The Happy Hobbit

I've written previously about times when I saw the Lord of the Rings movies with my children, including seeing the second one at a teeny tiny theater in Oakley, Kansas, on our way to go skiing in Colorado. My boys especially loved those movies, and I loved watching my boys watch those movies. So when the trailers started appearing for The Hobbit film, Brad and I decided that we would go see it together (since his brother is now a Canadian, he had to settle for seeing it with his old mom). And that's exactly what we did on Christmas Eve ... we met for lunch and then went to the movie, just the two of us. We ate and we talked and we watched the movie, but you know what else we did? We made a memory ... a memory we will forever remember. You see, Brad and I are very similar in that regard ... we both appreciate the importance of memories and the stories that surround those memories. We are both storytellers at heart ... Brad tells stories through film, and I tell them through writing. We made a memory on Christmas Eve, Brad and I, a memory that we will forever remember.

I first read The Hobbit when I was in junior high, and I remember how taken I was with the story contained within the covers of the book. Pictures of the characters formed in my mind, and it didn't take much reading at all for my imagination to shift into overdrive. And as the film began to play on Monday, I was more than a bit delighted that those pictures I had created in my mind all those years ago quite closely resembled the characters who appeared on the big screen. Watching a flick in the theater with Brad is different now than it used to be because now he creates films himself. He watches a movie with a more critical eye, an eye that has been taught to notice the technical aspects of a film ... he sees things in movies that I don't see because he sees them through different, well-trained eyes. I'm sure my son didn't notice all the times I glanced at him during the movie on Monday ... all the times I looked at him and thought my heart would surely burst from the love I have for him.

There are a ton of lessons in all of the Lord of the Rings stories, but The Hobbit has always held some of the biggest for me. As I watched the story unfold on the huge screen in the theater, I was struck over and over again by lesson after lesson ... big, huge life lessons. Without a doubt, my favorite character is Gandalph, the wise old wizard who initiates the adventure upon which he enlists the participation of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. And though there were many Gandalph lessons for me, one in particular struck a chord deep within my heart on Monday ... a lesson about ... well ... I think I'll just end with the quote from Gandalph. It's a powerful thought, friends, a thought worthy of a great deal of thinking ... a thought well worth some serious, thoughtful thinking.

“Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

What a Difference a Day (or a Year) Makes

If I had a dollar for every time one of my friends at work has said the following words to me over the last few months, "What a difference a day makes," I would have quite a few bucks in my pocket. And she's right, the events that take place in a day can forever change a person's life, sometimes in wonderfully good and joyful ways and sometimes in devastatingly bad and sorrowful ways. Whichever turn certain monumental days take, the truth in my friend's words holds very true ... "What a difference a day makes." I spent the day yesterday with my son Bradley ... and a wonderful day it was. We had lunch together and went to see a movie ... and what a wonderful time it was. There's a post coming tomorrow about my time with Brad, and it's one you'll want to read for sure. For now, I'll say this ... God has blessed me with three of the most wonderful, amazing, loving, accepting, caring children any mother could ever hope to have. But for today's post, I want to tell you about last night ... for today's post, I want to tell you about what a difference ... what a huge difference a day (or a year) can make.

Last Christmas Eve, I went to the candlelight service at church with a dear family ... a family who has become like my own family to me over the last few years ... a family who continues to love me ... a family who warms my heart and makes me smile every time I'm with them. Last Christmas Eve, I struggled to hold back my tears as I sat in silence with them in church with my head down staring at the floor beneath my feet. I had to force myself to smile and talk and try to look in the eyes of the sweet children and their parents as we ate together at a Chinese restaurant after the church service. Last Christmas Eve, my heart was so very heavy, and even getting out of bed each day required me to summon every ounce of strength within me. Last Christmas Eve, as I joined my friends, I couldn't help but think that I might not be around for the next year's holiday festivities. Last Christmas Eve, I wanted to die more than I wanted to live. 

Last night, I went to the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church with the same dear family ... the family who has become like my own family to me over the last few years ... the family who continues to love me ... the family who warms my heart and makes me smile every time I'm with them. Last night, I chattered with the four kiddos of the family when they arrived at my house to pick me up and told them of my adventure at the emergency animal hospital with Ollie and of opening gifts with my children on Sunday. Last night, I smiled as we waited for the service to start, and I listened as the little kids of the family spilled over with excitement about what this morning might bring. I sang along with the Christmas hymns during the service, with the littlest boy in the family perched on my knees. Last night, I joined the family as they walked to the front of the church to take communion, and I quietly thanked God for the gift of His Son. Last night, I hugged and chatted with people I haven't talked with in ... well ... in a very, very long time. Last night, I talked and laughed heartily as I ate delicious Chinese food and listened to the family as they, too, laughed and talked and ate. And when the teenage daughter of the family dropped me off at my house after dinner, my heart was light rather than heavy, and I wanted to live way, way more than I wanted to die.

So ... here's my Merry Christmas wish for all of you ... remember what a difference a day (or a year) can make. Remember what a difference this day can make for your life for all eternity ... the day we celebrate the birth of the Savior of the world. 

"What a difference a day makes." What a difference indeed, friends ... what a difference indeed. 

Merry Techno Christmas

Saturday night about 9:30, I was downstairs doing laundry. When I came back upstairs, Oliver the wiener had managed to pull a coat off the table and get a pack of sugar-free gum out of the pocket. For those of you who don't know, most sugar-free gum contains xylitol, a chemical that is poisonous to dogs. The minute I saw the shredded package on the floor, I freaked out and immediately called the emergency animal hospital and spoke with one of the doctors who told me to get my mischievous wiener dog there as quickly as I could. I bawled all the way there as flashbacks of driving there with J.R. raced through my brain and I kept saying to Ollie, "You're gonna be OK, buddy ... you have to be OK." A couple of hundred dollars and several hours later, I carefully placed Ollie on a blanket in the front seat of my car and drove home ... he was not at all happy after having his little tummy emptied in a not so pleasant manner, while I was ecstatic that the doctor found no gum or wrappers and that all of his blood work was normal. This morning, he is snuggled in between Julie and me on the couch as I type, snoring loudly as he sleeps. Both of my hounds are happy today because I gave them some turkey for breakfast ... hey, it's Christmas, and all dogs deserve a little turkey at Christmas, even wieners who shred gum packages and cost you $200 and scare you to death.

Yesterday, my daughter Meghann, son-in-law Barrett, son Brad and his girlfriend Shelby arrived at my house around 2 p.m. for a late lunch (the turkey was really for my kiddos, and the dogs got a taste of the leftovers) and to open Christmas gifts before Meghann and Barrett headed to his folks for the week and Shelby headed to her family's for a couple of days. I love that we've reached a point in life where I can say to my adult kiddos, "You guys decide with each other when you want to do Christmas and just let me know." And what I love even more is that they actually do just that ... they talk and decide the day and the time. All I have to do is clean my house and cook some food, and it is amazingly awesome. My kids probably don't realize how much I appreciate them doing all the planning and coordinating of their schedules ... it really does eliminate a lot of stress for me. I'll tell you a secret, though ... what I love most about gatherings like this is that my kids plan them together. There have been times over the years when they ... ummm ... didn't get along well enough to pull together an event like we shared today. What I love most is that they do it together ... watching your adult children talk and listen and plan a time when we can all be together is pretty much one of the coolest things ever. Yep, it surely, surely is.

We Skyped with Matt, Becca and C.J., and though my heart longed for them to be sitting in my small family room, I was grateful for the technology that allowed us to see one another from country to country. Of course, C.J. got to pull everything out of the big box I had mailed to Canada, and of course, she got to do that first ... of course she did, she is the Queen after all. We all enjoyed listening to her baby babble and seeing her smile as she played with her new toys, and I silently thanked God once again for my children (all six of them) and my precious little Coraline. If you're a parent, I know you'll understand these words ... there are times when you look at your adult children and marvel at the people they have become ... there are times when you feel that your heart will surely burst with the love you have for them ... there are times when you know that you certainly don't deserve the love they give you in return. Yesterday, friends ... yesterday was one of those times for me as I tried to soak in every moment. And for those of you whom I know are wondering ... of course I cried, but only once. Matt and Becca gave me a calendar filled with photos (many of which I had never seen before) of C.J. ... pictures of her with Matt and Becca, pictures of her with me, even a picture of Andy the wiener dog sleeping next to C.J. when she was a newborn. I used to make calendars like that for my mom with pictures of Matt, Brad and Meghann, and Mom always said those were the best gifts I ever gave her. For the first time, I get it ... I totally get why Mom said that.

Now I'm sure you are wondering what in the world my opening paragraph about Oliver the wiener dog's chewing of the sugar-free gum package could possibly have to do with the time I spent with the kiddos yesterday. So here it is ... here's the giant lesson God wanted me to get, the lesson He wanted me to get and bury way down deep in my soul. Life is so very, very, very short, and life as I know it can change in the blink of an eye. Life is short, and I absolutely must savor and treasure every moment I have with those whom I love so dearly ... I must make the most of those moments, friends. I must be careful to tell my children how much I love them every single time I speak with them ... I must be careful to hug them tightly every time I am with them ... I must snuggle my two furry buddies every time they come wagging. 

Life is short, friends ... treasure the moments ... make memories that will last forever ... love each other with true abandon ... I'd say that's a pretty big lesson indeed. 

The End of the World

Obviously since I'm writing this post and you are reading it, the Mayan calendar didn't mean what a ton of people thought it meant ... that the world would end today, the 21st day of December 2012. I read yesterday that a lot of people had done some pretty crazy things financially because they truly believed the Mayan calendar predicted that life as we know it would end today. Planetary alignments, solar flares, melting of the earth's core ... and I'm sure the list of the things people believed would happen today goes on and on. And I've got a confession to make ... there was a time in my life when i would have completely bought into all of the hoopla ... a time when I would have believed the wacky interpretations of the old Mayan calendar to be dead on right. Heck, I probably would have even considered moving into an abandoned nuclear silo ... yeah, yeah, I know ... ranks right up there with my irrational behavior when I discovered the cracks in my basement floor. Though I didn't believe the world would really end today, I must admit that I decided this morning that I would postpone cleaning my house until tomorrow. Seriously, why spend possibly my last day on earth scrubbing toilets when I could curl up on the couch with my hounds and watch mindless television? Seems like a no-brainer to me.

I was thinking earlier today that I don't remember ever pondering when I was young the possibility that the world would come to an end, and I'd be willing to bet that's true for a lot of people in my generation. Oh, I heard my fair share of sermons in church about "the end of time," but there's something about youth that disregards those types of warnings. When I was young, I thought I would live forever, which probably explains a lot of my risky and careless behavior during my teenage and college years. It's funny how much my thinking and my actions changed when I became a mom ... I thought a lot more about the future of the world I lived in, and more specifically, the world my children would encounter as they grew up. Suddenly, not only did I remember those old "end of time" sermons from when I was a kid, I was scared to death of what the preachers had said would happen one day ... fear of the unknown is a powerful thing, friends, a powerful thing indeed.

The truth is that although the interpretation of the ancient Mayan calendar stating that the world would end today was incorrect, there will come a day for each one of us when our individual worlds ... the worlds that are our lives ... will most definitely come to an end. Though when I was young I thought I would live forever, every passing year now reminds me that I'm much closer to the end of my life than the beginning. Perhaps because I live alone, I often wonder when I go to bed at night if I will wake the next morning ... I often wonder if the world that is me will end while I sleep. But here's the thing ... whether it's the end of the whole world or the end of my own life, only God knows the day or the hour those events will occur ... not the Mayans, not the preachers, not the scientists, not the doctors ... only God knows the day or the hour. And the real truth, the really deep truth, is that each one of us should live every single day as if it could be our last, because ... well ... because it could.

"But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." Matthew 24:36

The Christmas Wiener

Sometimes a picture is worth way more than a thousand words ... sometimes a picture of The Christmas Wiener makes the whole world smile.

 

13 Days

I knew when I woke up this morning that it should be a suspenders day ... red and green plaid suspenders with a red shirt, jeans and red Converse shoes. I knew it should be a plaid suspenders day for two reasons ... it was our Secret Santa reveal lunch today (another first for me in the 10 years I've worked for the company, and it was a ton of fun), and it was my last day at work until January 2nd. Our office closes from Christmas through New Year's, and I have three remaining vacation days for the year that I was encouraged to use rather than lose. That means beginning tomorrow morning, I will be off from work for 13 days. I knew it should be a plaid suspenders day because I wanted to dress Christmasy for the lunch today, and I needed something to put a smile on my face to help me cover the sadness that was already beginning to sweep through my heart.

See here's the thing ... it used to be that I looked forward to the week off at Christmas. When my kids still lived with me, I loved having extra time to spend with them. Sometimes we traveled, either to Tennessee or Colorado, but some years we stayed home. Even after the three of them moved out, I continued to enjoy my time away from the office ... the kids and I would get together and celebrate Christmas and my birthday; I spent time with friends going out for lunch or dinner or to see movies; I was involved in church activities and ministries. I used to enjoy my time off from work ... not so much anymore. Instead of waking up being excited about the upcoming holidays, I woke up wondering what in the world I'm going to do for the next 13 days.

It's weird, I know, but I'm really kind of lost when I don't have to go to work each day. And it's about way more than just the physical act of having to get up and get ready and go to the office ... it's about the people there ... people who make me smile even when I don't feel like smiling ... people who are genuinely happy to see me each day ... people who love me not in spite of who I am but because of who I am. As I got ready to leave the office this evening, there were lots of hugs and lots of heartfelt I love yous and spirited Merry Christmases between me and my work friends. I managed to keep the tears at bay until I got into my car, but the minute I put my key in the ignition, the liquid filled my eyes, spilled over and ran down my cheeks.

As I drove home feeling quite overwhelmed and very alone, the all too familiar urge to withdraw and isolate myself from everything and everyone began to wash over me. But then another thought began to work its way into my mind ... I started thinking that maybe I should ask you to send me your ideas for things for me to do to keep myself busy for the next 13 days.

So here's me asking for your help by asking for your ideas ... those of you who know me know that I sure don't ask for help easily (that's an understatement, huh?). The stupid head doctor would be so proud ... that she would indeed.   

Jarred Loose

Whenever I see a Mason jar, it always makes me think of my mom. Mom never was much of a cook, but she certainly had a knack for putting food into Mason jars ... she called it "canning," which was always weird to me, you'd think it would be called "jarring," right? I remember rows and rows of jarred tomatoes, okra, pickles and beets perched on the shelves in the laundry room, and I remember how fascinated I was with the colorful contents of the jars. It took Mom a lot of time to put all that food into those jars ... she would spend hours and hours preparing the food and sterilizing the lids and jars, and then she would carefully place the various items into the jars. One thing I learned early on as I watched Mom as she worked was that canning (or jarring) was a process, a process that required dedication and determination ... those old Mason jars didn't fill themselves.

Yesterday, I read something that has made me think a lot about Mason jars, and more specifically about the contents of those jars. The story talked about a woman who decided to conduct an experiment ... an experiment that involved two jars. She decided to put two Mason jars on her desk at her job, and for an entire year she would place items in one of the jars while she removed items from the other. She would write the "I'm worthless" or "I hate my life" or "I'm a horrible person" thoughts that often entered her mind on slips of paper and place them in one of the jars. Into the other jar she would place 365 slips of paper upon which she had previously written a good deed to do ... an act of kindness toward another person. She made a commitment to reach into the "deed" jar each morning as soon as she arrived at her job and perform the act of kindness that was written on the paper.

When she began the experiment, the woman found that she struggled to do the good deeds, and she admitted that in the beginning, she often just tossed the slip of paper into the wastebasket under her desk. The woman also found that she needed a much bigger jar to hold all the pieces of paper that contained her self-loathing thoughts. After a few weeks, however, she reached into the good deeds jar and actually performed the act of kindness ... she invited a co-worker to lunch and paid for her friend's meal. And that day, she only put 15 notes into the other jar. It wasn't long until the woman couldn't wait to get to work, reach into the deeds jar and carry out the act of kindness. And it also wasn't long until something else happened ... she noticed that the more good deeds she performed, the fewer notes she wrote and placed into the "hate" jar. At the end of the year, the woman made another commitment ... a promise to enlist others to join her on her good deeds quest.

As I read the story, I realized there was a huge lesson in it for me. I've spent a lot of time over my 52 plus years of life filling my self-loathing jar ... actually, I've probably filled a million or more of those jars. When I should have been dipping into the good deeds jar, I was busy shoveling notes into the other one. Here's the thing ... it's so much easier to crawl into my big bad Terrie cave than it is to peer outside the rock walls and look for ways to do some good in the world. I think it was no accident I read the article yesterday ... I don't think much of anything in life happens by accident or coincidence. And here's what else I think ... it's almost the end of another year, and I think I need to put a couple of jars on my desk ... yep, I think I do, indeed.

"I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live." Ecclesiastes 3:12