Story

Laundry, sink full of dishes, puppy peed in the foyer, blahblahblah…story of my life.  Pickle jar spilled in the fridge, backed over my new sunglasses with the car because I was rushing, cell phone is so broken it requires duct tape, blahblahblah…story of my life.  The Father is traveling, my only adult contact occurs on Facebook, nobody is everfreakin’ home to help me when I run out of toilet paper, blahblahblah…story of my life.

This week I didn’t feel like I had much of a story.  The roaring declarations of last week’s post were a barely audible squeak.  Freaking out by Wednesday that I had to write an essay inspired by the word ‘story’ and certain by Saturday afternoon that I had nothing.  I actually had a bunch of stuff.  A bunch of junk.  Fits and starts.  Rants about Cinderella’s story and meditative thoughts about life’s chapters.  Looking everywhere for inspiration from the word ‘story’.  Nothing.  Too much.  Not enough. 

I spent all week looking for the story.  Thinking.  Wondering.  What’s her picture going to be about?  Where is she looking for her inspiration?  How is she seeing ‘story’ this week?

 

So that’s the story.  On the week when the story of my life was not a bestseller.  The story is about two busy women, sisters, mothers with their hands full, wives with often absent husbands…who are apparently crazy because they agreed to write a blog together, on top of everything else they have to do.  The story is about two crazy women who go about their week and occasionally think about the same word.  The story is about how you can search in very different places for the same thing.  Story.  Inspiration.

Love this quote.

“Shoot many arrows.  Where they land, call that the target.”  Tom Quinn

That’s kindof what I did this week.  Just send them all up.  And see where they land.  With a yeah I meant to do that attitude.  And on a Saturday afternoon, when you’ve got your headphones on and your children plugged into a movie so you can have a few moments to yourself to peck out a blog post on the computer you get interrupted by a child…blahblahblah…story of my life.

“Hey Mom!  Mom!  Maaaaah-mmmmmmm!”

“Yes Love?”  No, it doesn’t matter that I was in the middle of something else…I’ll stop what I was doing and listen to you now thankyouverymuch…sigh…

“Hey Mom!  What building on Earth?  On Theee.  Whole.  Planet?  Has the most stories?”

“Oh seriously…I have no idea.  It’s probably in Dubai or someplace like that with a lot of sand.  Is your movie over already?”

Eye rolling from the 8 year old…seriously who teaches them this stuff?

“Alright fine.  I don’t know.  What building on Theee Whole Planet has the most stories?”

“The library Mom.  Duh.”

Heh.  Ok, she got me.  I didn’t see that one coming.  Funny kid...story of my life.

Right on target.

Self

I will be myself. 

I will be wife, sister, daughter, friend.

I will mother.  And weep.  And cheer.  And worry.  And be proud.  And hold fast.  And let go.  

I will release of parts of myself to save me when I’m drowning or make a space for something new.

I will carry my own baggage until the day comes when I should unpack it and put it all away.

I will attempt madly to give the best parts of myself.

I will count the fruits of my labors and know that sometimes they come out of pain and leave scars.  Sometimes they come only after the plow has carved a wide space in the land.

I will move forward without looking back. 

I will never forget what is behind me.  Who is behind me.

I will be grateful for you.  Because without you, I wouldn’t be me.   

I will package myself.  Decorate and dress up this body to put you on with all I’ve put on.

I will strip it all away and be myself.  

I will not whisper my story.  I will sing it.  I will write it.  I will capture it in every instant.  

I will wear my story on my sleeve and scream it at the top of my voice. 

Be ready.

It’s a good story.

Vacation

I am on vacation this week, which means I get to do crazy things like read books in the middle of the afternoon.

I'm reading this one about an Indiana Jones type explorer named Percy Fawcett.  In the early 1900's he set out on multiple expeditions to find places that had never been mapped, see people that had yet to be discovered.   Always seeking, searching, aching for that next new experience to satisfy his need to find things.  With every modern tool known to man he ventured out to discover.

People don't do that too much anymore.  Go exploring with the intention of discovering some new place.  Some new civilization.  It's really not possible the way it used to be.  We been there.  Done that.  Seen them.

Now it seems people head out into the wilderness unknown places to find themselves.  Yoga in the woods.  Self explorative meditation on a mountain top.

It's funny really.  That we think we have to go away to find ourselves.  When we're in our native habitats we can't get out of our own way so we have to leave to figure out who we are.  Pack every modern tool known to man like thermal underwear engineered by the space program and freeze dried mango smoothies, strap them to our backs and go look for ourselves.

We have become the unknown land.  The undiscovered people.

It's funny really.

Priorities

We have this amazing piece of technology in our house called a DVR.  For those of you who don’t know, it’s like a huge hard drive attached to our television.  I always feel like a paid endorsement when I tell people how this little black box has changed our lives.  We set it to record only the things we want to watch and then we can play them back whenever we choose.  We program it to record shows that air during bath time so we can view them later, because in our house, bath time is more important than television.  We use it to Pause live TV when we get a phone call from Korea, because in our house, that person on the other end is more important than television.  We use it to record the last 40 minutes of a late game when we have an early morning the next day, because in our house a restful night's sleep is more important than knowing the final score.

In short, we got this miraculous recording device because it puts us back in charge of our priorities.  It lets us teach our children, and occasionally reminds the grown-ups, that although we do love TV in our house, it is never the priority. 

But that’s not the end of this story… it could be, but it’s not.

This DVR.  This soulless recording instrument.  This little black box that holds my nightly programming in stasis while life rages on all around it.  This device actually taught me something a few years ago… 

I know, I know…just hang on…this is good. 

A bit of explanation first.  When I set up our DVR, it asks me to make a big list of all the shows we want to record.  I just type in the names and the DVR automatically saves them.  It figures out when they are on and how long they last.  It records multiple shows, on multiple channels.  It adjusts when they get delayed because of late breaking news broadcasts or double overtime.  It just knows…it’s amazing.  I can add new shows to this list at any time.  I can just keep piling them on, one after another.  New channels, pay-per-view, cable, network, comedy, drama or reality.  Half hour, full hour, feature length.  More, more, more.  Whatever I think we might want.  Or need.

But then…every once in awhile…when I try and add just one more thing to an over loaded schedule, I get a little pop up message from the DVR.

There is a problem with the new item you have added to the list.   

The conflict has been resolved by priority.

And then the message disappears.  During the time the message was on the screen, the DVR recognized that I have asked it to do too many things during the same hour of television and it has simply chosen to record only the most important stuff.  The higher a show is on my big list, the higher the priority.  Simple.  The DVR may record that missed show eventually.  It looks for a time when it’s going to be on again later and tries to find it, but in that hour, the conflict gets resolved by priority.  The DVR doesn’t feel guilty about missing a show.  It simply resolves by priority.  The DVR doesn’t explode when it has too many shows things to do at 8pm on Thursday night.  It resolves by priority.  The DVR doesn’t do a half assed job recording three shows at once.  It has a list, and it resolves by priority.  The DVR doesn’t yell at its children when they are all asking it to do something at the same moment…so you see where we’re going with this… 

What did I learn from my DVR then?  I’ve got to have a list.  A mental list.  A big list.  Of all the things I’m trying to accomplish.  I’ve got to know that I can keep adding to this list, any time I like, because things come up.  New things.  Comedy.  Drama.  Reality.  Things I wasn’t expecting.  I’ve got be comfortable making adjustments for delays due to late breaking news or missing gym shoes or strep throat or impromptu celebrations.  I’ve got to be comfortable moving things around on this list.  It can't always all get done in the same day.  Just because I started my day with one thing as my priority, doesn’t mean it has to stay at the top of my list.  I’m in charge of the list.  But I’m also in charge of knowing how many things I can accomplish at the same time.  Accomplish well.  At the same time.

And when there’s a conflict, I may need to resolve by priority.  

Twinkle

Twinkle twinkle, little star.  How I wonder what you are.  Sing it quick…you know you want to… 

Up above my world so high, like a diamond…but not.  Much, much more than a diamond.

Stars twinkle because they burn.  They are lit by a massive fire that sustains itself.  It burns from the inside and keeps the outside from collapsing.  Fire and heat and fusion and production.  Glowing.  Luminous in the night sky.  Different from so many other things, like diamonds, that simply reflect the light.  

Amazing though.  These stars.  So special that we watch for them.  We wish upon them.  We name them when they appear to be grouped together in the darkness.  They give us something to follow when we are lost.  Stellar magnetics actually describes how we are pulled towards them, and there’s nothing we can do about it.  They draw us in.  

Do you know a star?  Does she twinkle?  And burn with an internal fire that keeps her from collapsing?  A fire that radiates.  A fire that heats people up and produces amazing things. 

Do you watch for her?  Wait for her?  Does she draw you in?  

Stars are like that.  They can’t help it.

...and the song goes on...did you know?

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,

He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,

Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark,

Lights the traveler in the dark.
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I wonder what you are.