One Man’s Dream

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. Martin Luther King, Jr.

When this day rolls around each year, even though it’s been more than a decade since I’ve taught, I remember reading to my kindergarten class from the children’s book about Martin Luther King, Jr., always on the Friday before our long weekend off to celebrate his birthday. And never, ever, not even once did I make it through his words, “I have a dream …” without choking up.

I have a lump in my throat now.

Why? I’m not quite sure why it’s so emotional for me.

But maybe because …

I didn’t understand why Mom was angry when I got my hair tangled up in the barrettes of my four-year-old black friend. It happened because we buried our heads behind the seat of the school bus and talked after the driver told us not to. Mom didn’t reprimand me for talking but took me straight home to wash my hair.

And maybe because when I moved from New York, there were only white children in my 4^th grade class and on our playground. Only white children and teachers and workers in the school, well, except the janitor.

And maybe because when the district was integrated the year I started middle school, my parents gave me the option to attend a private school.

Dad and Mom grew up in a different environment and believed a different way. However, I was fortunate as a child to grow up on a military base. I didn’t know anything different from diversity; consequently, no one seemed that different.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Fifty years later, I’m appreciative for that opportunity. And appreciative for one man’s dream …

The Crown of Unconditional Love

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. Jean Anouilh

Sheldon, one of our son’s friends, was an unlikely Homecoming King at their high school’s football game. He spent most of his academic day in a special education classroom, was seldom a part of parties and goings on, and was unable to participate in sports because of his disabilities. Somehow, though, Sheldon’s bear hugs and his loud hellos when he called your name worked magic on the students and faculty. So much so that when the evening came to announce the winner from the Homecoming Court, Sheldon jumped in circles and squealed when he was crowned.

Recently, Sheldon posted a belated birthday wish on our son’s Facebook page, some 10 years after their graduation. I noticed he’s working as an associate at Goodwill Industries. I thought, “How appropriate.”

Next, “They’re lucky to have him.”

When reading his message, what struck me is how a decade ago, I felt sorry for this young man. I remember being grateful to the students who went out of their way to be accepting, you know, doing him a favor – how they helped Sheldon, rallied around him, and even gave up a popularity contest to allow him to win king for a day.

If I had written this post back then, it would have been about the heart of those students. Though I’m still impressed by their kindness, what I didn’t recognize was Sheldon was royalty long before that crown. Instead of all we did for him, he did us the favor.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Thanks, Sheldon. You set an example for what you do well, love unconditionally.

Mary Moments = Merriment

Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her. Jesus

Jesus’ quote is from Luke 10:38-42 (NIV). Here is the scripture: As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Throughout the holidays, I practiced making merry. I made a conscious effort to quiet my Martha-like compulsions and to be more like her sister. This came to mind one evening when I was figuring out a way to remember which one was which between Mary and Martha. It dawned on me, “Mary was merry.”

These homonyms offered timely clarification for a merry Christmas. I reminded myself that family members, friends and especially our kids visited and celebrated in our home not to do a white glove inspection, not expecting Paula Deen’s cooking and Martha Stewart’s decorations, and not with arms-wide-open to receive Donald Trump-like gifts. Actually, they may have enjoyed a celebrity holiday but my guess is they came for merriment.

Mary moments only happen in this household when I let go of worry and upset and ideal scenes by Norman Rockwell, and in their place, sit at the feet of those I love.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – When I attend to love, love attends.

Recipe: Marble Rounds

It's that time of year when it's good to be fat and jolly.

I know, posting a couple of recipes a year is a clue to how much time I spend in the kitchen. While I type, this cookie is baking so I’m a timer’s beep away from having to get back to the oven. Enjoy!

Marble Rounds

1 cup softened butter
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons almond extract
2 ½ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 ounce semisweet chocolate

Mix butter, sugar, egg, vanilla extract and almond extract. Combine flour and baking powder. Mix all together. Melt chocolate in microwave. Divide dough in half and mix melted chocolate in half the dough. Chill vanilla and chocolate dough for about 30 minutes.

Roll each dough flat and evenly sized, stack chocolate on top of vanilla and roll into a log shape. Roll up into wax paper and chill in refrigerator. Slice firm cookies and bake 10-12 minutes at 350 degrees.

Note: Cookie dough can also be made into checkered patterns.

Delighted By the Details

The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life. William Morris

Christmas is in the details. And Christmas is worth the details, even ones that take a few extra minutes and a little more effort.

It’s in the excitement of a child sharing his Christmas list. It’s in the preparation of food and batches of homemade cookies. It’s in wrapping gifts with sparkly red ribbon to match the paper, and tying on nametags lined with glitter. It’s in addressing each envelope and sealing it with a snowflake sticker.

Christmas is in the laughter at celebrations and a hug from a good friend who wishes you a merry season filled with blessings and prosperity. It’s in the peacefulness when the only things lit throughout the house are twinkling lights and the fireplace.

Christmas is in buying a warm coat for a child you may never meet, sending goodie-filled boxes to troops who won’t come home for the holidays and shopping for a blanket to give someone who is in need of a Secret Santa.

It’s in the anticipation during the quietest daybreak of the year, just before kids are up and gifts are unwrapped. It’s in the time curled up in front of a heartwarming movie, the giggles and a quick kiss underneath mistletoe, and the moment baby Jesus is laid in the family’s manger scene.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Christmas is in the details, and so is all of life.

Growing Up, At Our Age

It is one thing to show your child the way, and a harder thing to then stand out of it. Robert Brault

“When I was their age, I was mowing the lawn for my mom without having to be asked.”
“When I was their age, I was working and paying my own way.”
“When I was their age, I was married with kids, and working full time.”
“When I was their age, I knew better.”

I’ve either made these statements or heard them from friends. The fact is, we all think we know better at whatever age it is we’ve matured. But if we’re parents of young adults who are “their age,” sometimes I think we lose our minds, our common sense and especially our memories. We get puffed up about who we think we were back then, you know, at their age.

“The kids these days,” “this generation,” and the ones who we claim are lost because of self absorption, social technology, and lack of interpersonal and work skills are probably just about the same as we were at their age. What fuels our rants as parents is the fact that it would make our job easier if they’d act our age. But they don’t, they act their age …  just like we did.

When we hear ourselves complaining, “When I was their age … ,” it’s likely time to say “no.” And that’s why we’re cranky and griping (and sort of acting their age), because saying “no” makes our lives difficult, even painful, especially when it’s necessary to turn down offers to be their landlord, baker, banker, lawyer and preacher.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – When we were their age, didn’t we get by with what we could? And didn’t we only grow up as much as our parents let us go to find our own way? So at our age, who really needs to act their age?

Think an Attitude

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. Winston Churchill

Funny thing is, I posted the quote on Facebook and typed, “Attitude is a little think that makes a big difference.”

I’m not suggesting we alter Sir Churchill’s words but how big a blunder is that, really?

Our attitude typically is determined by our feelings, and our feelings by our thoughts. You’ve probably heard the phrase “stinking thinking.” Those “little thinks” can become a big stinkin’ attitude in no time, and the other way around when we’re thinking positive.

As difficult as change can be, disparaging thoughts racing about like crowds in Grand Central Station are as destructive as a runaway train. Each one of us is accountable even when it seems impossible to control negativity. It takes practice but it’s easier to release a reckless thought when replaced by a reassuring one.

During the period when our daughter dated a questionable character, my head conjured up all sorts of unsettling ideas. Sometimes I couldn’t adjust and my attitude went haywire right along with my head. Those moments caused some disagreeable reactions on my part. Most times, though, I quieted my thoughts by asking for help, “God, calm my fears and guide her choices.”

Years later, she shared that her breakup with the guy happened faster because her dad and I were supportive.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Enough right “thinks” and you’ve got yourself a well-thought-of attitude.

Interesting fact: The correct name for Grand Central Station is Grand Central Terminal.

Wrapped in Gratitude

Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind. Lionel Hampton

I was standing over a bed strewn with ribbon, tape, scissors and wrapping paper when I felt overcome with gratitude for knowing how to wrap gifts. Dad used to stand for hours during Christmastime over the bed in an extra room upstairs and meticulously wrap every gift, adding matching ribbon and bow. He also wrapped during the holiday season at our family’s dress store.

I watched him tape the gift so it wouldn’t shift about, fold the edges of paper to align both sides exactly (there are two different ways to do this), tie a ribbon around the package, and make many of the bows by hand even though we had a bow-making machine.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt this sort of gratitude for Dad. However, it may be the first time I’ve felt this much appreciation alongside opposing thoughts … too many holidays filled with anger and pain. For years, pain tangled up our lives sort of like a string of Christmas lights just retrieved from the attic. Do you ever wonder how they get in such a mess just lying there throughout the year?

Today’s post is about assessments and awakenings, about this year’s Christmas and Christmases past. Today’s post, wrapped neatly in Christmas paper and a matching bow just like Dad’s, is about gratitude in the midst of imperfection.

This day I’m entertained by all Dad gave, like the cartoonish boat captain figurine on our beach house fireplace and the baseball-sized earrings he spray painted gold as a gift when I got my ears pierced – instead of being bothered by what I think I missed in our relationship.

This day I’m enthusiastic about the creativity he passed down to me and to his grandkids, the renovation tips my husband and I learned from him and the love of home improvement stores we’re all fortunate to have inherited – instead of low-spirited about his bad habits that I made my own.

This day I’m indebted that not only can I wrap an attractive gift but I can also tuck the top bed sheet tight enough for military inspection, mow and edge a yard like a landscaper and, if I want to, scrub a bathroom with Comet till it’s sparkling clean. Just like Dad.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – This Christmas season, my memories are wrapped in gratitude. I hope yours are also.

As Good As She Imagined

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:16

Why read a book when you know the outcome is what every parent dreads? Maybe because it also tells the story of what every parent hopes … to have a child who shines light in dark corners and wakes up the world to love.

Jerry B. Jenkins’ book, As Good As She Imagined, tells the story of triumph in between two national tragedies, the story of the angel of Tucson, nine-year-old Christina-Taylor Green who was born on September 11, 2001 and died January 8 this year, the day marked by shootings at the political rally held by Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords.

Chapter after chapter describes the faith of a mother to make her family whole before and after this horrific crime, the love of a neighbor who looked forward to spending a day with Christina-Taylor at the gathering, lunch and a pedicure that never happened, and the optimism of a nine-year-old daughter to heal a family and a nation.

Jenkins wrote the book alongside Christina-Taylor’s mom, Roxanna Green. Through their teamwork, As Good As She Imagined offers the reader glimpses of Christina-Taylor’s well-lived life and pledges this little girl’s death not be purposeless. Instead, her story challenges each of us to be as good as we imagine – as good a country, as good a community, as good an individual.

Blog by Blog

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does. William James

Gina Holmes, novelist and founder of literary blog Novel Rocket, challenged writers to tithe their blogs by posting an article to help others. Simple enough, right? So simple it was tempting to leave it for others so I could do more important work. Then I wondered, “Like what?”

Too often I put aside significant acts of kindness because I may never see the results, I may never know who it helped, I may never hear another word about it, which, come to think of it, is even more reason to do it.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Please visit Inspire A Fire and read this heart-warming article of love during this heart-warming season of love.