It was all over the news today in Chicago.
According to a biography by Jeff Pearlman, Walter "Sweetness" Payton wasn't all that sweet. Apparently #34 had several extramarital affairs, fathered an illegitimate son, abused prescription and non-prescription drugs and was chronically suicidal.
I guess I'm pretty naive because I had always assumed that Walter and his wife, Connie, had a good marriage.
Wrong. Connie has admitted that they were estranged for most of the last ten years of their marriage before Walter died in 1999 at age 45.
I'm sure I'm not the only one asking why Pearlman felt like he needed to bring up these sordid details twelve years after Payton's death or, for that matter, why he had to bring any of this up at all. What purpose is served by tarnishing a legend?
Prior to Sweetness (Pearlman's book), the name Walter Payton was spoken with reverence in acknowledgment of his phenomenal athletic achievements, incredible work ethic, charitable contributions, and all-around nice guy qualities. Payton was universally respected throughout the NFL and all but worshiped in Chicago. In spite of the praise heaped on him, Walter remained a team player and a humble man -- something that players such as Terrell Owens and Terrell Pryor (maybe it's their shared name) can only dream of emulating.
Now people will remember Walter Payton as the man who charged an assistant with making sure that his wife and his mistress didn't cross paths at his 1993 Hall of Fame induction.
What sort of man of character and integrity invites his mistress to an event where the spotlight would rightly shine on the wife and family that had sported him in his rise to the pinnacle of his sport? Maybe the better question should be what sort of married man of character and integrity has a mistress?
Pearlman's book will certainly lessen the shine on the image that many of us carry in our minds of one of the greatest football players ever, but it cannot diminish Payton's accomplishments on the field and off. Although many of his records have been broke, Payton continues to influence and inspire many current NFL players. In honor of his commitment to help disadvantaged children throughout the Chicago area, the NFL annually gives the "Walter Payton Man of the Year" award to recognize player involvement in community service. The ongoing work of the Walter and Connie Payton Foundation is "dedicated to the emotional healing of neglected, abused, and underprivileged children" by offering practical help to make everyday life better and provide hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Payton will perhaps best be remembered for the way he faced the illness that ended his life. In his last months he became a powerful and persuasive advocate for organ donation. He recorded several commercials encouraging people to donate organs, even though his disease had progressed too far to make organ donation an option for him. Walter's efforts and the efforts of his foundation after his death brought national attention to the dire need for organ donors. As a result, donations increased and thousands of people in the Chicago area alone committed to donate their organs in the event of their death.
Walter Payton was an extraordinary athlete and a role model to many. But he was also human. He was not perfect; he made mistakes and he failed to live up to the high standards we unrealistically demand of our heroes. It would be easy to dismiss his many admirable qualities and accomplishments and focus instead on the flaws, unsubstantiated accusations, and tawdry factual revelations that Pearlman's book has brought to light.
Human tendency is to drag someone down in order to elevate oneself and endeavor to look better by comparison. There were probably people today who were happy to see Walter Payton's name and memory drug through the mud. But I wonder how those same people would fair if they lived their life in the intense spotlight of fan adulation and public curiosity. We are so quick to criticize and condemn, but we would do well to pause and recall the words of Jesus, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
It's the little things
My husband hates to see dirty dishes stacked in the sink or piled up on the counter. Sometimes while I am still eating dinner, he will get up and start to do the dishes.
Perhaps you're wondering why he doesn't just stick the dirty dishes in the dish washer? Are you sitting down? Trust me, you will want to be sitting down when I tell you that we are one of probably only five homes in North America that doesn't have a dishwasher (slight exaggeration -- maybe there are twenty homes that are dish washer-less). Crazy, right?
So in light of his dirty dish phobia, my husband and I have a somewhat unspoken agreement about doing dishes. The dishes are always done before we go to bed -- he really hates to wake up to dirty dishes -- and the person who washed the dishes stacks them neatly in the dish drainer for the other person to put away. Doesn't that sound like an equitable division of labor?
If my husband does the dishes, he does them right away (see the first paragraph). If I do them, I usually do them right before I go to bed, which might not be until two or three o'clock in the morning. But, no matter how tired I am, I always do them. And no matter how tired I am, if G has done the dishes and left them in the dish rack to dry, I always put them away before I fall in bed.
So tonight I did the dishes and -- surprise, surprise -- I did them right after dinner. For some reason it just seemed like a good time. With the dishes out of the way, I was free to play a computer game and watch Monday Night Football and my husband was free to check out iTunes for some songs he wanted for a church project. It was a win-win.
About an hour after my husband went to bed, I went to the kitchen to get a snack, and what did I see? The dish drainer full of the clean dishes that I had washed earlier in the evening.
Did G forget and think that he washed the dishes so I was the one who should put them away? (Maybe.) Did he think that I should have washed the dishes and put them away? (Not unless he's lost his mind.) Is it okay for him to wait until the morning to clear out the dish drainer, but I'm expected to do it before I go to bed? (That doesn't seem fair.) Am I being way too nit-picky about this? (Probably.)
I know that this situation shouldn't bother me, but it does. And tonight isn't the first night that it's happened. I probably should just ask him why he expects something from me but doesn't expect the same from himself, but I'm not sure I want to go down that road.
I guess I'll just walk through the kitchen on my way to bed and pretend that everything is neatly stowed away in the drawers and cupboards. But if I wake up in the morning and the dish drainer is still filled with dishes . . . .
Perhaps you're wondering why he doesn't just stick the dirty dishes in the dish washer? Are you sitting down? Trust me, you will want to be sitting down when I tell you that we are one of probably only five homes in North America that doesn't have a dishwasher (slight exaggeration -- maybe there are twenty homes that are dish washer-less). Crazy, right?
So in light of his dirty dish phobia, my husband and I have a somewhat unspoken agreement about doing dishes. The dishes are always done before we go to bed -- he really hates to wake up to dirty dishes -- and the person who washed the dishes stacks them neatly in the dish drainer for the other person to put away. Doesn't that sound like an equitable division of labor?
If my husband does the dishes, he does them right away (see the first paragraph). If I do them, I usually do them right before I go to bed, which might not be until two or three o'clock in the morning. But, no matter how tired I am, I always do them. And no matter how tired I am, if G has done the dishes and left them in the dish rack to dry, I always put them away before I fall in bed.
So tonight I did the dishes and -- surprise, surprise -- I did them right after dinner. For some reason it just seemed like a good time. With the dishes out of the way, I was free to play a computer game and watch Monday Night Football and my husband was free to check out iTunes for some songs he wanted for a church project. It was a win-win.
About an hour after my husband went to bed, I went to the kitchen to get a snack, and what did I see? The dish drainer full of the clean dishes that I had washed earlier in the evening.
Did G forget and think that he washed the dishes so I was the one who should put them away? (Maybe.) Did he think that I should have washed the dishes and put them away? (Not unless he's lost his mind.) Is it okay for him to wait until the morning to clear out the dish drainer, but I'm expected to do it before I go to bed? (That doesn't seem fair.) Am I being way too nit-picky about this? (Probably.)
I know that this situation shouldn't bother me, but it does. And tonight isn't the first night that it's happened. I probably should just ask him why he expects something from me but doesn't expect the same from himself, but I'm not sure I want to go down that road.
I guess I'll just walk through the kitchen on my way to bed and pretend that everything is neatly stowed away in the drawers and cupboards. But if I wake up in the morning and the dish drainer is still filled with dishes . . . .
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A new leaf
Autumn is here. The leaves are beginning to change colors and the air is definitely cooler.
It's the perfect time to turn over a new leaf.
My " new leaf" goal is to go to bed no later than midnight. I've been a night owl for as long as I can remember, but in the past year my late night habits have gotten totally out of hand. Last night I went to bed at 3:00 a.m. Naturally when it was time to get up, all I wanted to do was roll over and sleep for another four hours.
I know I won't be able to establish a new bedtime routine right away. Just as the green leaves of summer don't change overnight into glorious autumn shades of yellow, red, orange, and bronze, I'll need some time to adjust. Hopefully I'll be well on my way by winter. : )
It's the perfect time to turn over a new leaf.
My " new leaf" goal is to go to bed no later than midnight. I've been a night owl for as long as I can remember, but in the past year my late night habits have gotten totally out of hand. Last night I went to bed at 3:00 a.m. Naturally when it was time to get up, all I wanted to do was roll over and sleep for another four hours.
I know I won't be able to establish a new bedtime routine right away. Just as the green leaves of summer don't change overnight into glorious autumn shades of yellow, red, orange, and bronze, I'll need some time to adjust. Hopefully I'll be well on my way by winter. : )
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Who am I? -- a good reminder
On the way home from the store this evening I heard a song I hadn't heard for awhile. I love this song and I love to sing along, but I can never get through the entire song without crying.
Who Am I ~ Casting Crowns
Who am I?
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt.
Who am I?
That the bright and morning star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wandering heart.
Bridge:
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
Chorus:
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.
Who am I?
That the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again.
Who am I?
That the voice that calmed the sea,
Would call out through the rain,
And calm the storm in me.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.
I am yours.
Whom shall I fear
Whom shall I fear
Cause I am yours..
I am yours..
This song brings me to tears because it is so true. Each one of us wants to be known and loved, fully and completely. Yet if any human being was capable of really knowing another human being -- knowing all of their thoughts, their good and bad qualities, not to mention their sin -- how could they possibly love that person?
But Jesus knows everything there is to know about me and He loves me anyway. He loves me in spite of my sin. He loves me so much that even before I was born, even before I did anything admirable or absolutely awful, Jesus loved me enough that He willingly endured an excruciatingly painful and humiliating death in order to pay the penalty for sins I would commit two millennium later.
The song says it all:
Who Am I ~ Casting Crowns
Who am I?
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt.
Who am I?
That the bright and morning star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wandering heart.
Bridge:
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
Chorus:
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.
Who am I?
That the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again.
Who am I?
That the voice that calmed the sea,
Would call out through the rain,
And calm the storm in me.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.
I am yours.
Whom shall I fear
Whom shall I fear
Cause I am yours..
I am yours..
This song brings me to tears because it is so true. Each one of us wants to be known and loved, fully and completely. Yet if any human being was capable of really knowing another human being -- knowing all of their thoughts, their good and bad qualities, not to mention their sin -- how could they possibly love that person?
But Jesus knows everything there is to know about me and He loves me anyway. He loves me in spite of my sin. He loves me so much that even before I was born, even before I did anything admirable or absolutely awful, Jesus loved me enough that He willingly endured an excruciatingly painful and humiliating death in order to pay the penalty for sins I would commit two millennium later.
The song says it all:
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.
It's not about me. It's not about anything I've done or ever will accomplish.
It's all about Jesus -- who He is and what He did, once, for all.
Who am I? I am His.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Thankful Thursday
I'm really thankful that my thoughts are hidden from others. I'm pretty sure there have been many times when the gist of what I was thinking was evident on my face or by my actions -- I've slammed a few doors in my time -- but thankfully my exact thoughts are known only to me and, of course, to the Lord.
Today I was especially thankful that mind reading exists only in fictional settings. Some of my thoughts this afternoon were less than charitable and definitely underlined my lack of patience with others. I am well aware that I probably wasn't the only one thinking unkind thoughts and I'm especially glad that I was blissfully ignorant of the unhappy thoughts my friends were no doubt thinking about me.
Even if the world can't discern my thoughts, God can, and I know he is both disappointed and disgusted by the mean, petty, and disparaging thoughts I entertain about family, friends, and complete strangers. Instead of seeking to emulate the mind of Christ and see others as the Lord sees them, I routinely reject Jesus' example of humility and attempt to elevate myself by demeaning and dismissing others. It doesn't matter that I do all of this without saying a word -- God hears the words that are in my mind and my heart and those words more accurately reflect my true character and spirit than the insincere words I speak aloud.
Thank goodness the Holy Spirit continues to prick my conscience with correction that leads to conviction. Thanks be to God for His Word to me in Scripture which provides instruction on how to live as a Christ-follower. Thank you Lord Jesus for paying the price for my sins so that you can one day present me, pure and spotless, to God the Father. I pray that each day both my words and my thoughts will be pleasing to you.
Today I was especially thankful that mind reading exists only in fictional settings. Some of my thoughts this afternoon were less than charitable and definitely underlined my lack of patience with others. I am well aware that I probably wasn't the only one thinking unkind thoughts and I'm especially glad that I was blissfully ignorant of the unhappy thoughts my friends were no doubt thinking about me.
Even if the world can't discern my thoughts, God can, and I know he is both disappointed and disgusted by the mean, petty, and disparaging thoughts I entertain about family, friends, and complete strangers. Instead of seeking to emulate the mind of Christ and see others as the Lord sees them, I routinely reject Jesus' example of humility and attempt to elevate myself by demeaning and dismissing others. It doesn't matter that I do all of this without saying a word -- God hears the words that are in my mind and my heart and those words more accurately reflect my true character and spirit than the insincere words I speak aloud.
Thank goodness the Holy Spirit continues to prick my conscience with correction that leads to conviction. Thanks be to God for His Word to me in Scripture which provides instruction on how to live as a Christ-follower. Thank you Lord Jesus for paying the price for my sins so that you can one day present me, pure and spotless, to God the Father. I pray that each day both my words and my thoughts will be pleasing to you.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday and nothing's changed
No clever title today. Just a sad title that highlights one of my major failings.
I had to finish a writing assignment yesterday so I was up late. I actually went to bed at 5 a.m. -- the same time my husband was getting up to run. Normally I'm able to fall asleep fairly easily, but not today. Even though I was exhausted, I gave up trying to sleep after just a few hours.
Because I had been working on (ie. thinking about) what I needed to write, I didn't start my Bible study when I should have -- meaning anytime before noon today. Seriously, I had this same problem last year and I resolved that I would stop procrastinating and make my lesson a priority. I wasn't especially successful last year, but I had hopes that I would start this year off right.
Fail.
I had to finish a writing assignment yesterday so I was up late. I actually went to bed at 5 a.m. -- the same time my husband was getting up to run. Normally I'm able to fall asleep fairly easily, but not today. Even though I was exhausted, I gave up trying to sleep after just a few hours.
Because I had been working on (ie. thinking about) what I needed to write, I didn't start my Bible study when I should have -- meaning anytime before noon today. Seriously, I had this same problem last year and I resolved that I would stop procrastinating and make my lesson a priority. I wasn't especially successful last year, but I had hopes that I would start this year off right.
Fail.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
W.O.E.
Worst. Mom. Ever.
Yep, that's me -- the worst mom ever.
Everyone's got to be good at something and apparently I'm good at being a pessimistic, non-supportive, discouraging mother.
It doesn't matter that I'm the mother that (two days after having my gall bladder removed) slept in a chair in my 20 year old daughter's hospital room for 4 nights straight so she wouldn't be alone when she woke up in pain at 2:00 in the morning.
It also doesn't matter that I'm the mom that spent money I couldn't afford to spend on fun stuff like candles and placemats for that same daughter's first college apartment.
And it really doesn't matter that I am the mom who will drop whatever I'm doing, even if what I'm doing is writing articles for which I actually get paid a small amount of money, in order to proofread or edit a a college assignment that needs to be turned in the next day.
None of that matters because I am the Worst. Mom. Ever.
: /
Yep, that's me -- the worst mom ever.
Everyone's got to be good at something and apparently I'm good at being a pessimistic, non-supportive, discouraging mother.
It doesn't matter that I'm the mother that (two days after having my gall bladder removed) slept in a chair in my 20 year old daughter's hospital room for 4 nights straight so she wouldn't be alone when she woke up in pain at 2:00 in the morning.
It also doesn't matter that I'm the mom that spent money I couldn't afford to spend on fun stuff like candles and placemats for that same daughter's first college apartment.
And it really doesn't matter that I am the mom who will drop whatever I'm doing, even if what I'm doing is writing articles for which I actually get paid a small amount of money, in order to proofread or edit a a college assignment that needs to be turned in the next day.
None of that matters because I am the Worst. Mom. Ever.
: /
Monday, September 19, 2011
Not off to a good start
Bible study started again last Wednesday.
Today is Monday . . . late Monday . . . really, almost Tuesday.
I haven't started the study yet and the first lesson is an overview of the book of Philippians. I also have a writing assignment that needs to be finished on Tuesday -- Wednesday morning at the absolute latest.
When will I learn to budget my time more wisely and stop procrastinating???
: /
Today is Monday . . . late Monday . . . really, almost Tuesday.
I haven't started the study yet and the first lesson is an overview of the book of Philippians. I also have a writing assignment that needs to be finished on Tuesday -- Wednesday morning at the absolute latest.
When will I learn to budget my time more wisely and stop procrastinating???
: /
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Thankful Thursday
This has been a challenging summer for my immediate family and extended family in regards to health issues. It's seemed like every week someone has had a problem come up that required a visit to the doctor, convenient care, emergency room, or even a hospital stay. Normally we are a fairly healthy bunch, but not this summer.
Today I am very thankful that my Aunt G is home from the hospital. Aunt G is still fighting a serious salivary gland infection, but at least she is doing well enough to be released so she can recuperate at home. It will probably be a few more weeks before she's infection-free and feeling 100% again. As happy as I am that she's home, I'm sure she and Uncle R are even happier.
I'm also incredibly thankful that my son-in-law N had a good report from the contrast dye procedure he had done on Monday. N had an IVP (intravenous pyelogram) to determine if he had more kidney stones or other kidney damage or abnormalities that could explain why he is still having kidney pain almost three months after a kidney stone episode. While it would be best to know why N still has pain, it's a relief to know that there was no sign of kidney disease.
I am also thankful that my father is healing nicely from the surgery he had a few weeks ago to remove skin cancer lesions from his ear and cheek. My dad was concerned about how he would look after the surgery. Obviously his first concern was the surgeon's ability to remove all of the cancer and enough of the surrounding healthy tissue to insure a "clean" border. But my dad is also human -- even though he's 74 years old, he still wants to look good and he was worried that the surgery and potential scars might be disfiguring. We are all thankful, my dad especially, that the surgery went well. In fact it went so well that anyone who didn't know better would be hard pressed to notice the incision spot on his cheek. His ear was a little trickier and the doctor did have to take away more tissue and cartilage than he would have liked, but the little notch in his ear isn't readily noticeable. I told my dad that I still thought he looked pretty on the outside, but what mattered the most was that he was "pretty" on the inside too. : )
It is so tempting to take good health for granted. I hope that my family's experiences this summer will remind me to always be thankful for both the good health and the healing from illness that the Lord provides.
Today I am very thankful that my Aunt G is home from the hospital. Aunt G is still fighting a serious salivary gland infection, but at least she is doing well enough to be released so she can recuperate at home. It will probably be a few more weeks before she's infection-free and feeling 100% again. As happy as I am that she's home, I'm sure she and Uncle R are even happier.
I'm also incredibly thankful that my son-in-law N had a good report from the contrast dye procedure he had done on Monday. N had an IVP (intravenous pyelogram) to determine if he had more kidney stones or other kidney damage or abnormalities that could explain why he is still having kidney pain almost three months after a kidney stone episode. While it would be best to know why N still has pain, it's a relief to know that there was no sign of kidney disease.
I am also thankful that my father is healing nicely from the surgery he had a few weeks ago to remove skin cancer lesions from his ear and cheek. My dad was concerned about how he would look after the surgery. Obviously his first concern was the surgeon's ability to remove all of the cancer and enough of the surrounding healthy tissue to insure a "clean" border. But my dad is also human -- even though he's 74 years old, he still wants to look good and he was worried that the surgery and potential scars might be disfiguring. We are all thankful, my dad especially, that the surgery went well. In fact it went so well that anyone who didn't know better would be hard pressed to notice the incision spot on his cheek. His ear was a little trickier and the doctor did have to take away more tissue and cartilage than he would have liked, but the little notch in his ear isn't readily noticeable. I told my dad that I still thought he looked pretty on the outside, but what mattered the most was that he was "pretty" on the inside too. : )
It is so tempting to take good health for granted. I hope that my family's experiences this summer will remind me to always be thankful for both the good health and the healing from illness that the Lord provides.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A different kind of love
One of my kids has never hesitated to tell me that she loves me. K freely expresses her emotions and affection and it doesn't matter if anyone else sees or overhears.
When she first started college, K sent me sporadic e-mails. I tried to get her on board with my preferred communication model that I'd established three years earlier with her older sister -- a daily e-mail. I didn't expect anything lengthy; I was looking for something along the lines of a brief check-in, an "I'm still alive and doing okay" type of message. K tried, but it just wasn't her style. She would much rather call or text and only e-mailed as a last resort.
Even though e-mails were low on her priority list, K did make an effort to answer the e-mails I sent her. After about a month I began to notice something unusual -- K always ended her e-mails with "lvoe" or "lvoes."
I didn't know what to make of that. Was "lvoe" some new, cool expression that had flown under my pop culture radar or was my child turning into an abysmal speller? I waited a while to see if "lvoe" would morph into "love," and when it didn't, I finally asked her about her unusual closing.
K had no idea what I was talking about; she hadn't realized her typo. We both decided that it was cute and to this day she uses "lvoe" or "lvoes" in the e-mails and texts she sends me. It's a little secret just between the two of us.
I am a lucky mom -- not only does my daughter love me, she also "lvoes" me. : )
When she first started college, K sent me sporadic e-mails. I tried to get her on board with my preferred communication model that I'd established three years earlier with her older sister -- a daily e-mail. I didn't expect anything lengthy; I was looking for something along the lines of a brief check-in, an "I'm still alive and doing okay" type of message. K tried, but it just wasn't her style. She would much rather call or text and only e-mailed as a last resort.
Even though e-mails were low on her priority list, K did make an effort to answer the e-mails I sent her. After about a month I began to notice something unusual -- K always ended her e-mails with "lvoe" or "lvoes."
I didn't know what to make of that. Was "lvoe" some new, cool expression that had flown under my pop culture radar or was my child turning into an abysmal speller? I waited a while to see if "lvoe" would morph into "love," and when it didn't, I finally asked her about her unusual closing.
K had no idea what I was talking about; she hadn't realized her typo. We both decided that it was cute and to this day she uses "lvoe" or "lvoes" in the e-mails and texts she sends me. It's a little secret just between the two of us.
I am a lucky mom -- not only does my daughter love me, she also "lvoes" me. : )
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Three little words (revisited)
I'm still thinking about those three little words.
I love you.
Judging by my continued contemplation, it's clear that these words are important and meaningful to me. I may say that I love lots of things -- mangoes, the feel of warm sand between my toes, the music of Maroon 5, the silver Datsun 280ZX I had back in 1981 (still pissed I had to give that car up just because my husband decided it was time to start having sex with a "purpose"*). But I have only said "I love you" to a select group of people.
I think the declaration "I love you" is a very powerful statement, an expression of commitment that isn't to be uttered lightly. On the other hand, I believe that if you truly do love someone, it is important to verbally express your feelings. I guess that's why it bugs me that my husband rarely tells me that he loves me. I think my viewpoint also carries over to the relationship I have with another family member, my youngest child.
Until M started dating T in high school, I never noticed how she approached the phrase "I love you." Early on there were occasions when I would be within earshot (not eavesdropping!) while M talked with T on her cell phone, and at the end of their conversations I would hear M say, "I love you too." It was apparent T was always the one to say "I love you" first.**
Finally I asked M why she didn't say "I love you" first, and she told me that she just didn't. She couldn't explain why she refrained from speaking first, but something (fear of rejection, shyness, insecurity?) kept her from initiating the exchange.
Gradually I realized that M's reluctance to speak first wasn't limited to her relationship with T; she also did the same thing with me. I could sort of understand her hesitation with her boyfriend, especially since they had only been dating for a few months, but I had been her mother all of her life! Surely she knew that I loved her and could be sure that if she told me she loved me, I would readily and sincerely tell her that I loved her too. On more than one occasion I have told each one of my children that while there will be times when I may not like them very much, I will always love them. Had M not heard that message or had she not believed me?
Three years later M and T are no longer dating and M still refuses to be the first one to say "I love you." We talk on the phone almost every day and sometimes I "test" her. As our conversation winds down, I resolve to wait for her to speak first. I bring up a last minute topic -- something I "forgot" to tell her the last time we talked, anything to prolong the phone call and give her the opportunity to tell me that she loves me.
So far my ruse hasn't worked. A few times I've even been stubborn enough to tell her that I'll talk with her soon and say good-bye. When she responds by merely saying good-bye, I hang up the phone without telling her that I love her.
I hate myself when I do that. I hate that I resort to lame tricks or emotional blackmail to try to get my daughter to voluntarily tell me that she loves me. I hate that I'm so needy and I hate that the words "I love you" have the power to cause me so much pain.
* My husband and I bought my dream car in September of 1981 and traded it in for a 4-door Nissan Maxima in January of 1984. We had decided to start trying to conceive and my husband felt we needed a "family car" instead of an awesome 2-door, 2 seat, stick shift, 5-speed overdrive sports car. For the record, our first child wasn't born until August of 1985 and I would have gladly driven that 280ZX right up until the moment of my first contraction.
** There was only one time I heard M say "I love you" first to T, and even then I didn't actually hear her say it. T went with us when we moved M into the dorm for her freshman year of college. It was a very long day -- three hour drive to campus, move-in, room set-up, lunch, trip to the bookstore to drop almost $800 on books, very emotional good-byes, and then the return trip home that ended up taking almost five hours due to a horrific accident that closed down all traffic on I-65. When we arrived back in CS, we were all physically and emotionally exhausted. Standing in our driveway, T called M to tell her that we were home. I was busy emptying out the car so I wasn't paying any attention to T's side of the conversation. All of a sudden, one phrase jumped out at me -- I heard T say, "I love you too." It was all I could do to not burst into tears. M had said "I love you" first. Even now as I type out this story, I am struggling to keep from crying. When T hung up his phone, I looked at him and said, "She said 'I love you' first, didn't she?" and he just smiled and said, "Yes."
I love you.
Judging by my continued contemplation, it's clear that these words are important and meaningful to me. I may say that I love lots of things -- mangoes, the feel of warm sand between my toes, the music of Maroon 5, the silver Datsun 280ZX I had back in 1981 (still pissed I had to give that car up just because my husband decided it was time to start having sex with a "purpose"*). But I have only said "I love you" to a select group of people.
I think the declaration "I love you" is a very powerful statement, an expression of commitment that isn't to be uttered lightly. On the other hand, I believe that if you truly do love someone, it is important to verbally express your feelings. I guess that's why it bugs me that my husband rarely tells me that he loves me. I think my viewpoint also carries over to the relationship I have with another family member, my youngest child.
Until M started dating T in high school, I never noticed how she approached the phrase "I love you." Early on there were occasions when I would be within earshot (not eavesdropping!) while M talked with T on her cell phone, and at the end of their conversations I would hear M say, "I love you too." It was apparent T was always the one to say "I love you" first.**
Finally I asked M why she didn't say "I love you" first, and she told me that she just didn't. She couldn't explain why she refrained from speaking first, but something (fear of rejection, shyness, insecurity?) kept her from initiating the exchange.
Gradually I realized that M's reluctance to speak first wasn't limited to her relationship with T; she also did the same thing with me. I could sort of understand her hesitation with her boyfriend, especially since they had only been dating for a few months, but I had been her mother all of her life! Surely she knew that I loved her and could be sure that if she told me she loved me, I would readily and sincerely tell her that I loved her too. On more than one occasion I have told each one of my children that while there will be times when I may not like them very much, I will always love them. Had M not heard that message or had she not believed me?
Three years later M and T are no longer dating and M still refuses to be the first one to say "I love you." We talk on the phone almost every day and sometimes I "test" her. As our conversation winds down, I resolve to wait for her to speak first. I bring up a last minute topic -- something I "forgot" to tell her the last time we talked, anything to prolong the phone call and give her the opportunity to tell me that she loves me.
So far my ruse hasn't worked. A few times I've even been stubborn enough to tell her that I'll talk with her soon and say good-bye. When she responds by merely saying good-bye, I hang up the phone without telling her that I love her.
I hate myself when I do that. I hate that I resort to lame tricks or emotional blackmail to try to get my daughter to voluntarily tell me that she loves me. I hate that I'm so needy and I hate that the words "I love you" have the power to cause me so much pain.
* My husband and I bought my dream car in September of 1981 and traded it in for a 4-door Nissan Maxima in January of 1984. We had decided to start trying to conceive and my husband felt we needed a "family car" instead of an awesome 2-door, 2 seat, stick shift, 5-speed overdrive sports car. For the record, our first child wasn't born until August of 1985 and I would have gladly driven that 280ZX right up until the moment of my first contraction.
** There was only one time I heard M say "I love you" first to T, and even then I didn't actually hear her say it. T went with us when we moved M into the dorm for her freshman year of college. It was a very long day -- three hour drive to campus, move-in, room set-up, lunch, trip to the bookstore to drop almost $800 on books, very emotional good-byes, and then the return trip home that ended up taking almost five hours due to a horrific accident that closed down all traffic on I-65. When we arrived back in CS, we were all physically and emotionally exhausted. Standing in our driveway, T called M to tell her that we were home. I was busy emptying out the car so I wasn't paying any attention to T's side of the conversation. All of a sudden, one phrase jumped out at me -- I heard T say, "I love you too." It was all I could do to not burst into tears. M had said "I love you" first. Even now as I type out this story, I am struggling to keep from crying. When T hung up his phone, I looked at him and said, "She said 'I love you' first, didn't she?" and he just smiled and said, "Yes."
Monday, September 12, 2011
Three little words
This summer my Aunt M and Uncle D celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. I sent them a funny anniversary card, belatedly of course (is there any other way?).
On the front of the card was a black and white photo of an elderly couple. The text said something along the lines of "What three words are the key to a long and happy marriage?"
Any ideas? Anyone? Anyone? (I'm channeling Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.)
Open up the card and the answer is: Let's eat out.
How true is that?
I bet you thought that I was going to say that the answer was: I love you.
I have to admit, I love it when my husband suggests that we go out to eat or get carry out to eat at home. It's nice to not have to decide what to have for dinner, prepare it, and then clean up afterward. Dinner out makes me happy.
But honestly, what would make me happier would be if my husband would say "I love you." I know that he loves me, but he never says it unless we're talking on the phone, and then he usually says "I love you" at the end of our conversation. Unfortunately this telephone "I love you" doesn't have any emotion behind it -- it seems like a throwaway phrase that he knows he's supposed to say rather than something that he actually means.
I sincerely cannot remember that last time my husband told me that he loves me. When I had my colonoscopy this summer, I thought maybe he would squeeze my hand or kiss my forehead and tell me that he loved me before they wheeled me away. No. Stupidly I had the same unrealistic expectation just a few weeks later when I had my gall bladder surgery. Still no.
At this point, I've given up on hearing those three little words. I guess I'll just have to be content to go out to eat. : /
On the front of the card was a black and white photo of an elderly couple. The text said something along the lines of "What three words are the key to a long and happy marriage?"
Any ideas? Anyone? Anyone? (I'm channeling Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.)
Open up the card and the answer is: Let's eat out.
How true is that?
I bet you thought that I was going to say that the answer was: I love you.
I have to admit, I love it when my husband suggests that we go out to eat or get carry out to eat at home. It's nice to not have to decide what to have for dinner, prepare it, and then clean up afterward. Dinner out makes me happy.
But honestly, what would make me happier would be if my husband would say "I love you." I know that he loves me, but he never says it unless we're talking on the phone, and then he usually says "I love you" at the end of our conversation. Unfortunately this telephone "I love you" doesn't have any emotion behind it -- it seems like a throwaway phrase that he knows he's supposed to say rather than something that he actually means.
I sincerely cannot remember that last time my husband told me that he loves me. When I had my colonoscopy this summer, I thought maybe he would squeeze my hand or kiss my forehead and tell me that he loved me before they wheeled me away. No. Stupidly I had the same unrealistic expectation just a few weeks later when I had my gall bladder surgery. Still no.
At this point, I've given up on hearing those three little words. I guess I'll just have to be content to go out to eat. : /
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
This makes me smile
This awesome video was filmed at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Indiana.
Boiler Up! : )
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Still crazy after all these years
I talked to my mom on the phone last night. No, my mom's not crazy, but her aunt (my great-aunt) is.
Aunt D has always been a little eccentric and spacey. She is very tall, at least six foot, and thin, even more so now that she is 83. With her height, slender build, unusual voice and a hairstyle that's firmly entrenched in the sixties, she reminds me of Big Bird from Sesame Street. Aunt D has the same sort of naivete as her yellow-feathered twin.
Once Aunt D has something in her head, there is no persuading her otherwise. Just recently she was adamant that she needed to take care of a CD renewal 10 days before the CD matured. My mom is still trying to convince her that the CD needs to mature first and then she has 10 days to decide if she wants to cash it in or renew it. Good luck Mom.
But what my mom told me on the phone last night made all of Aunt D's previous misunderstandings and funny notions seem positively normal.
On Sunday Aunt D fell and shattered her right wrist. Unfortunately she is right-handed. It's quite likely she will need to have surgery, but for now her wrist is in a hard cast.
My mom commented how difficult it was to do most tasks one-handed, but especially so if you were without the use of your dominant hand. She went on to say that she had no idea how Aunt D would be able to make up her bed every night.
My response: how hard is it to pull the covers up and smooth out the wrinkles? In fact I opined that it wouldn't be the end of the world if Aunt D took a break from making the bed, especially if she wasn't bothering to make it until just before she climbed in to go to sleep.*
What my mom said next fully cemented in my mind the fact that Aunt D is truly off her rocker. My mom explained that Aunt D takes the sheets completely off her bed every morning, folds them neatly and places them at the end of her bed. When it's time to go to sleep, she puts the sheets back on the bed.
How insane is that?
I'm not sure, but I think I probably asked my mom why in the hell Aunt D did something crazy like that, and she said that was the way Aunt D's mother had always done it, so that was the way she did it too.
Crazy. Absolutely batsh*t crazy. It's hard enough to struggle with a fitted sheet on laundry day, let alone wrestle to get one on your bed every night. And if you have a broken wrist, why would you put yourself through that kind of torture? In Aunt D's defense, she does have a twin bed, so it's not like she's dealing with king size sheets. However, her bed is up against a wall, so she's not able to freely walk all around the mattress to tuck the sheets in. It all sounds like way too much unnecessary work to me.
Oh my gosh, I just had a thought -- I wonder if Aunt D takes the mattress pad off every day too!
*In the interest of full disclosure, I rarely, ie. almost never, make my bed and usually my husband is the one who straightens out the rumpled sheets and blankets before he goes to bed.
Aunt D has always been a little eccentric and spacey. She is very tall, at least six foot, and thin, even more so now that she is 83. With her height, slender build, unusual voice and a hairstyle that's firmly entrenched in the sixties, she reminds me of Big Bird from Sesame Street. Aunt D has the same sort of naivete as her yellow-feathered twin.
Once Aunt D has something in her head, there is no persuading her otherwise. Just recently she was adamant that she needed to take care of a CD renewal 10 days before the CD matured. My mom is still trying to convince her that the CD needs to mature first and then she has 10 days to decide if she wants to cash it in or renew it. Good luck Mom.
But what my mom told me on the phone last night made all of Aunt D's previous misunderstandings and funny notions seem positively normal.
On Sunday Aunt D fell and shattered her right wrist. Unfortunately she is right-handed. It's quite likely she will need to have surgery, but for now her wrist is in a hard cast.
My mom commented how difficult it was to do most tasks one-handed, but especially so if you were without the use of your dominant hand. She went on to say that she had no idea how Aunt D would be able to make up her bed every night.
My response: how hard is it to pull the covers up and smooth out the wrinkles? In fact I opined that it wouldn't be the end of the world if Aunt D took a break from making the bed, especially if she wasn't bothering to make it until just before she climbed in to go to sleep.*
What my mom said next fully cemented in my mind the fact that Aunt D is truly off her rocker. My mom explained that Aunt D takes the sheets completely off her bed every morning, folds them neatly and places them at the end of her bed. When it's time to go to sleep, she puts the sheets back on the bed.
How insane is that?
I'm not sure, but I think I probably asked my mom why in the hell Aunt D did something crazy like that, and she said that was the way Aunt D's mother had always done it, so that was the way she did it too.
Crazy. Absolutely batsh*t crazy. It's hard enough to struggle with a fitted sheet on laundry day, let alone wrestle to get one on your bed every night. And if you have a broken wrist, why would you put yourself through that kind of torture? In Aunt D's defense, she does have a twin bed, so it's not like she's dealing with king size sheets. However, her bed is up against a wall, so she's not able to freely walk all around the mattress to tuck the sheets in. It all sounds like way too much unnecessary work to me.
Oh my gosh, I just had a thought -- I wonder if Aunt D takes the mattress pad off every day too!
*In the interest of full disclosure, I rarely, ie. almost never, make my bed and usually my husband is the one who straightens out the rumpled sheets and blankets before he goes to bed.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Thankful Thursday
The economy is tough. I know more than a few people who have lost their jobs. In some cases, two years later they're still out of work and their unemployment benefits have run out.
Just this Monday one friend, G, started a new job! This man lost his job almost two years ago. In September of 2009, as his wife and son were waiting for him to come home from work so they could begin the seven hour drive to the city where the son would begin his freshman year of college, this man was processing the news he had just received -- after almost 20 years service with his employer, he was being laid off. What a shock. What an incredible sucker punch to the gut.
I can't even begin to imagine what G was thinking and feeling as he drove home to his family. I don't know how he was able to walk through the door and tell his wife that he no longer had a job. Through no fault of his own, he was suddenly, totally unexpectedly, unemployed.
Thankfully, he wasn't without hope. In spite of the overwhelming odds against him -- his age and the scores of other Americans who were also looking for work -- G never gave up. He responded to help wanted ads, sent out countless resumes, and attended job fairs, job search coaching sessions, and support groups. And even more impressive, when he wasn't looking for a job, he also completed the citizens' police academy program offered by our town, volunteered at food pantries, and trained to be a trail guide for the county forest preserve system. Unemployed, my friend was more busy and productive than many fully-employed individuals.
I am so thankful that G's perseverance and optimism finally paid off! This week he started work, employing the same skills he utilized in his former job. His new employers value his maturity, experience, and expertise. If they even know half of what G has gone through over the past two years, they would also be impressed with his dedication and determination to never give up.
I am thankful that G now has a good job and I'm thankful that, despite a very bleak outlook, he didn't give up. His persistence and refusal to feel sorry for himself was a powerful testimony to his sons, extended family, and friends of a quiet confidence in his abilities and self-worth and a deep reliance on God's ability to provide for his every need.
Just this Monday one friend, G, started a new job! This man lost his job almost two years ago. In September of 2009, as his wife and son were waiting for him to come home from work so they could begin the seven hour drive to the city where the son would begin his freshman year of college, this man was processing the news he had just received -- after almost 20 years service with his employer, he was being laid off. What a shock. What an incredible sucker punch to the gut.
I can't even begin to imagine what G was thinking and feeling as he drove home to his family. I don't know how he was able to walk through the door and tell his wife that he no longer had a job. Through no fault of his own, he was suddenly, totally unexpectedly, unemployed.
Thankfully, he wasn't without hope. In spite of the overwhelming odds against him -- his age and the scores of other Americans who were also looking for work -- G never gave up. He responded to help wanted ads, sent out countless resumes, and attended job fairs, job search coaching sessions, and support groups. And even more impressive, when he wasn't looking for a job, he also completed the citizens' police academy program offered by our town, volunteered at food pantries, and trained to be a trail guide for the county forest preserve system. Unemployed, my friend was more busy and productive than many fully-employed individuals.
I am so thankful that G's perseverance and optimism finally paid off! This week he started work, employing the same skills he utilized in his former job. His new employers value his maturity, experience, and expertise. If they even know half of what G has gone through over the past two years, they would also be impressed with his dedication and determination to never give up.
I am thankful that G now has a good job and I'm thankful that, despite a very bleak outlook, he didn't give up. His persistence and refusal to feel sorry for himself was a powerful testimony to his sons, extended family, and friends of a quiet confidence in his abilities and self-worth and a deep reliance on God's ability to provide for his every need.
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