 Maxine was Mama Schaefer's favorite "We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude." ~Cynthia Ozick The fire crackled and popped in the background of warm laughter, as Thanksgiving day wound to a close. Dishes were done, bellies were stuffed, and my little family sprawled over the living room sofas watching Captain America while the fire kept vigil. I thought of all the people absent from the dinner table this afternoon, and about people who were eating alone, or not at all. This time last year was when Mama Schaefer got ill and boy was I missing her. I wondered about other dinner tables on this special day...if their conversation flowed easily or were tense and strained as personalities clashed in barely contained pleasantries. I recalled Thanksgivings past, earlier in our marriage when we bounced from house to house, miserable by the end of the evening and positively sick of turkey and stuffing. My mind threatened to sink into the maudlin as Captain America fought to save the day. Why don't we make our Thanksgiving favorites on a random Tuesday in March, instead of stuffing ourselves into a tryptophan coma in late November? Why don't we nurture relationships all year, instead of waiting for a seasonal get-together to speak with one another? I wondered these things as I picked at my dinner earlier in the day, but then I looked over and saw my father sitting with my brother and his wife, happily chatting between bites. I was thankful to see him, especially with a smile on his face. While in line for dessert, my little niece stopped her mad dash to hug me tight. I was thankful to see her growing healthy and strong, her blonde hair in disarray from a day spent playing with her little cousins. On the front porch after dinner, I smile, listening to my girls slip into Spanish with my Uncle Matt's Peruvian wife, who delights in helping them practice their linguistic skills. These people who are part of my tribe are a diverse group, some of whom I'm very close to, while others remain nearly strangers. Together we are a complicated mix but I enjoy being around them very much during the holidays. I am, however, always grateful at the end of the evening, when I can go home, relax and enjoy the quiet company of my husband and our girls. I don't know why the holiday season is always fertile ground for a myriad of mood swings and strong emotions, but it never fails to be exactly that. As I spend my weekend decorating for Christmas and looking for creative ways to cook Thanksgiving leftovers, I must stay mindful of keeping my focus on positive, happy things (the ornaments, especially, almost always make me cry). May your weekend be full of joyous things and feel free to send me any recipe suggestions for all these leftovers! 
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 "Do you believe in magic?" she asked. "I believe in you," he said. "And you're the closest thing to magic that I've found." ~by j.m. green My list of "Thankfuls" is long and hopefully yours is, too. My thoughts today are very much with those who are going to spend tomorrow alone, or missing someone they love. A list of names scrolls randomly through my mind while I go about the business of Wednesday and it doesn't want to leave me alone. I remember so many holidays spent away from home, and more than one spent alone, feeling as if the whole world was having a special day, while mine was just another series of 24 hours that passed by in obscurity. The message below is an inspiring one and the little boy delivering it is very special. His "magic" is big enough to touch the whole world! Tonight, while I'm holding my girls tight and listening to their happy laughter, I will be sending out love to all of you and wishes for blessings more abundant than you can measure.  "Eventually, everything connects." ~author Unknown While I was working this morning on the pirate book, I got the opportunity to speak with a friend I haven't had contact with for many years. In fact, the only "me" he knew before today was that broken little girl I was when we were children. I remember him as a handsome, shy, sweet boy whom I've discovered has grown into a wise, kind man (that handsome part stuck). At one point in our conversation he asked me how long I'd been home. I told him I'd been back two years and wasn't sure I fit in here anymore. He asked me if I had to "fit" in order to be happy, and I can't even tell you the huge impact this question has had on me. I'm still wearing the smile it put on my face. Ya know, this is exactly how that whole "angels watching over us" thing works, because he had no idea the context of my life at the moment that makes his question utter perfection. Not once in forty-five years has trying to "fit" ever made me happy. In fact, the rare times I've done it, I was miserable and looked exactly like that picture up top...parts of me broken off for my efforts. Yesterday another insightful friend suggested to me, "You're trying too hard, babe." These two things put together are exactly the "answers" to questions I've been asking myself for a LONG time converging together from two separate conversations at exactly the "right" time (Oprah calls these "a-ha moments"). I am, have always been the square peg. From the moment I got here two years ago, I've been trying to shove myself into countless round holes all over my hometown with ridiculously frustrating results. I like being a square peg and fit great in puzzles full of people who feel the same. I hate the round holes and nothing about trying to shove myself into them makes me happy. This is one fact that "little me" and "big me" share. But when I was little, I felt I had to try and do it in order for people to love me, find me worthy. I felt as if I had to force myself to conform to the ideals and notions that create the shape of those round holes. "Big me" is at my most happy in the freedom of being a square peg and embracing the differences it entails. Sometimes I falter, stumbling over those old insecurities about what or whom society expects me to be, but most days I relish my utter squareness. To those angels who continue to whisper in my ear and remind me of who I really am, thank you! Today I am happy that those angels keep putting pretty feathers into my own wings. *Images from architart.blogspot.com (red peg) & romanticfae.diviantart.com (wings).   I know, I know...I promised "100 Days of Happy". This time of year, however, can be very stressful regardless of the fact that the radio touts, "It's the most wonderful time of the year" (I swear, if they play that song one more time and I'm near a firearm...). On Saturday, my husband took me out to lunch when he got home from class, and asked what our plans were for the day. I decided to do something spontaneous, because he is often encouraging me to be more spur of the moment. I suggested we go Christmas shopping, thinking maybe since there weren't a lot of crowds out yet it might be romantic and fun. He sighed at my suggestion, then fired a series of questions: "Do we have a plan? Where are we going? What were you wanting to buy? Do you know who all is on the list?", all of which I had no answer for. My repeated, "I don't knows" only made him more frustrated which led to one doozie of a fight! I started to cry, making his mood more black, and I withdrew into that shell I like to hide in when I don't know what else to do. We sat in stoney silence for quite awhile in the Staples parking lot where we'd gone to look for Christmas cards. As he stared out his window and I did the same out mine, he reached over and touched my leg. "I'd rather be here fighting with you than doing anything else with anyone else in the world," he said quietly. And just like that, the fight gave way to a step off the battleground and into sincere apologies. Afterwards, he spit on a tissue and wiped my smudged mascara tenderly from my cheeks. We made a plan together and salvaged our shopping adventure into something productive. We missed the "romantic" mark by a mile, but still managed pleasant, which was quite a feat! Today I am happy I have a partner in my life who looks at me and sees someone he doesn't want to give up on, even when giving up would be easier. I am thankful for an event that was a potent reminder that sometimes it takes work to keep the "reason for the season" in our hearts. The "magic" of this time of year often doesn't just happen...it requires us to work the "spells" that create it...patiently, kindly, one tender, loving word at a time.   "Promise you'll never forget me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred." ~Winnie-the-Pooh quote Some people fit seamlessly into your life. From the moment you meet, your soul whispers, "Oh, there you are. I've been waiting for you" and the connection feels as if it was always there, dormant until your paths finally crossed. I am so very blessed to have experienced this repeatedly over the course of my life. And while I may not speak with them on a regular basis, when I do it is always as if no time has passed. These are the people I refer to as my tribe. Many of them are not blood relatives, but that does not diminish their "family" status at all. I know this has been dominating my thoughts, of late, because of the holiday that's just around the corner. Some of them I will get to see at Thanksgiving, but most of my tribe is scattered hither and yon, and I'll be left to wonder what their celebrations will entail. I miss them, so I tuck memories of times spent together around me like a warm, winter coat. I offer up extra prayers at night before I drift off to sleep; prayers of well-wishes, health and joy. To all of my tribe who are far away, I love you. I miss you. My eyes leak as emotions for my tribe in Heaven are too strong to hold back...my mama, mama Schaefer, Aunt Mattie, my son...the list is long, the ache still powerful and fresh. Those of you without a tribe of your own, I strongly encourage you to create one...big or small, those connections help stabilize the foundation of your life. I am happy to be able to reach down deep and feel those strong bonds holding tight, undaunted by space, time, or proximity. Even death cannot severe them because once they've taken hold, they are a part of who you are. "It's hard to explain how a few precious things seem to follow throughout all our lives...", but they absolutely do, and rarely are they "things". May your weekend be filled with more "joy" than your cup can hold.  My daughter, learning to be her own Superhero "It is not important who I am underneath. But what I do defines me." ~quote from Batman Begins There is a certain joy found in being valued, especially by your grown children. I don't even know how to describe it specifically, but I know it doesn't feel like other kinds of joy; not the joy you get when you receive the perfect gift, or the taste of a flawless bite on your palette. Knowing you are valued feels like warmth wrapped around your soul, a hug to the part of you that houses your self-worth. Here's the ultimate example of what I mean. Earlier, while I was putting myself together for the day, my youngest daughter (who is twenty-one) calls me. "Hi, Mom. I just need to ask you a question." I pause in putting on mascara. "Sure," I say. "Shoot." "Is an encyclopedia a credible source for research?" she asks. "Not really, no, but it depends," I answer. "What? Why?" she wants to know. I go on to explain that much of the information in encyclopedias is out of date and has given way to more current and accurate sources, however using them to show certain things (and here I offer her several "for instances") could be credible, as long as they are not her only source. She listens patiently, and interjects in various places. When I'm done she explains the reason behind her question. She has just completed a presentation in one of her college classes on the merits of Batman verses Superman (of which we are both staunchly in the Batman camp), and the DC Comics Encyclopedia was one of her sources. I delighted in listening to her explain her thought process and describe her presentation. But the true things that gave me pure joy were she had very sound logic in all of her arguments, and she valued my opinion on the matter. My girls have reached the age where they want to figure out things on their own. I confess, I miss the days when I was the Superhero in their world. I miss when they'd climb up into my lap and I'd solve everything for them, often with kisses and less profound lines of reasoning. Today, I am happy that they have not completely outgrown their Mom. Maybe I won't donate my cape to Goodwill just yet. On a side note, I'm still a little bummed that Batman didn't marry me. I could have been quite a catch! Oh, well!   My husband and girls, Bodie Island Lighthouse 2009 "A daughter needs a dad to be the standard against which she will judge all men." ~author Unknown My girls have an amazing relationship with their dad. It is something the three of them have worked at building together for a long time, no easy task when you're an active duty military member who works long hours and deploys frequently. Somehow, though, they managed to work around those problems. Now that he's retired from the Air Force, he texts them almost every morning, stops by to check on them frequently, and often drops things off for them like groceries or the vacuum cleaner he recently fixed for them to use. He bakes for them and teaches them about budgeting, and if you ask them, those girls will tell you that he is the kind of man who sets a very high bar. I must admit, part of me is envious of the relationship they share, not because I feel it takes away from my own relationship with them, but because they have with their dad what I always wanted with mine. Today my father came for lunch, and we sat at the kitchen counter together eating and talking about life. Mostly our conversations veer towards the inconsequential, but I don't mind. Being able to spend time with him is so rare, when it happens I'm always extremely grateful. I didn't have my dad around when I was growing up because after he and my mother divorced, I barely got to see him. Now that I'm grown and we've moved close, I'm greedy for every moment. He can be a stubborn, grumpy ol' mountain man, but he has such a fun sense of humor, when he allows you to see it. He also has this uncanny way about him to slip something insightful into a conversation that reveals he's aware of much more than he lets on. I tingled with pride when he complimented my potato soup and cornbread. "I like cornbread," he confessed. "And this is really good," he added. I felt a huge sense of comfort and warmth when he told me the food I was sending home with him would be his dinner tonight. When lunch was over, he came down to see the newly completed "Man Cave" and the pergola I built almost completely by myself this summer, both of which he complimented with pride. Today I'm happy that I got to have lunch with my father. The fact that my youngest daughter called me this morning just to say "I love you, Mom" is the frosting on my happy Wednesday cupcake! Today is a good day to have a good day!  My dad & me, Easter 1972  "People are as happy as they make up their minds to be." ~Abraham Lincoln I've spent most of this cold November Tuesday cooking and contemplating the state of happiness. What does it mean to actually be happy, anyway? Is happy the same as thankful? How do you know when you're happy? How do you get there if you're unhappy? All of these questions fluttering around my head while I make apple fritters, homemade potato soup and cornbread. Who knew chopping fruits and vegetables could be so philosophical?! As I popped a slice of Honey Crisp apple into my mouth, I wondered if these answers could be quantified with any degree of accuracy. I mean scholars, philosophers, and social scientists have been trying to pin these answers down for a very long time. My favorite professor, Dr. Safford, would be proud that all these years later I am still "thinking about my thinking", but there is a real danger of me getting lost inside my own head, not a good thing to do when one is holding a very sharp knife, using it to chop stuff. No fingertips are included in my recipes for today; but I digress. For me, happiness involves living a life with purpose, while surrounding myself with people I love, who love me in return. Happiness about being able to be my messy self among those who accept that wholeheartedly. Being happy and being thankful are not the same thing, although they are kissing cousins. You can be thankful for the positives in your life and still be very unhappy (...been there, got the t-shirt). My answer for "how do you know when you're happy" is lame...you just do. Your smile comes easily. When negatives creep in, your ability to banish them post haste is almost second nature (...and you do this because spoiling the "happy mojo" is completely unacceptable). And when I'm unhappy, the first two things that immediately kick in are my desire to indulge in simple (often silly) pleasures, and to do something spontaneously kind for someone else. I'm not sure any of these bits of "Amy Wisdom" are revolutionary, or even particularly helpful, but hopefully they've given you some food for thought. I know they've certainly added all kinds of "flavour" to my cooking! Bon Appetit! *Images at pinterest & parade.condmast.com.   "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." ~Vivian Greene Another Monday has arrived, all grey, cold and rainy. I pass the little cube sign with the quote above printed on it and feel as if it's quietly judging me. It sits on my sofa table, and I grunt when I go by on my way to taking the pup out, thinking, "All you'd do is catch cold if you danced in the rain today." While waiting for the dog to take care of his business, my eyelashes drip with chilly raindrops (...yes, I have an umbrella but its current whereabouts are a mystery), my hair is plastered to my head, and the urge to crawl back into bed and just skip today altogether is almost too tempting to pass up. Back inside, another quote pops into my mind, "Some people love the rain, while others just get wet." Well, I'm certainly wet, and getting that way wasn't all that fun! Apparently the grumpies are trying to invade my day, negative thoughts dripping off my brain like those raindrops on my eyelashes. How the heck am I supposed to focus on "100 Days of Happy" when I've got the Monday "Blahs"? ..."Well, you woke up this morning, right?" pops in to answer my question. "And there are homemade dark chocolate chip cookies over there on the counter," immediately follows the previous thought. "You didn't have to get up early (even though I did get up this morning at quarter of four so I could spend some time with my husband before he went to work)." I got to crawl back into bed afterwards and sleep a bit longer, while he had to suck it up and brave the cold November rain to drive to work. Now, I'm wearing jeans and a comfy shirt, because at MY job every day is casual Friday and my boss never complains about that! Now the positives are coming just as fast as the negatives were before. And just like that, I find my happy place. Okay, I had a little help from a cookie, but I got there! If your day began today with the "Blah's", I hope you found something to take you to your happy place, and if not, I've got a bag full of cookies I'm totally willing to share! Images from: (raindrops)@wallpaper4me.com & (cookies)@acozykitchen.com.   "Keep Warm and Snuggle On" The sun appears deceptively warm today, as he shines off of trees still ablaze in Autumn's glory. The first "No Kidding It's Cold" Day, however, has arrived and I've torn the house apart in search of my stash of winter gloves, for when I venture outdoors with the puppy. I hate my hands being cold! Despite the fact that I may have a dozen winter coats hanging in our closet, which my husband points out often, I reach for his Air Force field jacket that's draped over the back of a kitchen chair. He is always amused by my choice of coat wear, and usually just shakes his head at me while I brave the "Brrrrrrrrrrrrr" (today it includes wind, ack)! His coat is huge, practically swallowing me whole, and it's getting a bit tattered (I will be most distraught when it finally is too worn to wear), but it's still wicked warm and smells all manly. Putting it on and pulling it closed is like being wrapped in a really long, practically perfect hug. My coats just don't have that super power! I haven't listened to it yet this year, but "Baby, It's Cold Outside" is one of my favorite songs of the holiday season. The spirit of this sappy, sentimental tune about the warmth that love can provide always makes me smile (..."Gee but your lips look delicious"). Today, I'm happy and thankful that I have a life filled with love. It keeps me steady, makes me strong, and warms me throughout all of the seasons. In colder weather, however, I'm equally thankful for a man who let's me repeatedly steal his coat and doesn't seem to mind a bit! |
About The Author
I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter. Archives
August 2021
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