Hope

Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom acts as one with our very soul.

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul.

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all"--Emily Dickinson

A beautiful spring day in Buffalo. Sunny, 81 at 11 A.M. It doesn't get any better then this. Woke up and went to the nearby Home Depot to buy mulch. Can you believe they weren't open yet at 7:45? Come on people, the early bird gets the worm. Open those doors! Buy the mulch and weed killer. And begin. Clean and dig out the weeds and grass. Cut off the dead stuff. Clean out the dead leaves. By noon, I had the front garden cleared out and looking good. Ready for the season. Green buds on the bushes. Hostas popping up. And Aunt Betty's myrtle spreading like wildfire, just mocking me in the sunlight.

I could never get myrtle to grow on my own. We had a huge area around our front maple when we moved in. So pretty. The lovely purple flowers in the spring really warm the heart. But I somehow couldn't keep it going. Bought tons more, and it all died. Everyone said, next time you are at "The Cabin" bring some back. The hunting cabin, 2 hours away near Corning, NY, way up in the hills. There is a large one acre patch of the myrtle there now. Aunt Betty planted it around a family cabin 40 years ago. The cabin and Aunt Betty are long gone, but the myrtle lives on, with no one helping it.

Last year, we brought some baby lilacs back from this cabin area. Planted them, but they didn't survive. The bleeding heart we also took seems to be coming in wonderfully. And in the dirt where we had tried the lilacs, Aunt Betty's myrtle popped up. We didn't even grab any to plant with the lilacs, not a leaf at all. I didn't want the misery of trying to nurture it again. But still it grew. Now we have a 2 x 3 foot patch. It will probably cover the entire garden before I know it. It seems to be telling me not to give up.

The seeds of Aunt Betty's myrtle live on without any encouragement. They just know how to live anywhere. They know exactly what to do, and even when I have given up hope, they have not. The joy of life is still in them.

Many time in the past weeks I have felt like I had no hope. All I can do is get out a little prayer to keep my faith going. And the amazing thing, is I usually always get it in lots of surprising ways. Miss Kodak sends me job tips and invites me to come out to a party. Syd's Mom invites me to tea and plays, and listens to me while I wail and blubber like a two year old. The Queen calls unexpectedly at lunch to see if she can get me to go leave the warm confines of the comforter I am wearing like a robe and go out for happy hour. Miss Virgina calls me and makes me crazy by having 3 job offers while she is still gainfully employed. Mr. Comedy gets me to play checkers, whooping my butt and making me laugh. My dogs throws her ball around the house, saying to me, "Hey if you won't play ball with me, I will just have to play catch with myself." My DH brings me pizza just because I am blue. Maggie's softball coach--gainfully employee and working like a dog in the family business his whole life--tells me to apply for the job I worry is too much work, "just to practice on the interview. My Dad gets people to send me job postings by snail mail. Old school is good too Dad. My brother emails me and meets with another friend who was also laid off from my company. My gym friends tell me I am funny and get me to try spinning class. (I think this was because the pain in my privates would distract me from any other thought for a week. I am still sitting on a pillow.) Old friends email jokes to make me laugh. Maverick doesn't get detention for a whole week! A whole week! And my twins run in from school, all excited and happy that they can wear shorts in April in Buffalo, and ask me, "How was work?"--just as they have every day their whole lives.

Hope is everywhere, even when we don't plant the stalk ourselves, God plants it for us. And keeps planting it again and again, just to make sure we are hearing him.

Cookie Day

Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.

A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same.
Elbert Hubbard

My Mom always filled the house with love and cookies at Christmas. Not just a plate of cookies, mind you. But dozens and dozens of 10 different kinds of cookies. Italian Fig Cookies. Mexican Wedding Cakes. Peanut Butter Blossoms. Cutouts. Leuberkiens. Hello Dollies. Rum Balls.

Each recipe was doubled or tripled to make 10 or 12 dozen at least. Baking began after Thanksgiving and was complete by her birthday on December 12. Everyday brought another treat, and we'd get some samples. But most of the cookies went in our cookies closet, which was really the closet by the front door that had no heat. It stored all the cookies perfectly, at around 45 degrees. We'd sneak out a take a handful whenever we could, but especially when my parents napped after dinner. Mom didn't want all the Christmas cookies to be gone before company came, so she'd make a hold over cookies for us:

12 dozen Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies.

These cookies were open season and we could eat all we wanted. If she was lucky, we would chow threw them and leave the Christmas cookies alone.

So as a grown-up (okay, not really, I just pretend) I continue on with this tradition. I force myself to cut back to around 6 kinds, at about 10 dozen each. I have to try and just live with what I can crunch out in a weekend.

This year, my friend the Queen asked if we could do a cookie day together. I don't have any sisters, so this was a special treat to me. I always wanted someone to bake with again. I did it a few times with friends in my 20's (B.C.--before children) and it was a blast. So I looked forward to a cookie day at the Palace (the queen's nest).

So, the questions started. Want me to pick up supplies and you just give me some money? Sure. Okay, what kinds will be make?. Well, whatever. What do you mean, whatever? Well, I'm not really a cookie person. I only make one kind. So, whatever you make is fine.

This should have been my clue "I'm not really a cookie person." (<--major foreshadowing).

So I stopped at 2 different stores, and bought 4 bags of stuff. Then I asked if she had a stand-up mixer? No, just a hand mixer. Hand? Forget it. I am not breaking my hand. So I loaded up the 40 pund Kitchenaid. Then I went to look for my cookie tubs. I couldn't find them anywhere. Oh well, let's just go.

Arrived at the Queens'. Brought in the ton of stuff. And started. Mixed the dough for the pastry with nut filling Croatian cookies. This dough needs to set, so I had to make it first. As I started to mix and pour, the Queen is getting antsy. I don't know why. I am putting stuff away as I go. I am washing as I go. I am only in the one area. I know she's and anal retentive neat kitchen freak, so I am trying to guess what I am doing that is driving her up a wall. She's trying to be what too nice and not tell me, but I can tell by the 2 smokes in 15 minutes that I am driving her absolutely nuts.

Finally I asked. What. What do you mean what? What am I doing that bothers you? The dishwasher. What about the dishwasher? I am not using it right now. Well, you are getting flour all over it and all over the counter. Well, of course I am. It's a dough. I have to mix it, and then I have to knead it on the counter. Well, there's flour in the crevices of the dishwasher. Oh, sorry. Move out of the way. I have to put tinfoil over it or you will drive me nuts. Ok.

So the dishwasher got a bib. And the queen spent the day washing up after me. Now, I know I have to wash as I go and I did. But the Queen takes the cleaning while baking to an extreme. I mean, you do have to use things to bake with. And as I put cookies in the oven, and waited for them to come out, she would wash up the bowl and mixing cups I just used. Okay, not a problem. Cookies would come out, and I would use the metal spatula to take one pan off the sheet to cool, while sheet 2 was still in the over for a couple more minutes. I would take the hot cookies off, and move some cool cookies to a container to make room. Then, I would go get the next cookie sheet.

And the spatula would be gone. Missing. No where to be seen.

Did you take the spatula again? Yes. Did you wash the spatula again. Yes, it was gross. But I was still using it. I know, just get a new one out. But I don't want a new one each time, I just want to keep using the same one. But the Queen would keep taking it. And then the oven mits. I would set them on the counter, waiting for the next batch, and she would put them away. And so on, and so on.

Baking with a clean freak is hard. It's just a lot more work to keep getting the stuff out. Again and again. And then she picked on some of my cookies. Well, my family won't like these. Ouch. But we did manage to make her husband's Aunt Marge's cookies. Can't quite get the shape or texture, but they tasted excellent. So the King was pleased. And now he yells when I am on the phone "Come over and bake some cookies. No scratch that. Come over with cookies. No scratch that. Come and LEAVE some cookies. "

It's so nice to be loved.

And for Christmas, please send the Queen some tinfoil for her dishwasher. And some more dish soap. I am pretty sure I used it up when I was there. Or, just to be fun, spill some flour on her floor!

The Atomic Bomb made less noise then the Queen when you get flour on her flour.

But I love her anyway.

Say Thank You

Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.


Many days I hear, "This, Too, Shall Pass"--words that my late mother often said to remind me that whatever it is, it won't last. And I often find myself mentally asking, Where's the Thank You Power?--a reminder to look for the blessings in every situation because they are there.
But my personal tagline is "Here to Make a Difference." I have never for a moment believed that life was just a series of days, and then you die. I believe we were meant to experience as much as we have the opportunity to, and to have meaningful connections with the people around us. I think that when we leave this earth, something about it should be better for our having been here.
There are so many ways to make that difference, which is really what Thank You Power is all about. Doing something for someone else makes both of you feel good. The broaden-and-build aspect of feeling good makes you more adventurous and more inclined to try the new things that make life invigorating. The new experiences give you memories that, when recalled, lift you up even more.1 It's an upward spiral that all starts with Thank You Power.---from the book by Deborah Norville, Thank you Power

I started reading this book last week and just had to share some of it. I have always found myself gravitating to my tried and true beliefs during stressful times. Years ago, I read in a Jan Karon "Mitford Series" novel, that we need to give thanks for all things. In the book, Father Tim stops stressing for his being afflicted with diabetes, and gives thanks for this to God. He finally sees that the blessings in his friends and parishioners that help him with his disease, in the foods that he is allowed to savor occasionally and in his need to slow down and take life as it comes, instead of rushing through it like a freight train.

I know in times of stress that it's hard to find the grace, to look for the good, and most of all to try and do something good for someone else. It seems to be the last thing we have time to do, but in reality, this is the thing that sets us free to experience God's love in ourselves, to feel his healing power.

Last Sunday I came home not to a new set of kitchen cabinets, but to an empty kitchen because the new layout was not right for the current space. I had no cabinets, no counter, no dishwasher, and worst of all no sink. I loaded the dishes in my 5 gallon pail and threw them into the utility tub. I couldn't imagine what we were going to do now and was screaming inside, trying hard not to show how distressed I was. I took out my frustration on a bag of pretzels and hot cheese. Yum!
The next day I tried to come up with a plan and called our kitchen designer and got some options on what we might need to change in the cupboard layout if we did indeed measure wrong. I tried to think positively and picture the final, beautiful kitchen I would have, thinking Easter was a good time frame to plan for. Easter 2009. After all, I really like washing dishes in a bucket!

Then I came home, I found out the real problem was the new window we just put in. The bigger window which was moved 5 inches to the right to make room for the bigger sink. Except, it should have gone 5 inches to the left, since the corner most cabinet was smaller. Oops. My husband did not want to do this, since it meant a probable extra week without the kitchen. ()Think 3 extra weeks). He didn't want me to have to go that long without a kitchen. He was desperately trying to make it right. When I realized this, I stopped him and thanked him for working so hard on the kitchen, even when his hands were going numb and he couldn't lift another tool. I said it was okay, and the suggested he just get an opinion from his Dad. Just talk to him about it. And I silently gave thanks that my father-in-law was a home builder for many years.

When Dad saw the problem, he just said, "Move the window." Simple as that. Just a mistake. Fix it and go on. Fix it and forget about it. No big deal really, stuff happens.And he came the next night, and helped move it. I returned home that night at 9, to a 8 foot by 6 foot gaping hole in my kitchen wall. At 9 o'clock at night, when it was going to be 45 overnight, a hole large enough to drive a car through. Augh! Well, I locked myself in the bedroom and proceeded to kill a bag of potato chips. Bad chips! Bad! Take that! I was tired and went to sleep to the whir of the saws. I gave thanks for the help and figured they would stop soon and just board up the space. We would be cold, but we would be on the way to having it fixed. Tomorrow is another day.

I woke up to a nice, shiny new window in the right space. All lined up for the new sink. They worked until midnight. My mother-in-law was calling every hour trying to get her husband to stop and rest from his diabetes. But he hung on, and got it in for us.

Thanks Dad. Thanks husband. Thanks friends who are helping me through this remodel. Thanks for all the kind support and love as I write this blog. Thanks for getting me writing again. And thank you God for my wonderful life.