today’s assignment. after a fashion.

i have mixed feelings about gps systems and mapquest. because the truth is, they get me lost just as often as they show me the way. one of my favorite experiences in finland (yeah, so ok. i do have a lot of favorite experiences from finland) was when the gps would get us totally lost and we’d have to stop and the drive and our finnish tour guide and our finnish american tour guide and a couple of other guys would all be up at the front of the bus with the map spread out before them trying to get us unlost. (don’t tell anyone, but once they even asked for directions.)

but i shouldn’t laugh too smugly, because i have little room to talk.

i lose my way frequently.

i get distracted.

despite my efforts, i sometimes lose sight of the important things because i am too busy or too tired from doing everything else.

and while i am the first one to suggest rolling down the window and asking a stranger for directions when i am lost in the literal sense, i am too proud to ask for directions when i am lost in a spiritual sense.

sometimes because i think i already know.

or because i am afraid to ask. to truly know. to submit myself to his will.

or because i believe i am not worthy or deserving of an answer.

and that’s why this song makes me weep every time i hear it:

Prone to wander Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart Lord, take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above.

its message is written on my heart.

i’m counting on it help me find my way home.

Forget about Thanksgiving. Hope on over to Segullah today where I’m finally womaning up enough to write about what it’s like to be horizontally challenged.

today (and by today i could mean anytime last week)’s assignment

i’ve been putting this one off all week because i’m a bit psycho about thanksgiving. and for some reason when someone says the word “tradition,” i think of thanksgiving. and i’m kind of nervous to go about dissing thanksgiving.

i’m not opposed to being grateful and expressing thanks. i just wish (sometimes) it wasn’t so much work! i mean think about it. the first thanksgiving was a potlock. i’m guessing even the men helped with the food back then–being the hunter/gatherers that they were.

somehow, i have a hard time thinking we’ve evolved when the women are on their feet in the kitchen and–in many homes, just not mine–the men have their feet up on the coffee table while they’re watching football all day. at my house the men and the kids drive up in the mountains to count the deer and elk. but while they’re out playing, i can easily spend entire days on end cooking the whole meal by myself.

but the truth is, i have only myself to blame. and that is partly the fault of tradition as well (that sounded a bit oxymoronic–if it’s not a word, it should be–didn’t it?)

because whether or not we eat dinner at my in-laws–who live out in the uinta basin, or with whoever in my family is going to be in utah county (in either case it will be potluck), i still make myself cook the entire meal over again the next sunday i am home. and usually i invite company.

all for one reason and one reason only:

the leftovers.

i’m picky about my stuffing and my sweet potatoes and my pies. and then i have to have lots of turkey leftover for a week’s work of turkey sandwiches. a turkey carcass for a big batch of savory broth. and one last hurrah of turkey a-la-king.

you see–i put myself through this for strictly selfish reasons and i cook and do dishes until i am bone tired. all for the love of a hand-carved turkey sandwich.

(told you it was psycho)

today’s assignment

i’m more inclined to find heroes in everyday people than in characters in a book. so when asked to write about a particular war hero from literature, i kind of drew a blank. in so many war stories, just possessing the will to survive becomes a heroic act in and of itself. even in present day, i can think of a number of people i know who are my heroes simply for their will to survive the mortar rounds mortal life has thrown in their respective paths.

however, when i think of literature about war, two pieces of fiction and one memoir stand out in my mind:

man’s search for meaning, by victor frankl

i was still pretty much a kid when i read it, but this one thought struck me and has stayed with me ever since:

“We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms–to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

words to live by.

the two works of fiction that come to mind impacted my life for another reason.

all quiet on the western front, by erich maria remarque

cold mountain, by charles frazier

i didn’t fully understand the power of fiction and what it is i love most about reading fiction until i contemplated on how these two books taught me to walk a mile in the shoes of someone else–someone different from me. someone i likely would have considered my enemy or a character whom i may have judged harshly or despised because their choices were different from what i believe. by seeing the world through the eyes of these characters and getting a glimpse into their hearts, i learned how to find common ground. i felt sympathy, compassion and empathy.

the world, then–during the respective time periods represented by these books–and now, definitely needs more common ground. more sympathy, compassion and empathy.

and that is the beauty of fiction–it has the power to inspire such within those who will read and step out of themselves long enough to consider the world from another point of view.

saw this on facebook this morning from my friend and neighbor guy francis:

newest tattle,

“Dad, Mattie just squeezed my tongue with pliers!”

This is my life.

my response:

got up and made applesauce oatmeal muffins for breakfast (mostly to heat up the house after someone left the windows open all night–it’s a cool 63 inside this morning and i refuse to turn on the heat already).

“when are you going to make biscuits again?” was my thanks.

this is my life.

what’s your life like today?

today’s assignment

photo courteously stolen from formerly phread you’ll see why in a minute

surprises.

i have mixed feelings about surprises.

i never wanted to know what gender the baby was when i was pregnant. i wanted to have something to look forward to after what was inevitably an extra long pregnancy and a long labor–there is something to be said for that “it’s a boy” or “it’s a girl” moment at the end of all that pushing.

but i don’t exactly want people showing up at the house to stay for the weekend after a crazy week during which the house has been turned upside down and/or neglected. and that would be like the week that was the whole last summer.

i really hate those surprises you get in the mail that inform you that you are late for a payment due on an overdraft you didn’t know you had or that you owe even more taxes.

or that punched-in-the gut i-can’t-breathe feeling you get when you find out someone you love has been in a terrible accident or has cancer. too much of those kind of surprises lately. please stop already.

that said, there have been a couple of good surprises i can recall. one of them happened to me. one of them happened for a friend:

my birthday is three days before christmas. as you might imagine, this is not the best time to get friends together for a birthday party. so i grew up never having them. (birthday parties, not friends.)

then one busy holiday season foggy almost-christmas eve a few years ago my friend melody decided she wanted to get some of my friends together for lunch. i told her not to worry about it because people were too busy (and i really was fine with that–it’s what i knew). she made plans anyway and promised me people would come. i told her it wouldn’t be the same if she had to drag hungry people in off the streets. (ok, it was funny at the time and melody laughed.)

you can imagine my surprise, then, when i walked in to macaroni grill on a cold day in december and saw a long table full of some two dozen (that’s like 24) women from my neighborhood. i almost cried. i hope they knew how much it meant to me. it’s one thing to gather a few friends together on some random thursday in the middle of novemberwhere. but when double digits worth of people i know and love would give up a part of their one-of-the-last-shopping-days-before-christmas (es) to celebrate the day i was born, well, that means something.

my heart was warmed again when, last year, at least a dozen of my friends braved one of the most beautiful and treacherous snow storms blizzards of the season to do the same.

i am blessed with good friends in my life.

the other party that comes to mind every time I hear the word birthday paired with the word surprise is ~j’s 30th birthday surprise. you can read about it here. (i started at the end, but you really should start at the beginning and read the whole thing. it was awesome!)

so my friend ~j wrote this really great best of this weekend post. in it she asked her readers to share their best. i thought to myself, “i may have to think hard about that.” then i decided at the end of a week in which it seemed i was reminded at every turn of the worst of about myself, i really did need to spend some time thinking about the best of something.

and then i didn’t want to take up ~j’s whole entire comment field, so here goes:

so this really was one of the best posts evah.

i was a good mom in that i spent almost my entire weekend supporting my kids in their various pursuits. and i did so not out of some sense of obligation, but because, aside from the bahamas, there was truly nowhere else i would rather have been.

i learned that my daughter can fly.

she’s the number 12 who caught some air on that play

i got the best seats in the house at the big game.

ok, to tell the truth i was not on the 50-yard line, except i pretended to belong there during halftime so i could see the show

but really, to tell the truth, our randomly selected seats put us on the top row right below the band. it was loud. and that was awesome!

last night after a super long weekend on top of a long week all of a sudden i heard the sky fall open and the rain came tumbling down. rain makes me happy.

and if that weren’t enough, this morning i awoke to the sound of thunder and even more rain falling down. it was still dark out–but that early-morning-almost-light kind of dark. (which is my favorite.) all my windows were open and everyone else was still asleep, so i just lay there in my bed and listened. it was lovely. a bit of heaven on earth.

my lime cilantro rice turned out pretty good tonight. i remembered to put in the green chiles this time. it was yum.

and i just realized that luke’s father is indeed darth vader.

only without the mask. that swooshy black cape. the husky voice. and those neck-breaking black-gloved hands. but he has the hat thing down pretty well (hat day at the local elementary)

hey–sometimes ya gotta look hard to find something to smile about.

today’s assignment

i have this recurring nightmare from time to time. it’s either december or april and i’m back in college again. and for some reason i’ve just discovered that i was enrolled in an intensive english lit class for which i have read no literature, but for which there is now due numerous 20-page papers on the 800-page novels i was to have read weekly over the past semester.

i hate that feeling.

so today when google reader delivered homework for a friday, i had a little panic attack. what? we don’t have homework on fridays (as i looked back later i realized this is not true and i have even been doing the homework). on mondays we just write. on tuesdays we travel. wednesdays are about books and thursdays are about family.

there is no day for style.

so i wondered if it was some freudian thing where i spaced it on purpose because of some deep sub-conscious hang-up over clothes.

because style is not my thing.

i don’t really care about style.

and i live in a world in which i often don’t fit in because i don’t so much care about it. that’s not to say i don’t appreciate those who have it. i read the sartorialist faithfully (mostly i just look at the pictures). i laugh hysterically over la yen‘s links to the fug girls (but more so over their witty way with words than anything else). and shhh. don’t tell anyone. but one of my guilty pleasures is to occasionally play hit or miss or fashion face-off over at people.com.

i can usually tell when someone else is stylin.’

i’ve just never had much need for it myself.

and i’m (mostly) o.k. with that.

i guess the people closest to me are too.

when i went back to work after my youngest went to school–just over four years ago–some people close to me had a bit of an identity crisis. over my identity. my motives for dressing for success (at least to the point i do) were misunderstood. i guess it was too much of a change-up to see me shed my jeans and sweats and tees for my favorite black pin-stripe pants and a crisp white collared shirt. (which, i realize, should never be paired with my favorite pair of birkenstocks, but which i most shamelessly pair with them anyway.)

and that’s ok. i struggled for awhile myself, trying to find the right balance between work and home. between what society told me i needed to do to have it all and contribute to the world vs. what i needed to do for myself to remember that home and family are my center and the most important contribution i can make to the world is to be there for my family in the ways they need me to be and to raise up kids who will grow up and be a force for good in the world.

one day last year i donned a recently handed-down grey-pinstriped skirt and jacket and headed to church. my son looked at me and said, “you look like (someone else).”

I went home after the first meeting and changed my clothes.

because i don’t want to be someone else.

i just want to be me.

that’s all.

today’s assignment

my favorite childhood book:

i read it to myself. perhaps a hundred times.

perhaps another time i’ll write a post about why books about characters who are desperately seeking someone to love them and a place to belong appeal so much to children and young adults. or why they might have appealed to me.

because as a young girl, my favorite book was

the one i owned had this exact same cover. i lost it at some point in my growing up. the copy i own now is different, but what i wouldn’t give to own one like the one i read at least a dozen times as a child

perhaps another time i will write a post about how as an adult i lent it to a friend and she gave it back telling me i should reconsider it because it really wasn’t that good and thus i learned an important lesson about judging the past with through the eyes of the present.

current favorites i discovered and read to my own kids and would love to give to a grandchild include

and

simply because i embrace color and imagination. and i love word play.

seuss is a master of word play.

And I would read him in a boat!
And I would read him with a goat…
And I will read him in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.

today’s assignment:

i never leave home without my smile. it might not be a perfect smile–it’s a little crooked. i have a slight gap between my front teeth and i wear the aging of my teeth just as boldly as i wear the aging of my body. but it is sincere. and i am just as happy to share it with a good friend as with a stranger standing next to me in line at the local grocery store or a passerby on the street.

i am capable of using it in even the most trying of circumstances. i can smile through tears. if you give me some good material, i will even smile when i’m angry.

when i was a kid there was a phrase we used to use “be a happy camper.” growing up in the pacific northwest, where, if you camped at all, you learned to camp in the rain and resultant mud. and if you were going to put yourself through all that, you might as well be happy about it.

i never believed that label was just about camping. i use my smile to help me camp happily throughout the storms and rain of life. it’s kind of like having sunshine in your pocket. and having it handy at just a moment’s notice will get you through the most abrupt or unexpected changes in your itinerary.

it’s not really something i take credit for, however. it’s a gift from god for which i am most thankful.

have smile.

will share.