Do they make Happy 100th Birthday cards???

So, it's a little after 1 am, and guess who's wide awake? I can tell you it isn't the centenarian in the room. She's been snoozing for quite some time. And since there are only two of us in this spacious "hotel", and I'm the one typing, your guess is probably 100% accurate.

Why am I not sleeping, you ask? Great question! I'm certainly tired, but it seems I'm not really sleepy. It could be that I take my job as "night nurse" very seriously. Or it could be (this is likely the real reason, btw) that I can't seem to turn off my mind. It's reeling. I'm replaying different moments in my head, over and over again. Some of those moments rock, by the way. Some, not so much.

This week could be summed up in one comment, uttered by about 5 different people in my life -- at completely different times. "If it weren't your birthday week, it'd be a total bust." I concur. It wasn't a bad week. It wasn't a good week. It was a week. 7 days. 168 hours. No more, no less.

I used to look forward to my birthday. Sometimes I still do. But it's not as cool as it was when I was 7, or 16, or 18, or 21, or... Each birthday is a reminder that I'm not going to live forever (I really don't mind that part of it), and that I still have a lot of "to do" items to check off my list before I'm gone. I guess I'm thinking about birthdays on this particular "unbirthday", because I'm wide awake in a hospital room with one way cool grandmother who turns 100 years old...today. I'm singing to her at 4:30 am, because something tells me that hasn't happened for her in a very long time. She's lived a long, mostly healthy, life full of many blessings and she isn't afraid to say so.

I don't do that. Sure I have blessings. I have some really great people in my life. I've had some really amazing experiences in my 29(ish) years. I've had highs and lows, ups and downs. All in all, I'd say I've had the pleasure of living...sometimes. Other times, I'm just coasting from moment to moment, day to day, week to week. And the rest of the time, I'm just too busy to stop and take it all in.

I do that with my children. I rarely miss an opportunity to tell them I'm proud of them or to congratulate them on something exciting in their lives. But life is busy. I've got a lot going on, and there's always something more important that needs my attention at any given moment. So I don't often take the time to pat myself on the back for a job well done. I do what needs to be done, because it needs to be done. (It's kinda the same with laundry...)

So before this really cool lady I'm spending the night with went to sleep for the night, she looked at me and said, "I'm really glad you're going to nurses school. I think you'll make a really great nurse." I might have smiled on the inside. Not because it was a new concept, but because she's never really said anything like that to me before.

Prior to tonight, and our conversation about the Razorback game (she can't really see tv, and her good ear was away from the volume on her hospital remote/speaker thing), I think I've seen her a few times a year. One of those times is around Christmas, usually the Saturday before Christmas, when several of her kids, grandkids, great grandkids, great-great grandkids, and 50 of their closest friends gather for the annual Christmas caroling extravaganza. We always meet at her house, eat her Christmas candy, and peanut butter cookies, and chat with her about what's up in our lives (as told in 45 seconds or less, since her house it tiny, and there are so many people around).

Did I mention she's sharp as a tack? No really, she is. In between our conversation about football, and how she doesn't really hear well, and that I might have to translate for her when the nurses come in to wake her up during the night -- she asked about the girls. "Where are they in school? What are they doing tonight? Caity made All-Region Choir? She must be so proud. What about MacKenzie? MacKenzie has a boyfriend? Momma's never like it when their little girls have boyfriends. I had a boyfriend when I was about her age. My momma didn't like it at all." (I'm going to get the rest of THAT story before I leave this place tomorrow, by the way.)

So, I'm looking at the clock. It's pushing 2 am. I'm STILL wide awake, but a little more settled. I think I'll get off here and count my blessings instead of sheep, and see where that leads me. Hopefully, it leads to a little cabin near a snow-covered mountain and pleasant dreams. At the very least, it will lead me to 4:30 am when I will sing Happy Birthday to one really incredible lady. She'll smile, and perhaps get a little teary. (Or maybe that will be me...) Happy Birthday, Great Mammaw! I'd say you're one lucky lady, but somehow I think you already know that. Hmmm, do they make "Happy 100th Birthday" cards???

I have come to realize (only because I've said it out loud today a couple of times) that I might have vulnerability issues. I only say that because I hate to cry in front of people. Which is bad, because I also have a rule that no one cries alone in my presence. (Okay, actually that's Adrienne's rule, but I'm sure she won't mind if I borrow it.) For those who actually read these, that does not mean that I don't cry. If you read these at all you know i do, but usually I'm sitting in a room alone, in front of a computer monitor, with a box of tissues sitting next to me on the couch. Today, that was not the case. I used up my daily allotment of tears well before noon, not a kleenex in sight. I think it's because I'm good at compartmentalizing my life, and as such my emotions.

I'm in nursing school, I work, I have a family, I have friends, I lead worship. While all of those areas are distinctly me, there is some natural separation that happens. I have friends at school that I don't see anywhere else. I have friends at work that I only see at work. I have friends from high school, college, adulthood -- some peripheral, some close, some really close. The latter is the group I *might* cry in front of IF there was no other way around it. Do those friends know I cry? Well, they know I'm human, so I'm guessing they can come to that conclusion on their own if they so choose. (Alright, yes, they know...)

Does it mean I have trust issues if I refuse to let other people see me cry? I don't think so. I think it just means that no one likes to be exposed for all the world to see. There are some parts of life where tears are expected -- where it's socially acceptable to show emotion. Weddings and funerals, for example. But we're taught early on that we shouldn't cry over "spilled milk" and other seemingly trivial events in life. It's subjective, I guess. What seems trivial to one person, might be "life or death" to another. So my tear-worthy events, might seem trivial to you, but to me -- in "that" moment, they're huge.

Then it occurred to me that maybe there's a stigma with tears, because of the power they possess. Think about this. A family that never touches, never shows outward affections to one another -- the tears of one member of that family, brings about hugs and support from the others. Tears can also bring a grown man to his knees. I hear a song in a concert that makes my eyes water, or my lower lip quiver -- and I begin to bite my tongue or think about my grocery list. I check-out of the situation that brings on the tears and I place them on hold. Not only is it uncomfortable for me to cry in front of others, there's the discomfort of those witnessing another's act of vulnerability.

So, then I start thinking about a conversation Caity and I had in the car earlier about the human heart. It's a muscle. It's powerful. It's vulnerable. If it is damaged, there is zero chance of new muscle tissue growth. Damaged heart muscle is replaced with scar tissue. Scar tissue is more rigid and not nearly as flexible as muscle. If enough of the heart is damaged, it can't do it's job effectively or efficiently. That's the physicality of it. The metaphoric side is that a "broken" heart can heal, but not without acknowledging the hurt, allowing yourself the time to work through the emotions, and I dare say tears.

And like a ton of bricks, it hits me. I'm not hiding my tears because I'm ashamed of them. I'm guarding my heart because it's fragile, and fragile things are sure to break if stretched beyond their capacity. My eyes really are the window to my soul. They tell of my true feelings and give people access to a much deeper connection with me. Allowing someone to look into your eyes is an intimate experience that can either make you feel known and accepted or uncomfortable and invaded. And if tears are flowing from those eyes, it's like a magnifying glass -- straight to your heart. Silly, maybe. Human, most definitely.

~s

updates...

So I have had several folks comment about my lack of recent blogging activity. Sorry folks, even on Spring Break, I was a BUSY girl. I don't have the kind of sit down and ponder for hours about what I might say on here time these days. In fact, the ideas for these blogs usually come directly from a conversation or an idea that "flits" around in my head while I'm driving. Yes, I just used the word "flits". Sue me.

So I'll just give you an update on me...and we'll see where that takes us. You know I'm in nursing school, and it's kicking me in the pants. But we start clinicals, and I'm excited to see what happens next in that journey. Of course, every professor has decided we're behind, so they are kicking things into high gear at the point in the semester where you think you've got the routine down and can relax just a bit. I am back on my 4 test this weeks, none the next rotation -- happy, happy, joy, joy.

My dad just remarried, the verdict is still out on how I feel about that, but I did my part to ensure it was a memorable day for he and Lori -- even if I'm not fully "there" with the whole idea. As a good friend would say, I "put my big girl panties on" and dealt with it the best way I could. I may have a future in wedding planning...or maybe not. I had some great people there to support me and it meant a lot. I threw my own after party, and kept my party dress on because I could!

It's Holy Week -- and that means "busy". Need I say more? And I'm really looking forward to Easter dinner. (and Brad's Fried Chicken...yum!)

hmmm. yeah, I've got nothing.

Lessons I learned from my momma...

So I am apparently in avoidance behavior mode -- I'm physically tired of studying. I have no idea how I am supposed to comprehend (and retain) 930 pages of a book filled with every Diagnostic Test known to man (and woman, and child...) So, I've talked on the phone with Adrienne. I've taken a break to make dinner and get it in the oven. I've taken several breaks for football. And I've allowed myself to think, and to feel, and...

Mondays are a blessing and a curse -- generally speaking. I love that Mondays usher in a new week full of possibilities. I love that I get to spend Monday evenings with some really cool people -- and that I get to do what I love as part of that time together. But not all Mondays are "easy" -- some are downright monotonous, and others usher in feelings and emotions long suppressed. This Monday is no different, and yet, this year I have vowed to treat it differently. With respect, with due diligence, and without the kid gloves.

Those closest to me -- who actually read what I write from time to time (I'm sorry it's been so long) -- know that my mom died three years ago. January 25, 2007 to be exact. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't miss her -- and yet I can say that the sting of missing her "eases" a little more each day. That isn't to say that I don't think of her, that's a daily occurence. Sometimes I say things that sound just like her (and my children are so blessed by those words) -- yes, you too will sound "just like your mother" someday. Sometimes I hear a song on the radio and I'm literally transported back to another time and another place, with her sitting in front of me at the dinner table or a conversation replaying in my mind.

Sometimes those memories are accompanied by laughter, and sometimes there are tears involved. (Newsflash: I cry almost every single day.) The tears aren't always sad -- sometimes, they follow a "belly laugh" or five. But they are mine. I own them, and I wouldn't trade them for all the shoes in the world. So tonight, while I'm taking a much needed break from studying, I'm thinking about all the lessons I learned from my momma -- she was a petite woman with a huge, infectious laugh. She rarely took things for granted, especially during the last decade of her life. She loved all things related to family -- even when family was really hard to love. So in honor of her -- and the woman I am because of her -- I'm going to give you just a taste of her wisdom. I can't possibly capture every nugget of "all things her" in these words, but it's in these tidbits that I remember -- and laugh, and cry.

1. The phrase "clean your room" isn't an invitation to rearrange the furniture -- or is it?

2. You really can't take it with you when you go -- but you can share it with those you love.

3. Don't say "I love you" just to say it -- but if you say it, say it often and mean it.

4. Eeyore was the most misunderstood of all of Pooh's friends. "It wasn't much of a tail, but I was kind of attached to it."

5. If you're lucky enough to have cute feet, wear cute shoes.

6. The people you love the most, and who love you the most -- are always just a phone call away.

7. Your mother can be your best friend, but she's still your mother.

8. The "stuff" you have in life isn't what sets you apart from the rest of the world -- it's what you do with what you have that matters most.

9. I was her favorite child. So was my brother.

10. You can do anything you want with your life -- sitting idly by and letting life happen around you isn't an option.

11. You're never too old to have a new hobby. (She was my age when she received her private pilot's license.)

12. Forgiveness doesn't always come easy -- but you owe it to yourself to try.

13. Laughter really is the best medicine.

14. Don't wait to live your life -- today is as good a time as any to start.

15. The people who love you most, no matter the distance, are there when you need them the most.

I love you momma -- someday I hope to be just a fraction of the woman you were. I was one of the lucky ones. ~sheri


“When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself.” -Nancy Friday

as yet, untitled

It was pointed out to me, by some very devoted blog followers of mine that I have been a slacker in the blog department. I have indeed. I could go on for many sentences and give this excuse or another -- or I could just leave it at "I've been uninspired". Technically, that's not the case, but sometimes it's best if I process BEFORE I purge. Believe me, you don't wanna read these things before I've had a chance to mull it over in my mind for several hours, minutes, days, weeks -- however long it takes.

As the holidays roll around once again, I'm reminded that life isn't all roses and rainbows. There's a fair share of dysfunction that comes with this time of year. And anyone who tells you their family is a "pure joy to be around" is lying to you. Families are full of flawed, imperfect, sometimes emotionally and physically draining people. People not unlike myself. I tend to be stubborn. I tend to "dread" this time of year. I tend to cry a lot -- and laugh even more. Newsflash: I am not perfect, and I don't claim to be. Although there are a few things I'm quite good at. I can sing a little tune. I am apparently very good at chemistry (who knew?) and I can clean mirrors with the best of them. That's the short list.

So as we embark upon this season of thanks giving, I am reminded that there are a lot of people in this world a lot worse off than me. At least my sense of humor is intact, if not somewhat cynical in nature. I do love to laugh, and I have a lot of people in my life who help me with that daily. I also have a family full of people who actually enjoy cooking. I like to bake. I love to cook, but being a full-time student with homework (what WAS I thinking????) has taken its toll on our family's dinner planning schedule. Luckily, there are 4 of us, and all of us like to cook so we spread the love around and everyone is happy.

I have a laundry god (but don't let that get around). I have two wacky dogs who greet me at the gate each time I pull in the driveway (sometimes on the right side of the fence, other times at the car door). I have a husband who thinks I hung the moon (we don't have to tell him otherwise) and two daughters who while at times can be "typical teenagers" -- they also have a wit that can match any other on this planet. We laugh a lot! I have great friends, who build me up -- even on the days when I'm tearing myself down. Those days tend to be the days I don't feel smart enough or pretty enough, or...

I guess all that is to say, no one is perfect. No life is perfect. Least of all mine. But I'm okay with my imperfection. It fits me like a glove, and I am well-suited to the way it feels. That doesn't mean that I can't be constantly striving for a greater sense of me -- but I've lived with me for 37 years. Some of those years rocked, and others fizzled. I am beautiful, funny, smart -- the right amount of talented to make me always want to be better. I'm a great friend, an even better listener, and if I'm on your side -- you will always take the seat in front of me. I'm a Scorpio -- and everything that goes with that. And I'm very thankful that there isn't another me in this world. Not only would that be emotionally draining for the folks who know me, but likely there would be competition.

So in the coming days, I challenge you -- tell the people in your life how important they are to you. You might think they already know (and they just might) but take the time to say it anyway. You might not ever have a second chance at making someone's day. And those people that you struggle with, and we all have those people in our lives, don't waste your time and energy trying to get even -- let it go and learn to love. Learn to forgive. Learn to be your best self. Trust me, it's contagious. ~sheri

When it rains, it pours...

So, I'm not gonna lie, this day ranks right up there -- and that isn't a good thing. It started out as a decent day and then went downhill fast. Now there wasn't one "incident" that led this day to the far reaching under land -- it was just that several things hit at one time. And it's been a LONG time since I've had a day like today, a really LONG time.

So as I'm sitting at work, listening to the rain beat down on the roof -- the building is empty except for 3 other people, I find myself looking for the "lesson" in the rain -- both metaphorically and literally. Those of you who live in Arkansas, know that this has been the year for record rainfall in these parts. It has rained quite literally 23 days in October -- and this ain't Seattle.

So I'm thinking maybe it's a lesson in patience -- and then I remember Job and I don't want to go down that road, so it must be some other lesson. Perseverance maybe, or a lesson in being thankful for what's right in front of you. Or maybe it's a lesson that hasn't yet been revealed to me -- and I'm just supposed to allow the storm to carry me where it will, turbulent waters and all.

I'm not sure what is in store for me, but this isn't the worst day of my life -- I've endured far worse than a little "rain" -- so I'm going to put on my life jacket and hang on for dear life -- and someday I will look back on today and it will have just been a small blemish that I made into a much bigger deal than it really was. I'd say "bring on the rain" but quite frankly this girl needs sunshine. Then it occurs to me, without the rain, sunshine wouldn't be appreciated nearly as much. Hmmm, maybe that's my lesson...

sheri

what a weekend...

I'm not gonna lie, today was a killer day. It wasn't killer in the sense of "I worked hard" or anything of that nature. It was emotionally draining. I drove to Mtn. Home yesterday for what was supposed to be a fun weekend "reunion" of sorts with old high school friends (and it was to a very limited extent) but in the process of looking forward to spending time catching up and telling stories and laughing a lot (because that's what we all do when we're together) life happened. My best friend from college lost her momma, so my fun weekend turned into a "support your friend when she needs you the most" weekend.

I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.

And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...

In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.

I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.

I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri