Christmas is still over two weeks away, but I got our first group teacher gift solicitation this morning at ballet class for one of my girls.
The suggested amount was $15 per student ($10 for the teacher, $5 for the helper). Well, sorry, that's a little rich for my budget. And for a lot of people's budgets, I am sure. They just don't say anything.
I did. I gave $5. Total. Cheapskate? No, not really. Honest is more like it.
Multiply that amount times the three school age children I have, times all the activites, leaders, teachers, helpers, etc., and you get one hefty sum of money. So, I'm sorry. I just can't give that much.
Does that mean I do not appreciate the teachers who help my children learn? Absolutely not. But it appears I was judged that way, taking in the whispers and corner-of-the-eye looks I was given by the group of moms organizing this gift. Personally, I would much rather receive the random notes and hugs throughout the year. But that is just me.
It's not the first time I've balked at the too-high suggested amount for a gift for children's teachers. And it's not the first time I gave an amount that was less than asked. And it won't be the last.
Christmas isn't about the present anyway. Well, it is... just not that one.
Thursday, December 8
Tuesday, November 29
I Couldn't Do It
A few weeks ago I was shopping with my girls for items to put into a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child. In the shopping center where I parked, I noticed a familiar car.
It has been nearly a year since I have seen the driver of that very blue car, and over 6 months since I have spoken to her. Still, given this opportunity, I tried my best to write a note of apology, forgiveness and grace to this once "sister" of mine. After three crumpled attempts, I gave up. I couldn't do it.
I am not ready to forgive her.
How is it, then, that I can forgive so many others whose hurts and wrongs seem so much more destructive than the ways this person and her husband have hurt me and my husband?
Because we expected more.
I think deep down we knew what we were getting when we cultivated friendships with some, though we didn't really want to admit it. We turned a blind eye to the gossiping and backstabbing, to the ways they easily complained and threw each other under the bus. It's shame on us for wanting these friendships, knowing the shallowness that lies beneath.
But this friendship was more. It went deeper. It was family. Or so we thought.
We turned to them for the support, guidance and love that a brother and a sister should give. The kind we had given so many times over the nearly 2 decades of our friendship, of our family. The holidays shared, the birthdays celebrated, the weddings danced at, the babies birthed and the babies mourned. And they turned away.
We have no answer for our girls when they ask us where their "aunt" and "uncle" have been. We have no answer when they recognize someone walking down the street and question why we no longer stop to talk.
I have no answer for my husband why his "brother from another mother" chooses the people who tried to ruin his life and destroy his wife. I have no answer why we asked, "Help us," and they said, "no."
When I got back into my van that day, my girls asked, "Mommy, did you write a note for that car, too?"
"No," I told them sadly and with tears. "I couldn't do it."
It has been nearly a year since I have seen the driver of that very blue car, and over 6 months since I have spoken to her. Still, given this opportunity, I tried my best to write a note of apology, forgiveness and grace to this once "sister" of mine. After three crumpled attempts, I gave up. I couldn't do it.
I am not ready to forgive her.
How is it, then, that I can forgive so many others whose hurts and wrongs seem so much more destructive than the ways this person and her husband have hurt me and my husband?
Because we expected more.
I think deep down we knew what we were getting when we cultivated friendships with some, though we didn't really want to admit it. We turned a blind eye to the gossiping and backstabbing, to the ways they easily complained and threw each other under the bus. It's shame on us for wanting these friendships, knowing the shallowness that lies beneath.
But this friendship was more. It went deeper. It was family. Or so we thought.
We turned to them for the support, guidance and love that a brother and a sister should give. The kind we had given so many times over the nearly 2 decades of our friendship, of our family. The holidays shared, the birthdays celebrated, the weddings danced at, the babies birthed and the babies mourned. And they turned away.
We have no answer for our girls when they ask us where their "aunt" and "uncle" have been. We have no answer when they recognize someone walking down the street and question why we no longer stop to talk.
I have no answer for my husband why his "brother from another mother" chooses the people who tried to ruin his life and destroy his wife. I have no answer why we asked, "Help us," and they said, "no."
When I got back into my van that day, my girls asked, "Mommy, did you write a note for that car, too?"
"No," I told them sadly and with tears. "I couldn't do it."
Saturday, November 19
A Song for My Husband
I listen to only one channel of music in my van. Once I veered from it, and to catastrophic consequences, so I don't think I'll be doing that again.
This channel plays some songs a little to frequently, but I like to think that is because I need to hear them.
There is one song that I hear that makes me think of my husband. He has proven to me what a wonderfully strong man he is, having to endure things in his life, my life, our marriage that one should never have to endure. His courage is a source of strength for me.
"Courageous," by Casting Crowns:
This channel plays some songs a little to frequently, but I like to think that is because I need to hear them.
There is one song that I hear that makes me think of my husband. He has proven to me what a wonderfully strong man he is, having to endure things in his life, my life, our marriage that one should never have to endure. His courage is a source of strength for me.
"Courageous," by Casting Crowns:
Tuesday, November 15
A Reminder
A reminder for myself, for the days when the calendar reminds me of something I don't need reminding of, when things get a little too tough, and memories and hurt a little too strong.
And a reminder for me to be grateful, for without all of that, and everyone involved, I wouldn't have all of this.
And a reminder for me to be grateful, for without all of that, and everyone involved, I wouldn't have all of this.
Monday, November 7
A Time for Everything: Respect the Bird
I heard part of a FOX News radio broadcast about two weeks ago. The speaker was saying something like, "You can tell by the number of Christmas decorations in the store that it's almost time for children all over to get ready to Trick or Treat."
We laugh, but it's true. Each year Christmas comes earlier and earlier. Shopping days are numbered in a store window by me, and have been since the end of September. Stores are already playing Christmas music, and television commercials have been advertising the return of Christmas layaway. Christmas decorations are often the centerpiece for an autumnal feast. In a rush for the societal glutton, we tend to overlook the importance and meaning of so many other days.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Christmas, love the feelings and emotions that are invoked. My favorite Christmas decoration to put out is the tiny little candle in my small attic window. I can draw so much by viewing that little orb of light.
But Thanksgiving doesn't have much fake about it, not much that can be overdone. Just too big of a turkey, I suppose. And time spent with loved ones is true, and not too overwrought with high expectations.
And, there's stuffing on the table.
We laugh, but it's true. Each year Christmas comes earlier and earlier. Shopping days are numbered in a store window by me, and have been since the end of September. Stores are already playing Christmas music, and television commercials have been advertising the return of Christmas layaway. Christmas decorations are often the centerpiece for an autumnal feast. In a rush for the societal glutton, we tend to overlook the importance and meaning of so many other days.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Christmas, love the feelings and emotions that are invoked. My favorite Christmas decoration to put out is the tiny little candle in my small attic window. I can draw so much by viewing that little orb of light.
But Thanksgiving doesn't have much fake about it, not much that can be overdone. Just too big of a turkey, I suppose. And time spent with loved ones is true, and not too overwrought with high expectations.
And, there's stuffing on the table.
Tuesday, November 1
Side by Side
It was the weekend that almost wasn't.
We had tried to get tickets to a concert at our usual venue, to celebrate with friends. To no avail.
Plan B was to see the theatrical production at the college where my husband works. Mother Nature derailed that.
Still, we took the girls to Gramma's house, where they stayed and played and weathered out the storm, which was much less intense than it was by our own home. I hesitated and hemmed and hawed, but it was a good idea.
Being that we were over an hour's drive away from home, we didn't really have an idea of how bad the weather was near our home. A worried neighbor finally convinced us to head home, and the drive was a little scary. We saw trees on power lines, branches in yards, snow piling deeper the further inland we drove. The closer we got to home the more my job became to watch out ahead for fallen and falling trees and wires.
We were approximately one mile from home when we happened upon a tree lying across the main road. We had just passed a plow, so it was a recent fall, though luckily did not cause damage. My husband left our car to help the man in front of us try to move the tree, branch by branch. I also got out to help. Luckily, on the other side of the tree, there was a wrecker truck, which backed itself up to the tree and removed it partially from the road, so it was at least passable.
It was good that our children were not at home to hear the wind and breaking trees. Branches had fallen in front of our garage and taken down some wires for the phone, but did not cause any other damage. We are one of the lucky few in our town who have not and did not lose power. Saturday night we bunked down by the fire, far away from the swaying hickory tree in our backyard that I have always been afraid of having fall clear through our bedroom. The tree is still standing, but is a good 20-30 feet shorter due to the branches it also lost.
We witnessed the EMS in our town work against the fallen wires and snow as they tried to save a life of a neighbor who had a heart attack that evening, near close to midnight. I had never before seen a person having CPR performed on them, and it is not an image that I will quickly forget. We do not know how this neighbor has fared.
Sunday morning dawned sunny. My husband and I slept in, and then got to work clearing our drive, yard, and freeing our truck from the garage. A borrowed chainsaw helped us. Side by side, we worked together, clearing our property, removing the branches. I even used the chainsaw myself for a bit (I'm little, but I'm strong!), and my husband removed the debris. A good team.
We had decided that it was not safe for us to drive back to Gramma's and get our girls that day, so they got to enjoy her for another day. (We haven't had school for three days now as the town clears up from the storm.) We took advantage of our kid-less home and enjoyed a nice dinner out, and a quiet evening. Rested, recharged and ready for more.
Side by side.
We had tried to get tickets to a concert at our usual venue, to celebrate with friends. To no avail.
Plan B was to see the theatrical production at the college where my husband works. Mother Nature derailed that.
Still, we took the girls to Gramma's house, where they stayed and played and weathered out the storm, which was much less intense than it was by our own home. I hesitated and hemmed and hawed, but it was a good idea.
Being that we were over an hour's drive away from home, we didn't really have an idea of how bad the weather was near our home. A worried neighbor finally convinced us to head home, and the drive was a little scary. We saw trees on power lines, branches in yards, snow piling deeper the further inland we drove. The closer we got to home the more my job became to watch out ahead for fallen and falling trees and wires.
We were approximately one mile from home when we happened upon a tree lying across the main road. We had just passed a plow, so it was a recent fall, though luckily did not cause damage. My husband left our car to help the man in front of us try to move the tree, branch by branch. I also got out to help. Luckily, on the other side of the tree, there was a wrecker truck, which backed itself up to the tree and removed it partially from the road, so it was at least passable.
It was good that our children were not at home to hear the wind and breaking trees. Branches had fallen in front of our garage and taken down some wires for the phone, but did not cause any other damage. We are one of the lucky few in our town who have not and did not lose power. Saturday night we bunked down by the fire, far away from the swaying hickory tree in our backyard that I have always been afraid of having fall clear through our bedroom. The tree is still standing, but is a good 20-30 feet shorter due to the branches it also lost.
We witnessed the EMS in our town work against the fallen wires and snow as they tried to save a life of a neighbor who had a heart attack that evening, near close to midnight. I had never before seen a person having CPR performed on them, and it is not an image that I will quickly forget. We do not know how this neighbor has fared.
Sunday morning dawned sunny. My husband and I slept in, and then got to work clearing our drive, yard, and freeing our truck from the garage. A borrowed chainsaw helped us. Side by side, we worked together, clearing our property, removing the branches. I even used the chainsaw myself for a bit (I'm little, but I'm strong!), and my husband removed the debris. A good team.
We had decided that it was not safe for us to drive back to Gramma's and get our girls that day, so they got to enjoy her for another day. (We haven't had school for three days now as the town clears up from the storm.) We took advantage of our kid-less home and enjoyed a nice dinner out, and a quiet evening. Rested, recharged and ready for more.
Side by side.
Tuesday, October 25
Enough Said ...
A friend has been sending me a lot of inspirational and motivational emails lately. They are all helpful and supportive, but I keep going back to this one. I guess it hits home the most.
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