Blog Archives

A Clean Slate

7/9/2015

My son Caleb is an artist at heart. From the moment he grabbed a pen at age two, his hands began to draw. Whether it was people or cars or trees, he took pride in his creations. He adored his drawings as well as the “ooohs” and “aaahhs” that usually accompanied them. However, he was particular about his drawings. He wouldn’t share them if they were incomplete or not up to his standards. He was also apt to crumble sheets of paper if he didn’t like what he had drawn. He would tear the papers or throw them across the room if he was displeased with his efforts.

My mother would tease that we were going to need stock in a paper company – or a forest – if we were going to keep up with his habits.

In those moments, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh silently, cry with him or discipline his tiny fits.

When asked about the mess around him, Caleb would acknowledge it yet his response was honest and almost always the same. “This isn’t right. I can do better.” And, he would start drawing again.

I wish I had Caleb’s commitment to excellence. He can determine very early in a project whether it’s his best effort or not. I haven’t always given God my best, and if I was honest enough, I would tear up my effort and throw it in a trash can, too.

How lucky are we to serve a God who gives us a clean palette as many times as we need in order to get the best from us!

“Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow…. Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me.” Psalms 51: 7, 10

2 Comments

Dancing while I walk

7/8/2015

1 Comment

Walking around my office in downtown Dallas provides constant amusement. From distracted tourists taking pictures of landmarks while stepping into oncoming traffic to courthouse protesters upset with recent rulings to hundreds of school-age students dressed in matching shirts on field trips; I’m never bored walking to pick up lunch.

Recently, I heard a voice in the distance shouting. This happens so frequently that I rarely turn around.

“The day is the night and the night is the day!,” the voice cried.

As I began to chuckle, the voice became louder very quickly. Before I could turn around, the voice and man who belonged to it pedaled quickly by in a taped up bicycle proceeding up the sidewalk still yelling his vague prophecies.

My brief glimpse revealed tangled hair peeking out from the helmet. I could see he was wearing dirty clothes and that he looked rather dirty himself. He seemed completely unfazed by me or the dozens of others who were staring at him and stepping out of his way while biked his way through the nation’s eighth largest city happily yelling.

It was odd, to say the least. But he didn’t care. He was content doing his own thing. I had no idea what his sayings meant, perhaps I wasn’t supposed to understand. After all, he was clearly talking to himself and not to the rest of us in downtown. He didn’t stop to try and convince us what he was saying was true; nor did he hand out pamphlets about his beliefs. He was simply biking through downtown shouting to his own delight amusing himself and the rest of us.

My chuckles transformed into wonder when I tried to remember the last time I did something that daring and free. I had to admit I was kind of jealous that he was so carefree. I wished I had his nerve.

I didn’t necessarily want to bike through downtown screaming at people but I might like to sing above a whisper while walking to get my sandwich.

He was kicking orderly behavior to the curb and I kind of liked it. I was forty before I was able to convince myself that it was okay to wear different color polish on my fingers than on my toes. (Aren’t they supposed to match?)

Why couldn’t I sing loud while walking down the street? Why couldn’t I occasionally dance instead of walking? What was wrong with that? Nothing at all.

This strange man had birthed an epiphany in me. His chant-filled bike ride had taught me it was okay to be a little different. To stretch the boundaries of normalcy within reason. To unwittingly add spice into someone else’s day.

I prepared to run and catch him as he approached the stop light to thank him for inspiring me. When the light turned green, I realized I’d have to run faster. How could I catch him considering I was holding my lunch one hand and a drink in the other? What should I do?

Poof. He was gone. I knew I couldn’t catch him. My zany, bike-riding, inspiring friend was gone off to brighten someone else's day. I sighed and started to walk toward the office.

Then I thought about him again and danced the rest of the way.

1 Comment

I had to say it

7/7/2015

1 Comment

I probably shouldn’t have said it.

In fact, I know I shouldn’t have. But it needed to be said. It had to be said.

Right?

That’s what the “Little Me” on my left shoulder said. (Notice I didn’t say the right shoulder.)

Anyway, it had to be said. The worlds would have surely collided and the stars would have fallen from the sky if I hadn’t said it at that moment when I felt the urge. I had to say it.

Besides, my right to say it surely outweighed their right to hear it.
This is America and we are all about rights. And privileges.
Being in my presence was a privilege. No, it was a blessing. And blessings come from God himself. So, my saying what I said could be interpreted as being from God.

Okay, now I’ve gone too far. Waaay too far.

“Little Me” doesn’t know nearly as much as the “Real Me” which is why she hasn’t grown any. I should really stop listening to her. If I hadn’t listened to her, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering why I said what I said and I’d be doing something much more productive with my time. That’s the reason “Better Me” (the one on my right shoulder) doesn’t invite her to the parties. She doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. Just like Me today.

I shouldn’t have said it.

Perhaps saying “I’m sorry” will be easier.
Even if it doesn’t, The “Better Me” says I’ll feel better and can finally begin to think of something else.

And since she’s who I want to be, I’m listening to her this time.

1 Comment

The Cost of Freedom

7/6/2015

0 Comments

That moment when....
The soldier is playing "Taps" in the background; The wind is gently blowing the Stars and Stripes over the coffin; Two officers pick up the flag folding it meticulously and present it to your friend's widow on bended knee.... You realize he may have literally given his life for his country.
Your country.
Our nation.
Then the tears come.
Silently and reverently.
#FreedomIsntFree

0 Comments

When You've Had Enough

7/3/2015

0 Comments

I had a son two years before my twins were born. Like all moms, I think my son was pretty remarkable at an early age. He spoke very early and was pretty engaging. So, I thought I was prepared for all the extra attention that having twins would bring. I was wrong.

Being a twin mom brings double the attention, no pun intended, than having one child. Perhaps it’s because they are same-sex twins who often dress alike. They’re not identical but they favor strongly and their curly hair can make it more difficult to differentiate the two. Whatever the reason, we can’t walk anywhere without eyes darting toward us. The attention isn’t lost on them either. In their toddler years, they enjoyed the fawning: their days were filled with the “they’re so cute” statements, the “who’s the oldest” questions, and the constant requests to touch their hair (which I politely decline for them).

In seven years, I don’t think twice anymore when I hear those questions. That’s not the case with them. Apparently, the boys are fed up with hearing these statements in every public outing. They just told my mother recently how especially tired they are answering the question, “Are you twins?” The elder twin Caleb estimates that he and Luke been asked that 5,000 times. Responding to (what was to them, at least) an obvious answer was exhausting.

Last week, a woman inevitably asked the question. Number 5,001. They’d had enough.

Without hesitation, Caleb responded, “No, we’re cousins.”

Luke smiled while Caleb smirked. They’d won this little game. I was speechless. I couldn’t even correct them because I couldn’t find the words. The woman shrugged and left none the wiser.

Of course, there was the obligatory talk about telling the truth, the blessing of having a twin, and the fact that being cousins meant they had different parents. (“Don’t you both want me as your Mommy?” I asked with enough guilt to get a confession out of a serial killer).

Still, I said all of those things while holding back the laughter. In their minds, they’d solved their own problem. That’s what we want our kids to do - minus the lying. Caleb is quick-witted and has the best one-liners. Luke doesn’t want to make trouble and gets along easily with others. Those are traits that generally make kids fun to be around. It’s knowing how and when to use those talents.

Like Jimmy told Sarge in The Five Heartbeats after the singers broke into a fight onstage, “I just have to teach them how to use everything they have.” The next night, the fight became part of the act. And it was magic. So, that was my next chore.

Until then, I’ll answer all the twin questions for them. And, try not to lie.

0 Comments

Giving it your All

7/1/2015

3 Comments

For the first month of summer vacation, my mother kept my twin sons. They enjoyed and she loved it. Bedtimes were irrelevant so were the hours they decided to get out of bed to start their day. Breakfast foods were eaten at midday and kid channels reigned on the television. She reveled in being with them and having lax rules that most grandparents allow.

For the second month, however, we signed them up for summer camp. They were not happy about it. In fact, they vowed not to have fun. Not to enjoy it. Not to participate in any capacity so that we could full understand their discontent with being taken from their comfort zone.

I was honestly worried about how they would behave on their first day. Would they get in trouble from acting out? Would they embarrass us? What if the director asked them not to come back? Lots of worrisome thoughts ran through my head.

When I picked them up after the first day, they bolted toward me talking over each other detailing how much fun they’d had. In the car, their conversations continued… until they fell asleep. Exhausted. Being awakened to walk into the house didn’t affect them either. They walked straight to the bed, climbed in – shoes and all.

Have you ever been like my sons – not wanting to do something and soon falling in love with it, so much so, that the experience is exhausting in the wonderful way?

There was a time when I was like that with new things; whether it was volunteering, reading a book, or joining a ministry at church. The hesitancy at trying something new quickly faded once I saw what was waiting for me. The first step, however, was giving it a chance. Sometimes, the flat-out refusal to leave your comfort zone stifles any potential personal development. Sure, the boys would have loved to lay around all summer with Nana watching television (who wouldn’t?) but we couldn’t pass up the opportunity for them to grow socially, physically and emotionally with their peers.

I miss that fire that burned when I had a new hobby. I wanted the level of excitement in my voice when telling my husband about my new “thing” that my sons had when told me about their day at summer camp. I’m starting to think I’ve become boring. Why haven’t I done anything new lately? Seriously, how many episodes of Family Feud can one watch?

Sure, there are many legitimate personal responsibilities that keep us from expanding our horizons. Work. Family. And, of course, previous obligations. (Did I mention previous obligations?) My plate, like yours, is full enough.

I’m not boring. I’m busy. I’m good just like I am… or am I? Could I be doing more? Surely I’m not completely developed.

Is there a project so enthralling that I am completely drawn in and can’t enough of it? Is there something out there that could become my new obsession? Okay, maybe not an obsession but something so enjoyable I wonder why I didn’t do it before.

Maybe it’s time to turn off the television and use what little free time I have pour my energy into something new. Besides, the boys shouldn’t be the only ones jumping for joy in the house.

And, when I find that new “thing” that I’m so off-the-wall, totally excited about, I’m already looking forward to the nap that follows being completed exhausted by it.

3 Comments

Who's Shay?

Shay is a married, working mother of three boys whose interests range from politics to sports to cupcake tasting to classic television. She's seen every episode of "Friends" and "A Different World" and searches for "Law & Order" whenever she has the remote. Insightful and perplexed, Shay writes when her heart is full. Some are based on her Christian faith; others on her whimsical observations of life. The power of the pen gives her peace keeping her grounded in a challenging, overwhelming yet fulfilling world. All writings have copyright protection. Writings from a previous blog are being combined into this one.

A Clean Slate

Dancing while I walk

I had to say it

The Cost of Freedom

When You've Had Enough

Giving it your All

Who's Shay?

Archives

Categories