A Numbered New Year

I love calendars. I love planners. I love calendars and planners the way other women love shoes. I don't love shoes at all. Each December for the last 20 years, I have purchased a planner and systematically transferred all birthdays and anniversaries from the old planner to the new. I mark off school holidays and breaks. I note plans by month and then by day and then by hour.

I love my calendar and when a year ends I can't bear to toss my companion so I keep it. Because you never know when you'll need to know the date of a dental appointment from 1998. Not really. I hang on to these records of my life because it reminds me of how the days go by so quickly and then the back cover is shut on another year.

My 2010 calendar already has plans on its pages. Appointments and meetings. Errands. Things to do. Calls to make. Goals to reach. All good stuff, all the fillings of a day, a week, a month, a year. I delight in plans. But I've learned something about plans. They change. And as much as I would like to think that what I have planned is exactly what will happen, that's foolish. Could I make some predictions about my 2010 and get a few right? Yes. But I'd stick to predicting the highlights, the certainties, the happy times, the love and joy I'm counting on. I'd fail to mention the disappointments, the changes, the unexpected doctor's visits, the phone calls I won't want to make, the occasions on which my heart will hurt.

So I won't be making any grand predictions or resolutions. I am jotting down some things in my planner acutely aware that there will be more to this year than I can imagine. 365 days of false security stretch before me, teasing me into thinking that they will always be here, nice and neat on my calendar. At least I know the games they play.

No resolutions but I do set a goal for each year. Just one. One big one. Last year's goal was to write a book. I started in January and finished in May. Well, kinda. I'm still working on getting every sentence just right. I had no idea that last year's goal would roll into this year. I had it planned differently. So I will finish my 2009 goal in early 2010. My 2010 goal will have to wait.

I know my days are numbered, I just don't know what the number is but I'm done assuming I've got decades to spare. Not to be morbid but I find mortality to be extremely motivating. What will I spend my limited days doing that will count in the end?


This blog which I completely enjoy will be hibernating for a while. The stories will have to wait and more will accumulate and I will write them one day. I am spending my days in other ways.

What are you doing with your numbered new year?

Mary Christmas

You know who I'm thinking about this Christmas day? Mary. Mother of Jesus Mary. I'm thinking about her teen-aged, engaged-to-Joseph self getting a visit from the angel Gabriel. She's scared but the angel tells her not to fear. And then the angel tells Mary that she will give birth to a baby named Jesus.

I like how Mary handles the news. She questions it. How can this be, she wants to know. God made it happen she's told. (My paraphrases on this passage.) I can relate to questioning. I can relate to Mary's need to know the who, what, when, where and why of life.

So the virgin Mary is told she will be the mother of a child who is the Savior of the world. She questions it and gets her answer and then she says this, "Yes I see it all now: I am the Lord's maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say." Luke 1:38 The Message

This response is what sticks with me about Mary. This is the part I really want to relate to, beyond relating to her questioning. I want to relate to Mary's servant spirit, her whatever-You-say attitude. I wish I knew how such a young girl had older woman wisdom.

I'm thinking about Mary today. I'm thinking about how that baby was her child, her boy, her 33 year-old son before He was all of ours. How she cared for Him and loved Him not only as a believer but as His mother. I can't imagine an angel visiting me informing me of such a task. I can't imagine what she saw, what she felt. I can't relate to an ordinary girl being chosen for an extraordinary role and embracing that role knowing her heart would swell and break more than any other human heart. But I will continue to ponder Mary because she inspires me, she makes me think.

Mary was surprised, afraid even, and confused. She questioned. She tried in her human mind to understand God's plans. And then she trusted anyway. She didn't have all the answers but Mary said to God that whatever You've got planned is what I want.

Mary Christmas.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia Update

There you have it. Our fully grown Chia Christmas tree. Not exactly what I was expecting. But the star is really pretty, don't you think?

I'm not sure what happened. I read and re-read the instructions. I did all that I was required to do and yet the outcome was not as anticipated. There are bare spots up top and a furry trunk below. The growth is uneven and unruly.

I'm not disappointed though. It was a new experience. And if I really wanted to try this again, there are more seeds in the packet. Simply pull off the old growth and start the process again, Chia claims.

I think I'll pass. The future of our Chia tree is unknown but if it starts smelling stronger than it does now, its days are numbered. That's right, the Chia smells and I don't mean like a breath of Mother Nature.

So if you're still wondering if the Chia Christmas tree would be a great gift for someone you love, consider what I've written and take a second look at the photo above.

I said in my earlier post that the Chia is many things but it is not inspiring. Maybe that's not exactly true. Expecting one thing and getting another but being OK with the outcome is a good lesson to learn any way you can learn it.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia!

Feast your eyes on nature in the making. That, dear readers, is a Chia Christmas tree in its infant stages.

Zach received this Chia tree as a birthday gift. At first glance I'd thought wow, a Chia Pet, wait it's a Christmas tree, huh? A closer look revealed that the Chia kit included a light up star for the top of the tree and the star continually changes color. Again wow, but this time it was because a little classmate had given Zach the perfect gift. Not only does he love Christmas trees, but he love loves stars and he love love loves stars that change color. I kid you not.

Zach was not interested in the "planting" of the Chia Christmas tree so Jake and I tackled it without him. Possibly easier that way. Because I am a rule-follower, I read through twice the enclosed instructions on growing the Chia. The Chia and the seeds, separately but simultaneously, were soaked in water for one hour. Then the gooey seed paste was carefully applied by hand to the tree. Jake did his best and then I had to come after him and re-smooth the seed paste. Because I am that way. And the directions clearly stated to "take care not to clump seeds."

We placed the Chia tree in the provided drip tray and filled the tree with water. Done. But then I noticed that some seeds had slipped onto the trunk area. Hmmm. What to do? I checked the directions again. No mention of wiping seeds from the trunk. Should I attempt to clean off these runaway seeds? The runaway seeds that were beginning to CLUMP. I decided to leave well enough alone. The drip tray had started living up to its name and I feared making a mess of the trunk and disturbing the other seeds.

Ok, so on to the star topper for the Chia tree! Another hmmm. If I place the star wand in the tree opening, then it will be in water. Drat. The tree is not the same without the cool star but I can't risk the wand in the water. Maybe we'll do the star when the tree is grown. That is, if we don't lose the star wand before the tree is grown.

I'm thinking that the Chia tree was the perfect gift for Zach but not for a slightly obsessive-compulsive, rule-following, recovering perfectionist like me. I'm not sure I can handle the pressure of the tree.

So now we watch and wait. Daily I am observing the Chia, looking for signs of life. Already, those signs are there. Tiny sprouts shooting from tiny seeds. Clinging to the terra cotta tree, trying to grow green and lush in 2-3 weeks' time.

I hope you haven't read this far waiting for insight or at least a clever analogy. The Chia is many things but it is not inspirational. I'm just wondering how much interest our Chia tree will generate and if you all will be checking back for growth updates. And if you will be anxiously awaiting a posted photo of the full-grown Chia tree topped with the color-changing star.



So, will you be following the Chia tree's progress? Will you be adding a Chia tree to your wish list?

Targets and Bull's Eyes

Saturday night the boys were occupied for a two-hour Christmas party sponsored by the YMCA so Andy and I had ourselves a date! Dinner and a movie? Not enough time. Just dinner? Nah. Get some Christmas shopping done at Target? Yes.

Over a week ago I sat down to make my gift list. I had notes to organize, ideas to jot down, shopping trips to plan. Because I am over-organized, I had 3 years of gift list history to look over. This would allow me to make my 2009 list based on who we'd bought for in past years and what we'd given.

But a few other things came up and I didn't get that fancy list made. The list and many other tasks had fallen by the wayside. Sometimes there are not enough hours in the day for all of my projects and lists.

On the way to Target, I glance over last year's list and throw together this year's. Done in 3 minutes. Andy and I enter the store and he drives the cart so I can manage the list. Thirty seconds into our limited-time shopping trip, I'm thrown off course by the dollar section (See Spot Save) and and wave at Andy to stop. But he doesn't stop. Shakes me off. We don't need dollar stuff.

Based on past history, I cannot get past the dollar section without perusing the offerings, marveling at what a dollar buys, placing items in my cart and then re-shelving them all because I really needed nothing. An excellent use of time.

He heads to the boy's clothing section to select pants and shirts for our angels, the boys we're giving gifts to through the Angel Tree program at church. I call out the sizes and Andy chooses pants and then hoodies. I suggest we get button-down shirts as well and he tosses two into the cart. Next.

Left alone, I would have systematically weaved my cart throughout this entire department checking out everything from outerwear to underwear. Do my boys need new PJ's? I could pick those up here and save a trip to the mall which will save time and I am all about saving time. Oh wait, I'm supposed to be shopping for angel clothes.

The angels requested outdoor toys and cars. Andy wheels around to the Nascar section and carefully yet quickly chooses a few race cars. He questions the outdoor toy request, wanting to know what that means. I don't know but I think maybe balls or rockets or Nerf guns. Andy disappears for 5 minutes and then adds a football and a basketball to the cart for the angel and a set of Nerf guns for our nephews. The board game I had selected for said nephews is placed back onto the shelf.

I scan the list. I call out more items. Action Andy delivers. We are tackling the toy department in record time. He sees that our work here is almost done and leaves me to search for a snack. Within seconds I slip into my lone shopper mode. Without Andy holding me accountable I find myself in the shoe department looking for rain boots then over to housewares to scope out the newest dish towels. Then I mosey through the DVD section and finally arrive at the wrapping paper area via a detour through the trim-a-tree area.

I am stumped selecting appropriate wrapping paper. I wanted a solid red roll and a solid green roll. Found one red roll but a no-can-do on that green roll. A red and white print will have to do. I search for a third roll that says classic yet childish and find it amidst the garish and plentiful rolls of bright green, hot pink and electric blue. Since when is wrapping paper so tacky?

On to the gift tag section and do I go stickers or hang tags? My cell phone rings. Action Andy is ready to go. Wants to know what is taking me so long. I grab the hang tags and then toss a hastily-chosen spool of ribbon in the cart. Picking up speed I race to the front of the store passing by a handful of departments I cannot visit this trip but will come back for soon. Oh, I did make a very brief stop for amaryllis bulbs in galvanized buckets.

Andy meets me at the check-out and begins placing items on the belt. I scan the list. We've done pretty well in 70 minutes' time and in one store. This would have taken me days to accomplish. Me, Miss Organized, Miss I-Am-So-Efficient.

Almost done and Action Andy asks the cashier to bag his beef jerky and Coke Zero separately from the other items. He wants to have his snack in the car. Worked up an appetite shopping. I walk beside him as he pushes the cart brimming with red and white bags to the car. "We got a lot done, don't you think?"

Yes we, I me you, did. I watch him as he drives away from Target, snacking on beef jerky, undoubtedly feeling a sense of accomplishment. I thought about the differences in our shopping styles and I was a bit jealous that I'm not more like him. Andy saw the target(Target) and hit a bull's eye.

Maybe I can learn a thing or two about time management from Action Andy. Maybe obsessing over my various lists is counter-productive. Maybe I am too scattered in my thinking. Maybe I try to do too much. Maybe I have some room for improvement. Is it possible that I don't know it all and my way isn't the only way? Bull's eye.

I'm Thankful for Corrective Lenses

Today is a day for giving thanks. A day to stop for a moment and count your blessings. I'm thankful for family, friends, my home and my health. All good answers. Stock replies to the question du jour. But there is one thing that trumps the list. One answer that makes the others more meaningful. What I am most thankful for are my corrective lenses, the ones that give me better vision.

Several years ago circumstances were such that my vision was clouded. Some days it was so blurry I couldn't see straight. Closing my eyes didn't help much. My mind kept playing the scenes I had tried not to see. After months of poor vision I pieced together a prayer. Something like, "God please, please give me a glimpse. Let me see some of what You see. Help me understand."

And He let me see. Just a little here and there. Just enough to know that things aren't always as they seem. Through His eyes I see the miracle of typical development and the majesty of difference. With His vision, I see how truth and reality aren't the same but they co-exist. Courtesy of God's corrective lenses I see the temporary circumstances as they weave through the permanence of a soul. And because He allowed me to peek into the future, I was privy to a vision. A vision that was as real as today, a vision I cannot be convinced of otherwise.

There are many things I didn't see coming. There are a handful I did. There are things He knows that He is not showing. I will look to Him anyway. I am more than ok with my improved vision, my new perspective, even if it's partial. If hindsight is 20/20, perfect vision, then what is the value of a tiny bit of God's foresight?

So if I put on my glasses and look back over my list of family, friends, home and health, I see a family that saves me from selfishness, friends who honor me with their time and trust, a home that goes wherever I do and health that makes my numbered days feel endless.


On this Thanksgiving Day, how is your vision?

If We Were Cookies

"If we were cookies, what kind of cookies would we be?" Andy was caught off guard by my ridiculous question but he couldn't resist. As he thought about it I answered for him, "You would be a Nutter Butter."

"Nutter Butter, why?"

"Because you're tall and sort of the same color as a Nutter Butter and people like Nutter Butters." Also some people are highly allergic to Nutter Butters. This I kept to myself.

He thought about it, "Yeah I like Nutter Butters. What about you? Something nutty."

I was surprised Action Andy continued the silly cookie discussion with me but you try it at home, it's hard to resist comparing yourself to cookies. "Well I'm thinking I'm a Pecan Sandie because I'm Southern and pecans are Southern but the Pecan Sandie is simple too, but a little nutty."

"Yeah, nutty," Andy agreed.

"Jake is a chocolate chip cookie because he is all-American. Chocolate chip cookies are everybody's favorite," I said.

"But he's not just chocolate chip, there's something more." Andy had a point. Our Jake is best-all-around but with flair. We agreed on Rainbow Chocolate Chip for Jake.

Last but not least was Zach. This would be easy. "Teddy Graham," I announced.

"Teddy Graham," Andy repeated. Delicious, irresistible, can't-get-enough-of Teddy Graham.


Tell me about your family of cookies and dare me to send out this family portrait for our Christmas card, too.

Maybe You Can't Buy Happiness But You Can Rent It

Saturday was busy. The bouncy men arrived at 6:45 a.m. I stood in the cold, damp, dark backyard as they positioned and inflated the "Balloon 3 in 1 Combo" for the party that wouldn't start until 4 in the afternoon. But Halloween is the busiest day of the year for bounce house businesses so deliveries start early. I learned this fact the hard way two years ago when I tried reserving a bounce house just a week before Halloween. Pickings were slim and I was left with only a simple, generic bounce house. Well not this time.

Two Little League baseball games later, the party was underway. Kids whipped around the bouncy in their costumes. They flung themselves down the slide. They ran into the house and stuffed their faces with Chick-Fil-A nuggets and those bakery cupcakes. Repeat for ninety minutes. Then we had a trick or treasure hunt followed by more bouncing/sliding and eating.

A good time was had by all. Happy kids, happy parents, happy me. Only a few sad moments, a clone blaster (plastic gun-like weapon that makes cool sounds) found its way into the bounce house and was snapped in two. A couple of boys bonked heads and required some hugs and a big kid fell and scraped his knee after running up the drive way during the exciting treasure hunt. Nothing some Neosporin couldn't handle.

At 6 p.m. we hit the streets in search of candy. Jake ran with his gang, Zach right there with him, and the parents trailing behind, taking pictures and making movies. Zach's bucket was overflowing in no time. Maybe because he had found our stash of candy to give out and dumped it into his own bucket before we left our house. We made our way through the neighborhood and then went home to examine the haul. Bedtime was late but we took comfort in the fact that daylight savings time would treat us to an extra hour of sleep.

Zach used his extra hour to get up early (5:30) Sunday morning and hit the Nick Jr. website hard. Jake wasn't far behind him and soon the boys were downstairs noticing that the bounce house was still in our backyard, lifeless, but there. "I want bouncy slide," said Zach. "Mommy can we, can we?" begged Jake.

But it's so early, just past 7, and it's cold and wet out there, I thought. "Ok, but put on sweats, hoodies and socks." I watched them get dressed faster than firemen and race to the scene. Jake had the honor of plugging in the blower and the boys watched together as the bouncy slide took shape.

They jumped and climbed and slid. Arm in arm my boys raced down the slide, mouths open, the joy uncontainable. I watched for a few minutes then went inside. I added sweater and socks to my pajamas and ran out to join the party. Zach couldn't believe his eyes when Mommy appeared at the top of the slide. He smiled so big his cheeks cried "Uncle". My boys and I slid together, laughing all the way down, ending in a tangled heap of arms, legs and love.

I noticed Andy standing in the doorway watching us play. "It's cold," he announced. "Yeah, but you get warmed up jumping," I offered. The boys and I hit the slide again and Andy disappeared inside. Just a few minutes later he joined us in the bouncy. Action Andy had been drawn into the cold by Zach's giggles and Jake's energy.

We all four jumped and Jake said to me, "You did a good job picking this out," which almost made me cry and I will not be able to explain why. "Yeah, this is much better than the plain old moonwalk we had last time," I agreed. Then this party of four climbed to the top of the slide and sat together, smiling, taking in the moment. Against the rules, we slid together as I held the tiny Flip video camera. The footage is rough and the audio is all laughter.

Soon it was time for breakfast and then church. We arrived home and I noticed Zach at the back door, looking over an empty backyard. "I want bouncy slide."

"The party's over, the bouncy slide is gone."

He turned and walked away, shoulders slumped. "I'm so sad," I heard as Zach walked upstairs.

I've already checked. The Balloon 3 in 1 Combo costs $1800.00 to own. Maybe we should start saving now.

The Trap

I should not have been there and I knew it. But I wandered over to the magazine section just to take a peek, because I was curious. "It's a trap," I heard a voice say, "don't do it."

I ignored the voice, picked up the October special issue of Family Fun magazine, whipped it open and rapidly scanned the pages. With one look I was impressed with the clever cupcakes and the creative crafts and my mind began to race with possibilities. Ohhh, milk jug ghost luminaries. I can do that! Mummies fashioned from craft sticks, craft spoons, wire snips, muslin, glue and googly eyes. Easy! Would you like to know how to turn your entire house into a House O' Lantern with strategically cut and placed paper in the windows? Why yes, I would. And what's this? Oranges hollowed out, cut like jack o' lanterns and filled with fruit salad. Thematic AND healthy. I continued to turn pages and marveled at the enormous amount of ideas presented to me.

Jackpot. All the crafts and recipes I would need to make our Halloween party a smashing success were right here, in one nifty magazine. I placed it in my cart and headed toward the craft section to score supplies for those mummies. And then that little voice inside my head said, "Have you lost your mind? Put that magazine back right now. You know better than this." And the voice was right. Because the voice recalled the night I frosted and re-frosted a cake three times until it was "perfect". The voice also remembered the time I wasted hours trying to make my own mummy costume but abandoned the idea once I realized I looked less like a frightful mummy and more like the Michelin Man. And the voice remembered that I have painstakingly removed certain colors from a container of multi-colored sprinkles because they didn't go with my theme. The voice reminded me that when I get these grand ideas I also get grandly stressed because they don't always work out. Oh the voice knows me too well.

It's not that I'm opposed to arts and crafts and clever concoctions, it's just that I have to set limits for myself. I'm not knocking Family Fun magazine at all. With their help I made a space shuttle cake for Jake's 7th birthday that was out of this world. Pun intended. I'm simply saying that sometimes what women see in magazines can make them feel bad about themselves and that's what happens to me if I stare too long at creativity on parade. Plus all those smiling children in the photos, so happy, living it up because their mommies made cool snacks and crafty crafts. The pressure, the trap.

I put the magazine back on the shelf and held my head high on the way to check out. We are having a Halloween party and my boys are psyched for Saturday. We won't be making mummies and our house won't look like a jack o' lantern but there will be food and families and fun. And a trick or treasure hunt. And a giant moonwalk/slide for the backyard. And creepy cupcakes whipped up by the good ladies at the grocery store's bakery. Crafts scmafts.

My boys won't know all the neat things that could have been. They will only know that their mummy had snacks and treats on the table and she welcomed their friends and smiled and bounced and it was the best party ever.

Other Mothers

I like doing things my way. I like to run a tight ship, keep everything under control and manage any situation that arises. My attitude is if you want something done right then let me do it. I understand that people are different and there are more ways than one to run a life but honestly, my way is the best way. I have it all figured out.

Good plan except that it didn't work. Sure there were moments of success but then something would happen and my plan would get tested. Still I battled through until I could get life back to neat and normal. By myself. Because when you know exactly what you're doing, you don't require any help. Then my tight ship sprung a leak.

3 1/2 years ago when Zach was diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder, I found myself in need of help, lots of help. The pediatrician, the psychologist, the therapists, the teachers, the diagnosticians all offered their type of help. And that was great and still is because Zach has made enormous gains with their help. But the help I came to depend on most came from other mothers.

Mothers whose children shared my son's diagnosis. Mothers whose children weren't like Zach but had another diagnosis. Mothers who had been where I was and were not only willing but happy to share their experiences. Other mothers. I hung on their every word. I listened as they told me what worked and what didn't. I rejoiced when their children made gains. It gave me hope that Zach could one day be where their children are now.

A couple of days ago I spent the afternoon in the home of another mother. Her name had been passed along to me by a teacher who raved about this mother's knowledge and the difference she's making in her child's life. Her daughter has the same diagnosis as Zach but is a few years older. I'll point out that although their diagnosis is the same, there are differences in behaviors and characteristics. The same diagnosis will not look the same in each child and a child's personality always plays an important role in behavior. Having said that, the other mother and I found many things in common for both our children.

We spent hours sharing the various therapies and treatments we've tried. What worked and what didn't, what we regret and what we still might do. So much in common, an instant connection. She understands. Her honesty in admitting mistakes she'd made gave me a chance to learn from someone else's experiences. Anytime she began a sentence with "If I had to do it again.." I took notes. I also wrote down the computer programs she uses, the books she's read and the websites she checks. When the other mother shared specific things to watch for at school, I wrote those down too.

Before our time ended we had connected in many ways. We wrapped up the visit discussing how blessed we are to have children who are different. What if they weren't ours? What if we had missed the chance to see life through unusual eyes? What about the parents who were expecting a typical story, like we all do, and got a mystery instead? Will they spend a lifetime trying to re-write it?

I thanked the other mother profusely for her time and we agreed that we must have lunch soon, just for fun. As I drove toward school I went over all that I had learned and my head was swimming with ideas and information. But mostly I was overwhelmed with inspiration. That mother is incredible. Her attitude, her knowledge, her heart. Her willingness to share. I am encouraged.

I'm sad to think what I would miss if I were trying to do this alone. I am grateful for the other mothers.

My Marathon

Back in the day (as my nephew says to describe events that happened a few years ago) the only people who ran marathons were marathon runners. Professional-type runners. People who are experts at running and who run all the time, not people who just up and decide "hey I'll run a marathon". But times are changing and regular people are running marathons. My neighbor ran a marathon or two and so did one of my close friends. Neither are professional runners and I've heard their stories of chiropractic visits and steroid shots but of the exhilaration that comes from trying something new, pushing themselves farther, reaching a goal.


I don't get it. Every time I see a runner on the edge of the road, sweating, looking determined yet tortured and wearing a belt of water bottles one thing comes to mind- crazy. I don't see the exhilaration. I don't see the goal. I'm not inspired to get my sneakers on, strap a water bottle to my waist and push my body to new limits. Why on earth would anybody want to run for miles and miles with no end in sight? Crazy I tell you. Crazy. I mean good for you and all if you're planning to run a marathon but crazy.


In January I announced to Andy that I was going to write a book. In fact, I had already started work on the outline, organizing notes I'd made for years, making good use of the quiet, long weekend Zach and I spent at home while Andy and Jake were enjoying the snow in Colorado. It was supposed to be a family trip but plans change and Zach and I got off the plane before it left the gate in Houston. I, wife and mother, formerly employed as an interior designer and then a teacher and having no formal writing classes or experience, began a project that was brand new and would push me far beyond my comfort zone. Really who just up and writes a book? Regular people don't, writers do and I'm not a writer, am I? I feel a case of crazy coming on.

Andy could have said, "You, write a book? Why?" But he didn't. Instead my be-the-action husband said, "Good, it's about time." He knew I'd always wanted to do this, to write a book. He knew I had this in me. For years I'd dreamed about writing an incredible story, one that captivates the reader and makes her care and feel and think between the lines. I wanted to write something that would have a reader missing the characters at the end of the story wondering what happens next, why did that story have to end? But as someone who loves to read and who has pined for characters after the story ran out, I just couldn't imagine pulling it off. And really do we need another book? One trip to Barnes and Noble proves my point. Thousands of published books, some incredibly good. What would I write to compete for a space on the shelf? So I set the dream aside because I didn't have a story to tell.


I kept thinking about it though and over time I realized I had a story. My beautiful Zach was born on a Thursday and almost slipped away on a Saturday but he didn't and every day with him is a bonus. He will be 7 years old in a month. His life, his differences, the difference he makes, that's my story. I wrote entire chapters in my head before I ever wrote anything on paper. I wrote notes and phrases and ideas on scraps of paper. I jotted down possibilities for the title and colors to be used on the cover and then finally in early February I started typing. Just to make it real I told my family about the book. I shared it with a few friends too. No one said I was crazy.

The goal was to finish the book in 40 days. I didn't meet that goal. Even with a thorough outline and many chapters completed in my mind, it still took more than 40 days to get it on the computer. The boys would be out of school the first week of June and I barely got the book finished before summer descended. The day I typed that last sentence through tears I hit save, threw my hands in the air and pumped my fists much like a runner does when he crosses the finish line. Then I put my face in my hands and prayed.


It is exhilarating to take a dream and make it into a goal and then work to achieve it. It's scary too because my little dream of writing a book was safe in my head and I could visit that dream and it always turned out the way I wanted. Who needs the struggle, the moments of insecurity and the doubt that comes from actually chasing a dream? Add in the persistent thought that time could be better spent on something real not some crazy dream and I could talk myself out of accomplishing anything. But not this time.

So that was my marathon. I started running and didn't stop until the finish line, the last page, the end. My goal was to write a book and I did. But I'm getting ready for another marathon, I'll need to find an agent who thinks my book is good and who will sell it to a publisher. The odds are against me to get the book published but I am working as hard on this goal as I did the first one. I'm moving ahead scared about what may not happen but excited about what just might. Published or not, it won't diminish the fact that my dream of writing a book became a completed goal.


What's your marathon? Tell me I'm not the only one out here with a crazy dream.

Facebook

I'd heard about Facebook but I was resistant. My sisters started Facebook pages and then my mom did too. Still I resisted which caused my sister Amy to threaten, "If you don't start a Facebook page, I'm going to start one for you." Fine, whatever. A few days later I get an email from Amy letting me know my Facebook page is up and I should check it out. I click on the link and she has in fact started a Facebook page under the guise of being me.

I am anxious to read my info to see what "I" wrote. Hmmm, Amy's gotten most everything right, even my favorite foods. She's remembered my favorite song, too. My favorite song from 1982. Are there a few things I could change or add? Yes but then I would be doing my Facebook page and this is Amy's Facebook page of me. I scan down and see that I am a member of a few groups. Who knew? I click on photos and see that Amy has uploaded some random pictures from her collection to my page. She's also made an album called "My Sisters-My Best Friends" and filled it with photos of herself and Chantel. I then spend a few minutes clicking on my first, few friends, checking their "status"and perusing their photos.

Amy emails me to see if I like my page. Sure, I write back, but can you put some pictures of me and my family on my page? She tells me I can do it myself, easily. Never mind, I write back. Amy asks for my email password. "Why do you want my password?" I ask. "Are you saying you won't give me your password?" Amy questions back. "Maybe I won't. It's not safe to give out your password," I respond. "Why do you want it?" "So I can get into your address book and find more Facebook friends. It does a search and then makes requests for you!" she explains. I type my password and send it to her.

The friends start trickling in. Everyone I request to be my friend accepts me! This is all very nice. I click around and read my friends' updates and look at their photos. A few people send me messages and I respond to them. Clicking, clicking, reconnecting and remembering and then I realize I've been on the computer for 50 minutes. My how time flies when I'm doing "nothing". It surprises me how easy it is to spend nearly an hour reading that someone needs coffee, is packing, has a cold, just made cookies, ran 3 miles, can't find a decent plumber, wants his team to win, will be glad when the weather changes, etc. It takes a while to read the status updates of over 100 friends. Yeah that's right, 100 friends. I'm very popular.

So I find myself on Facebook infrequently and when I'm there it's usually a short visit. Maybe I'm not that into Facebook because I'm afraid. I admit it, I'm afraid. That blinking status cursor scares me. How do I sum up what I'm thinking, feeling or doing in just a few words? Can I be honest on Facebook or do I have to be funny and cheerful? Should I try to say something witty or clever or just keep it simple? The pressure is too much and that's why I type a status update in the box about every 2 months. There's something else I must admit and that is my inability to upload photos to the Facebook page. I know, I know it's "not that hard" but I can't/won't do it. The Facebook page is pressure for me which is why Amy had to start it in the first place.

I did check my Facebook page today and was thrilled to see a friend's status update saying her husband is still cancer-free! Recent blood tests gave a good report and she is rejoicing and thanking God for that good news. She will get lots of comments from friends congratulating her and I can imagine that will make her day even sweeter. I love this use of Facebook.

I check the request section of my page and see that I have 2 friend requests (one is from Gator Pit BarBQue), 1 page suggestion, 1 causes video invitation and 67 other requests. A quick scan of the other requests reveals someone has thrown a taco at me starting a Food Fling, I'm up for the nicest person award as well as the most lovable person award, my presence is requested for a game of Mafia Wars and if I accept some kind of flower, I can fight global warming. The list continues yet time's up for this visit to Facebook so I won't be getting to all those requests today, probably not tomorrow either.

Please don't take it personally if you tried to "request" me for something and I didn't respond. I'm not really sure how all of that works. Ditto for me sending you fun stuff too. I've heard I can send a cupcake to someone but I don't know how to do that or why I would do that. Even though I lack a passion for all those fun extras on Facebook, I do like to read your updates and see your family photos. It's nice to have a quick way to keep up with what's going on in my friends' lives.

Thanks for checking out the blog and I'll see you on Facebook, maybe.