God’s Mirrors

I was inspired today. My inspiration came from a place it hasn’t from in a long time: from Matt.

I should edit myself; like my son, Matt prefers (I think) to be called Matthew. I have a horrendous habit of calling people by their nicknames, one I should get rid of. 

I haven’t seen him in 18 years, but Matthew inspired me by reviving his blog. He wrote about it on Facebook. He linked to places he found helpful and I looked into those too. I admire him for so many reasons.

Matthew is part of a string of people in my life who somehow, in their presence, make me feel like I’m a better person than I realize. I’ve been blessed to have Matthew, Dana, Eric, Erik, Kenn, Daren and Dan cross my path or walk a few steps of my journey with me. Why all men? I don’t know, but somehow God put them in my path at times when I needed uplifting. 

I don’t remember why I needed uplifting the day before Christmas break in high school (senior year, I think.) Matthew approached me in the hallway in between classes and handed me a box that looked like it could contain a bracelet. My heart raced. I didn’t want a bracelet from Matthew - much too personal.  I opened the box and to my relieved delight, found a gift certificate to a clothing store at the mall. 

I loved clothes, and I loved that store. How he knew that, I don’t remember, but I remember exactly what I bought. I threw my value-driven consciousness to the wind and bought a cream-colored blouse at FULL PRICE. It felt like the most indulgent thing I’d ever done. In my memory, that blouse is exquisite. It could be worn elegantly with a simple necklace and dress slacks or paired gracefully with a myriad of skirts. I had wanted one like it for months. I felt like with it in my closet, my wardrobe was complete – that somehow, I was a better person. 

I’ve learned so many times since that it’s not the blouse that was important, it’s the way Matthew and each of these important people in my life makes me feel: like I’m better. They each see in me something I don’t see in myself. Each is acting as God’s mirror, to show me that I am more, am better, am worthy. For a brief moment, I’m smart, kind, competent, wonderful, bad-ass and maybe, in the truest sense of the word, beautiful. 

If you don’t have someone like this in your life, look around, they’re likely there.  Accept the way they make you feel, and before you go back to being your humble self, look in the mirror and see what you are, and what you can become.

Follow your dreams

I've heard it over and over again: You can do it! Follow your dreams! If you have a dream, you can achieve it!

So, what happens if you don't have a dream?

What if you don't have a vision for what you want your life to be like? What if, after all these years, you still don't know how to answer the question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?

You can't make this up.

So, I wasn’t feeling well this morning, and asked the kids to help themselves to yogurt for breakfast.

Well, the little one did and somehow got yogurt all over the kitchen. I didn’t notice this until most of the container was on my dress pants.

Changed my pants.

Then, I opened the fridge. Seems the kids had also helped themselves to the grapes, which proceeded to fall and bounce across the kitchen floor.

As I stood up from chasing grapes, I noticed one of the shelves in the fridge was white. Seems the milk I bought this weekend had a slow leak.

As I took the milk out of the fridge, I upset the eggs, which tumbled end over end and broke in a runny mess on the floor.

As I cleaned up the eggs and then the milk, I could hear the garage door going up and down – apparently the kids needed to find some way to amuse themselves.

I went outside to find the older two fighting and the littlest in only a pair of shorts (his siblings assured me they had dressed him.)

Got him dressed, got everyone dropped off, only to find the check for the daycare lady was in the pocket of the first pair of pants I put on in the morning….

So, how’s your day going?

Becoming an aunt again.

I remember the day I found out I was going to be an aunt. 

It wasn’t a good day. 

It was difficult, painful, and sent me to the type of fight or flight mama bear mode that not even birth had. 

But in the months that followed, I had a little time to reflect.

When I was a child, the coolest person in my world was Auntie Mary Jo. She’s my Godmom. I wanted to be like her more than almost any other person on the planet. She gave me Barbies, and wrapped my birthday presents in birthday paper (even though my birthday is on Christmas Eve.) 

She was single and awesome. And then, she was married and awesome. And then she gave birth to Andy. And Aaron, and Matthew, and Casey. I babysat all of them at one time or another. I remember tiny Andy in his tuxedo sleeper. I remember holding Aaron for what felt like hours as he slept in the hospital. Casey was born only a few hours after I got off a bus from Minnesota – just a few months before I got married. 

And then there was Matthew. I had fun with Matthew. I remember a day when he was sick. I happened to be home from college, so his mom called me to babysit. We hung out all day. Poop oozed out the back of his diaper and onto my shirt. (He got me REALLY good.) Then I sat him in the kitchen sink and he played happily while I made brownies – with powered sugar instead of flour. Oops! For one day, at least in my memory, he was a happy little guy.

Each one of those four little boys mean so much to me. 

Andy is getting married in the fall. Aaron is in college. And Matthew?. He just listed me as his “aunt” on Facebook. He has no idea how much that means to me. I have nieces, godchildren, and now, a nephew.

But, no kiddo, I’m not buying you beer.

RIP Mr. Jobs

Tonight, I was laughing with friends at happy hour when my husband texted me – Steve Jobs is dead. 

Steve Jobs, for as long as I can remember, has been a legend. The man dressed in jeans and a basic black lturtleneck, had something that I envy, vision. He could see how the personal computer would change the world. And digital music players. And tablet computers. And smart phones. 

He was the icon of the computer revolution - not that I’d know. I’m not a geek. I’m a geek’s wife.

I have no business lamenting Mr. Jobs. I haven’t owned an Apple product since I was 12 years old – over 20 years. And yet, his leadership drove forward the world in which I live. He pushed forward personal computing, graphic design, computer animation, digital music and personal technology devices. 

It wasn’t always his own ideas the pushed forward. He admits that Woz (Steve Wozniak, a high school friend) actually invented the Apple I. But it was he who could see where it would take the world. 

He could see that a mouse would make computing something that non-geeks (like me) could grasp.

One of the comments that I’ll never forget was one Jobs made to the CEO of Pepsi, in an attempt to hire him away. “Do you want to stay here and push sugar water, or do you want to work for me and change the world?” He decided to change the world. 

I have no idea if that is an accurate quote. I have no intention of checking to see if it is.The point is, he was confident. And he had an amazing faith in himself. 

He wasn’t without fault. But death is not a time to count faults. It is a time to celebrate achievements.

I envied him. And always will. 

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life," he said in the 2005 Stanford speech. "Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."

Wow. Have you lost weight?

On Monday, I had a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious, but as a matter of course, they took my weight. Yep, it matched the weight my scale had told me that morning and for most mornings for the better part of a year.

So I was quite surprised when I walked into our office lunchroom and someone yelled, "How much weight have you lost?"

Um, none. I indicated as such by making a zero with my thumb and index finger.

The same gal asked again "No, I mean, like since last summer?" Again, I answered with my fingers.

I was kinda embarrassed by this point, so when she asked "Then why do you always look so skinny?" I decided not to answer.

But, allow me to answer here. I am not the best dressed woman in the world, I don't always look skinny, and for the most part I leave my shapewear in the drawer.

Here's the big secret: I wear clothes that fit me. I know, crazy isn't it? Anyone who's watched at least six episodes of TLC's What Not to Wear knows that simple truth. So, why do we ladies not wear appropriately sized clothing?

Really, it's a NUMBER. And you look two sizes bigger when you don't wear the right number.

So why are we so obsessed with the number? For some reason, when I mention my size (no, I won't here) people are taken aback, like I'm lying. I'm not lying. I'm just not afraid of the number. I'm a girl with German and Belgian genes. There are some parts of me (my arms, for example) that are larger than others. If I drape fabric over those parts, it looks ok. If I stuff my large arms into small pieces of fabric like a sausage, guess what they look like? SAUSAGES.

There's the secret: I wear appropriately sized clothing. Wow. Call the press.

Put a cork in it

So this week, a football game will be held on a Tuesday. It’s the first time since 1946 that’s happened. Philadelphia is buried in snow, and the authorities decided it was better for fans to stay put and postpone the game until they could arrive at the stadium safely.

This brew ha ha reminded me of a Sunday 25 or so years ago (specifically, December 1, 1985.) There was a blizzard. The highways were closed to all vehicles, except those with 4 wheel drive.

The phone rang at my parents house in rural Wisconsin. A farmer friend from church who was also a Packer season ticket holder was going to make the journey to the game. His wife thought he was nuts. Would dad want to go?

Of course he did! So, clad in a crazy number of layers of clothing, and more blaze orange than I knew he owned, the farmer, his son, and my dad jumped into a 4 wheel drive truck and headed the 25 or so miles to Lambeau.

The game was memorable. It’s known in Packer lore as the Snow Bowl. It was against (of all teams) the Tampa Bay Bucs. There was so much snow that at one point, a player making a breakaway run didn’t know when to stop running. He couldn’t see the end zone under the snow. I’m pretty sure it was James Lofton looking from side to side and kicking at the snow, trying to find the lines.

It was quite a sight. It makes for a fantastic story for my dad. As a kid, I thought it was cool that my dad was there.

And now… well, WHAT was he thinking?

I am taking this trip down memory lane for a purpose. People of Pennsylvania, tell your Governor to put a cork in it. The NFL and whoever else was involved in the decision made the right call.

Going to a football game during a blizzard? Are you nuts?

“Ladies and gentleman, the authorities recommend not traveling today unless absolutely necessary.”

Is a football game necessary? No Mr. Governor. It’s a game - a really wonderful game that makes my heart flutter with happiness every time I watch it, but necessary? No.

It’s about darn time the NFL started thinking about the fans coming to the stadium. It pairs well with caring about players who have concussions. Yea, in another time, Aaron Rogers would have played last week, and the Vikings and Eagles would have played on Sunday. But in this new era, Rogers sat on the sidelines (did you see that guy Flynn play!) and the Vikes and Eagles will play Tuesday.

Safety before machismo. Is that so wrong?