The Christmas season evokes strong memories for most people. Whether it's scents and sounds, songs, food, or toys and special gifts, Christmas is filled with good thoughts and happy times.
The makeup of those memories has changed significantly over the past hundred years, I've noticed.
Back in the days of the pioneers, the gifts were usually handmade items, often of a practical nature, from materials that were readily at hand. The children might get a pair of pajamas, or a pair of fur lined leather mittens, and for a special treat, some candy made over the fire.
If they were especially lucky, their mother would make them a sawdust or corn cob doll to play with, or perhaps a whittled gun. For an extra special girl, she might get a new dress for the holiday, while a boy might have a new pair of pants that weren't handed down from an older brother (or two.)
When my mother was little, the holidays had gotten slightly more commercial, and some city people were giving and getting more, both in quantity, as well as expense. My mother's family, however, were rural farm folk struggling to survive in the midst of the Great Depression, with no extras available for holiday cheer. My mother tells stories of the wonder of Christmas, but she is referring to the Christmas tree alight with candles burning on each branch, not the multitude of packages under it.
My mother still lives in the farmhouse where she was born, and it is easy for me to envision the scene that she has described. The living room doors, pocket doors that have never been closed in my life, were closed in the winter when she was small to help conserve the heat which was provided by a large wood burning stove in the dining room. The tree would be hidden behind those doors, and on Christmas Eve, the candles would all be lit, and the children would sit around the tree in wonder and watch it sparkle and shimmer and glow.
I'm sure my grandparents couldn't have begun to imagine the lighting displays that we see now; fiber optics and LED lights and the chasing, flashing ornaments that adorn even the most humble of trees. My mother tells me it was a once a year treat to see the tree alight, and to sit and stare in wonder at the glory of it all. I am not so sure that with our fancy displays we have captured the wonder of the season any more effectively than that once a year tree lighting in a humble farmhouse set in the middle of a harsh Minnesota winter.
One of my most cherished tree decorations is a small candle holder from her childhood tree, a tangible reminder of all the people who have been there before me. I clip it onto my tree each year in a prominent place as a way to bring the past to the present, a reminder that we are a part of them, and they are a part of us, and we are all together in celebrating this holy holiday.
My mom, when pressed, will talk about the small tokens she received and we chuckle, because they are hardly worth a mention in the current acquisitive climate. My favorite stories are about the doll and the pair of skates she shared with her younger sister, obviously from different holidays. I giggle every time I think about the two of them, each wearing a skate, holding hands and holding each other up in the middle!
But the doll and skates were important presents to them, because they are the only presents she remembers getting. Their stockings were filled with an apple and some nuts, a tradition she carried through to when my brother and I were little. They were simple gifts, it's true. But they were also meaningful, because of all the things that have filled my stocking over the years, the nuts and fruit are the ones I remember.
When I was little, Christmas had gotten more consumer oriented. I recall the commercials that would start shortly after Thanksgiving, hawking the trinkets they wanted you to believe you couldn't live without. I remember all the gadgets that would be sold, the original infomercials, shilling hot doggers and snow cone makers and other electronic toys that they hoped the children would find irresistible.
I'm sure everyone has their own commercial that sticks in their mind, but for me, the harbinger of Christmas each year was the Norelco razor, swooshing down the snowy hill like a sled, coming to brighten your holiday with a closer shave. That commercial was on television for many years, and it always signaled the start of the holiday season for me.
I got many wonderful gifts for Christmas while growing up, although they may not seem all that exciting to today's child. Mostly, I got clothes and practical gifts, because we didn't have much money, and my mother is a practical person by nature. (She is a Minnesota Lutheran. I shouldn't need to say more.)
I got a doll nearly every year, and by the time I was ten or twelve, I had a pretty sizable collection of them, some of which I still have today. There is a certain scent of plastic that will bring me straight back to Christmas Eve and the simple thrill of opening a new baby doll even now. (Often with some now treasured handmade clothes to go with her. The clothes were my mother's works of heart, and they are all beautiful.)
Usually we had a jigsaw puzzle to work on during the 12 days of Christmas, because my mom is the world's most dedicated puzzler. There would be another toy or two, as well; perhaps a board game to play, or something for a pet.
One year, I got the hottest item being advertised, a Baby First Step, which was an exciting moment indeed. She was battery operated, and when you turned her on, she would actually walk across the floor. It was thrilling to see her move all by herself, and I was the envy of everyone around the tree. (Well, okay, maybe not everyone. But I was the envy of my younger cousin, Ahna, who wanted her, too. She got one the following year.)
Although I got many wonderful presents over the years, one of the best presents I ever received was a black and white kitten with the biggest paws you've ever seen, given to me by my older brother. Unfortunately, he didn't think to check with my mom before handing over the box with the live animal in it. I screamed, she groaned, and the cat won, because he got a new, loving home with a girl who adored him.
He was the gift that kept on giving, because he brought joy and aggravation in equal measure for all the years of his life, which were too few, because he was a tomcat, and he had a wandering nature. Living on a farm, there were lots of opportunities for him to find trouble, and despite his enormous size, he always seemed to come out on the worst end of the battle. But I loved him, and he remains one of the best presents I ever received.
I have been thinking a lot about the past this Christmas season, and how Christmas has become one of the main drivers for our entire economy. Retailers live and die by the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and a slow spending season is the death knell for many of them. While we argue over whether or not a nativity scene can be placed on the courthouse lawn, the reality of the financial importance of the season is all but ignored. It seems ridiculous to me that it is called the "winter holidays" by many, as though it were some kind of generic event, rather than acknowledging that without Christmas, our entire retail system would likely fail.
At the same time, I feel that the real meaning of the season has been overshadowed by the need to give and get the most expensive, newest items available, regardless if they are affordable or not. I doubt that there are many homes in which a simple tree with lights on it will be enough this year. And I wonder whether our joy in the season is any greater than it was back when a stick of candy and a rag doll was considered a bountiful holiday.
I am as guilty as anyone, of course, and I'm not putting anyone down for either giving or getting. I enjoy the giving at least as much as anyone, and I enjoy receiving what my loved ones think will bring me happiness, as well. I believe that Jesus was The Gift from our heavenly Father, and it is a good tradition to give to the people we love in response to the gifts we have received.
But this year, I have spent more time than money on my gifts, creating handmade items that I hope will bring joy to the recipient for a long time to come, not just because of what it is, but because of the love that went into the creation of it. I have spent a great deal of time, which is as scarce as money in my life, to dream up something that will be meaningful to each person, and have put together presents which I think will be appreciated as much for the love they contain as the gift itself.
Although a lack of financial wherewithal is a part of the impetus for this crafty expression of my love, it is also a frustration with the loss of the meaning for the season that is increasingly about what we can get, instead of what we've been given. Although holiday "creep" is an increasing problem, I was genuinely shocked to see Christmas aisles going up in the stores immediately after the school supplies were relegated to the clearance aisles this year.
It makes me sad that entire holidays are being overlooked because they aren't lucrative in order to push the shopping orgy which Christmas has become. I recently saw Christmas referred to as Giftmas, and I thought that was a fair analysis of the holiday in our time. I don't think we are better off for it.
I don't propose to do away with the gift giving. The pile under my own tree gives the evidence to that. But I do wish that we could spend more time focused on what Christmas means, instead of worrying about having the means to pay for it all.
I wish that we could watch the old Christmas movies and eat popcorn and play board games together, and find the joy in each other this Christmas season, instead of losing ourselves in the latest electronic toy that brings the world to us, but takes us out of our world and away from the people who mean the most to us. I wish that instead of spending time texting people outside our homes, we could talk to the people who are right in front of us. I wish that instead of wishing we were somewhere else, with other people, we could be happy for where we are, and who we are with. I wish that instead of wishing for more money, we could have more time to enjoy what we do have.
My real wish for each person this Christmas is to find the Gift that God has given to us, and to spread that Gift to everyone we know. Live well, laugh often, give much of yourself, and the world will be a better place for all of us.
Merry Christmas to each and every one of you in 2010. I do hope your wishes come true, and that each present you give and receive will be a reminder of the love that is abundant in our lives, if only we care to see it. I wish you grace, and peace and comfort, and a holiday filled with all good things.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Christmas time is coming...
Unless you have been hiding in a cave over the last few weeks, you may have noticed that things have gotten more festive all of a sudden. The annual homage to retailing, also known as Christmas, arrived with a bang before Halloween had even scared us with the potential for dental disaster, assaulting our senses once again with the superficial reason for the season.
Don't get me wrong - I am not opposed to the superficial reason. I like giving and getting as much as anyone, and I love the displays and ornaments and clothing everywhere. I would, however, like to see Christmas returned to its rightful place - a holiday of grace following the holiday of thanksgiving for all the bounty bestowed upon us, but I think I'm in the losing faction on that one. Retailers live and die by the holiday season, and it's no surprise that they are pushing it earlier every year.
Yes, Christmas is big and extremely vital business, however much the aggressively non-celebrating may want to believe otherwise. Without the out of control spending that occurs in the last two months of the fourth quarter, most retailers wouldn't be around for you to shop at the other ten months of the year, so scoff at your own risk.
It's not only in gifts that Christmas has become the retailing bonanza of the year. All the other accouterments that accompany the festivities need to be bought and put to use - clothing, food, employee holiday parties and Christmas bonuses to be bestowed, trees and ornaments and, of course, the decorations.
Ah. The decorations. The centerpiece of the holiday spirit. Red and green and lights and tinsel and sparkle all around. The decorations make or break your holiday presentation, and they are different and unique for each family, which is what makes them so interesting.
It is the outdoor Christmas displays that capture my attention each year, because I think they reveal much more about the home and family being represented than the usual, everyday landscaping. Most people conform to what is expected of them in their own particular neighborhood for the everyday appearance, and there is, in the end, very little to distinguish one house from the next. But with Christmas decorations, people allow their real personalities to burst through for that brief time every year, and I think we are allowed a small glimpse of the child still living within.
It is endlessly entertaining to me to see garish "Christmas Vacation" style displays next door to a home decorated only with netted white mini-lights, carefully laid over the well manicured bushes with military precisionS. I can't help but wonder about the people living inside, with such opposite world views being exposed for everyone to see.
I also wonder each year whether families correspond with their decorations in the way I think they should. Do the houses with the boisterous lighting displays also hold boisterous families within? Do the prim and proper netted bushes with their perfect twinkling lights reveal a prim and proper family that remembers to remove their shoes at the door, and would never tolerate a Jack Russell Terrier tearing around the inside of their house? (Just for the record, if you are that kind of family, don't get a Jack Russell Terrier, because they are not for you.)
Or perhaps the netted white twinkle lights reveal a family that wants to join the festivities, but simply doesn't have adequate time to do a big display, and the nets are quick and easy, and it's the best they can do. Perhaps the yards and houses covered in lights are covering up for the lack of family spirit at other times of the year, and are over-compensation for what is missing inside.
I wonder sometimes, are the over the top displays done tongue in cheek? Or do those families just get carried away with the spirit of the holiday, and lose themselves in the enjoyment of it all? Either way, I think it would be a lot of fun to spend the time with them while they work. I imagine Christmas carols wafting out a slightly opened window, and hot chocolate and cookies waiting inside for the cold and hungry decorators.
Of course, if tacky Christmas is your goal, it can be achieved with a minimal display as easily as going over the top, depending on the execution. It's like the picture you don't want to be in - if you stand there showing how much you despise being in it, you are the one who ends up looking stupid.
Most families seem to be a mixed bag, and the outdoor displays are probably the work of only one or two family members most of the time. In our case, we have one who couldn't care less, one who does it because someone else will make sure life is not worth living if the mission isn't carried out, and one who lives for Christmas all year through, and grieves the lack of festive lighting adorning our abode, no matter how much is out there, with vociferous complaints.
So each year, I dutifully wait through the warm fall until the coldest day of the year, and then trudge outside to string lights on as few bushes as possible to get the job done, so I can run back inside where the temperature is more to my liking. Why do I wait until it's cold? Well. Isn't that an interesting question that isn't going to get answered?
I will go festive sometime this weekend, because the Christmas lover is coming home soon, and I have to have things in place for her to feel shock and awe when she drives into the neighborhood. It is something she looks forward to all year, and it seems like the least I can do. I would do almost anything for her, so throwing a few lights on bushes isn't really that great of a sacrifice.
But I draw the line at lights on the roof. Given my klutzy nature, I'm surprised she would even consider that a possibility, since I'd probably get tangled in the string and fall off the ladder. Lights on the roof has been a goal of hers for a long time, unfortunately. So each year she complains that my wimpy bush displays are inadequate, failing dramatically on her festivity scale.
One year, awhile back, we were driving around enjoying the many festive displays, and she made note of each home that had lights on the roof. She was thrilled anew each time she spied one, and pointed out how much more exciting those homes looked with the outline of lights against the dark sky.
Finally, she turned to me and said, "Why don't we have lights on the roof?" Well. That's awkward. How do you explain to Miss Christmas that you don't want to because it's just too much work?
In a brainwave, I carefully explained that lights on the roof is a "dad" job, and we did not have a dad available, so therefore, no lights on the roof. She was little, and I thought that would hold her, despite my constant preaching that anyone can do anything they really want to. Yes. I am a hypocrite sometimes.
But she was always one to press forward, and she had to go and point out the obvious. "Mom, we have never had lights on the roof." Since that was true, I told her she would have to take that up with someone else, because I'm not the dad, and it wasn't my job. She thought about it for quite awhile as we continued driving around, then finally offered up this statement of love that I will never forget. "You deserve to have someone who will put lights on your roof."
Here's wishing you a heart melting moment of your own this week. Don't forget to treasure them when they come, because they will sustain you when you need it most. And here's wishing you lights on your own roof this holiday season!
Don't get me wrong - I am not opposed to the superficial reason. I like giving and getting as much as anyone, and I love the displays and ornaments and clothing everywhere. I would, however, like to see Christmas returned to its rightful place - a holiday of grace following the holiday of thanksgiving for all the bounty bestowed upon us, but I think I'm in the losing faction on that one. Retailers live and die by the holiday season, and it's no surprise that they are pushing it earlier every year.
Yes, Christmas is big and extremely vital business, however much the aggressively non-celebrating may want to believe otherwise. Without the out of control spending that occurs in the last two months of the fourth quarter, most retailers wouldn't be around for you to shop at the other ten months of the year, so scoff at your own risk.
It's not only in gifts that Christmas has become the retailing bonanza of the year. All the other accouterments that accompany the festivities need to be bought and put to use - clothing, food, employee holiday parties and Christmas bonuses to be bestowed, trees and ornaments and, of course, the decorations.
Ah. The decorations. The centerpiece of the holiday spirit. Red and green and lights and tinsel and sparkle all around. The decorations make or break your holiday presentation, and they are different and unique for each family, which is what makes them so interesting.
It is the outdoor Christmas displays that capture my attention each year, because I think they reveal much more about the home and family being represented than the usual, everyday landscaping. Most people conform to what is expected of them in their own particular neighborhood for the everyday appearance, and there is, in the end, very little to distinguish one house from the next. But with Christmas decorations, people allow their real personalities to burst through for that brief time every year, and I think we are allowed a small glimpse of the child still living within.
It is endlessly entertaining to me to see garish "Christmas Vacation" style displays next door to a home decorated only with netted white mini-lights, carefully laid over the well manicured bushes with military precisionS. I can't help but wonder about the people living inside, with such opposite world views being exposed for everyone to see.
I also wonder each year whether families correspond with their decorations in the way I think they should. Do the houses with the boisterous lighting displays also hold boisterous families within? Do the prim and proper netted bushes with their perfect twinkling lights reveal a prim and proper family that remembers to remove their shoes at the door, and would never tolerate a Jack Russell Terrier tearing around the inside of their house? (Just for the record, if you are that kind of family, don't get a Jack Russell Terrier, because they are not for you.)
Or perhaps the netted white twinkle lights reveal a family that wants to join the festivities, but simply doesn't have adequate time to do a big display, and the nets are quick and easy, and it's the best they can do. Perhaps the yards and houses covered in lights are covering up for the lack of family spirit at other times of the year, and are over-compensation for what is missing inside.
I wonder sometimes, are the over the top displays done tongue in cheek? Or do those families just get carried away with the spirit of the holiday, and lose themselves in the enjoyment of it all? Either way, I think it would be a lot of fun to spend the time with them while they work. I imagine Christmas carols wafting out a slightly opened window, and hot chocolate and cookies waiting inside for the cold and hungry decorators.
Of course, if tacky Christmas is your goal, it can be achieved with a minimal display as easily as going over the top, depending on the execution. It's like the picture you don't want to be in - if you stand there showing how much you despise being in it, you are the one who ends up looking stupid.
Most families seem to be a mixed bag, and the outdoor displays are probably the work of only one or two family members most of the time. In our case, we have one who couldn't care less, one who does it because someone else will make sure life is not worth living if the mission isn't carried out, and one who lives for Christmas all year through, and grieves the lack of festive lighting adorning our abode, no matter how much is out there, with vociferous complaints.
So each year, I dutifully wait through the warm fall until the coldest day of the year, and then trudge outside to string lights on as few bushes as possible to get the job done, so I can run back inside where the temperature is more to my liking. Why do I wait until it's cold? Well. Isn't that an interesting question that isn't going to get answered?
I will go festive sometime this weekend, because the Christmas lover is coming home soon, and I have to have things in place for her to feel shock and awe when she drives into the neighborhood. It is something she looks forward to all year, and it seems like the least I can do. I would do almost anything for her, so throwing a few lights on bushes isn't really that great of a sacrifice.
But I draw the line at lights on the roof. Given my klutzy nature, I'm surprised she would even consider that a possibility, since I'd probably get tangled in the string and fall off the ladder. Lights on the roof has been a goal of hers for a long time, unfortunately. So each year she complains that my wimpy bush displays are inadequate, failing dramatically on her festivity scale.
One year, awhile back, we were driving around enjoying the many festive displays, and she made note of each home that had lights on the roof. She was thrilled anew each time she spied one, and pointed out how much more exciting those homes looked with the outline of lights against the dark sky.
Finally, she turned to me and said, "Why don't we have lights on the roof?" Well. That's awkward. How do you explain to Miss Christmas that you don't want to because it's just too much work?
In a brainwave, I carefully explained that lights on the roof is a "dad" job, and we did not have a dad available, so therefore, no lights on the roof. She was little, and I thought that would hold her, despite my constant preaching that anyone can do anything they really want to. Yes. I am a hypocrite sometimes.
But she was always one to press forward, and she had to go and point out the obvious. "Mom, we have never had lights on the roof." Since that was true, I told her she would have to take that up with someone else, because I'm not the dad, and it wasn't my job. She thought about it for quite awhile as we continued driving around, then finally offered up this statement of love that I will never forget. "You deserve to have someone who will put lights on your roof."
Here's wishing you a heart melting moment of your own this week. Don't forget to treasure them when they come, because they will sustain you when you need it most. And here's wishing you lights on your own roof this holiday season!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Giving thanks....
This Thanksgiving holiday weekend has been different for me, an interesting reminder that my life has changed permanently and with finality.
The same trappings that have always been a part of the holiday weekend were there. We ate the same foods, we bought a tree and got it trimmed, we wrote our Christmas letter and signed our cards, we did our usual day after Thanksgiving shopping jaunt - in fact, we followed most of the same rituals we always have. But the weekend itself has transformed into an ongoing reminder of just how much life has changed for me and for my kids over this past year.
The weekend began by the return of my children from their respective colleges, a return that is familiar to the one, and a new experience to the other. As my college newbie ran around to familiar haunts in a whirlwind of activity, seeing her friends that she has missed, doing familiar activities, and enjoying the things she has loved for her whole life, there was a new appreciation for what she has taken for granted because it has always been there for her, and it has been missed.
But I also observed a new maturity, as she experienced the college disconnect for the first time, and she realized the truth of the old cliche that you can't go home again. Everything is the same and everything is different, all at the same time, in a way that cannot be explained, it must be experienced. She is ready to return to her new life in college, and she will embrace the time there with a new enthusiasm, I suspect, because she has now gained an understanding of what she has there by being here once again.
It is always a thrill to see your children stretch in their understanding of life, and I feel fortunate to be on the sidelines cheering them on. For those parents still in the throes of the hands on child raising years, I promise these times make it worth every tear that will fall and every moment you will wonder if you will all survive the experience.
I saw my eldest, an old hat at managing the equal demands of wanting to see friends and also spend time with family, also work to manage the new demand of a very significant other who was also managing her own family and friend demands. It is a new experience for me, as well, as I let go even more of what has always been my right as a mother to his time and attention, and watch him set his own parameters for his choices this weekend. It is very clear what is important to him, and I am satisfied that his priorities are firmly in the right order - he is managing his time and his obligations as well as anyone can when there are too many demands and not enough hours in the day for everything that is important.
But I realized this weekend that my kids are not the only ones who have stretched and grown and changed these past few months. I have also transformed, into an only person, someone unaccustomed to having company and conversation and additional life in the house. I have developed new routines and a new schedule and new habits, and I have found that the old demands no longer fit like they once did. The growing pains are hard on everyone, but ultimately, I think we will all be better for having gone through them.
If it sounds as though I am looking forward to being alone again, au contraire. In fact, I will miss my kids more now than I did when they left this fall. I have a new appreciation for what each of them brings to my life, and I will miss each of them more acutely for their absence. I am getting a glimpse of the rest of my life, when they will be truly gone, in lives and homes of their own that have nothing to do with me at all, and I will miss them and what they have brought to my life on a daily basis for the last 25 years more than they can imagine.
But I also look forward to the opportunity I have to forge ahead in new ways, and to build a new life for myself as an independent adult, something I have never done. I will continue to enjoy the things that I have been enjoying - the peace and solitude I have never really experienced before, the opportunity to schedule my days based on my own whims instead of someone else's needs, the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I feel like it, without answering to anyone. (Well, except my boss and my clients, obviously!)
It is a surprise to me to find out that as my children grow and change and transform, I, as their parent, am doing the same. In short, this Thanksgiving, I have found old things for which to give thanks in new ways. This year, I am very thankful for:
My family: I am not only thankful for my two children, who fill my life and give it meaning, but for my extended family, as well. I am grateful for the mother who is nothing short of my guardian angel, a woman whose place in my life words are simply inadequate to describe, so I won't try. I adore my "big" brother, who is always there to count on and lean on and sort things out with. I am grateful for the wife he brought into the family circle, providing me with the wise and loving older sister I have always wanted, and the example she doesn't even know she is. I am thankful to have two nieces and a nephew whom I love and who are endlessly entertaining, each in their own way. They all bring something totally different to the family table, and they fill a hole that we didn't even know was there until they showed up.
I am also thankful for the extended family that has graced my life for all these years. I didn't fully appreciate or understand just how important they were to me until now, when we are losing them one by one, and I feel bereft of their love and their caring and everything else that made each one unique and special. I have been well and truly loved my entire life, and that is a gift without measure. My family has taught me about unconditional love my whole life, and it is the gift that keeps on giving as it spreads to new generations through each of us.
Old friends: I am so grateful for the very special old friends that I can still call on for whatever I need, be it a laugh or a shoulder to cry on, or something else entirely. I have been ridiculously blessed with the best friends anyone could ever ask for - totally undeserved, but thoroughly appreciated and valued.
New friends: I am gradually accumulating new friends, especially as my children bring their friends into my life. As they develop significant relationships, I have been blessed in surprising ways by people that I never knew would be a part of my life, but whom I'm glad are there now. I have always enjoyed people of all ages, and I am so happy that I can count as my friends kids who are teens as well as men and women well into their mature years. I have been richly blessed, and I look forward to many more years of friendship with those people I never realized would be so important to me.
Pets: I am thankful for the critters that inhabit my household and make things interesting. One of them was ill over Thanksgiving, and my concern for him reminded me of how much pleasure he brings me each and every day. My relief at his recovery, and my joy in hearing him once again sing his happy little song reminds me of God's words that His eye is even on the sparrow. Each creature is a part of the plan for our world, and I would be a lot lonelier without them.
Material goods: If we are honest with ourselves and each other, we are thankful for the tangible goods that we have accumulated, even if we tend to focus more on what we don't have. This has been a hard year for me business-wise, and the end is not in sight. And yet, through God's grace and a lot of help, I still have a home and food on the table, and I am more grateful for that fact than ever. I would even posit that the lack of wealth has served to clarify for me what is truly of value in my life. The "stuff" that used to be so important in my 20's has faded, and the things that matter to me now are clear and easy to identify. That is a gift in itself for which I give abundant thanks.
Time: I am grateful that, more likely than not, I have time to work on myself and my life, and to get right what I have so far gotten wrong. I am thankful that I can mend fences that need mending, and I can show appreciation where it is due. Although we never know how much time has been allotted to us on this earth, I live each day as best I can, so that at the end of the day, I will never have to look back and regret.
Blog: I am thankful that in my middle years, I have found an outlet for my driving passion of writing, one which went begging before I found the blogosphere. Whether one person or many read what I write and throw into cyberspace is less important to me than that I have the amazing opportunity to do it at all. I am thankful for the talent I have been given, and I hope that someday I will put it to even better use. I wait on God to tell me when that time and place will be, and look forward with enthusiasm to the opportunity to continue improving as a crafter of words and phrases until then.
God's grace: I am thankful each and every day for God's grace in my life, and the example that is set for me. It has made me the person I am today, and it continues to encourage and inspire me to be a better mom, daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend. Grace is the gift of life, because it is the promise that no matter what I do wrong, I will have another opportunity to get it right. There is no greater gift than that.
This Thanksgiving, I encourage you to take time to think of not only what you are especially thankful for, but why. Sometimes it takes a special day to remind us of what really matters in life. So take this time set aside to give thanks, and recognize what gives your life meaning and makes it worth getting up each day. I think it will give you a new outlook on being thankful. At least it has for me.
Happy Thanksgiving one and all! To each of you, I wish you all the best of the holiday season upcoming. Breathe easily, relax, and realize that no matter what doesn't get done, the holiday will be perfect in its own way as it is every single year. Let the magic happen as it comes, and it will be a success!
Merry Christmas!
The same trappings that have always been a part of the holiday weekend were there. We ate the same foods, we bought a tree and got it trimmed, we wrote our Christmas letter and signed our cards, we did our usual day after Thanksgiving shopping jaunt - in fact, we followed most of the same rituals we always have. But the weekend itself has transformed into an ongoing reminder of just how much life has changed for me and for my kids over this past year.
The weekend began by the return of my children from their respective colleges, a return that is familiar to the one, and a new experience to the other. As my college newbie ran around to familiar haunts in a whirlwind of activity, seeing her friends that she has missed, doing familiar activities, and enjoying the things she has loved for her whole life, there was a new appreciation for what she has taken for granted because it has always been there for her, and it has been missed.
But I also observed a new maturity, as she experienced the college disconnect for the first time, and she realized the truth of the old cliche that you can't go home again. Everything is the same and everything is different, all at the same time, in a way that cannot be explained, it must be experienced. She is ready to return to her new life in college, and she will embrace the time there with a new enthusiasm, I suspect, because she has now gained an understanding of what she has there by being here once again.
It is always a thrill to see your children stretch in their understanding of life, and I feel fortunate to be on the sidelines cheering them on. For those parents still in the throes of the hands on child raising years, I promise these times make it worth every tear that will fall and every moment you will wonder if you will all survive the experience.
I saw my eldest, an old hat at managing the equal demands of wanting to see friends and also spend time with family, also work to manage the new demand of a very significant other who was also managing her own family and friend demands. It is a new experience for me, as well, as I let go even more of what has always been my right as a mother to his time and attention, and watch him set his own parameters for his choices this weekend. It is very clear what is important to him, and I am satisfied that his priorities are firmly in the right order - he is managing his time and his obligations as well as anyone can when there are too many demands and not enough hours in the day for everything that is important.
But I realized this weekend that my kids are not the only ones who have stretched and grown and changed these past few months. I have also transformed, into an only person, someone unaccustomed to having company and conversation and additional life in the house. I have developed new routines and a new schedule and new habits, and I have found that the old demands no longer fit like they once did. The growing pains are hard on everyone, but ultimately, I think we will all be better for having gone through them.
If it sounds as though I am looking forward to being alone again, au contraire. In fact, I will miss my kids more now than I did when they left this fall. I have a new appreciation for what each of them brings to my life, and I will miss each of them more acutely for their absence. I am getting a glimpse of the rest of my life, when they will be truly gone, in lives and homes of their own that have nothing to do with me at all, and I will miss them and what they have brought to my life on a daily basis for the last 25 years more than they can imagine.
But I also look forward to the opportunity I have to forge ahead in new ways, and to build a new life for myself as an independent adult, something I have never done. I will continue to enjoy the things that I have been enjoying - the peace and solitude I have never really experienced before, the opportunity to schedule my days based on my own whims instead of someone else's needs, the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I feel like it, without answering to anyone. (Well, except my boss and my clients, obviously!)
It is a surprise to me to find out that as my children grow and change and transform, I, as their parent, am doing the same. In short, this Thanksgiving, I have found old things for which to give thanks in new ways. This year, I am very thankful for:
My family: I am not only thankful for my two children, who fill my life and give it meaning, but for my extended family, as well. I am grateful for the mother who is nothing short of my guardian angel, a woman whose place in my life words are simply inadequate to describe, so I won't try. I adore my "big" brother, who is always there to count on and lean on and sort things out with. I am grateful for the wife he brought into the family circle, providing me with the wise and loving older sister I have always wanted, and the example she doesn't even know she is. I am thankful to have two nieces and a nephew whom I love and who are endlessly entertaining, each in their own way. They all bring something totally different to the family table, and they fill a hole that we didn't even know was there until they showed up.
I am also thankful for the extended family that has graced my life for all these years. I didn't fully appreciate or understand just how important they were to me until now, when we are losing them one by one, and I feel bereft of their love and their caring and everything else that made each one unique and special. I have been well and truly loved my entire life, and that is a gift without measure. My family has taught me about unconditional love my whole life, and it is the gift that keeps on giving as it spreads to new generations through each of us.
Old friends: I am so grateful for the very special old friends that I can still call on for whatever I need, be it a laugh or a shoulder to cry on, or something else entirely. I have been ridiculously blessed with the best friends anyone could ever ask for - totally undeserved, but thoroughly appreciated and valued.
New friends: I am gradually accumulating new friends, especially as my children bring their friends into my life. As they develop significant relationships, I have been blessed in surprising ways by people that I never knew would be a part of my life, but whom I'm glad are there now. I have always enjoyed people of all ages, and I am so happy that I can count as my friends kids who are teens as well as men and women well into their mature years. I have been richly blessed, and I look forward to many more years of friendship with those people I never realized would be so important to me.
Pets: I am thankful for the critters that inhabit my household and make things interesting. One of them was ill over Thanksgiving, and my concern for him reminded me of how much pleasure he brings me each and every day. My relief at his recovery, and my joy in hearing him once again sing his happy little song reminds me of God's words that His eye is even on the sparrow. Each creature is a part of the plan for our world, and I would be a lot lonelier without them.
Material goods: If we are honest with ourselves and each other, we are thankful for the tangible goods that we have accumulated, even if we tend to focus more on what we don't have. This has been a hard year for me business-wise, and the end is not in sight. And yet, through God's grace and a lot of help, I still have a home and food on the table, and I am more grateful for that fact than ever. I would even posit that the lack of wealth has served to clarify for me what is truly of value in my life. The "stuff" that used to be so important in my 20's has faded, and the things that matter to me now are clear and easy to identify. That is a gift in itself for which I give abundant thanks.
Time: I am grateful that, more likely than not, I have time to work on myself and my life, and to get right what I have so far gotten wrong. I am thankful that I can mend fences that need mending, and I can show appreciation where it is due. Although we never know how much time has been allotted to us on this earth, I live each day as best I can, so that at the end of the day, I will never have to look back and regret.
Blog: I am thankful that in my middle years, I have found an outlet for my driving passion of writing, one which went begging before I found the blogosphere. Whether one person or many read what I write and throw into cyberspace is less important to me than that I have the amazing opportunity to do it at all. I am thankful for the talent I have been given, and I hope that someday I will put it to even better use. I wait on God to tell me when that time and place will be, and look forward with enthusiasm to the opportunity to continue improving as a crafter of words and phrases until then.
God's grace: I am thankful each and every day for God's grace in my life, and the example that is set for me. It has made me the person I am today, and it continues to encourage and inspire me to be a better mom, daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend. Grace is the gift of life, because it is the promise that no matter what I do wrong, I will have another opportunity to get it right. There is no greater gift than that.
This Thanksgiving, I encourage you to take time to think of not only what you are especially thankful for, but why. Sometimes it takes a special day to remind us of what really matters in life. So take this time set aside to give thanks, and recognize what gives your life meaning and makes it worth getting up each day. I think it will give you a new outlook on being thankful. At least it has for me.
Happy Thanksgiving one and all! To each of you, I wish you all the best of the holiday season upcoming. Breathe easily, relax, and realize that no matter what doesn't get done, the holiday will be perfect in its own way as it is every single year. Let the magic happen as it comes, and it will be a success!
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Well, at least that's something...
I find human beings fascinating in their ability to adjust to adverse circumstances. No matter what may have happened to them, most people seem to have an endless capacity to reconcile themselves to their current situation and somehow find a way to cope with whatever is going on in their lives at that moment.
There are many different ways that life can, and often does, go wrong. Flat tires, stains and spills, forgotten appointments and running behind ~ the every day ups and downs of an ordinary life provide lots of examples of people routinely rising above their circumstances, in tiny doses of inspiration for those who are paying attention.
But sooner or later, every life will have some true catastrophe to derail the ordinary; a moment that will test personal strength, as well as faith, in a contest of good and evil that will ultimately reveal the character within. The surprise, I think, is not that some people fail the test, but that so many people pass it so spectacularly.
It is that resiliency, that true human spirit, that amazes and thrills me as an observer of people. Watching someone I care for bent and stretched and ultimately forged (a nicer way of saying forced) into someone better than they were before is an incomparable privilege of being alive, and it inspires me each and every time.
I was struck by this process once again as I recently listened to my daughter describe the process of sorority rush. Rush, for the uninitiated, is a weeklong routine reminiscent of medieval torture in which anxious females have their spirits crushed over and over before ultimately rising like a phoenix to find their appointed place in the Greek world. Although it may seem like a superficial example, I think it is the perfect showcase of the human ability to adjust expectations, and it rather effectively demonstrates the human instinct to survive and rise above whatever adversities life throws in the path.
Most girls come to rush week with their preferred sorority already firmly planted in their mind. The impressions they have formed come from many sources: family, friends, movies, television shows, web searches. The list of sources for information is limited only by their willingness to google, and their hopes and dreams are limited only by their own imaginings.
It is a long and difficult week for most girls, characterized by one loss after another as their dreams have to be repeatedly modified from their original expectations. Cuts are announced each day, and if they are not on the list for their preferred house, there are tears and heartbreak, at least for the moment. But then most of them gather up their remaining dignity and press forward, suddenly noticing positive qualities in the remaining houses that were previously hidden by a mistaken understanding of what would be best for them.
The most interesting aspect of the entire week, at least to me, is that when the houses announce their selections, most girls are thrilled to have been chosen by whatever house claims them, even if that was the last house they would have wanted at the beginning of the process. Many of them go on to be as dedicated to their altered outcome as if they had chosen to be there from the very start.
People of limited vision would say those girls have lost something, because they did not attain what they had originally hoped for. But I would posit that those who learn to accept and adjust to unforeseen events and build new dreams are the true winners, because they have gained in maturity and wisdom from adversity they never wanted. It is, in fact, a crash course in the harsh realities of real life, where sometimes the best thing that can happen is not to get what you hoped for, because there is something better elsewhere, once that door has closed.
Some people would say this is a superficial example, something that doesn't really matter in the context of a full life. But I would argue that the process of rush, psychologically brutal as it is, is a microcosm of real life. It is, for many girls, a forging experience, revealing the underlying mettle of the girl within. Hopes and dreams drift away in a daily wave of tears and regrets, while they watch their options temporarily limited. For many, this is the first time they have been told a true no to something they really want, and it is a tough thing to accept.
But other new opportunities come knocking, if only they can open their hearts and minds to the other options that have now opened up, and a surprising number of girls rise brilliantly to the occasion. It is, to me, a fascinating study into the ability of human beings to adjust their expectations to the circumstances in which they find themselves, and not only accept, but actually embrace both the hardship that got them to that end, as well as the outcome itself.
Many crises arise in a long life, of course, times in which people reveal themselves as the flexible phenomenon they truly are. When someone has a lingering illness, they make plans and say goodbye and even prepare for their own funeral, even though the human instinct is for survival.
I have seen people endure their house being blown to bits by a hurricane or burned to the ground with nothing but ashes to remind them of their past, and their first words will be about what went right in the catastrophe. That sort of mind bending flexibility in thinking is an amazing quality that defines our spirit.
I don't know if it's a regional quality, but I have lived in a number of states, and I have never seen anything to rival the ability of Minnesotans to downplay disaster. It isn't that they don't notice. Given the number of tater tot hot dishes that make the rounds, there is plenty of misery going around, and lots of people notice.
Quite simply, they are determined to recognize the good fortune that it wasn't worse, because it surely could have been. Whether it is a big catastrophe, like a death, chronic illness, or divorce, or a smaller crisis like a flat tire in the pouring rain with no spare, they will find a way to minimize the inconveniences of life.
But Minnesotans aren't satisfied merely with self-deprecation and personal uplift. There is an expected, and really rather charming response to this Pollyanna-like display of unreality, so that everyone can participate in the feeling of well being. (Whether they want to or not.) In case you are ever in Minnesota and find yourself desperately trying to fit in, there is one phrase that will almost guarantee your instant acceptance into the club.
Allow me to assist you in navigating the deceptively still emotional waters you will encounter.
When you are told that someone has terminal cancer and only six weeks to live, but at least now they won't have to get that crown they've been putting off, the proper response is, "Well, at least that's something...."
If your house burned to the ground, and you focus on the fact that your cat survived the experience, someone will be sure to point out that "at least that's something...."
If you go in to the dentist for a cleaning and discover that you have a cavity, a true Minnesotan will be glad they didn't need a root canal. Because... well... at least that's something....
See how easy it can be to play along?
Although it can be annoying at times to have your real life catastrophes persistently reduced to a catch phrase, it is an invaluable way of both reassuring us and putting us in our place. Misery does love company, but the pity party eventually has to end. It can be helpful to be reminded of what has gone right when everything feels wrong.
Being a Minnesotan is not just about a state or a place. When it's your birthright, the expectations are so ingrained it's impossible to leave them behind. Wherever in the world Minnesotans have gathered, sooner or later you are almost certain to hear the words, "Well, at least that's something." And I think it's a pretty solid way to live your life, all in all.
Whatever happens to you this week, keep in mind you can always find something positive in almost every situation.
Because... Well... At least that's something....
There are many different ways that life can, and often does, go wrong. Flat tires, stains and spills, forgotten appointments and running behind ~ the every day ups and downs of an ordinary life provide lots of examples of people routinely rising above their circumstances, in tiny doses of inspiration for those who are paying attention.
But sooner or later, every life will have some true catastrophe to derail the ordinary; a moment that will test personal strength, as well as faith, in a contest of good and evil that will ultimately reveal the character within. The surprise, I think, is not that some people fail the test, but that so many people pass it so spectacularly.
It is that resiliency, that true human spirit, that amazes and thrills me as an observer of people. Watching someone I care for bent and stretched and ultimately forged (a nicer way of saying forced) into someone better than they were before is an incomparable privilege of being alive, and it inspires me each and every time.
I was struck by this process once again as I recently listened to my daughter describe the process of sorority rush. Rush, for the uninitiated, is a weeklong routine reminiscent of medieval torture in which anxious females have their spirits crushed over and over before ultimately rising like a phoenix to find their appointed place in the Greek world. Although it may seem like a superficial example, I think it is the perfect showcase of the human ability to adjust expectations, and it rather effectively demonstrates the human instinct to survive and rise above whatever adversities life throws in the path.
Most girls come to rush week with their preferred sorority already firmly planted in their mind. The impressions they have formed come from many sources: family, friends, movies, television shows, web searches. The list of sources for information is limited only by their willingness to google, and their hopes and dreams are limited only by their own imaginings.
It is a long and difficult week for most girls, characterized by one loss after another as their dreams have to be repeatedly modified from their original expectations. Cuts are announced each day, and if they are not on the list for their preferred house, there are tears and heartbreak, at least for the moment. But then most of them gather up their remaining dignity and press forward, suddenly noticing positive qualities in the remaining houses that were previously hidden by a mistaken understanding of what would be best for them.
The most interesting aspect of the entire week, at least to me, is that when the houses announce their selections, most girls are thrilled to have been chosen by whatever house claims them, even if that was the last house they would have wanted at the beginning of the process. Many of them go on to be as dedicated to their altered outcome as if they had chosen to be there from the very start.
People of limited vision would say those girls have lost something, because they did not attain what they had originally hoped for. But I would posit that those who learn to accept and adjust to unforeseen events and build new dreams are the true winners, because they have gained in maturity and wisdom from adversity they never wanted. It is, in fact, a crash course in the harsh realities of real life, where sometimes the best thing that can happen is not to get what you hoped for, because there is something better elsewhere, once that door has closed.
Some people would say this is a superficial example, something that doesn't really matter in the context of a full life. But I would argue that the process of rush, psychologically brutal as it is, is a microcosm of real life. It is, for many girls, a forging experience, revealing the underlying mettle of the girl within. Hopes and dreams drift away in a daily wave of tears and regrets, while they watch their options temporarily limited. For many, this is the first time they have been told a true no to something they really want, and it is a tough thing to accept.
But other new opportunities come knocking, if only they can open their hearts and minds to the other options that have now opened up, and a surprising number of girls rise brilliantly to the occasion. It is, to me, a fascinating study into the ability of human beings to adjust their expectations to the circumstances in which they find themselves, and not only accept, but actually embrace both the hardship that got them to that end, as well as the outcome itself.
Many crises arise in a long life, of course, times in which people reveal themselves as the flexible phenomenon they truly are. When someone has a lingering illness, they make plans and say goodbye and even prepare for their own funeral, even though the human instinct is for survival.
I have seen people endure their house being blown to bits by a hurricane or burned to the ground with nothing but ashes to remind them of their past, and their first words will be about what went right in the catastrophe. That sort of mind bending flexibility in thinking is an amazing quality that defines our spirit.
I don't know if it's a regional quality, but I have lived in a number of states, and I have never seen anything to rival the ability of Minnesotans to downplay disaster. It isn't that they don't notice. Given the number of tater tot hot dishes that make the rounds, there is plenty of misery going around, and lots of people notice.
Quite simply, they are determined to recognize the good fortune that it wasn't worse, because it surely could have been. Whether it is a big catastrophe, like a death, chronic illness, or divorce, or a smaller crisis like a flat tire in the pouring rain with no spare, they will find a way to minimize the inconveniences of life.
But Minnesotans aren't satisfied merely with self-deprecation and personal uplift. There is an expected, and really rather charming response to this Pollyanna-like display of unreality, so that everyone can participate in the feeling of well being. (Whether they want to or not.) In case you are ever in Minnesota and find yourself desperately trying to fit in, there is one phrase that will almost guarantee your instant acceptance into the club.
Allow me to assist you in navigating the deceptively still emotional waters you will encounter.
When you are told that someone has terminal cancer and only six weeks to live, but at least now they won't have to get that crown they've been putting off, the proper response is, "Well, at least that's something...."
If your house burned to the ground, and you focus on the fact that your cat survived the experience, someone will be sure to point out that "at least that's something...."
If you go in to the dentist for a cleaning and discover that you have a cavity, a true Minnesotan will be glad they didn't need a root canal. Because... well... at least that's something....
See how easy it can be to play along?
Although it can be annoying at times to have your real life catastrophes persistently reduced to a catch phrase, it is an invaluable way of both reassuring us and putting us in our place. Misery does love company, but the pity party eventually has to end. It can be helpful to be reminded of what has gone right when everything feels wrong.
Being a Minnesotan is not just about a state or a place. When it's your birthright, the expectations are so ingrained it's impossible to leave them behind. Wherever in the world Minnesotans have gathered, sooner or later you are almost certain to hear the words, "Well, at least that's something." And I think it's a pretty solid way to live your life, all in all.
Whatever happens to you this week, keep in mind you can always find something positive in almost every situation.
Because... Well... At least that's something....
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Cinderella is a fairy tale; real glass slippers break...
My advance apologies to everyone who closely follows the entertainment industry. I don't watch television, (I rarely even turn it on,) so most of the "stars" of today are unknown to me. I rarely go to movies, don't usually read People magazine or EW, and don't particularly care about what people are doing in Hollywood.
I'm truly not an intellectual snob; that job is reserved for my son, Mr. Sandwich Himself. If keeping up on celebrity "news" is your hobby, then knock yourself out. I'm a big believer in the adage, "To each his own," and it looks like there are lot of you out there with the same hobby. (Although, to be fair, I will admit I don't exactly consider actresses and actors to be deep thinkers, and rarely take anything they say seriously.)
No, I'm not speaking from a platform of intellectual conservatism. The truth is much simpler. I really just don't care a whole lot what people are doing anywhere, unless it's actually my business. And hardly anything is, I have found. I could say a lot about people keeping their noses out of other people's lives at this point, but that's a different blog post, so I'll keep myself in check. (I am now glowing with self-righteousness for being so self-disciplined.)
Anyway, I stumbled over a delicious quote this week that really spoke to me, and I had to query her name to find out who she was, because I had never heard of her before. Turns out, she's an actress.
I don't know if she is vain or humble, empty headed or a Mensa candidate. I don't know if she is a good actress or a bad actress. (I have heard of her show from my daughter, an aficionado.) I have no idea what kind of character she has, or if she is big into community service or other ways of giving back to the world.
Surprisingly, however, I think she and I may have something in common. That is, if you think that the 89 pounds on my 5'9" frame the day I graduated from college is a problem. (I thought it was, but I'm guessing my reasons and yours are slightly divergent. Completely opposite, even.)
Anyway, Portia hit the nail on the head with a very perspicacious statement this week, upon which I simply could not resist expounding.
The statement in question was, "You can't put a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe."
Simple? Yes. Obvious? Perhaps. But how many times in life have we tried to do exactly that? It's not just Cinderella's step-sisters that were desperate to be someone they weren't.
We are surrounded on all sides by the pressure to be someone else. It's not surprising that in the fantasy capital of the world, an actress would have a problem with her body image. After all, Hollywood is all about the illusion, regardless of the cost to real people - whether actress or fan - in self-esteem and life satisfaction.
Although Portia was talking about eating disorders, I find this statement to be a great metaphor for most things in life. If you are forcing yourself to fit someone else's image, you are, quite simply, doomed to failure. Underneath it all, no matter how hard you try to be someone else, you are still going to be you.
If you have a size 12 frame, you are never going to be a size 6, no matter how much you starve yourself, no matter how many hours a day you work out, no matter what you do or don't do. You will be a 12, it's just a matter of whether you are an emaciated 12 or a full figured 12.
If you are a global thinker, you will struggle in an accounting job where the details matter.
If you are a free spirit, you are going to struggle in a world that wants to pin you down.
It doesn't mean you can't do it; after all, Cinderella's step-sister cut off her toes to get that shoe on, and you could, too. (On a side note. Don't you sort of wonder what that would have looked like - the crystal glass shoe rapidly filling with deep red blood?) But that seems like a rather painful way to fit into something that is clearly wrong for you.
I think it's only fair to point out that she didn't end up with the prince in the end, either, so it's a cautionary tale.
I wish we lived in a world where differences were celebrated instead of denigrated. I would like to be part of a world where speaking different languages was only a barrier to conversation, not to understanding. I would like to be part of a world that valued teachers as much as stockbrokers, and maids as much as executives, because they were following their dream with passion and doing the job well.
For a long time I didn't have a scale in my house, because I refused to allow my vision of the perfect number that much control over my own self-esteem. Whether it's 89 or 129 or 409, that number doesn't change the person hiding inside, the real me. It doesn't define what makes me a good friend or bad, a good mother, sister, daughter, person. It is a superficial way to evaluate someone, especially one's self, and is a path doomed to failure, no matter how enticing it may be.
The consequences of imposing false expectations on ourselves or others can be life threatening. Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite singers ever, died for the illusion. So did Tyler Clementi, Ana Carolina Reston, and Christy Henrich. Although the dream they were reaching for was slightly different for each of them, the illusive win was rooted in the same desire to meet or exceed artificial expectations, reinforced by an unforgiving culture in which a narrow definition of perfection is not everything, it's the only thing that matters.
Much of life is simply beyond our control, but we do have the ability to set our expectations realistically. We can make our goals achievable, and we can intentionally disregard those who insist on bringing us down to some other vision of how we should be. Society focuses on the superficial exterior; how beautiful the glass slipper looks. Karen, Tyler, Ana, Christy, and hundreds of others like them, are a testament to the reality that it is also fragile and unreliable.
Although I occasionally enjoy wearing my high heels, most days, I'd rather wear tennis shoes, (usually a size too big in case my feet swell.) Glass slippers can break, and I would hate to get splinters in my foot.
I'm truly not an intellectual snob; that job is reserved for my son, Mr. Sandwich Himself. If keeping up on celebrity "news" is your hobby, then knock yourself out. I'm a big believer in the adage, "To each his own," and it looks like there are lot of you out there with the same hobby. (Although, to be fair, I will admit I don't exactly consider actresses and actors to be deep thinkers, and rarely take anything they say seriously.)
No, I'm not speaking from a platform of intellectual conservatism. The truth is much simpler. I really just don't care a whole lot what people are doing anywhere, unless it's actually my business. And hardly anything is, I have found. I could say a lot about people keeping their noses out of other people's lives at this point, but that's a different blog post, so I'll keep myself in check. (I am now glowing with self-righteousness for being so self-disciplined.)
Anyway, I stumbled over a delicious quote this week that really spoke to me, and I had to query her name to find out who she was, because I had never heard of her before. Turns out, she's an actress.
I don't know if she is vain or humble, empty headed or a Mensa candidate. I don't know if she is a good actress or a bad actress. (I have heard of her show from my daughter, an aficionado.) I have no idea what kind of character she has, or if she is big into community service or other ways of giving back to the world.
Surprisingly, however, I think she and I may have something in common. That is, if you think that the 89 pounds on my 5'9" frame the day I graduated from college is a problem. (I thought it was, but I'm guessing my reasons and yours are slightly divergent. Completely opposite, even.)
Anyway, Portia hit the nail on the head with a very perspicacious statement this week, upon which I simply could not resist expounding.
The statement in question was, "You can't put a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe."
Simple? Yes. Obvious? Perhaps. But how many times in life have we tried to do exactly that? It's not just Cinderella's step-sisters that were desperate to be someone they weren't.
We are surrounded on all sides by the pressure to be someone else. It's not surprising that in the fantasy capital of the world, an actress would have a problem with her body image. After all, Hollywood is all about the illusion, regardless of the cost to real people - whether actress or fan - in self-esteem and life satisfaction.
Although Portia was talking about eating disorders, I find this statement to be a great metaphor for most things in life. If you are forcing yourself to fit someone else's image, you are, quite simply, doomed to failure. Underneath it all, no matter how hard you try to be someone else, you are still going to be you.
If you have a size 12 frame, you are never going to be a size 6, no matter how much you starve yourself, no matter how many hours a day you work out, no matter what you do or don't do. You will be a 12, it's just a matter of whether you are an emaciated 12 or a full figured 12.
If you are a global thinker, you will struggle in an accounting job where the details matter.
If you are a free spirit, you are going to struggle in a world that wants to pin you down.
It doesn't mean you can't do it; after all, Cinderella's step-sister cut off her toes to get that shoe on, and you could, too. (On a side note. Don't you sort of wonder what that would have looked like - the crystal glass shoe rapidly filling with deep red blood?) But that seems like a rather painful way to fit into something that is clearly wrong for you.
I think it's only fair to point out that she didn't end up with the prince in the end, either, so it's a cautionary tale.
I wish we lived in a world where differences were celebrated instead of denigrated. I would like to be part of a world where speaking different languages was only a barrier to conversation, not to understanding. I would like to be part of a world that valued teachers as much as stockbrokers, and maids as much as executives, because they were following their dream with passion and doing the job well.
For a long time I didn't have a scale in my house, because I refused to allow my vision of the perfect number that much control over my own self-esteem. Whether it's 89 or 129 or 409, that number doesn't change the person hiding inside, the real me. It doesn't define what makes me a good friend or bad, a good mother, sister, daughter, person. It is a superficial way to evaluate someone, especially one's self, and is a path doomed to failure, no matter how enticing it may be.
The consequences of imposing false expectations on ourselves or others can be life threatening. Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite singers ever, died for the illusion. So did Tyler Clementi, Ana Carolina Reston, and Christy Henrich. Although the dream they were reaching for was slightly different for each of them, the illusive win was rooted in the same desire to meet or exceed artificial expectations, reinforced by an unforgiving culture in which a narrow definition of perfection is not everything, it's the only thing that matters.
Much of life is simply beyond our control, but we do have the ability to set our expectations realistically. We can make our goals achievable, and we can intentionally disregard those who insist on bringing us down to some other vision of how we should be. Society focuses on the superficial exterior; how beautiful the glass slipper looks. Karen, Tyler, Ana, Christy, and hundreds of others like them, are a testament to the reality that it is also fragile and unreliable.
Although I occasionally enjoy wearing my high heels, most days, I'd rather wear tennis shoes, (usually a size too big in case my feet swell.) Glass slippers can break, and I would hate to get splinters in my foot.
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