Thursday, December 15, 2011

Spunky, Charger, and Mom

Nicknames can be fun. When Oris George started calling me Charger a few years back, I admired the concept and loved hearing the name. It fit. A single parent for more than twelve years, I've been dedicated to my children and determined to raise them well. I have great children, who have become great adults. Three of the four have crossed that plateau, one still clinging to mom's apron strings (he doesn't realize yet, that I've cut him loose), and one still in high school, hanging onto every minute of youth.

Spunky came as a surprise a few weeks back, from a friend here in Denver. She answered the phone, "Hey Spunky, what's up?" She couldn't possibly know how much that new nickname meant, or that it's kept me reaching for the next step on the ladder to success for the past three months. I've struggled to keep up, and life seems to be getting in my way recently. But, having someone give me a nickname that reminded me that I'm spunky, gregarious and motivated helps to keep me in that "charger" mode.

Motivation sometimes comes from knowing that my Hope never fails. I love the positive power of faith in my life and knowing that I can achieve all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Charge!

Monday, November 28, 2011

Wrap Up on Aisle 9

We've all been there, standing in the middle of the aisle needing to find that perfect gift and realizing that we're just too tired to keep shopping. My youngest daughter has always been totally impossible to buy for, especially Christmas or birthdays when you might want to surprise her. She hates surprises and she's picky (don't tell her I said that).


She has a specific kind of pants she wears (they have to fit exactly perfect). She wears a particular kind of sweaters. Her jackets and shoes have to fit perfectly too, and the only dress I've got her in the past ten years, she'd selected and still hasn't worn. So, there I stood looking up and down the aisle wanting to get her something special, but absolutely nothing stood out as something she'd wear or use. I knew anything I purchased would be returned to the store and I realized I wasn't willing to buy it, if it was only going back.

I looked both ways down the aisle again and turned my cart back toward the front of the store. That was my last gift, and I wasn't buying anything. I stacked my purchases on the revolving belt and paid for them at the cash register. Again this Christmas, there would be nothing under the tree for my Ms Priss. By the time I got to the car, tears of frustration were streaming and I knew 'nothing' wasn't going to work for me. She didn't care if I bought her a gift card, but I cared. I wanted her to have a new sweater or something for Christmas - UNDER the tree. It was important to me, if nobody else.

I locked the purchases in the car and went back inside.

Determination had filled me to the brim and I was set on finding a gift for my daughter. I pushed the cart up and down several aisles in the store before I saw it. On a shelf near eye level, inside a snow globe were two angels, one bigger angel and one very small angel, appearing to be mother and daughter. On the front of the globe was a small brass plate that said, "I see me in you!"

As I pushed the cart with my new, boxed purchase toward the cash register, my second time through, I saw a beautiful dark red sweater. Just the right size, cut with a deep v-neck, the sweater would follow my daughter's curves and still fit well. I put the sweater in the cart and added a pretty necklace from the table near the front of the store. Three gifts that I could see her loving on Christmas morning, and I paid for them as I left the store through Aisle 9.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Tebow - The Slice for Today!

In case anyone wonders about Charger-Mom, I'm Charger "the Mom" not the mom of a Charger. But that question isn't likely to come up on a day when the Chargers fall to their demise at the hands of Bronco's best, Tebow.

Tebowing is a family event these days, as we take our bow before the Lord a humble and prayerful moment of Thanksgiving, revealing our favorite pose. Tebow rocks! I'm grateful to the man who made bowing in Praise of our Lord once again an acceptable behavior in the realms of football fans, the world over. Even in these days of religious turmoil, the "Tebow" act can be recognized the world over, as people take the pose.

Today, just for the sake of recognition... The Broncos BEAT the Chargers in a massive GAME Day win of 16 points over 13. And the world took the Tebow. Amen

Friday, May 6, 2011

A Grateful Heart

In the gulf stream of tears that flowed through my life this week, I found sustenance and peace. There are times when I know the flowing of tears is simply a river I must wade through to get to the greener pastures, sunrises and sunsets that fill my mountain view with color. The valleys can be forged, the rivers can be bridged, and the mountains can be climbed, but I cannot accomplish all at the same time. I have to live in the valley occasionally and maintain my view of the mountain.

Such is the reason, the purpose and the balance of living in a world created out of abundance for gratitude. My life is filled up with an abundance of blessings, I must remember to be grateful for all that I've been given.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Red Dress

In the nightly scheme of survival, my daughter arrives home from work and reads Tricia Williford's blog. This isn't a bad thing, Tricia is a fellow writer and her blog posts are more often than not relevant to our lives. Tricia's husband Robb passed away in her arms on December 23, 2010. She's feeling the ultimate form of abandonment, not that he abandoned her, as that implies he left her of his own will. He did not. He was taken from her, by death; stolen right out of her arms in the bedroom they shared.

Her posts are relevant in our lives because both my daughter and I are divorced, abandoned to be single mothers. Whether that was our wish or not, our goal in life or not, never mattered, the other half of our respective marriages, left. The abandonment in our lives is so complete and yet... so unending. Each moment we're alive, we know that we weren't loved "enough."

That feeling of lacking love, lacking sustenance and understanding, of missing that which we were promised comes full circle as she reads Tricia's blog each night. Occasionally, Tricia's posts cross that line of definition between widowed and divorce to touch the defiance that a woman feels when she's left without a mate.

Such is the case with her post about a red dress.

No only does she share her heart and the feelings she felt when Robb took her out on special dates and she prepared to meet him as his loving and graceful wife, who dolled herself up to look attractive to him, but she shares the part of her that says, "I need to feel loved, appreciated and cared for by one man."  Every woman desires that feeling.

I remember talking to my mother a short while after Dad left as she worked around the yard wearing an old tattered and worn out t-shirt and jeans. She didn't care that she wasn't dressed attractively. It mattered not one whit to her... because nobody appreciated her dressing up anymore. I remembered that feeling and my heart ached for her. Still today, I remember that feeling. I felt it as I read Tricia's post tonight about her desire to wear the red dress.

I too, desire to wear the red dress. But more than wearing the red dress... I want that feeling of love and appreciation that goes with wearing the red dress.

I often dress up, fix my hair and doll up in my pretty clothes, but as a single woman with teenaged children, twenty something daughters and grandchildren, I'm far more likely to hear, "Why are you trying to dress up today?" than I am to hear how pretty I am. Even on the professional front, as I dress for work... there's no one who offers up the compliments, the admiration, and the appreciation for the time I took "extra" to get all dolled up and looking pretty. And it wouldn't really matter if they did, because at the end of the day... nobody loves me enough to be there - every night.

Sad, but true.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I want to be heard...

There are those moments when life just rolls around you like water in the ocean. You know you're there, but the water surrounds you in such a volatile way that you wonder if the ocean knows you're there.

Life sometimes surrounds me in the same way.

While I'm challenged by the world around me, forced to participate in the lives of the many, I wonder if anyone truly participates in my life. Am I heard? Do people notice that I'm here? Or... Do I simply blend into the woodwork, the wallpaper and the furniture?

As a writer, I view what I have to say as important, valuable and constructive. There's seldom a period of time that I'm not writing down words about something of some importance, at least to me. But, is any of it of importance to anyone else?

This isn't depression, it's simply a wondering about what truly matters. I've spent a lot of time helping others, giving to others, and making an effort to help others, both in writing, in person, and in gifts of money, time or other ways of helping... But, is it noticed?

Each year near Christmas I watch the movie, It's a Wonderful Life. Love that movie. It's amazing! It shows one man that he makes an incredible difference in the world around him and that he has changed the lives of many in his community.

Have I?

Have I made a difference in the world in which I live? Is there anyone out there who is better off because I'm here, because I've impacted their lives in some way? I've never saved anyone from drowning that I'm aware of... or from feeding a neighbor poison... or from a life of boredom as the town librarian? But... I hope I've made a difference.

I hope my life has stood for something, that I've made a difference, and that along through the years, I've impacted the lives of those around me in some positive manner.... And it would be nice to know that...

As Long As There Are Politicians, Celebrities and Men With Egos

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt Over the years, there've been people who attempted t...