Learning To Drive

I went through it; you went through it; we all went through it.  Equal mix of excitement, fear and trepidation, I suppose.

A whole different feeling for me as I sit shotgun in the passenger seat.  Way different.

Typically, I drive.  I am behind the wheel.  I am in control.  I think I’m a pretty good driver, though I know I scare the living daylights out of my wife, who actually teaches Behind The Wheel.  I tend to go a bit slower than most.  Kim calls it “Driving like an Old Man!”  At least I’ve not gotten a ticket and I have not been in an accident in years.

Our youngest, Emily, is Learning To Drive.  While Kim has taken Emily out on most trips for her to practice, I spend some time in the passenger seat riding shotgun.  There are times when I find myself pushing the imaginary brake.  I know at times I talk too much, maybe distract her a bit too much as I point out things to look for, things to watch for.  Sometimes I nitpick on slowing down or signaling intentions or checking mirrors.  Have to keep a bit more quiet, I think.  I think she’d agree.  I know she’d agree.

I just want her to be careful.  To do well.  To succeed and not get any tickets or get into any accidents.  I guess like any parent.

Learning To Drive.

She really does a good job.  She sits in the seat behind the wheel.  She adjusts the seat.  Checks and changes the mirrors slightly.  She makes sure the wheel is straight before she even starts up the car, admonishing me if I leave it crooked because, “It’s dangerous!”  Yeah, I know.  I get that.  She’s careful.  She thinks ahead.  Observes everything.  And, she really wants to do well.  She doesn’t want to make a mistake.

Learning To Drive.

Just like in life, parents and teachers have to teach our kids.  It isn’t easy sitting shotgun with only the imaginary break to push as our kids take the wheel . . . of the car . . . of life.  We want them to succeed.  We don’t want them to make mistakes.  We don’t want them to have accidents.

And just as they sit in the driver’s seat and take the wheel of the car, at some point, they sit in the driver’s seat and take the wheel of their life.  Scary for a parent, a teacher, a significant other.  Really scary because we so very much want them to succeed.  We so very much don’t want them to make a mistake or get into an accident.

And honestly, I find myself holding my breath a little each time she . . . they . . . sit behind the wheel, each time they wave goodbye, each time . . . 

I watch the clock.  I wonder.  Yes, I worry.  Each time.  Every time.

Learning To Drive.

And just like with a car, our kids need to learn how to navigate the streets of life.  Watching out for this pothole.  Being careful to watch for other drivers . . . other people . . . because we don’t know what they will do.  Making sure they don’t travel too close to the edge.  Somehow helping them navigate down the center, making turns safely, and slowly, and carefully.  Helping them see what lies ahead and to somehow anticipate- ever a hard thing to do, to master.  Just like in a car, we want our kids to succeed and be safe in life.  And it’s never easy when you’re not behind the wheel, when you’re not in control, and with just an imaginary break.  Never easy.  Not easy at all.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Prepare, And The Preparation

The weekend after Thanksgiving is our weekend to decorate the house for Christmas. 

For the past couple of years, Hannah has been in charge of setting up the lights outside.  She does a nice job.  Each year it’s a little different.  Each year is prettier than the last.  When she’s done, all of us chip in and decorate the inside of the house.  Each year pictures get taken down and seasonal pictures take their place.  The tree gets purchased.  Kim puts on the lights and together as a family, we put on the ornaments.  Some old.  Some newer.  Baby ornaments depicting Wil’s, Hannah’s, Emily’s birth or birthday.  A baseball ornament for Wil.  Soccer ornaments for all three kids.  Swimming ornaments for Hannah and Emily.  Wedding and anniversary ornaments.  Lots.  The tree is full.  Full.

Each year, our Golden, Bailey, picks one and eats it.  Yup.  Never fails.  One ornament a year.  Sherlock, before he died, did the same thing.  No clue why.  They just do.

Together, Emily and I put up the Village.  You could say that it’s our thing. 

We set up two tables.  We make sure we have the extension cords.  We place the fake snow down and then open up the trunk and take out the boxes.

We place the houses, and the shops, and the people just so.  They have to be just right.  As if one could step into the scene and take part.  Buy the baked ham or the freshly baked bread.  Can almost smell it.  Perhaps skate on the pond and drink hot chocolate.  Maybe cut down the Christmas trees and sell them along with the seller.  Can almost smell the pine.  Or, help feed the chickens or milk the cow on the little homestead up on the hill outside of town.  The other animals amongst the bales of hay.

Prepare, And The Preparation.

Almost, but not quite ready.

We have the lists of wishes, needs, and “I’d likes”.  Shopping and wrapping and name tags.  Tape.  Lots of tape.  Random bundles and stacks under the tree. 

Prepare, And The Preparation.

Advent is one of my favorite seasons . . . themes.  Its very nature, its meaning, is to Prepare.  To make ready.  To get ready. 

To Prepare our heart.  To get our heart ready.  To get our mind ready.  Each year, at the same time of year, we Prepare.  We make Preparations.

We get to go change what we’ve done.  We get to change how we do things.  How we think.  How we act.  How we treat people . . . ourselves.

We have the opportunity to begin again.  To make things right.  To Prepare, and To Make Preparations.  A great concept and philosophy.  A concept that is truly more realistic than an ideal. 

My question is this: why should we wait until each December to Prepare to do better . . . to think better?  Why wait until each December to make our Preparations?  Shouldn’t we do this each day?  Every day?  And, why Prepare?  Can’t we just do?  Each day . . . every day . . . just do?  And if we stumble and fall, if we make a mistake, we try again . . . and again . . . and again.  Each day . . . every day.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, And Make A Difference!

The Day After

Black Friday.  Strikes fear in the hearts of many, while joy and jubilation in the hearts of others.  Frankly, I can take it or leave it.  Mostly leave it, I guess.

People racing and running to and through stores seeking and searching for the best bargain.  In the limited driving I did today, horns blared, drivers cut in and cut off other drivers and then they gave each other the single finger salute.

I read a report where shoppers fought each other with tasers.  There were other shoppers literally wrestling each other over something each had wanted.  A news report showed one prominent department store that had actually marked up items that were on sale for less on Veteran’s Day.  Another prominent store didn’t actually have a deal, but sold items for the same price that were for sale at any other time of year. 

Hmmm . . .  So much for “deals”.

I guess what bothers me is that somehow, we’ve lost the meaning of Christmas is about.  We lost what Christmas is about.

Yes, I know there is joy in giving gifts. My wife, Kim, and I take one day and spend it together going over our kids’ lists, and then shop here and there for each other.  We take another day and the four of us, Kim, Hannah, Emily and I go shopping.  It’s fun.  I love our Christmas, the time we spend together, the laughter and the joy.

Yet . . .

Is Christmas really about stress and strain?  Spending sometimes enormous amounts of money on . . . stuff? 

Or is Christmas about something else?

I don’t mean to sound like The Grinch.  Really.  I’m not against eggnog or Mistletoe.  I’m not against buying and giving presents.  I like wrapping them and surprising others with something they had always wanted.  I’m not against caroling.  I love Midnight Mass and candles.  I love the Christmas dinner and time spent with and on family.

I just think it’s gone too secular.  I think it’s somehow gotten a bit greedy.  Maybe a lot greedy.

I wonder if we’ve lost the innocence of it all.  I wonder if the purity is missing.  Sometimes I wonder if we can . . . if we ever will . . . get it back.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Once More Upon A Time

Once More Upon A Time

I’ve written in the past that Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday.  For me, it beats Christmas only because of the secular issues, not at all because of the religious mystique and belief surrounding it.  But Thanksgiving is really rather simple.

It’s giving thanks!  Really as simple as that.  Giving Thanks!

I don’t know that we do that enough.  We don’t do that to or for ourselves, and I believe we don’t do that enough to and for each other, especially our loved ones, those we work alongside of, those who greet us each day, or say goodbye to us each day.  We don’t say thank you nearly enough.

Those of you who know me and read me often know that I come from a rather poor and humble background.  We didn’t have a lot, but that didn’t stop us from being appreciative of what we did have.

Such as . . .

Love.  Support.  Caring.  Compassion.  Concern.  Laughter.  Each Other.

Food on the table and a place to sleep and clothes to wear.

Such as . . .

Parents and Teachers and Significant Others who took the time and had the patience to teach me right from wrong, good from bad.  Who showed me paths to take and gave me the freedom to let me choose which path to take, even if they knew in advance that it might be a circuitous and convoluted route and not at all easy . . . and that I might fail. 

Such as . . .

People in my life who were there to pick me up with I fell, who gave me strength when I stood, who helped me find hope when I was ready to give up, who helped me find faith when I didn’t have any- not in myself, not in others.

Such as . . .

People in my life who extended themselves and risked a relationship with me.  People who took the time to answer my questions, who sometimes, hopefully infrequently, took the brunt of my misplaced anger, my uncharitable actions or words.  People who were patient with me even though I might not have been patient with them . . . or with myself.

Such as . . .

People who took the time to teach me that I am as important as others around me, and that at times, that there are others who I am so unworthy of standing in their shadow.  People who took the time to show me that my actions, my words, my thoughts matter, have an impact great and small, known and unknown.

Such as . . .

Waking up to see a sunrise and know that I can do it all again . . . or even do it over.  That at night, I can crawl into bed and know that I had tried to do my best, my very best, and sleep peacefully, contentedly, and know with absolute certainty that the sun will rise and a new day will begin and that if I didn’t like the results from the previous day, I can (and must) course-correct and move on, do something differently, say something differently.

So, Once More Upon A Time . . .

With my heart full, with a smile and with all sincerity, I say, Thank You!  That is truly something for you, for each of us, to do.  And, as I always end my writings, something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Sixty And Thankful

On Monday, I turn 60.  I can remember when I thought 60 was really old.  I mean, really, really old.  Now that I’m there, I don’t feel that way now.  Not at all.

Yes, what hair I have left is gray.  My wife, Kim, thinks I’m shrinking.  Not much, but a little.  My kids think so too.  I don’t see it, but perhaps I’m biased.  I’m a little stiffer.  I’m a little rounder.  But all in all, I can’t complain.  No major illnesses or injuries knock on wood.

I’ve had a nice life thus far, and I stress “thus far” because I feel I still have miles and years ahead of me.  I’ve lived in the wilds in Wyoming and experienced life on a ranch.  I’ve lived in Nebraska. 

I met my wife in California, where we adopted our son, Wil, and gave birth to our two daughters, Hannah and Emily.  Held them.  Cuddled them.  Read them stories.  Listened to their stories.  Laughed with them, and wiped their tears.  Tended to them when sick.  Encouraged them when they were down or frightened or felt that they just couldn’t do something, anything.  Sat through days and weeks of swim meets.  Watched weeks and months and years’ worth of soccer.  Still do.

Sixty And Thankful.

I really am.  I can’t complain about my life- beginning to end and all that was in the middle.  I’ve made mistakes along the way.  A lot of them.  I accept all the mistakes I’ve made and mostly, believe I’ve learned from them.   

When I coached basketball, I told my teams that basketball is a game of mistakes.  The team that makes the fewest, generally wins.  Maybe life is like that.  Not necessarily winning or losing, but living and just existing.  I’d rather live than exist. 

But life is making mistakes, learning from them and moving on.  Throw in a few successes along the way, and life is pretty good.  Can’t ask for more than that, can we?

Or . . .

Touching a life and making a difference along the way.  I’d like to think I’ve done that . . . am doing that.  I’d like to think that.  I hope I do that.  Not taking moments for granted, but living in them, using them, being useful in those moments.

Sixty And Thankful.

A lot to be thankful for.  Knowing that there is more out there for me to do.  Knowing that I have a few good miles to go and willing to go the distance.  Maybe a lot more.  Knowing that there will be more lives to touch, to effect.  Knowing that there is so much more for me to learn, so much more for me to grow.  Knowing that there is nothing to be taken for granted.  Knowing that there is so much more out there waiting for me.

You might not be sixty.  Maybe sixteen or twenty-six or . . . We’ll walk this together you and I, in our own ways, in our own time.  I’m thankful that you take the time to read these musings, my posts and hope they make a difference, cause you to consider, to ponder, to think a bit.  Thank you.  Something I think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

A Cry For Help

Bailey is our Golden Retriever.  I had written about her previously (Storms).  She is very shy, if not nervous and frightened.  When she came into our home, we didn’t realize she was a rescue dog.  Interesting concept: Rescue Dog.

Each evening . . . every evening . . . like clockwork, Bailey seeks out my wife, Kim.  Emily isn’t quite good enough, even though Bailey sleeps in her room each night.  I’m not quite good enough, even though I let her out and give her treats.  No, Kim is the favorite. 

Each night, at the very same time each night, Bailey comes into the family room and pesters Kim until she gives the attention Bailey demands.  Paw on Kim’s thigh.  The intent, nonstop stare.  The bouncing up and down.  Yes, really.  Bailey bounces.  Had we known that, we would have named her Tigger.  And each night, Kim relents and plays with Bailey, sometimes giving her a treat at the end of the play session.  However, the play session lasts a long, long time.

A Cry For Attention.

This past Saturday, Bailey pestered Kim, so Kim got down on the floor to play, but Bailey rolled over and just wanted Kim to pet her.  Bailey laid like that for a long, long time.  Kim laid down next to her, watched TV with us, but continued to pet Bailey.  Bailey didn’t move.  Bailey was content.  Peaceful.  Calm.

A Cry For Attention.

It seems to me that kids are sort of like that.  Maybe some adults are sort of like that, too.  I think there is such a thing . . . I think there is such a person, as a rescue kid.  I think there is such a thing . . . I think there is such a person, as a rescue adult.

The kid with the pout, who doesn’t know how to ask for attention, or a conversation, or a smile, or a pat on the back, or a hug.  He or she might not know how else to get you to notice.  An unexplained outburst.  An unexplained act that might cause us to say, “What were you thinking?”  And in the end, the kid doesn’t really know what he or she was thinking.  He or she just acted.  Maybe reacted.

A Cry For Attention.

I can’t count the number of times a simple “Hello” or a “Good morning” or a “Have a good day” causes a smile.  I can’t count the number of times a smile causes a smile.  It leads to others, kids and adults, to greet me the same way.  It becomes perpetual motion, if I can be allowed to use that concept successfully. 

A smile begets a smile.  A “Hello” begets a “Hello”.  The simple act of caring, showing concern, compassion, begets the same.  The simple act and willingness to listen causes someone to speak and not be afraid to do so.  And, perhaps more importantly, those simple acts get extended to others beyond our sight, beyond our ever knowing about it.  Perhaps.

Like pebbles thrown in a pond and the concentric circles forever flowing outward.  Simple acts of caring, concern, and compassion reaching out and beyond our own point of origin.  To others. To the . . . rescue kids and the rescue adults . . . out there in our world.  Like Bailey’s nightly Cry For Attention, simply met and accepted and acknowledged.  And without much cost.  Not much cost at all.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!