He ran a national trucking company by himself and was eager to please. After we booked the first truckload with him, he sent me flowers in a beautiful ceramic vase. Initially, I was a bit uncomfortable with getting flowers from someone I hardly knew. But after months of working with him, I realized that he's just a genuinely thoughtful kinda guy - a real cowboy, I suppose.

When the time came for me to resign, he was just about crushed. I could hear it in his voice. Shortly after our call, he sent me an email. It was called "May you be blessed" and had a link to a website.

When I clicked on the link of the email and watched the movie, I thought, oh, geez, here we go... another junk email. But after the first couple of frames, I became entranced. And touched. And then I realized that I was starting to cry - because how wonderful it is that someone actually wishes that you are fully blessed, that everything in your life is absolutely amazing and wonderful and that every dream you've ever had comes true.

I think this is a blessing that we should pass onto everyone we know - even those we don't know. Because it's only right and true that every soul in this world is blessed beyond their dreams. We can only reap the benefits of our friends, family, neighbors and strangers on the street having a happy and fulfilling life.

I don't even think I realized how nice it was to talk with Andy everyday and listen to his slow, southern drawl. He had a way of recognizing and honoring the spirit of everyone he knew.

So - to you... MAY YOU BE BLESSED! Pass it on to all you know.

I'd rather be yard sale-ing

A few weeks ago, my neighbors came up with the idea of everyone on our street having a yard sale on the same day. We thought it was a great concept and dove right into the preparations. I dragged box after box of our daughters clothes from the attic and sorted them for hours. My husband pulled things from the garage that I hadn't seen in years. We posted an ad in the paper and hung over 30 signs around the neighborhood and on major streets. We made plans to have a refreshment stand that served coffee, doughnuts, cookies and iced tea (which my daughter would run, of course.)

On the day of the sale, we woke up before the light of the sun hit the sky. Our neighbors were up at the same time, setting up tables and organizing. It was a shared moment - we greeted each other by moonlight as the locusts buzzed and birds began to sing. The sky began to lighten and we offered to help each other, all of us bustling to get ready. The sun began to rise and we wandered into each others yards looking over the goods. One neighbor set up a moonwalk for the kids, another a manicure table, some had tents, fans, candy and coffee. One neighbor cat-called on a bullhorn to passing cars, we had music. It was like an early morning block party!

Although my husband and I had some small bills in our pockets for those who made immediate purchases, the majority of our money was in a cash box by the refreshments. If you recall, this was being run by my 7-year-old daughter. She would disappear every now and then, coming back with a book, a video or a stuffed animal. Then she walked back with a scooter (she already has two) and then a sled! We realized that she was taking the profits and shopping at the competitors! The rest of the kids thought this was a fine idea and they all joined in.

The balmy morning developed into a very hot and steamy day. We didn't have the hordes of people that I had expected. I took stock, remembering that it was July 7... 7/7/07. I'd heard that lots of weddings were planned for this day - brides imagining luck in the numbers. Perhaps that was the reason for the low turnout. I looked around at our offerings. My clothes, although very organized by size and price, were piled on two 8 foot tables with bins underneath. Toys were scattered on tablecloths on the ground. We probably did not have our prices low enough. My husband made over 4 gallons of coffee. (I think we sold 3 cups the whole day - am I the only one who drinks coffee in the heat?)

By the time we started packing up, the thermometer hit 100 degrees. One neighbor jokingly called out to another "Now for the best part, right?". He replied "Hey, I've got some gasoline in the back to burn it all - it'll be it out before the fireman get here!" I have to say, at that exact moment, I wouldn't have objected!

Once everything was stored in the garage, I counted the cash. We made just over $100.00! Pretty good for a morning yard sale on 7/7/07. We changed into dry, cool clothes and headed for a place with plenty of A/C... the movies!

...And the cast comes off

The day finally arrived - the cast on my daughter's arm was scheduled to be removed. She was incredibly excited about it and announced it to all of her summer camp friends, counselors, neighbors and anyone else who happened to listen. After this, she'd be able to participate in the camp activities she'd missed out on - swimming, mini-golf and go-carts. At the doctor's office, she hopped around like a jumping bean.

We were lucky to have a doctor with a great personality who joked with her during the procedure. I think we were both expecting a frightening, high-pitched buzz saw. But, the little tool really sounded more like a vacuum cleaner motor and was completely benevolent.

Since I've never had a broken bone that required a cast, it was fascinating for me to watch this process. How the saw the cut through the fiberglass so easily. How the pliers cracked it open like an egg. How her arm was lifted out like a precious little treasure. I was startled to see how tiny and fragile it looked. When I applied lotion to the dry, flaky skin, I felt like I was handling a delicate piece of porcelain.

How amazing it is that these bones of ours can be placed into hard shells to heal. That within these hard shells our skin starts to wither, our muscles begin to atrophy. My daughter's arm was tender after the cast was removed. It was hard for her to move it around. It ached. She asked that I wrap it at night to keep it warm and still.

I remember someone once telling me that it's baffling that humans continue to thrive in this world. With all that can injure and harm us, we still have survived millions of years. We need a certain amount of food and water daily, a certain level of oxygen to breathe. We can't be exposed to extreme temperatures for too long. We have learned to avoid poisonous plants and dangerous animals. We have discovered the right level of immunizations to cure deadly diseases.

At the bookstore recently, I found a book for my daughter on the solar system. Every time I see the lineup of the planets, I am amazed. Nestled within the lifeless orbs that circle the sun it this perfect little beautiful ball of blue and white, shining like a beacon in space. When I was little, I watched a TV program called "The Big Blue Marble" and I think that describes the planet perfectly. How incredible that life thrives on this planet, out of all the planets that we know of. It is a miraculous thought.

Are we simply lucky to be alive? It is just coincidence that, in this world spinning through space, life flourishes in the light of the sun? I think there is a deeper mystery to the perfect balance in our world. There is a reason we are here, that we have survived for all this time. There is a reason that we can heal after being broken. That a small little arm weakly emerging from it's protective shell can grow strong again. So strong that it can swim and play and drive a go-cart.

Ernest L. Woodward was quoted as saying:

So great has been the endurance, so incredible the achievement, that,
as long as the sun keeps a set course in heaven, it would be foolish to despair of the human race.

So I celebrate the wondrous gifts of this world. I give thanks for the miracles that occur every minute of every day. I relish this life and marvel at its beauty.

Watching My Garden Grow

After we returned from Disney World, the weeds in my gardens went absolutely crazy. It was a party in the dirt, I tell you. I spent the better part of the first weekend pulling most of them, using a claw cultivator so vigorously that, over a week later, a rather large blister on my thumb is still healing. In addition, we have centipede grass in the front lawn that appears to have been quite attracted to the weeds. The two intertwined in such great strength that I might as well have been ripping up turf.

In fact, the muscles in my hand were so sore, that when I went to sign my daughter in at summer camp on Monday, the pen fell right out of my hand. My thumb and forefinger refused to work together any longer!

My sister has been sending us daily affirmations and then her thoughts to follow. One day the affirmation was: "We have a choice to plow new ground or let the weeds grow." Her thought was: "Because of weeds' pioneering spirit and heartiness, they are a good metaphor for survival in harsh times. Let's not disparage the weeds." Although I can see her point, I've become quite disenchanted with weeds after my recent experience. As I was ripping out one large clump last weekend, I couldn't help but eject the words "DIE! DIE!" and hold the drooping clump up with a cry victory. Of course, I immediately felt guilty for this. After all, they can't help that their weeds. Poor things are just looking for a new place to call home. So, I try to be a little more gentle with them. Now I say something more along the lines of "Sorry little weed, but this garden is just not the place for you..."

This weekend was the second weekend I've worked on the weeds. I pulled out all the rest of them and applied piles of mulch. In certain areas, I put down a fabric weed barrier beneath the mulch. I trimmed and shaped bushes, used Miracle-Gro and sang to my flowers (I heard that helped.) All of this in 95 degree weather.

I finished at about 3 pm this past Saturday. I popped in a frozen pizza for us (lunch is always so late on days like this) and grabbed a beer. Then I sat. I gazed at my garden and absorbed. I watched the bumblebees intently collecting pollen from the coneflowers. I watched the stalks of golden yarrow gently swaying like lazy pendulums in the breeze, each to its own time. The butterflies fluttered around the lantana as my sunflower flag was lifted softly to the sky. I closed my eyes and heard the locusts humming in the distance, birds twittering in the rustling pine trees. It was a lovely, satisfying experience. Even as the sweat dried on my skin, dirt caked beneath my tingling fingernails, shoulders and legs exhausted, I was relaxed and blissfully happy.

As I sat and watched and listened, I was reminded of a poem:

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

Joyce Kilmer, "Trees" (poem), 1914

Yes, gardens are hard work and require lots of attention. My mom has always been a big gardener. She would send me pictures of her garden, but I didn't really get it until I had my own. After you've dug your fingernails deep in the dirt and poured your energy, sweat and blood into it (yes, I have several thorn scars...), I'm not sure you can really understand the bliss of seeing your flowers and bushes flourish with health. When you watch the bees collect the pollen and butterflies enjoy the nectar of the flowers - when the birds create their nests and rely on the berries of the bushes - what a wonderful blessing! A visual cornucopia of treasured delights. The ultimate reward, the happiest of happy places... a garden of your own!

Disney World

So we finally made the big decision to visit the land of children's dreams, the ultimate theme park, the pinnacle of imagination: Disney World!

It all started out nice and simple. We left earlier than planned, had extra room in the trunk, made pretty good driving time. We arrived in sunny and humid weather. Enjoyed chilled cocktails on the porch. Then, as the kids splashed in the pool out back, an all-too-familiar cry of pain penetrated the air. Yes, just 2 short hours after we arrived in FL, we found ourselves at the emergency room. My daughter broke her arm!

Interestingly enough, this did not dampen our spirits for the trip. We decorated her sling with Disney trading pins and she got plenty of sympathy from passers by. In fact, one woman said, why are you waiting in line for this ride? Go to guest services for a special ride pass - after all, it's the land of a million dreams, they'll take care of you. And bless their hearts, they did. The friendly staff gave us a special assistance pass so that Maddy wouldn't have to wait for hours in the heat. Truly a Godsend.

What can I say about Disney World but WOW! Walking down the main street of the Magic Kingdom brought tears to my eyes. We saw a mama duck with her 7 little ducklings walking down the sidewalk (was that planned!?!), a barbershop quartet serenaded us on the street, a carriage with two beautiful Clydesdale horses clip-clopped right by us, and who can resist the statue of Walt himself holding hands with little Mickey Mouse in front of the infamous castle.

We booked special lunches with the Disney characters - avoided standing in huge lines, enjoyed fabulous food while relaxing in the A/C and got autographs to boot! My daughter led the Winnie-the-Pooh Parade around the dining room of The Crystal Palace and saw all the princesses!

The Tiki Room is still there but "under new management" with new songs and new birds. The Pirates of the Caribbean is also but now features Captain Jack Sparrow. Believe it or not, my daughter loved the Carousel of Progress, I think the moving theater was what impressed her the most. We also loved the 3-D PhilharMagic theater show. The special effects were great, including the wind in your face, spraying water and glittering jewels that hovered right before your eyes.

Other favorites were Test Track at Epcot where you're testing a new car, sort of like a crash test dummy. Another is Soarin', where you fly above the earth, past mountains, the ocean, San Francisco and finally right down Main Street Magic Kingdom, up the castle and into the sky with the fireworks!

MGM Studios was hopping with dramatic actresses, directors and clueless policeman characters roaming the streets. The Tower of Terror at the "haunted" Hollywood Hotel is a blast as well as the Aerosmith Rockin' Rollercoaster. Both have great concept setups - the hotel has an "you've entered the twilight zone" theme and the rollercoaster whisks you away in a "stretch limo" with a crazy driver.

And of course, we saw the Cirque Du Soliel show "La Nouba". Believe it or not, it was the 4,000th show, on the dot. They passed out glow sticks to the audience. When the show was over we all cracked them and spun them in the air. Quite a sight.

Now we are home and my daughter is sporting a bright pink cast that practically glows in the dark like those glow sticks! The good news is that the break was minor and she gets the cast off in a few days. What a story, what a trip - truly one of dreams... imagined and unimagined!

Hurray for Hallmark!

After we moved into our new house about 5 years ago, I became obsessed with interior decorating and garden design. I subscribed to several magazines: Mary Engelbreit's Home Companion, Better Homes & Gardens, and Cottage Living to name a few. I was addicted to the Home and Garden Network, Trading Spaces, Designed to Sell, and Divine Design.

But now that my home is pretty much completed on the interior and the garden well on it's way, my interest in that particular area of my life has subsided. I'm now much more interested in living, life stories, and spiritual awakening.

So, I was at the bookstore several months ago and picked up a Hallmark magazine. I had never seen this publication before and wasn't quite sure about it. When I was in high-school, I loved the Hallmark store, but after awhile I felt it was a little too much. Kind of the way I feel about Oprah, a little over the top, but fascinating and intriguing to watch at the same time.

Well, I fell in love with the first issue I read (January-February 2007) and have fallen in love with every issue that followed. One article talked about a woman who adopted 5 children ranging in age from 5 to 15, all of whom suffer from fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. It brought tears to my eyes. Another article talks about getting back in touch with yourself and has bits from professional writers as well as average women who have re-discovered their own spirits.

There are recommendations and reviews on the latest greatest novels, natural recipes for silky hair, baking advice, interior decorating ideas (I still need a little of that...), and inspiring quotes like "Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower." (Hans Christian Anderson)

The magazine is organized into these great sections: Inspire. Renew. Nest. Connect. Nourish. Now if that's not inspiring enough, I don't know what is. It makes me want to absorb every word!

The tag line for the publication is "The magazine that celebrates your life." Truly. I think it celebrates the lives of us all!

Standing Still

There is a wonderful story about 2 grandmothers who stood in a park for peace. They stood for so long that the town began to talk. They made jokes. They gossiped. But slowly, more people joined them. And more... day... after day. The newspaper did a story. They mayor got upset and asked the police to break them up. But, the police couldn't. For after all, they were just individuals standing still in a park. Soon the mayor's wife joined them. Then the police chief's wife. Towards the end, they had over 2,000 people standing still in the park for peace.

There was a book written about their experience called The Great Silent Grandmother Gathering. I haven't read the book but I understand that this event has started a huge movement of standing still for peace. There is a website called StandingWomen.org. They invited groups to register and stand still on May 13 at 1 pm - Mother's Day. Over 3,000 groups registered... groups in Thailand, Australia, Netherlands, Israel, Sweden, Canada and hundreds of places throughout the United States.

We had a group in Raleigh, too. A woman from our church organized it. A small group of us stood in a park beneath an oak tree across from the church. A soft breeze was blowing and even though cars were passing by on the busy streets and we could hear the sounds of a homeless rally in the distance, there was peace. She rang a meditation bell to signify the moment. We settled into silence for 5 minutes. The leaves of the oaks rustled above us. While my eyes were closed, I saw a flash of bright light out of the corner of my eye. I realized that it was the sun filtering through the leaves of the trees above. But in my mind the flash was much brighter. It made me think of all the people all around the world standing still at that exact moment. I felt an overwhelming sense of unity with these people. Like we were all holding hands to form a gigantic circle of hope that embraced the globe.

The StandingWomen.org website says this:

We are standing for the world's children and grandchildren, and for the seven generations beyond them.
We dream of a world where all of our children have clean drinking water, clean air to breathe and enough food to eat.
A world where they have access to a basic education to develop their minds and healthcare to nurture their growing bodies.
A world where they have a warm, safe and loving place to call home. A world where they don't live in fear of violence - in their home, in their neighborhood, in their school or in their world.
This is the world of which we dream.
This is the cause for which we stand.

There are lots of people that think this is a ridiculous concept, standing still for peace. But there are a couple of things that come to my mind about this idea. Non-violent protest, for instance. The idea of universal substance, everything is connected - how you act, how you think, what you say, all makes an impact in this world. And finally, meditation - you become centered and peaceful, and by no action of your own, you influence everyone you meet, everything you touch.

So, I'll continue to stand still for peace. I hope that more will join me. Just think, if everyone in the world stood still for peace, there would be no one left fighting.

High School Musical

There is a new Disney show that all the kids are crazy about (at least, the kids around here...) called High School Musical. The story line is similar to Grease - a boy and a girl from opposite sides of the school cliques meet while on vacation and end up attending the same school. The story ends with the cliques "un-cliqued" and the whole school coming together in harmony.

They made the movie into a theater production that came to Raleigh recently. We knew months ago that it was on the way but kept forgetting to get tickets. Well, a few days before opening night, I started looking for them. Get this - it was here for about 10 days, maybe 3 shows a day? And I think our theater holds about 2,000 people. All of them, every single show, every single seat was SOLD OUT! So I started asking around and searching on the web..., nothing!

Now, many moons ago, my husband and I went to Las Vegas. We decided on the spur of the moment to see a show and the only thing showing that moment was Louis Anderson. We went the the box office just after the show had just started. As it turns out, they save VIP seats until the last minute and if the VIP's don't show, they're up for grabs. We ended up sitting at a white linen table right by the front of the stage. I was literally resting my elbow on it!

I figured as a last resort, I'd try this same strategy with High School Musical. At least, I thought, someone would certainly be out front hawking their spare tickets. So, my daughter and I headed downtown and waited in front of the theater.

As it turns out, there were no hawkers. We went to the box office. The reception area was jam-packed with girls in their High School Musical duds, my daughter saw a girl she goes to school with, tables were lines with T-shirts and backpacks, the noise was deafening. Donna, the box office attendant, informed us that the show was completely sold out. However, there were occasionally cancellations but she's already started a waiting list. Well, I said, it couldn't hurt to add us to the list. She scrawled my name and cell number on a tiny spot of a sticky note. Not the most reassuring feeling, I can tell you.

Back outside we went. More girls arrived, a limo pulled up (I'm not kidding), more girls and moms piled out of it. We waited and waited. The crowd outside was getting sparse. My daughter holds my hand and sadly watches these girls file into the theater. "Mommy", she says, "I really want to see this show!" Geez, I think, what I'm I doing out here! This is torture for my child, how can I do this to her!?!

Just as I'm about ready to call the whole thing off, the phone rings. "Hi, this is Donna from the box office, come on in, I might have something that will work for you..." Hallelujah, Donna! We race inside. She has 2 seats by the sound booth, it's an obstructed view, only $32.00 total, $16 each. I say, "Well, I think that will work, right, Maddy? If we can't see the stage, we'll just listen to the music!" By this time she's hopping up and down, "Oh, yeah, that will be just fine!"

We race upstairs and enter the theater. Before us is the grand High School Musical banner on the stage, surrounded in lights. The theater is packed, the excitement is palpable. I hand our slip to the usher. He says "I just sent two people away looking for seats in this same place! The row is full - there are already ticket holders in them. Go back downstairs, tell the girl that these seats are taken!"

Have you ever felt crushed, really crushed? My daughter says "But mommy, I really, really want to see this show." I take her hand. My heart is being ripped out of my chest, I can feel the disappointment rising into my throat. I'm a terrible mother, I should have bought these tickets ages ago!!

We head downstairs and the curtain must have risen just then because all we can hear are the screams of 2,000 girls going crazy. I kneel down and look my daughter in the eye, my sweet, wide-eyed child and say "Remember, sweetie, I said that it was very, very unlikely that we'd get tickets to this show. We'll come back again and try the 7 pm show, maybe that will work..." (What am I saying!?! Can I go through this agony again?)

We reach the box office and dear sweet Donna says, "Hold on - I'm doing the best I can." Doing the best she can?? What happened to the refund and the pat on the head?

She thrusts another sheet of paper at me. "Here you go, try this! Straight down the hallway." Would you believe we got seats directly behind dress circle, the ones lined up on the walkway, the ones used for the media and other VIP's! We had a perfect view of the stage and were so close, you could make out the detail of every costume, every facial expression! It was absolutely unbelievable! Divine intervention, I'm telling you! An absolute miracle!

So, there are two lessons here - one, always get your tickets in advance, especially for the kids shows. Two, if you are completely scatterbrained like yours truly, try showing up at the box office right before showtime. You might get lucky after all!

12 Far-From-Angry Jurors

It finally came one day... the Jury Duty letter. It's been quite awhile since I've been summoned for Jury Duty. At least 8 years. The last time I was a resident of San Francisco. I sat in a crowded waiting room for about an hour and was dismissed.

This time, though, was a quite different and very unusual. I actually completely forgot about it the day of my summons. I was on my way out the door found a receipt from our vehicle tax bill. For some reason it reminded me of government issues and my jury service. Panicked, I called the number at the courthouse to see if I needed to serve. Oh, yes. My time was up.

I dropped my daughter off at the bus stop, rushed downtown, found the Wake County government parking lot and bolted in the door. Once there, I could relax in the jury lounge. I read my book, called my mom, ordered a coffee. It's really a lovely view from the 6th floor, the sunlight beaming in through the windows. I was recording the events in my journal when my name was called.

Me and 23 other potential jurors boarded the elevators in shifts to the 10th floor. Civil trials. We filed into the courtroom like a conveyor belt, taking our seats. In front of us were the plaintiffs, lawyers in pastel suits reminding me of a Matlock episode. On the defense, two dark-suited seasoned lawyers, more like L.A. Law.

They called 12 of us to the stand and in a bizarre moment, I was chosen as juror # 1. My heart pounded in my chest as the everyone watched me take my seat in the Jury Box. The questions started. Questions from the judge, from the plaintiff, from the defendant. Jurors were dismissed, new ones called. More questions, more dismissals. Hours passed. We broke for lunch. Came back. More questions, more dismissals. This continued for 2 more days.

Most of the time, we were asked to sit in the jury room adjacent the courtroom. By this time, we've all gotten to know each other. We can't remember names so we use our juror numbers. Number 2 jokingly complains about being number 2. I think we were referring to the bathrooms at just about that time. Number 3 has the boldness to ask the questions we all wonder about. She develops a relationship with our bailiff, a very tan, very weathered war veteran. We call him Buffalo Bill. He gives us a crackly laugh and reports our questions to the judge in all seriousness, like, can we have beer and pizza at lunch? Number 10 reminds me of one of my uncles, making hilarious comments while reading the paper. Number 7 reminds me of someone at my church. It occurs to me that this entire jury reminds me of people that I know or have known. I start to feel like I've known them all of my life, even though it's only been 3 days. I wonder if the older you get, the more you have this feeling. The feeling of familiarity with people you meet.

Finally on day number 4, the trial begins. We hear from the officer on the scene, the medical examiner, the coronor, the daughter's teary testimony. It was a heavy morning. We come back from lunch and hear from the doctor being sued for medical malpractice. The questioning gets intense. We all feel anxious. Suddenly, there is a pause. The doctor shudders, his head limply falls to his shoulder, his eyes stare blankly into the distance. We look at each other, we look at the lawyers, we look at the judge. The lawyers rise from their seats, calling his name. We're dismissed to the jury room.

Juror 11 sees the ambulance pull up in front of the courthouse. Juror 6 listens at the door. We wait in anticipation, wondering what's going on. We chat, we joke, we laugh. Nervous energy. We wonder if the lawyers can hear us. Time crawls. We're finally called back.

The judge apologizes and tells us that he feels we cannot be a fair and impartial jury due to this event. He calls a mistrial.

And that's the end.

We file out of the courtroom in a daze. The lawyers ask us about our feelings of how things went. We talk openly now, feeling relieved. We talk with each other about the bizarreness of it all. We go to the 6th floor together for our parking validations. We walk to the parking garage together. It's like we don't want it to end, this strange experience. Should we exchange numbers? Emails?

But, no, it's only been 4 days. Just enough time to become comfortable together but not enough time to keep in touch. We get into our cars and drive home. Back to our real lives, our work, our family, our friends.

In a strange way, though, I'm sure I'll meet these people again, sometime down the road. There was just too much in common to not cross paths ever again. As sure as I am of the sunrise and my daughter's smile. These are 4 days that I will never forget, 12 far-from-angry jurors that will be a part of my life forever.

Ode to my dog

What is it about this dog?
Soft kisses with a wet nose,
Gentle licks with a soft tongue.
What is it about his silky warm fur?
Him curled up at the bottom of the bed,
Sweet brown eyes watching me pass by.
I snuggle my face behind his ears
and scratch his head, dear heart.


What is it about his devotion?
This dog that howls in excitement,
When I walk in the house;
Back end wagging so hard,
about to split in half with joy.
What is it about his energy?
This dog that flies so fast after balls,
frisbees, sticks and pinecones.
So smart he rings a bell to go outside,
and closes the door on command.




How can a dog be so cute?
When he cocks his head
on hearing the word "walk",
eyeing me with expectation,
an anticipated pause.
Like holding breath.
How can we not be in love with this dog?



So loyal, so good, this dog
that will follow my daughter
into her bedroom when she's
scared of dark corners.
This dog that brings our family together.
This dog, our beautiful dog, our Dasher.

Tadpoles

Last month, we took a long weekend trip to Asheville, NC. This is a fabulous little city nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains and home to the Biltmore Estates, the breathtaking castle built by George Vanderbuilt in 1895.

What I love about the town of Asheville is all of the amazing art galleries and shopping. The best, in my opinion, is the refurbished Woolworth's building that is filled with mini-art studios and retains the old soda fountain. We stopped to have ice cream and coffee while taking in the local art creations. My daughter's favorite was the Mast General Store and the section filled with barrels of candy. I was surprised to see some old favorites, candy dots, root beer barrels, slo-pokes and mary janes.

What I love about the Blue Ridge Mountains are the spectacular views, especially while on the Blue Ridge Parkway. We entered at the Pisgah National Forest and stopped at Looking Glass Falls. How relaxing it was to sit by the cool waterfall, letting our feet soak in the passing stream.

What my husband and I loved about the whole trip was sitting in the rocker on the porch watching the sun drop behind the mountains with a glass of wine enjoying a salami and cheese tray. What my daughter loved about the whole trip was fishing and roasting marshmallows over the fire!

We stayed in a little place nestled in the mountains called Lady Bug Cabin. Our daughter found some friends and they played in the mud in the nearby stream. It just so happened that the puddles were filled with growing tadpoles... thousands of them. She became attached to the little guys so we brought 4 home with us. She told me she was sure they were going to die, so I made it my mission to keep those babies alive!

I researched tadpole care, used bottled water for their home, boiled the sand and organic lettuce, went to the pet store for high-protein fish food, replaced the water weekly. They nibbled on the lettuce and flipped around happily in their bowl... a minor miracle. Three of them grew steadily, one lagged behind and wouldn't eat, so we lost him, poor thing.

Eventually they grew their back legs and soon developed their front. We decided it was time to move them to a bigger space but our boiled water (bottled water was getting expensive!) was a little too hot and they started to go belly up during the transfer to the aquarium. We pulled them out quickly and dropped them back in the bowl. Two survived. We buried the other in the backyard with the cat.

They acclimated to their new surroundings in no time and soon enough, their tails began to shrink. They started sticking to the glass and climbing on the rocks. We realized that we successfully nurtured these little guys into real live frogs and headed to the pet store for tree frog supplies: coconut husk, moss, crickets, warming pads and vines.

How amazing the transformation has been over the past several weeks! We watched these squiggly little beings grow into happy, hoppy frogs - incredible!

I subscribe to a little inspirational magazine called The Daily Word. There was one day they were talking about transformation and referred to a tadpole. It said "I observe the simple shape of a tadpole in a pond. I am aware that the tadpole has within it the potential to grow and change to express life in new and greater ways."

Everything and everyone has the potential to grow and change and experience life in new ways. Everyday gives the opportunity to do so. I think if we just observe long enough, we'll find amazing transformation around us and in us at all times!

Happy Wall

Last year my daughter went through a period of having terrible nightmares. She’d wake up 4 or 5 times a night crying and frightened. My husband and I spent weeks trying different things: switching night lights, special stories, new pillows, warm milk, even rearranging the furniture in her room. Nothing worked for long.

Then one day, I was struck with an idea.

It occurred to me that if she woke up in the middle of the night and could remember something that made her happy or some pleasant thought, it might help her get back to sleep. So, I created “The Happy Wall.

I taped brightly colored sheets of paper to the wall beside her bed. Every night we thought of something great that happened during the day, a fun memory, or a compliment - then we wrote it on the wall. Things like ‘You are a great roller skater! … Great job doing 12 laps at the Fun Run – Wow! … Congratulations winning the water gun game at the Fair! … You’re the most polite trick-or-treater in the neighborhood.’

Believe it or not, it worked. The nightmares have subsided and the Happy Wall continues to grow. Sometimes I catch her quietly gazing at it and it occurred to me how wonderful it must be to have constant reminders of all the happy things in your life. I think I would love to have a Happy Wall. To post all the compliments of friends and family, fun events in your life, even recommendation letters from your former colleagues and managers. To be constantly reminded of all the fabulous things about you and your life. To gaze at it every night before you fall asleep. Imagine how happy your dreams would be!

I sometimes try to imagine that I have a Happy Wall in my mind. When experiencing a breathtaking moment, to just hold that image in my head like the only thing hovering in the great expanse of the universe. Like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon at sunset, watching my daughter sleep so peacefully, the sight of a silver cloud crossing a misty moon, a big, comforting hug from my husband after an exhausting day. I could post all these things and more on a wall greater than the length of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Maybe longer!

How long would your wall have to be to post all the awesome things about life? If you really thought about it… how long would it be?

Trains

I don’t know what it is about trains but I just love them. We live near the tracks and on calm summer mornings when we’re reading the paper on the porch, we can hear the train whistles in the distance. When my daughter and I go for bike rides, we stop by the restored train depot museum on Main Street. There is an old red caboose on display right beside it. We climb up and have a snack, watching all the cars pass by. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, a train will swoosh by.

Could it be the idea of traveling that makes my heart jump a little to see a train? Several years ago, we went to Europe for our honeymoon and took the train from London to Scotland. There was a quaint dining car with white linens and crystal salt and pepper shakers. We had the most delightful meal watching the gentle rolling hills of the Scottish countryside pass by the window. Little puffs of white sheep grazing along the way. The mesmerizing sound of the wheels clicking on the tracks, the sway of the train cars – it’s entrancing.

I could stare out the window of a train forever. It’s almost meditative that way. Like watching clothes spin in a laundromat dryer. Or clouds float by in the sky. Or the sun set over the ocean. It’s so calming, so soothing, to have your mind just stop for a little. Stop the worrying, the planning, the figuring, the static – just silence and nothing else.

There’s been a lot of talk around our town about meditation lately. Our church recently moved to a more central location in Raleigh and has been getting a little press, especially about the meditations offered daily at lunch and our “One%” program (www.whenonepercent.org). The belief that 30-40 minutes of meditation every day can improve your life, bring peace to your family and make a significant impact on your community. I started meditating about 8 months ago and the change has been incredible. I’m calmer, able to handle tense situations with less drama and generally feel more positive. I love it.

So I notice when my mind is spinning it’s wheels, when I try to figure things out, like how I might handle a situation that has not even occurred, my day ends up being so frustrating. I don’t get done what I had planned, I’m less prepared to handle a spontaneous challenging interaction and in general pretty grumbly. But when I stop, when I listen to the wind, when I meditate, when I clear my head… my, my… how much I accomplish.

My parents bought me a Zen Calendar for Christmas, the ones with a daily quote or thought. There are two that really capture this whole idea:

How can you come to know yourself? Never by thinking, always by doing.
Try to do your duty, and you’ll know right away what you amount to.
And what is your duty?
Whatever the day calls for.
–Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

And this one: Lose your mind and come to your senses. –Fritz Perls

So maybe that’s what I love about trains, clouds and laundromat dryers – the sights and sounds that pull me into a state of complete non-thinking, complete meditation, complete blissful release.

Coexist

I’ve been noticing more and more “COEXIST” bumper stickers in our area – the ones with all the letters in various religious symbols. I just love this bumper sticker. I love the message and belief that we can all live peacefully together in the world. In our peppered history, as long as it’s been documented, religion has always been a reason to start terrible wars and induce wide-spread hate.

And so when I see this bumper sticker, I have to admire the person driving the car. Because I’m sure there are some people that do not believe in its message and might be inclined to react harshly. So, you’d have to be a little bold to have it there.

One morning I was driving to work and the mini-van in front of me was trying to merge into the left lane. A big red pickup truck sped up, blocking her merge. The little car behind the pick up sped up as well, neither one would let her in. So sad – I thought – that people can’t have the same sense of courtesy that they might have in other situations.

Then I noticed that the little car that followed the pickup truck had a “Coexist” bumper sticker on it. I was really shocked! The driver was a young girl, college age, black framed glasses, black fingernails, pretty progressive it appeared. I thought, girlfriend, how are we supposed to Coexist if we can’t even Cooperate!

But in these situations, even though they may be shocking at first, I try not to pass too much judgment. My husband can be a madman on the road, so when I see someone driving in the same aggressive manner, I think, gee, would you look at that, another just like him. But, you’d never know it to meet him in person. He’s the funniest, most optimistic, most agreeable person I know.

Not only that, you really can’t base a persons entire character on one moment in time. I always try to imagine that they might be having a really bad day – maybe someone was rude to them just the moment before. Maybe they just had a fight with their spouse. No one is perfect – we’re all human! We all get angry, surly, grumpy (although it’s rumored that my uncle never loses his temper, quite astonishing actually, I don’t know how he does it!) I’d like to think that we’re all trying to do the right thing, trying to be better every day, learn something new, or gain a new perspective.

I found a quote that kind of sums this all up:

"Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful.
Yet there will stretch out before you an

ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path.
You know you will never get to the end of the journey.
But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. . "

Sir Winston Churchill