Going to the beach for spring break.
It is the classic vacation, revered by young and old alike. The weather in Ft Myers should be perfect! Grab my sandals, my sunscreen, my shorts (eek!) and t-shirts (yikes), throw on my bathing suit...
GGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Dear Lord, how could this happen? I leave in 2 weeks? I have to put on a bathing suit in 2 weeks????? OK, clearly this has not been well thought out. Could we, perhaps, look at an Alaskan vacation? At the very least, I hear London is persistently rainy in April, requiring long coats of the trench variety. But really-sunshine? heat? tanning? What was I thinking?
First, the swimsuit I own has seen a couple seasons. That means at any moment, there could be an errant strand of Lycra which, with one false move, could spring loose and cause a serious wardrobe malfunction. Those fibers were designed to hold several things in places to which gravity has long denied them orientation. One frightening loss of structural integrity could prove hazardous to bystanders.
Second, my bathing suit is black and white. Stray just a bit too far from shore and harpoons become a significant threat. Short of finding a bathing cap (and really, who wears those?) with a 5-foot safely flag attached, I could easily be mistaken for Shamu's much younger, curvier, but no less buoyant, sister. Nope, black and white will not do.
Lastly, my bathing suit lacks fabric. This season, I am opting for the height of new fashion. No slave to the ugly, skimpy, way too tacky styles--I am opting for a groundbreaking fashion statement! No more will I bow to the voyeuristic whims of the Budweiser-slugging, taco-belching demographic whose lecherous fixation feeds on the insecurities of women in lounge chairs. No more will I worry about the extreme exposition of skin and areas better left to the imagination than to the harsh UV rays of the sun.
This year, I am committed to the resurrection of a more genteel era. A time when modesty was valued over enhancement. A time when alabaster skin was admired, and tanning was something which happened to those unfortunate enough to have to leave the shaded porch of the estate and its cool pitchers of iced tea, and venture into the fields in the heat of the day. Think Victorian Age. Think early 1900's. I am in search of the perfect combination of jaunty nautical stripes (vertical, of course) and full ankle to neck coverage. I want layers! Long bloomers, full sleeves, pinafores! And no flimsy fabric for me. Lets go for a full control jersey knit, or perhaps a nice summer-weight worsted wool. Sure, if I venture into the water the very weight of my bathing costume would likely drag me down like a stone, but that is a small price to pay for trend-setting modesty, don't you think?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
company morale
I saw one of those funny, sarcastic posters once: "The beatings will continue until morale improves." It made me smile. Still does. But over the course of several months I relate more to that thought than I care to. And today it has me pondering some things.
I work in a good sized medical office. I have some fantastic, intelligent, devoted co-workers. These are people who would, and frequently have, stepped in to help at times of heavy illness or patient load, and willingly help out co-workers who need schedule changes. They are conscientous, and they understand that for the office to run smoothly, it must be staffed adequately. I am surrounded by good people, from the docs to the nurses to the patient service reps. I firmly believe that I work in one of the best places available, so I don't want to sound like I'm bitching.
Except I AM bitching.
Many of us are feeling a little beaten down. maybe a lot beaten down. We all feel the blow when someone calls off and goes unreplaced. When we are in the midst of a boom of maternity leaves (God bless all those prolific mommies!), and staffing is already spread thin, the hit is even harder. Patient care and communication is negatively affected when we're working short. The whole office suffers, tensions run high, and morale takes a dive. Today was one of those nose dives. straight down. from 30,000 feet. And that kind of atmosphere is not enjoyable.
We all understand that emergencies arise, kid and adults get sick, life situations require some time for recovery; in short: shit happens. We've all been there--we get that. But it's harder to summon up that understanding for the repeat offenders, the chronically tardy, the perpetually absent. You know when your shift starts--be there at that time, not 30 minutes later. Unless something serious befalls you after you leave your house, it is NEVER OK to call in after your shift has started to say you won't be showing up. And it is simple and necessary courtesy to try to find a replacement for yourself when you can't be there--it shows respect for your coworkers and for the practice as a whole. Try to understand: no matter how much your co-workers may like you, we don't appreciate being dumped on over and over again. It gets old, it gets tiring, and we get pretty beaten up.
I work in a good sized medical office. I have some fantastic, intelligent, devoted co-workers. These are people who would, and frequently have, stepped in to help at times of heavy illness or patient load, and willingly help out co-workers who need schedule changes. They are conscientous, and they understand that for the office to run smoothly, it must be staffed adequately. I am surrounded by good people, from the docs to the nurses to the patient service reps. I firmly believe that I work in one of the best places available, so I don't want to sound like I'm bitching.
Except I AM bitching.
Many of us are feeling a little beaten down. maybe a lot beaten down. We all feel the blow when someone calls off and goes unreplaced. When we are in the midst of a boom of maternity leaves (God bless all those prolific mommies!), and staffing is already spread thin, the hit is even harder. Patient care and communication is negatively affected when we're working short. The whole office suffers, tensions run high, and morale takes a dive. Today was one of those nose dives. straight down. from 30,000 feet. And that kind of atmosphere is not enjoyable.
We all understand that emergencies arise, kid and adults get sick, life situations require some time for recovery; in short: shit happens. We've all been there--we get that. But it's harder to summon up that understanding for the repeat offenders, the chronically tardy, the perpetually absent. You know when your shift starts--be there at that time, not 30 minutes later. Unless something serious befalls you after you leave your house, it is NEVER OK to call in after your shift has started to say you won't be showing up. And it is simple and necessary courtesy to try to find a replacement for yourself when you can't be there--it shows respect for your coworkers and for the practice as a whole. Try to understand: no matter how much your co-workers may like you, we don't appreciate being dumped on over and over again. It gets old, it gets tiring, and we get pretty beaten up.
Friday, February 4, 2011
finding myself again
Good heavens--I fell into the holidays and never came out.
Actually, that's truer than I probably realize. I haven't taken time to write in months. I'm sure as things got busier, and winter's shroud covered the daily sunshine, writing was the first to go. It went with all the other "extras" that fill in the cracks of time in my life. But how did it get to be February? And why am I mired in this gray cloud?
I know some of it is the time of year. I don't do winter well. Never have. Some years are worse than others, depending on outside forces as well as natural rythms. The outside forces of winter 2011 are, frankly, rather sucky.
I am a child in the sandwich generation. I guess that means I am in the bologna and cheese of my life. On one side, I have the parents. That's not going well. And I am far enough away to be helpless, but close enough to feel guilty that I'm not traveling I-75 even more than I do. I am so grateful for my brothers and my SIL who take on so much every day. Dad is getting good care, even though the decline is difficult to watch. Mom is struggling, but relieved of the caregiver role she can at least focus her energies on her own health. It is just a case of "screw the Golden Years" and none of us wanted it to progress this way.
On the other side, there are my littles. Not so little anymore, they are making big people decisions, and the time is flying by: College choices, scholarships, housing, career plans. In a few short months I will pack yet another of my dear ones off to Louisville. She'll be excited, challenged, thrilled with her newfound freedoms and friends, and I am so excited to see her getting ready to stretch her wings. But when she flies, a large piece of my heart flies with her. I already feel the emptiness.
I'll most likely have two starting high school next year. One will be able to nurture his love for music ministry and will have opportunities to experience music in places I only dream about. He will also have to be ready for the challenge of high school outside the sheltered school environment he has known so far. AS Dorothy would say "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." I think he will thrive in a place where diversity means more than different hair color, but it will be a new world with plenty to distract him. The youngest will finally see what educational challenge really means. No more coasting along in her own little world, she will need to step up and pull herself together. It will be good for her, but also a terrific life change.
All this is enough. But just for fun, let's throw in a puppy who snuggled himself right into my heart for a few weeks when I was most vulnerable, then went on to a forever home leaving an already fractured heart much the worse for wear. He had just enough medical crises while here to keep stress levels at an all-time high, and now that he is gone, he just leaves us all a bit bewildered and sad. We know he will be loved, and never lonely, and we will see him from time to time, all good things. I just miss the little furry ball of energy!
Life is hard. There is pain. One can realize that others have things much, much worse in life, but that does not take the heartache out of one's own experience every day. I pray, and often fail to pray, and am grateful for the belief that God knows the needs at my lowest and my highest. Some days it's all I can do to take the next step, and I know he'll hold me up whether or not I remember to ask. But I long to see the sun return, figuratively and literally, in my life. I need the light.
Actually, that's truer than I probably realize. I haven't taken time to write in months. I'm sure as things got busier, and winter's shroud covered the daily sunshine, writing was the first to go. It went with all the other "extras" that fill in the cracks of time in my life. But how did it get to be February? And why am I mired in this gray cloud?
I know some of it is the time of year. I don't do winter well. Never have. Some years are worse than others, depending on outside forces as well as natural rythms. The outside forces of winter 2011 are, frankly, rather sucky.
I am a child in the sandwich generation. I guess that means I am in the bologna and cheese of my life. On one side, I have the parents. That's not going well. And I am far enough away to be helpless, but close enough to feel guilty that I'm not traveling I-75 even more than I do. I am so grateful for my brothers and my SIL who take on so much every day. Dad is getting good care, even though the decline is difficult to watch. Mom is struggling, but relieved of the caregiver role she can at least focus her energies on her own health. It is just a case of "screw the Golden Years" and none of us wanted it to progress this way.
On the other side, there are my littles. Not so little anymore, they are making big people decisions, and the time is flying by: College choices, scholarships, housing, career plans. In a few short months I will pack yet another of my dear ones off to Louisville. She'll be excited, challenged, thrilled with her newfound freedoms and friends, and I am so excited to see her getting ready to stretch her wings. But when she flies, a large piece of my heart flies with her. I already feel the emptiness.
I'll most likely have two starting high school next year. One will be able to nurture his love for music ministry and will have opportunities to experience music in places I only dream about. He will also have to be ready for the challenge of high school outside the sheltered school environment he has known so far. AS Dorothy would say "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." I think he will thrive in a place where diversity means more than different hair color, but it will be a new world with plenty to distract him. The youngest will finally see what educational challenge really means. No more coasting along in her own little world, she will need to step up and pull herself together. It will be good for her, but also a terrific life change.
All this is enough. But just for fun, let's throw in a puppy who snuggled himself right into my heart for a few weeks when I was most vulnerable, then went on to a forever home leaving an already fractured heart much the worse for wear. He had just enough medical crises while here to keep stress levels at an all-time high, and now that he is gone, he just leaves us all a bit bewildered and sad. We know he will be loved, and never lonely, and we will see him from time to time, all good things. I just miss the little furry ball of energy!
Life is hard. There is pain. One can realize that others have things much, much worse in life, but that does not take the heartache out of one's own experience every day. I pray, and often fail to pray, and am grateful for the belief that God knows the needs at my lowest and my highest. Some days it's all I can do to take the next step, and I know he'll hold me up whether or not I remember to ask. But I long to see the sun return, figuratively and literally, in my life. I need the light.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Please help me I'm falling....
..into the Holidays!!!
I am one of the anti-Christmas rebels. I will not think about, shop for, or otherwise plan Christmas until after Thanksgiving. I detest the sudden forests of metallic decorated trees in retail centers across the nation--in September. I abhor the radio stations which switch to holiday music on November 1st ("Because Christmas should mean a little more!" SPARE ME!). I leave my mums, pumpkins, and corn stalks in my garden long past Veteran's Day--and refuse to string lights on my bushes until December. I don't care how much warmer it is three weeks earlier.
but wait.
Imagine my surprise at finding myself poring over cookie recipes, planning my shopping excursions, thinking about holiday decor, digging out teh ADvent books adn candles, even looking at travel plans; all in the single-digit days of November. What is wrong with me???? Who stifled my Scrooge? Who reformed my Grinch? What sinister plot has been set in motion to prevent me from my 5-days-before-Christmas annual holiday meltdown?
Don't get me wrong--I have not actually ACCOMPLISHED any holiday-related tasks as yet. It's going to take a lot more than just a whimsical sugarplum or two dancing through my head to push me that far in the other directions. But even so, this is a major divergence from normal. Perhaps I am having a personal Epiphany. Maybe this is a sign that I have evolved to the level of Martha Stewart readiness, by-passing the frantic hype and moving toward self-actualized holiday enlightenment. Maybe this is the year I find myself able to experience Advent as a journey to the celebration of God's most blessed gift to man--a Savior for us all.
'Tis the season! After all, the whole thing started with a miracle, didn't it?
I am one of the anti-Christmas rebels. I will not think about, shop for, or otherwise plan Christmas until after Thanksgiving. I detest the sudden forests of metallic decorated trees in retail centers across the nation--in September. I abhor the radio stations which switch to holiday music on November 1st ("Because Christmas should mean a little more!" SPARE ME!). I leave my mums, pumpkins, and corn stalks in my garden long past Veteran's Day--and refuse to string lights on my bushes until December. I don't care how much warmer it is three weeks earlier.
but wait.
Imagine my surprise at finding myself poring over cookie recipes, planning my shopping excursions, thinking about holiday decor, digging out teh ADvent books adn candles, even looking at travel plans; all in the single-digit days of November. What is wrong with me???? Who stifled my Scrooge? Who reformed my Grinch? What sinister plot has been set in motion to prevent me from my 5-days-before-Christmas annual holiday meltdown?
Don't get me wrong--I have not actually ACCOMPLISHED any holiday-related tasks as yet. It's going to take a lot more than just a whimsical sugarplum or two dancing through my head to push me that far in the other directions. But even so, this is a major divergence from normal. Perhaps I am having a personal Epiphany. Maybe this is a sign that I have evolved to the level of Martha Stewart readiness, by-passing the frantic hype and moving toward self-actualized holiday enlightenment. Maybe this is the year I find myself able to experience Advent as a journey to the celebration of God's most blessed gift to man--a Savior for us all.
'Tis the season! After all, the whole thing started with a miracle, didn't it?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Every family has one, don't they?
Most of you know I have four children: the loves of my life, a delightful mix of their father and me. Each has his/her own special talents and gifts, quirks of personality which make them stand apart from the others.
Occasionally, however, a quirk becomes a totally confounding issue, and I suddenly find myself out of parenting ideas. This has been the week. What do you do when you don't know what to do? My prayers have thus far been met with resounding silence. I admit to being slightly hard of hearing, having failed miserably in transcending elementary prayer to achieve subliminal enlightenment with the creator. God has not yet positioned in front of my eyes the flashing, neon, directional child-rearing map I seek. I'm waiting....
How can one sweet, charming, intelligent young lad suddenly create a maelstrom of grades, detentions, meltdowns--while remaining sweet and charming (well, most of the time)? I can sit with him and see that he gets the concepts, and understands the theories, so where are we losing it?
There will be meetings with teachers, counselors, administrators. We will throw around ideas, talk about important concepts like individualized education, differentiated learning methods, personal growth plans. I know the school wants him to succeed as much as we do, so we're all on the same team. My child will continue to assert that the teacher doesn't like him (his words are much stronger). I will continue to let him know that he is infinitely lovable. If this particular teacher does not click with him, what a tremendous loss for her--but homework must be done, tests must be passed. I have no doubt we will be able to turn him around, because this is one smart kid.
But Lord, if you could hurry up with that neon missive, I would greatly appreciate it!
Occasionally, however, a quirk becomes a totally confounding issue, and I suddenly find myself out of parenting ideas. This has been the week. What do you do when you don't know what to do? My prayers have thus far been met with resounding silence. I admit to being slightly hard of hearing, having failed miserably in transcending elementary prayer to achieve subliminal enlightenment with the creator. God has not yet positioned in front of my eyes the flashing, neon, directional child-rearing map I seek. I'm waiting....
How can one sweet, charming, intelligent young lad suddenly create a maelstrom of grades, detentions, meltdowns--while remaining sweet and charming (well, most of the time)? I can sit with him and see that he gets the concepts, and understands the theories, so where are we losing it?
There will be meetings with teachers, counselors, administrators. We will throw around ideas, talk about important concepts like individualized education, differentiated learning methods, personal growth plans. I know the school wants him to succeed as much as we do, so we're all on the same team. My child will continue to assert that the teacher doesn't like him (his words are much stronger). I will continue to let him know that he is infinitely lovable. If this particular teacher does not click with him, what a tremendous loss for her--but homework must be done, tests must be passed. I have no doubt we will be able to turn him around, because this is one smart kid.
But Lord, if you could hurry up with that neon missive, I would greatly appreciate it!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Life is fragile, handle with prayer
My life did not flash before my eyes. The words I spoke were not "Hail Mary" or "God save us." In fact, my children tell me they knew something was wrong simply because of of my tone when uttering the profound "Oh, shit!" Apparently that is a common harbinger of bad situations in my household. I should probably work on that.
I had a few seconds in which to watch the car behind me smash into the rear of my car. There were no squealing tires, no honking, no last-minute attempts to swerve. I was a sitting duck, and she didn't even slow down. There was a sudden jolt, the crashing of glass, and then the frantic voices of the five children in the back of my car. I can say with assurance when God reaches down and wraps a protective arm around a car full of precious cargo, He does not loudly announce Himself. But there is no doubt that He was right there in the midst of the chaos. He was in the face of the first person I saw when I looked up--blessedly the familiar face of Traci, another mom from school, and the two men who helped to get our front doors open. He was in the face of the nurse who helped me herd the kids out of the car to safety, of the EMT'S, the medics, the police officers, the ambulance drivers, and the many people who came to help not only me and my kids, but the driver of the other car and her baby. He was always there, and will always be there, even if I say "Oh, shit!" instead of something more reverent.
As far as I know, all involved were relatively unhurt. We kept a few squads busy in the minutes following the accident, but all my passengers were home and doing fine by bedtime. I pray the mother and baby from the other car did as well. That is the important part.
We returned to the car last night to retrieve personal effects. Not pretty. It absorbed the impact well--bless you, Toyota!--without passing it on the the passengers. The lift gate is a sad shadow if its former self, the window blown outward, the side panels buckled forward. The front end of the other car, now sitting right there in the same lot, fit completely and squarely into mine, and came out looking a lot the worse for it. We were all very fortunate.
I am amazed at how fuzzy my recollection is of the whole accident. It's funny how little details stick out, but nothing quite fits together. I like to think I keep my head in a crisis, but I probably overestimate my ability to stay level when my kids and my riders are personally involved. So to all the people who stopped to render aid, thank you. To the medical and professional personnel who were there in a heartbeat sorting everything out, thank you. To the compassionate nurse who stayed with me and the children, bless you for being the calm in a storm.
Saying thank you to God seems woefully inadequate, and we've been doing quite a lot of that lately. But thanks and praise are all I have, and that is enough.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Anniversary musings.
Today Chad and I celebrate 21 years of wedded bliss. Any married couple will tell you that even the most blissful of marriages is not always butterflies and rose petals, right? But it isn't about the destination, it's about the journey--and a journey without twists, turns, and detours is nothing but a boring highway drive. I much prefer to stand side-by-side, knowing I face whatever comes along not alone, but with the man God chose for me. Happy Anniversary, Chad. You will always be the best husby there.
People commonly say "Where did the time go?" when referring to the passing of years. I am having a bit of trouble wrapping my mind around 21 years, probably because my mind is still clinging to being 29 years old (my roots, wrinkles, knees, back, and all those parts affected by gravitational pull are significantly more realistic, but I've never been able to control my mind). But I can look around me now and tell you where the time went. The time went to building a marriage, building a family, building a life. Fours kids, three houses, two dogs, countless cars, five jobs, several schools, a few graduations, tuition payments and many, many friends later, the journey still continues and time marches on! There have been great successes, and epic failures. There has been laughter, joy, disappointment and sorrow. We have made good decisions and bad decisions. We've clung to what's important while struggling to see past the roadblocks to what lies ahead.
I would not want to go back and do it again. There are regrettable choices, but changing those would change the outcomes which shaped where we are today. I would not trade one moment of the last 21 years for a promise of smoother sailing. This is the path God guided us on, with all its pitfalls, and I rest secure that He has it all under control. I am grateful every day that, even when the steamroller of life is wreaking havoc on my wedded bliss, the man holding my hand is absolutely perfect for me. He is all that I am not, calm to my chaos, dark to my light, sun to my moon. Together, we are a team to be reckoned with, bound together by a love which grows deeper with each shared day. God knows what's going to be thrown at us, so he gave us each the perfect complement to deflect the bad and embrace the good.
My thanks to Rich Mullins for one of my favorite songs, which sums it up very well.
Doubly Good To You
If you see the sun rising gently on your fields
If the wind blows softly on your face
If the sunset lingers while cathedral bells peal
and the moon has risen to her place
You can thank the Father for the things that He has done
And thank Him for the things He's yet to do
And if you find a love that's tender, if you find someone who's true,
Thank the Lord, He's been doubly good to you
If you look in the mirror at the end of a hard day
and you know in your heart you have not lied
and If you gave love freely, if you earned an honest wage
And if you've got Jesus by your side
You can thank the Father for the things that He has done
And thank Him for the things He's yet to do
And if you find a love that's tender, if you find someone who's true,
Thank the lord, He's been doubly good to you.
People commonly say "Where did the time go?" when referring to the passing of years. I am having a bit of trouble wrapping my mind around 21 years, probably because my mind is still clinging to being 29 years old (my roots, wrinkles, knees, back, and all those parts affected by gravitational pull are significantly more realistic, but I've never been able to control my mind). But I can look around me now and tell you where the time went. The time went to building a marriage, building a family, building a life. Fours kids, three houses, two dogs, countless cars, five jobs, several schools, a few graduations, tuition payments and many, many friends later, the journey still continues and time marches on! There have been great successes, and epic failures. There has been laughter, joy, disappointment and sorrow. We have made good decisions and bad decisions. We've clung to what's important while struggling to see past the roadblocks to what lies ahead.
I would not want to go back and do it again. There are regrettable choices, but changing those would change the outcomes which shaped where we are today. I would not trade one moment of the last 21 years for a promise of smoother sailing. This is the path God guided us on, with all its pitfalls, and I rest secure that He has it all under control. I am grateful every day that, even when the steamroller of life is wreaking havoc on my wedded bliss, the man holding my hand is absolutely perfect for me. He is all that I am not, calm to my chaos, dark to my light, sun to my moon. Together, we are a team to be reckoned with, bound together by a love which grows deeper with each shared day. God knows what's going to be thrown at us, so he gave us each the perfect complement to deflect the bad and embrace the good.
My thanks to Rich Mullins for one of my favorite songs, which sums it up very well.
Doubly Good To You
If you see the sun rising gently on your fields
If the wind blows softly on your face
If the sunset lingers while cathedral bells peal
and the moon has risen to her place
You can thank the Father for the things that He has done
And thank Him for the things He's yet to do
And if you find a love that's tender, if you find someone who's true,
Thank the Lord, He's been doubly good to you
If you look in the mirror at the end of a hard day
and you know in your heart you have not lied
and If you gave love freely, if you earned an honest wage
And if you've got Jesus by your side
You can thank the Father for the things that He has done
And thank Him for the things He's yet to do
And if you find a love that's tender, if you find someone who's true,
Thank the lord, He's been doubly good to you.
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