I think I finally understand the term "mid-life crisis." I've heard that phrase tossed around for years and always associated it with old men suddenly buying convertible sports cars, trying to wear hip, young clothes, chasing their secretaries and such. It seemed like something you would joke about and it really didn't make much sense to me. What were they trying to prove?
I get it now. I mean, I really, totally get it.
When you're younger, it seems that every possibility is open to you. There really isn't much that you can't do if you pursue it. Then you wake up one day and realize, some of those doors of opportunity are closing. Life is far, far from over, but it begins to become obvious that the things you could've done aren't going to happen now.
I've never given much thought to a bucket list. (You know, the things you want to do before you die.) I'm not sure what I would put on it. But I still have this feeling like there's so much more that I want to do, even if I don't know what it is yet.
I think I would like to travel some; I want a camper. I want to drive across the country. (Actually, I want to ride across the country while Ronnie drives. :) I'd like to hone my skills to be really, really good at something. I don't know what, but something. I want to be healthier. I want to see my kids grown and taken care of. I'd like to act in a play and make everybody cry with my spot-on dramatic performance. I want to star in the lead role of a musical. (now, everybody don't say "Mame" at once!)
I also want to enjoy the things that growing older has done for me. I have a much truer sense of who I am and what matters; and what never will. I'm much more peaceful, settled, and okay with myself. Teenagers and twenty-somethings can keep their angst, I'm done with it!
One thing on the list would be to grow old gracefully; only, I don't think I could ever do it quietly. I don't do anything quietly.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Flowers
I love flowers; all kinds. I wish I was a better gardener. I like a manicured landscape. Ours is still a work in progress.
I live in what used to be my grandmother's house. She died in 2001 at age 91. Most of the flowers and other landscaping I have were planted by her. Come spring, the blooming begins. By mid February, the daffodils start coming up. I've counted at least 6 different varieties. By the first of May, the irises begin blooming and continue until after Mother's Day.
The dogwood trees bloom around Easter and the kids are always photographed in front of the white one in the front yard, chronicling their growth through the years.
We've had to lose a couple of bushes; an azalea and a giant, oak leaf hydrangea. That was sad, but I still have one of the hydrangeas in the front yard. It is huge and beautiful and continues to thrive even with amateur gardeners whacking on it.
Then there are the forsythia bushes and the ivy (which I am currently trying to transplant), and other shrubs that I don't know the names of.
By summer, day lilies and tiger lilies (I guess that's what they are) are blooming. Orange is not my favorite color, but I've come to enjoy them, mostly because she planted them. The day lilies were all but gone when I discovered them and moved them. (Ronnie had mowed them down with the weedeater for about five years.)
I have dug up bulbs and moved them all around the yard. It is very gratifying to see the flowers still thriving after all these years. It seems that moving them gives them a boost or something. They seem to like new surroundings. Of course, it is economical to use the same bulbs instead of buying new ones, but there is also an element of keeping her memory alive by keeping her flowers. It is impossible to look out the kitchen window at the blooms without thinking of her.
It seems a bit metaphorical to me. Ma Carroll lived through times that people had to be tough just to survive. The Great Depression, 9 kids, losing her husband too soon; to name just a few. We've also had our character building time. The hardest few years of my life ended with my 2 boys being diagnosed with autism, my own diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and my husband losing his job at his first pastorate. It was hard and it was bad; really, really bad. When I look back on it, I'm still amazed that we survived. Two words - grace and mercy.
It was during that very difficult time that we moved into Ma's house. It was small, but it was a safe haven. We've since added on a master suite, painted, pulled up old carpet to reveal hardwood floors, etc. I'm happy with my house, my yard, and my flowers. It feels like home.
Me, Ma, the flowers; we're from tough stock. We persevere.
I think Ma would be happy that I'm here. And while I know she would want me to be at home and do whatever I wanted, I think she would be pleased to see me enjoying and preserving her flowers.
I live in what used to be my grandmother's house. She died in 2001 at age 91. Most of the flowers and other landscaping I have were planted by her. Come spring, the blooming begins. By mid February, the daffodils start coming up. I've counted at least 6 different varieties. By the first of May, the irises begin blooming and continue until after Mother's Day.
The dogwood trees bloom around Easter and the kids are always photographed in front of the white one in the front yard, chronicling their growth through the years.
We've had to lose a couple of bushes; an azalea and a giant, oak leaf hydrangea. That was sad, but I still have one of the hydrangeas in the front yard. It is huge and beautiful and continues to thrive even with amateur gardeners whacking on it.
Then there are the forsythia bushes and the ivy (which I am currently trying to transplant), and other shrubs that I don't know the names of.
By summer, day lilies and tiger lilies (I guess that's what they are) are blooming. Orange is not my favorite color, but I've come to enjoy them, mostly because she planted them. The day lilies were all but gone when I discovered them and moved them. (Ronnie had mowed them down with the weedeater for about five years.)
I have dug up bulbs and moved them all around the yard. It is very gratifying to see the flowers still thriving after all these years. It seems that moving them gives them a boost or something. They seem to like new surroundings. Of course, it is economical to use the same bulbs instead of buying new ones, but there is also an element of keeping her memory alive by keeping her flowers. It is impossible to look out the kitchen window at the blooms without thinking of her.
It seems a bit metaphorical to me. Ma Carroll lived through times that people had to be tough just to survive. The Great Depression, 9 kids, losing her husband too soon; to name just a few. We've also had our character building time. The hardest few years of my life ended with my 2 boys being diagnosed with autism, my own diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and my husband losing his job at his first pastorate. It was hard and it was bad; really, really bad. When I look back on it, I'm still amazed that we survived. Two words - grace and mercy.
It was during that very difficult time that we moved into Ma's house. It was small, but it was a safe haven. We've since added on a master suite, painted, pulled up old carpet to reveal hardwood floors, etc. I'm happy with my house, my yard, and my flowers. It feels like home.
Me, Ma, the flowers; we're from tough stock. We persevere.
I think Ma would be happy that I'm here. And while I know she would want me to be at home and do whatever I wanted, I think she would be pleased to see me enjoying and preserving her flowers.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Camp Canezy
We just wrapped up the 7th annual Camp Canezy. Canezy is a combination of Cathy + Jeanne + Suzy - me and my sisters.
It began as Cathy's idea. As the camping veteran, she had a camper and had taken her kids when they were younger. I came up with the name. It has continually evolved and grown every year. So much so, that we now have visitors who want to come to camp if only to participate for a day or an evening.
Each year has its own theme and we decorate t-shirts, have a talent show, go on nature hikes, do crafts, go to the pool, play "campo" (a form of bingo) with prizes, and have s'mores. Since our acquisition of a dvd projector several years ago, we have added nightly movies with popcorn.
(This year's theme was "Camp Rock" which provided much inspiration to campers and counselors, alike.)
We started out in a pop-up camper, but quickly outgrew that. We tried tents, but that wasn't very fun. (no fun for me, anyway) We now rent cabins. I've been told that it isn't really camping. Maybe not, but we never said it was camping; it's Camp Canezy. It's not about the camping; it's about the memories, the laughter, and the time together. Sometimes, I think it's as much about the three sisters as it is about the kids. Although, the kids have a large time and come home with all sorts of goodies.
We all lead hectic, busy lives. We send quick emails and even shorter text messages. We get together at holidays, but that sometimes becomes about getting everybody fed. Camp provides a unique opportunity to spend extended time together. (with lots of blackmail picture possibilities)
I hope it will continue to grow and be a part of our family for a long time. My kids talk about it to others as if everybody's family does this and people ought to know exactly what they are talking about. Maybe people will learn what it's about and consider a family camp of their own. If they do, I've got lots of ideas. :)
It began as Cathy's idea. As the camping veteran, she had a camper and had taken her kids when they were younger. I came up with the name. It has continually evolved and grown every year. So much so, that we now have visitors who want to come to camp if only to participate for a day or an evening.
Each year has its own theme and we decorate t-shirts, have a talent show, go on nature hikes, do crafts, go to the pool, play "campo" (a form of bingo) with prizes, and have s'mores. Since our acquisition of a dvd projector several years ago, we have added nightly movies with popcorn.
(This year's theme was "Camp Rock" which provided much inspiration to campers and counselors, alike.)
We started out in a pop-up camper, but quickly outgrew that. We tried tents, but that wasn't very fun. (no fun for me, anyway) We now rent cabins. I've been told that it isn't really camping. Maybe not, but we never said it was camping; it's Camp Canezy. It's not about the camping; it's about the memories, the laughter, and the time together. Sometimes, I think it's as much about the three sisters as it is about the kids. Although, the kids have a large time and come home with all sorts of goodies.
We all lead hectic, busy lives. We send quick emails and even shorter text messages. We get together at holidays, but that sometimes becomes about getting everybody fed. Camp provides a unique opportunity to spend extended time together. (with lots of blackmail picture possibilities)
I hope it will continue to grow and be a part of our family for a long time. My kids talk about it to others as if everybody's family does this and people ought to know exactly what they are talking about. Maybe people will learn what it's about and consider a family camp of their own. If they do, I've got lots of ideas. :)
Friday, June 26, 2009
Addendum
Yes, in our music history discussion yesterday, we did talk about Michael Jackson.
It is an overstatement, even a cliche' to call him an icon, influencing American culture through music spanning 4 decades. I owned copies of his music, watched his videos, and watched his slow fade into something that many of us could not relate to or recognize.
The term "troubled genius" was tossed around today along with the question, "Which came first, the trouble or the genius?" I would say that the genius definitely came first, breathed into his spirit when he was fearfully and wonderfully made, like us all.
Trouble can either destroy the genius or refine it. In his case, it did both.
I read a posting today from the ElijahList site (elijahlist.com) in which believers were encouraged to pray for the protection and redemption of these "stars." People who indeed have been gifted by their Creator with remarkable abilities. We set them up on pedestals and wait for them to fall. Not me or you personally, but a collective, American culture "we."
Lest I be misunderstood - I don't feel responsible for what happens to celebrities. Sometimes they make really bad choices and reap worse consequences. What I'm feeling is a responsibility to lift up my fellow man.
Is this a sign that I'm becoming an old lady? Maybe, but I don't care. I just don't take any pleasure in watching anybody's life fall apart.
Several weeks ago, we had singer/songwriter/worship leader David Baroni at our church. He sang a song about "Humpty Dumpty." He said the religious people would say to Humpty, "Well, you shouldn't have been up on that wall in the first place!"
Oh, God. Don't let me be one of those people.
It is an overstatement, even a cliche' to call him an icon, influencing American culture through music spanning 4 decades. I owned copies of his music, watched his videos, and watched his slow fade into something that many of us could not relate to or recognize.
The term "troubled genius" was tossed around today along with the question, "Which came first, the trouble or the genius?" I would say that the genius definitely came first, breathed into his spirit when he was fearfully and wonderfully made, like us all.
Trouble can either destroy the genius or refine it. In his case, it did both.
I read a posting today from the ElijahList site (elijahlist.com) in which believers were encouraged to pray for the protection and redemption of these "stars." People who indeed have been gifted by their Creator with remarkable abilities. We set them up on pedestals and wait for them to fall. Not me or you personally, but a collective, American culture "we."
Lest I be misunderstood - I don't feel responsible for what happens to celebrities. Sometimes they make really bad choices and reap worse consequences. What I'm feeling is a responsibility to lift up my fellow man.
Is this a sign that I'm becoming an old lady? Maybe, but I don't care. I just don't take any pleasure in watching anybody's life fall apart.
Several weeks ago, we had singer/songwriter/worship leader David Baroni at our church. He sang a song about "Humpty Dumpty." He said the religious people would say to Humpty, "Well, you shouldn't have been up on that wall in the first place!"
Oh, God. Don't let me be one of those people.
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