A Thank You Poem

Sometimes I wonder why I have this blog. Does anyone even get anything I am writing about? Do they wonder why I bother?

The answer is surely, “Yes” to some … but I will blog more often in response to one of my dear friends I saw last night. She said,

Christian By Convenience?

            I’m not casting any stones, just taking a closer look in the mirror. It doesn’t look so impressive this morning.  

The brutal truth is that I have slipped into convenient Christianity. I am a strong Christian when everything is going good and MY way. If my hopes and prayers are answered, then I am good with my Creator and my faith. BUT, if my heart longs for something and things don’t go as I planned, I sit in the corner with my tail between my legs, quietly.

I think, “Why bother praying? What will be, will be anyway. It’s not like what I say will matter.”

I cannot focus on the good and what I DO have. I chose to want more and to expect no bumps in the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Last night I could hardly go to sleep as I was haunted by fear. My mind raced with horrible scenarios. They were so horrid that I do not want to make them in tangible letter form by writing them. The devil was working overtime in my mind. As soon as a bad thought was planted in my brain, it was as though the fire was stoked just for the fun of it, and bad went to worse. Finally, about 1 am, I drifted off to sleep. The alarm sounded less than 5 hours later at 5:45 am. We had to wake up early because it was the first day of school, and we were going to do a different routine …

         

The discussion happened last night shortly before bed. I had been avoiding the topic for a few days. When it would arise, I either changed the subject or simply didn’t answer.

Again, my youngest daughter asked, “Mom, can Kaysie drive us to school tomorrow? PLEASE!”

Kaysie assured me, “Mom, I’m comfortable to do it. I’ve done it several times now. You know we will call when we get there and we can leave a little early. It will save gas and you won’t have to get out. If you would rather drive, that’s fine with me. It’s the first day of school and you may want to be there for Karly. I know I’m not very nurturing to her.”

That would mean BOTH of my children being in the same car, alone, without me. I could just throw up.

In spite of my gut-wrenching worry, the decision was made last night. I agreed.

I cannot figure out what the heck is wrong with me and this driving issue. I have evolved into a completely insane control freak with no faith. Granted, the drive to school is not the typical drive. It is quite a haul and involves every single kind of road possible. Interstate, back roads, bypass, state highway … all of them in this one journey.

This morning, we all woke up a little earlier than usual so the girls could leave sooner. I fixed coffee, started some laundry and made biscuits. (Not from scratch, the canned kind.) I kept my composure as I kissed them good-bye, watched them get in the car and pull out of our drive. As quickly as I shut the door, I sat straight down on the steps and began to cry like I have not cried in a long time. My poor little Swayze puppy was panicked, it upset him so badly. The tears came and went for an hour and I am sure they will return at 3pm when they get back on the road to come home.

Though I am in my late 30’s, I still wanted and needed parental guidance. (If you read the previous blog, YES, I called my parents AGAIN. waaa., I know) I made a phone call, suppressing my tears so I did not unnecessarily scare them. There is nothing like answering the phone call of a loved one who is sobbing. I couldn’t be hysterical about what could happen, when everything was fine in reality. The problem was in my “what-if” thinking.

I heard the assuring words, “It’s all going to be fine. You are God fearing and He is going to watch over them. God will take care of them.”

I responded between sobs, “But what about my God fearing friends who have lost their children? He was watching them. When it is time, it won’t matter. Prayer will not change that. I am scared.”

We talked for awhile and when I hung up the phone, I was forced to take a closer look at myself and my relationship with God.

Lately, I have been so frustrated with my kids for seemingly only being happy when I am doing what they ask me to do. Their mood is governed by one thing; If they are getting their way or not. It makes it less tempting to do for them when their attitudes are so conditional. Neither of them can pull through the negative hard times with optimism, and they take the blessings with a grain of salt. They are only happy, and only happy with ME, when I do what they want me to do or make their wishes come true. It makes me angry and I feel incredibly unappreciated. That is easy for me to understand … Why I turn around and treat God the same way? That, I do not understand.

There are people living in poverty, who have nothing but their faith. They must watch their children go hungry and deal with their own hunger, yet they praise God at all times. It is remarkable how being stripped of the frills gives rewards.

Typically, it would have been like me to simply breathe a sigh of relief when I got the call saying, “We are here and fine,” then go about my day.

Today, I took the time to stop and say, “Thank You, God. I recognize what You have done.”

The evolution is beginning as I enter the phase of my babies flying from the nest. God must be offended as I reluctantly hand them over to Him, as if He cannot do as good of a job as me. I should take a lesson from His patience and mercy.

Praying unconditionally,

Kasi

And She Drives Away, In the Car, Alone, Without Me …

          If I weren’t me, I would question me. I would make fun of me. I would have all kinds of advice to give to me …

          My 16 year old daughter will be leaving for a busy teenage agenda, and I prepared the car for her today. She will drive herself to each destination from this afternoon until tomorrow afternoon. Even though she has driven by herself over the last week or two, and I had multiple people individually drive with her before that, my mind and heart are not doing so good.

Today, I put more gas in the car, positioned the GPS in a non-visual blocking spot, put extra money in her change purse, ran the car through the car wash and did a quick vacuum. Evidently, I was going through some strange sequence of insane motions in an attempt to feel like I was doing something to help the upcoming moment when she would drive away. As I sat in the front seat of our car finishing with the final Armor All/Windex touches, I noticed that I was no longer doing the wiping motions. I had stilled into a quiet stare wondering, How can I do this? WHY am I doing this? It’s too early. She’s too young. Why did no one warn me of this turmoil that would come 16 years after giving birth? I feel like I am doing the most insane thing by letting my child drive out there with all of the dangers … I think I am suffocating. Now, I think I’m going to yak … Wait; don’t I need to check the oil? What if the oil is low? I don't even know how to check oil.

         

          One would think I was sending my child into outer space as I was preparing the space shuttle and praying over it.

          I am going through a reenactment of a day that occurred 14 years ago. I walked with my little daughter, hand in hand up the steps leading to her big girl school. She was 2 years old and had repetitively asked to go to “school” like the other big kids. I signed her up in a twice a week Mother’s Day Out program, bought her a cute lunch box and packed her favorite foods. She was beaming with pride as she entered into the building wearing her new, stylish black and blue velour outfit. I was fine, until it was time to hand her off to a total stranger and walk away, leaving her there for 5 hours. It stung.

Looking back, that doesn’t seem like such a big deal; but it was then … just like this is now.

I can only imagine the upcoming phases of trying to keep my composure as we are packing my child’s things and taking her to college. Or, when some young man captures her heart and she begins a new life as an adult woman, wife … and then becomes a mom herself.

I will keep these writings for her. Even though she is so frustrated with me now; somehow, I know that she will feel a pain as her baby drives away for the first time without her. Maybe it will not be as dramatic and severe as her mom’s was, but I know it will affect her and I anticipate a call … just as I have called my dad.

“Daddy, I think I am losing my mind. I am having such a difficult time with this. What’s wrong with me?”

He lovingly responds, “Honey, we all did that. It’s just part of being a parent and loving a child. You have to let her go.”

My children are the most important part of my life, and the largest part of me as a person. Letting them go is so hard.

Simultaneously happy and sad,

Kasi

Who Said Life Lessons Had to be Glamorous?

Talking about death sure does make people squirm. Granted, it is not an uplifting subject and carries a lot of pain, along with other unpleasant feelings … but it IS part of life and it is inevitable.

Ignoring death, even when it is the elephant in the room, seems to be more of the norm for a lot of people. Many of my close acquaintances use this technique and will avoid any “dead/death” discussions at all costs. A little eye rolling here, a little scrunching of eyebrows there … Its during those discussions when some people quickly “realize” they need to go to the restroom or are running late for an important meeting.

Such negative responses have caused me to solely think instead of speak. I keep my funeral thoughts in a private closet to avoid being avoided. The truth is I have a deep interest in the field of funerals and such. (Bear with me for a minute.) I see the role as one of the more important ones in life. It is one that matters to a family in need, more than words or money.

On the side, I imagine being a funeral planner; like Jennifer Lopez in, “The Wedding Planner.”
     Sure, there are a couple differences. I will be the person hired for hip, top-notch funerals instead of weddings … and the obvious difference is that I don’t look quite as sizzling as JLo. Other than those things … it’s the same!

The funeral industry is often viewed as taboo in our culture; but when in need, you are thankful for someone who can handle it well. Granted, I am not a medical minded person, so I am not mentally equipped to do things like embalming; but I have a heart for those in need.

With all that being said, I am still uneasy with most aspects of deadness. I assume the only people who get comfortable with it are embalmers because they get up close and personal on a regular basis. Anyway, here’s my story:

INTRODUCING KIDS TO THE REALITY OF DEATH … Gently:

Years ago, I had a friend who went through such a difficult time with the funeral customs when her sibling died. She said, “I am so freaked out with all of this. I have never been in a funeral home, seen a dead body or been to a funeral.”

Her focus was more on that than the loss of her loved one. It was completely overwhelming and inescapable.

Therefore, when I had children, I introduced death in the healthiest way I knew how; in small, delicate doses. I took them to visitation of an elderly person that I knew, but that they really didn’t know … Just to open their minds to the understanding of the concept of a person’s body in a box as people are standing around looking at it. To me, that’s a lot to ask of anyone; a kid, or an adult. Also, it opened the door of knowledge that death is a part of life. It made it more tangible, if you will. This way, they had a chance to ask questions in a safe, unemotional circumstance and try to get a better understanding about this part of life.

They have always asked good questions and I give them age appropriate, honest answers. It helped that we had the opportunity to go without being under direct emotional attack. That also gave me the opportunity to explain the importance of honoring a life … even the life of someone YOU do not directly know. For example, my daughter’s friend from school lost his dear grandfather, who my child had never met. She was sad because her little friend was so sad. I told her to find out where the funeral home was and I would take her to the visitation.

She questioned me in confusion, “What? WHY?!”

I explained that she could offer her support and friendship to show her friend that she respects the importance of his grandfather.

She said, “But mom, they didn’t send me an invitation. Isn’t that rude to just invite myself and show up?”

I explained, we went, and she experienced the meaning of her visit as her friend and his mother were thrilled to see her take the time for their family. It was not comfortable for her, but she saw the bigger picture and felt good about her action and decision.

Now, on to the discussion which has sparked many discussions over the last week or two …

Being a hair stylist possibly looks like an unimportant, vain occupation … nothing more than hairspray and gossip. After living in it for over 2 decades, I know better. I love the industry with all of my heart. I have increased my family by many (my dear clients) and my kids would swear we are related to many of my clients. There is nothing I would not do for them, and it is mutual.

I lost my first, long time client to cancer. I have seen her every 4 weeks at 9 am on Friday morning for over 10 years. She is pre-booked through January 2012. In fact, her name is on my book tomorrow morning. I simply do not have it in me to erase her appointment and book someone else in her spot. I suppose I will be sitting in my own empty chair at 9 o’clock in the morning, just thinking and remembering …

I would mentally stockpile questions for her because she was a counselor, so it was always a fun opportunity to quiz her about deep stuff like, “How can a Narcissist be a Christian? I know it’s possible, but don’t they go against one another?”

This client never shunned the challenge of going deep. In fact, she could even take it a step deeper. I liked that side of her. She also helped me with my landscaping one time and we have helped her with some things at her house. She was more than “just a client” to me.

Anyway, I knew that after her body was prepared, I would be the first person to see her; at least the 1^st who knew her before death. I would style her hair one last time. My job was to complete the process of the final steps prior to her loved ones seeing her for the first time since her death; an attempt to make her look as close to what she always looked like.

The viewing is controversial in many minds. I am indifferent because it is all too intense for me. Embalming, cremation … I want to be evaporated. However, whatever we need for closure is what we do. Besides, I don’t think evaporation is currently an option.

As far as styling a person’s hair after their passing; I have done this a few times before, but it had been awhile … as in about 13 years. Though I cannot say I was excited and looked forward to it, I definitely wanted to do it for her. It was the final act I would ever be able to do directly involving her life and her time here.

As I was getting my things packed to style her hair, I made a decision and told my kids, “Girls, get dressed. I know this will not be fun for you, but I want you to go with me.”

They sat in a silent stare.

With confident assurance, I said, “You will be fine. I will be with you and this is actually a unique opportunity. You cannot “just go” into this environment unless you are working. It will give you something for later in life … though I am not sure what? … Anyway, I know you will always remember 'going with mom to the morgue.' So come on.”

(You know how I never miss a memory making opportunity ... and it wasn't technically a "morgue," but you get the picture.)

I made the adventure as light as possible. Considering its heaviness, that was a task, but I did it. We made the 45 minute drive, got something to eat on the way, stopped by an estate sale and talked about girl stuff. They had found a teeny, tiny baby mouse at the sale and begged me to bring it home and keep it because he walked so stumbled and cute. (I didn’t have the heart to tell them he had most likely gotten into poison and that something was terribly wrong with it.) They named it Patty. Silly girls.

So, we arrived at the funeral home and no one was there except one man. He led me to the preparation room and my girls followed behind like baby ducks. They were hesitant, but a little eager with curiosity.

He opened the door to the small room. I entered first and tried to absorb my unusual predicament. My girls had fixated eyes, but not scared, and they were not very chatty. The oldest sat down in a chair in the corner and my youngest sat in the floor at her feet, both respectfully quiet.

I let out a breath and said, “Ok. Let’s get started …”

The nice man asked if I needed anything, while he made casual small talk with the girls about school starting soon. He said he would leave me to work and to let him know if I did need anything. Then, he left and shut the door. (That felt a little trapping.)

My client and dear friend was fully dressed, but covered with a white sheet. The sight of her without life was difficult to see and my task was difficult to do, but she was deserving of the effort. It was my sacrificial gift.

I did have one little problem, this had happened to me before …

When the body is prepared, they wash the hair and just let it dry straight back. In addition to the fact that the client is horizontal on a metal table instead of vertical in a chair, and silent instead of talking, and I am trying to act like this is normal so my kids will have a character building experience … it causes a second guessing while trying to remember what side the hair parts. I hate it when that happens.

I began racking my brain, Think, think!! Imagine that she is in your chair, what direction do I cut it? For the love of Pete! It has only been a week since I have done her hair!!

I tried to focus and my girls slowly began to ask questions or verbalize observations.

The 16 year old said, “Mom, how many times have you done this? Does hair still grow after people die? This place is really nice for a funeral home.”

My 12 year old said, “Her shirt is really pretty. I like the sparkles, don’t you, Mom? She looks a little different than when we went to her house last week. Is she wearing shoes?”

I never stopped what I was doing while I answered their questions. They became a little more at ease, until I said I needed to run and see if he had a picture, just to make sure I was doing it to the correct side.

Soon, they were over the newness and had lost any fear. They continued a few more questions and starting hounding me again about getting the baby mouse. Then they did the standard kid activity that seems to be 2^nd nature to most. It is amazing to me how teens and preteens can text under ANY circumstance. Even while their mom is working in a funeral home and they are in the room with a body.

I asked, “Are you telling your friends where you are and what we are doing?!”

Very nonchalantly, they were like, “NO! We are just talking about regular stuff.”

Texting is a disconnect. Sometimes that’s bad, but sometimes it’s helpful.

In closing, I know my sanity and judgment have been questioned for taking my kids in the room with a deceased body. I get that. However, they are not traumatized. (They are not having nightmares or acting out in questionable ways since our outing.J) Its not as if I took them to a cemetery late on a rainy dark, Halloween night and left them there … Though, if I took everyone’s opinion to heart, one would think I had.

All in all, I could hear my client applauding me for taking something to the next level in an attempt to make a positive difference. She was always for that, especially when it was to give a child some life lesson survival tools.

That was the first time I have exposed my children to such, and I have no regrets. There is no need for them to go again unless they choose to do so … so no worries. (Hopefully, I won’t be going anytime soon either.)

I won’t be dragging my kids to funeral homes for spare, time-filling field trips. If nothing else, they have seen a different side of mom’s job than all of the beauty, smiles and laughter. They now know how much I really do love my clients. Trust me, it takes a lot to style a person's hair after death, especially if it is not a common thing for you.
And FYI: I did her hair from left to right ... and that was CORRECT!

Stylin til the end,

For my clients … my friends,

Kasi

Being a Quitter is AWESOME!

I threw in the towel … I turned in my resignation and have officially retired from a job I was never qualified to do from the get go.

Who knew being a quitter could be so grand … And so freeing!??!

It takes stubborn, type A personalities a good beating to come to a place of stopping the insanity.

The job: teaching a child to drive; more specifically, MY child.

After much thought and fatigue from the obvious, I devised a new plan; and it has worked like a charm. I gave up and accepted the inevitable. What a freeing mental permission slip to all who thought they had to personally do everything. Not true. J THANK YOU GOD!!

After retracting my claws from an incident about 2 weeks ago, I began thinking. It went like this:

I am attempting to teach my 16 year old daughter to be a good, safe driver. As we all know, female cycles get in sync when the females are in the same household. Evidently, this day was a “PMS Day” for both of us. Never a good thing when that happens AS the inexperienced, 16 yr old drives early in the morning and a squirrel runs out in the road AS we are topping a curved hill at the exact same time I take a huge gulp of coffee … helplessly sitting in the passenger seat.

I already had the “animal in the road talk,” and the talk about always slowing down when topping a hill while NEVER being in the oncoming lane during the hill topping. None of those talks stuck when the precious little squirrel scampered out in front of us. The curve in the hill was an added bonus and the mouth full of coffee preventing my scream was icing on the cake.

We did arrive safely, but she got out of the car crying and I felt like I was trapped under a pile of poop. I went home and dissected the situation.

After a few calls, I had lined up 1 person per day, at least one hour each day. DRIVING TEACHERS (with lots of patience and experience.)

Now, each day, a smiling face appears on our front porch and says, “Is she ready?”

 I smile excitedly and respond, “YES, she is!!” And then I keep smiling.

My daughter likes all of her driving instructors much better than me as her driving instructor … and I like her better too. All of our driving angels have given great words of encouragement and her confidence has come along as well. That gives me confidence.

She has driven on the interstates, back roads, night driving, rain, rain at night … Ahh, yes. They have done well. I do well sitting at home sipping a warm cup of tea and catching up on things I need to do. She and I have called it truths. She is mastering the skill of driving and I am learning when to try harder and when to quit.

It is so difficult to unveil those times when I need to talk versus the ones when I should keep quiet; when to act, react or “be still.”

I must say, I likey being still!

Kudos to all of the people who assured me that this is a common problem for parents and children. I was beginning to feel slightly (incredibly) inadequate. Sometimes, kids listen to other people more and better than their parents.

… I think I already knew that …

It’s quittin time! WHOOP WHOOP,

Kasi

Praying for People Who Yell the F Word and Flip the Bird

          Funny how we must remember our own advice and how easily we forget it.

          On June 26, I did a blog called, “Acts of Love Toward All … Good and Bad.” What an inspiring writing, but I must have missed my own message.

          One would think that when she is doing a good deed and showing a selfless act of love and friendship, that the day and her surroundings would all fall into place in a lovely way. Life just doesn’t work that way, but my fairy-tale brain does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          I have a dear friend who never asks for anything, but she did on Thursday. She has suddenly fallen ill; her cancer has returned with a vengeance. Without hesitation, I assured her I would be there that day.

Due to the progression of the cancer, she must have oxygen at all times because it is now in her lungs. Her breathing is labored, making her voice very weak. Sometimes it is a whisper. Also, she has been choking. Therefore, in addition to what she asked me to do, I took a baby monitor so her caretakers could hear her at all times and also took 2 soups so she would not have to swallow solid food on her difficult days. It is these situations when we want to help, but we do not have the means to do what would REALLY help … so we bring baby monitors and soup.

My 12 year old daughter was with me as we made the 30 minute journey to her house. We were driving along the road and I was on the phone trying to make sure I did not miss my turn. Though cell phones and driving don’t mix, sometimes I do talk and drive.

Possibly, I was going too slowly? I’m really not sure what I did that was so terrible. To my surprise, I heard a horn honk, saw a blue truck with an overly infuriated man and his equally enraged passenger in the lane beside me.

My little girl said, “Mom, what’s wrong with him? Why did he just yell the F word at you and stick up his middle finger? That’s bad.”

Both men did vulgar hand motions for me to see. 2 of the gestures were ones my daughter had never seen, until they showed her.

Now, I was enraged. In all honesty, I really wanted to ram my car into him like bumper cars. I had been bitten by the deadly road rage bug.

How dare they do such a terrible, tasteless thing to a female and especially in front of a young girl! Did they not have mothers, wives, daughters or even nieces?!? And besides that, it would be just as terrible for a little boy to have seen such. What do people like that do when someone REALLY does something intentional and bad to them?! I don’t even want to know …

My daughter was distraught, I was distraught. Then, I realized that I needed to refocus and get my mind back to what was important. In less than 2 minutes, I would be at my friend’s house. Did she want or need to hear about my insignificant, over-and-done-with troubles? No. She has greater issues to focus on that an uncouth man and his crude buddy making asses of themselves.

I shook it off and re-centered my attention to her and her needs. I did what she had requested and left shortly after because I knew she was very tired.

That night, my 12 year old and I were in the kitchen before going to bed. (We rotate saying prayers at night. She does one night and I do the next.)

She said, “Mom, I know tonight is your night to pray so I wanted to ask you to pray for those guys who said and did those mean things today. They are obviously going through something bad to be acting like that and they really need somebody to pray for them. Maybe they will be nicer then.”

That’s when I got humbled to a place I had not thought to go. I wanted to ram my car into theirs, not pray for them. I have written about doing the right thing over and over, but it never entered my mind in this situation. They were wrong, I was right, and that was that.

That night, I prayed for the impolite young men who are also God’s children. God must stay stressed with all of us being His kids and acting the way we do.

All along, I thought He was smiling upon me and my goodness because I was helping another person in need. My real feelings and reactions to the men in the truck didn’t get factored into the equation until my child innocently pointed out a proper way to handle it. I had most likely not made God smile and wink. He was shaking His head …

Not only does this remind me of my blog about anointing a cancerous tumor, but it sounds really similar to the scripture about trying to remove the speck from my neighbor’s eye when I cannot see the log in my own.

Thank God He put children here to guide us with their wisdom …

Praying for people who yell spicy words at me and shoot me birds,

Kasi

The Drive-In Movie

                 First, hats off to my father and all of the other preceding people who have taught a child to drive. In my mind, when my child is behind the wheel and I am in the passenger seat, it is as though someone has a gun pointed at my head with their finger on the trigger. That’s how in danger my life feels. I try not to make her self conscious, but it is difficult when trees are coming at me, we are not in our lane, or people are walking and we are not slowing down. She has a constant look of anger and disgust on her face because I am annoying her and she “already knows what to do,” and I have a look of fear mixed with panic, anxiety and frustration. I truly want to retire from this job (the driving instructor one, not the parenting one,) but I must be brave … I may need medication before its all over.

Acts of Love Toward All...Good and Bad

“Loving” and “an act of love” are two different things, but they are rooted together. After reading a journal entry from a mother whose baby girl had cancer, I understood a deep message. It is about performing an act of love, even toward something we loathe. We may not be actually giving affectionate love to something terrible, but we ARE giving everything over to God by and through our actions.

          The mother is a talented writer. She can touch a soul in very deep places. She watched her beautiful daughter suffer and die one year ago after a two year battle.

A message which keeps coming back to my mind is unusual. A segment of one of her sentences hit home so hard and it keeps replaying to me …

Her little girl had an aggressive form of cancer. One of the most traumatic parts of this type of cancer is that it causes huge tumors to form on the body. I have read other stories of children with this cancer, and all describe the horrible tumors protruding from their children’s little bodies. The tumors can, and usually will, rupture … and they are very painful.

This mother often spoke of Holy oil. She would anoint her daughter’s head with it throughout their terrible journey. It was an act of love that I assume gave the little girl a very special feeling. It gave her a different kind of strength beyond her own. When the mother could do no more, she blessed her child by a symbolic act.

During one entry, she spoke of anointing her daughter, but then she mentioned anointing the tumor. That is the part that is highlighted to me.

The tumor was destroying their lives. The tumor represented evil; yet, the mother blessed it with Holy oil.

I must sit back and think about many things after reading that. Do I lift ALL things to God? It is easy to bless a newborn baby, a new Bible, bread and wine during communion, a person who sneezes, or rings during a wedding ceremony … but we do not often think of blessing a tumor.

I will not begin anointing things I hate, but I look at them in a different light. Sometimes our ACTS of love show as much, if not more, love than a direct hug or kiss. I see what the mother did in a beautiful way.

Though the tumor was stealing her child, she maintained the upper hand it did not allow it to control her. She showed that she acknowledged it, but that God was involved with every part of the battle. The mom did what she was told to do by the medical world with chemo and radiation. She allowed the doctors to attack the tumor with their methods … but out of obedience, SHE attacked the tumor directly with God by an act of love. Though the tumor did not disappear by any of the methods, I think the mother’s technique was a beautiful and perfect act of love, anointed with purity and power.  

As the little girl was struggling through her final hours, the mother said that her daughter asked for the Holy oil. The mom thought her child wanted to be anointed, but she was wrong. The little girl anointed her mother’s head.

Blessings,

Kasi

SWEET 16

Sweet 16 has always had a pink, lacey, precious ring in my ears. It is the turning point beyond all others, especially for a girl. It is only 2^nd to her wedding day …

FYI:

Turning Sweet 16

differs GREATLY from being

The Parent of a Child Turning Sweet 16.

          I missed that memo.

I think that the time drawing near for a child to fly from the nest and become an independent adult is incredibly similar to the one when she was making her flight out of the last nest … my STOMACH.

At the end of the pregnancy, it became crowded and uncomfortable for both of us. I knew I would miss the closeness and joy of feeling her move, kick, hiccup and simply BE with me at all times. Moving into the next phase of screaming, sleepless nights and worry was going to be difficult, but staying pregnant with the child for the rest of my life was not the option of choice. It appeared to me that an unpleasant possibility existed as my tiny tummy had stretched to its maximum point. No need for labor, I would surely soon rupture and spill my baby out … It was time.

I am not to that point yet with this pre-adult phase, but I have heard it is in my near future. Making the change from a fetus to a newborn and a teenager into an adult are really intense, difficult phases. They are 2 important cocoons that are tough on the child and the parent.

Making Memories on Purpose

All at once, I have had so many thoughts relating to the topic of how I am living my life. I have not finished the book (One Month to Live), but I HAVE made many efforts and changed things about my life. Living life purposefully matters.

That sounds like a no-brainer, but I have noticed that most people live their lives more nonchalantly than intentionally. Sure, people are doing important things, but sometimes not much thought goes into it. It is a simple “going through the motions” ritual.

The little things DO matter. Here’s the topic:

MAKING MEMORIES … The truth of the matter is that death is imminent, as depressing as that sounds. But, removing the dark cloud and getting to what is next is a great life insurance policy. Many of us have purchased a monetary life insurance policy and when we leave this earth, our loved ones will be financially set … or at least not have to pay for our funeral expenses. That is all fine and good and I do have mine in place; however, I have a more important concern. I want a life insurance policy that lasts longer than the evaporating mighty dollar. Money is not the mark I want to leave behind … The good news is that my policy is FREE!

I began thinking about the energy that radiates from me. Do I change the dynamics of my environment or leave it undisrupted? If I do cause a ripple in the water, is it pleasant and good or the opposite? I want to be like a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie. It is easy to recognize that something good is going on from the first whiff of its scent … and a smile always appears.

Ultimately, MY main focus is who is answering those questions. It would be added icing on the cake for my extended family, friends, acquaintances and even strangers to give me a good review regarding their thoughts. However, there is only an audience of 2 that REALLY matter to me; my daughters.

I am always thinking through what I am doing with them and realizing the mark I am leaving. I intentionally etch the legacy of their mom, and us as a family, every opportunity I get. Here are some things I can think of off the top of my head:

·        When they were little, if I had to go out of town, I left a small paper bag for each day. One for each of them. I wrote the day of the week on each one and inside I left little treats and a note for the day. I didn’t spend a lot of $ on the gift, but for some reason they always liked the gum, socks, little earrings, chap stick or whatever was in that bag better than when I just gave it to them in a regular situation. I wrote a short little note for each day. I always left a written mark of love and then said some mom thing like, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” Or “You look so pretty today!” It helped all of us get through the separation anxiety … to the point that they WANTED me to leave so they could look forward to their bags! J I love that memory and so do they… {Thanks to my friend for giving me the idea years ago. You gave me and my children a little life insurance policy.}

·        Fruit snacks in a Tupperware bowl … in the bathtub. I have not done this regularly, but it was a happy, memory-etching thing for my youngest daughter just like it was for me. When I was little, my Nanny would prepare my bath water and put slices of fruit in a plastic bowl. It would float around in my bath water with me and I could snack like a little princess in the bathtub. I have done that for my little girl. My daughter loves knowing that I am doing something special for her like my grandmother did for me. Nanny passed away when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter. Somehow, that involves my Nanny with her great-grandchild who I know she would adore. I feel certain she smiles.

·        “Wonderful Wednesday.” We started doing this last fall and need to pick it back up because it was a win/win situation for all. Each week, we invited someone over for dinner on Wednesday night. The planning process was always great discussion for us. We asked our guests what THEY would like, we went to the store and got it and then learned how to prepare it TOGETHER. I cannot begin to explain the doors this opened. For us, we learned to try new foods, we formally sat at the table to eat, we learned about being a servant and catering to others wants besides our own and we made others feel special. The responses were shocking when we invited people because that doesn’t happen too much anymore. Most said, “Oh, well I will bring something or we can just order pizza.” We explained what we were doing and why. We WANTED to do it all and wanted to learn to make their favorite dish. My girls even loved that we gave the day a name, “Wonderful Wednesday.”

·        Travel: I wanted to introduce that exciting world to my kids and I did. They have not been able to do the 5 star traveling, but they have traveled. I made/make it a priority. I had never been on a plane until I was almost 30 and I could not believe the change in my perception of the world. God made more than Tennessee and I want to see it! I took each one of my daughters on their 1^st plane rides before they were 10 and they have been to 2 foreign countries. (Hint: make friends in other countries and experience free travel for you and them when they visit your country.) We also travel to the beach/ocean each year, even if I can only afford 2 nights. It is worth the drive. They love waking up and hearing mom say, “Hey girls, how about us going to the beach today?!” Last minute deals are everywhere and those trips typically go smoother than the planned ones. My kids have only lived with spontaneity. We plan, but the spontaneous spice always flavors our life.

·        Glitter: This one is my signature mark. My children will ALWAYS relate glitter to their mom. I have taught them well about the power of glitter and they have seen its effects. No one could convince them that glitter is NOT great. They know EVERYTHING is better when glitter is involved. I cannot imagine anyone being disgusted by the sparkle of a diamond, and glitter is in that family.
·        White teeth: This is simply important.

·        We all 3 take instant, mutual notice of anyone in a wheelchair, or with any disability as seen by the world. We love elderly people … especially little old men with ironed jeans. Both of my girls have a soft, precious spot for the people I have taught them are ESPECIALLY important. We know, “The 1^st shall be last and the last shall be 1^st. The weak shall be strong and the strong shall be weak. The rich shall be poor and the poor shall be rich.” They have an innate sense to give honor to those the world overlooks. Though I do not mean to boast, that is one of my most treasured accomplishments. They have always seen me humbled before someone less fortunate and they naturally do the same. Both of my girls will be the one to reach out to the outcasts of the world that are rejected by their peers. They know, “Different is better.”

·        I try to make accomplishments that may seem out of reach. I do it not only for myself, but to give my daughters confidence. No matter what anyone says, we feel security by our parents’ success ... and by watching them overcome failure and adversity. We feel that if we came from success, we have a smoother paved road. Granted, sometimes we must pave our own roads, but other times we don’t. For example, I am not athletic, but because I knew my father had participated in many races and triathlons, I had the confidence and courage to enter a 5k race and my sister ran a marathon. We at least had the thought, “If Daddy can do it, then maybe I can too.”  We didn’t win, but we ran …..  Because I have owned and operated a business for over a decade and written a book, those types of things will seem less out of reach for my girls and possibly they may go beyond. My mother was not a coddler, but she made it clear that I needed to depend on myself and work hard for what I have. My dad always said to get into a profession I love and grow in my talents. He explained that my happiness in my occupation would surpass any paycheck. We spend too much time working to not enjoy what we do. I pass all of that along to my kids. They have learned that taking trash out and cleaning toilets must be done by someone and we are not too good for that someone to be us.

Hopefully, their minds will hold on to some good things and they will learn to make the negative memories positive for their children!     

Paying closer attention to memory making,

Kasi

The Legacy of a Humble Millionaire

Once upon a time, there was a man who lived an average life. Actually, by the description of the world, he was a little below average. He did not come from money and only had an 8^th grade education … but he was a smart man. He got his GED when he was in the service and went on to LIVE his life. He outdid himself. (His son is one of my friends.)

At the time of this man’s death, he had gained the title of a multi-millionaire … but you would never know it. He maintained a simple life and kept his focus on God and his family. His money was never used to overindulge himself or his children … though they did not do without. They were given more opportunities than “things.” He kept it all in perspective and they learned about hard, honest work. They took good care of their things and used them until they were no longer usable. That lesson still sticks for my friend and his children.

This man taught many people all across the world about the true meaning of living life and the message of his Creator. Every piece of his equipment had a logo, “Jesus Christ is Lord.” It was not an option for the buyer to receive his product without the logo. He loved God and Jesus with all of his heart. His legacy was even whispered to me and I never had the blessing or opportunity to meet him.

Through this man and his life, he taught countless lessons. As far as tithing, he gave his share personally … AND from the business. He had been the inventor of a machine that makes the little dots of glue on your cereal boxes and the glue used for baby diapers.

His passing devastated his entire family in an unusually difficult way. It was in a tragic accident that took his life and his wife’s. In a split second, a mom, dad and 2 wonderful grandparents left this earth. What was the most impactful, valuable thing they left behind? It was a powerful legacy that can be seen radiating through their children and grandchildren. There are now 4 grown men and several grandchildren who have memories of great people, who they are from, etched within them forever.

I have never met a man such as this man, but my soul smiles to know he existed. I love to hear his words echoed through his son and see his spirit shine through his son and grandchildren. I know their pain is beyond measure regarding their loss; but their pride, honor and respect surpass it.

It makes me think. If I achieved such a success, could I stay so grounded? Could I remember where my blessings and I came from and give credit where credit is due?

It is so tempting and easy to take credit for massive accomplishments. My hope is to live as this man lived. To leave the best part of me on this earth so others may aspire to do the same. He took nothing of this world with him and I am sure that his family would take him and his wife above any of the earthly things they left behind. Yet, look what treasure they DID leave behind. It is as glorious and powerful as the air we breathe, though we cannot see it. We must have it to survive.
   This man could not and did not take any of his worldly things with him, but I choose to believe he took something. The love and blessings he shared and spread to many lives surely soar with him and his wife. They heard the words, "Good job, My faithful servants." 
    We are surely here to touch other's lives as they did, we were not meant to simply touch our own life.

Life is about more than a dollar,

Kasi

(The blog below was put up at the same time as this one …)

Just Some Thoughts ...

I will catch up on the days either later this afternoon or tomorrow. The site is not always accurate displaying my posts anyway …

The “One Month to Live” study is certainly a thought provoker and I cannot see where it would do anyone anything but good. For this entry, I am not going to blog about the book, but about things I have recognized.

I really cannot say I have FULLY been living as though I only had a month to live. TRYING to do that when life is going at its normal pace is virtually impossible. For example, last week my father discovered water in my yard. He looked under the water meter to see LOTS of water. I was unaware such a thing could happen, but I had a big problem. There was a leak in the pipe under the ground. L Because my bill is automatically drafted, I had not looked at it to notice it had been steadily rising for about 3 months. Now it is triple the normal amount and I had used 16,000 gallons of water instead of the normal 7,000. These things can put a kink in a no-regrets life, but I keep it in the back of my mind.

In my world, yesterday was a sad day for many people. It marked the 1 year anniversary of the passing of my hero, a 9 year old little boy who fought brain cancer. These types of days can also captivate our minds, but in a good way. I spent time this weekend focusing on him, his life and his family instead of blogging. His parents taught me a lot about living life to the fullest. (They were the inspiration for the No Regrets poem.) I missed class on Sunday night in order to make an arrangement for his parents to take to his grave. That seemed more important. I have no regrets regarding my decision.

          I have given some thought to another wonderful example of living life looking at the big picture. This lesson was taught to me by my aunt. She is the mother of many foster/adopted, special needs children.

Many years ago, she was faced with a difficult situation. The way she handled it really spoke volumes to me. She had an adopted daughter who suddenly got very sick. The little girl, Erin, was hospitalized in intensive care and we were not sure if she would make it. My aunt stayed with her daughter around the clock. My uncle and the aides took care of the other children at home. In the midst of my cousin’s sickness, another situation happened.

There was a little boy, Joey, who had lived with my aunt and uncle as a foster child for most of his life. He had parents, but they were unable to care for him due to his numerous problems. However, his father visited him on a regular basis. One weekend, while my aunt was at the hospital, this little boy unexpectedly passed away. Luckily, his dad was also with him, which gave him peace that nothing more could have been done.

The arrangements were made and we had his funeral. My aunt did not go. At first, I was perplexed, as I am sure many others were. I could not imagine not going to my child’s funeral. My aunt explained the facts to me.

She said, “I have given Joey love and taken care of him for his whole life. I have done all I could do for him. Now, he does not need me and will not even know I am there. God has him and will take even better care of him than I can. Going to the funeral will prove nothing and will not help; it would actually be a selfish act, and I have nothing to prove. I kissed him good-bye and told him I loved him before I left. I have closure. At this point, Erin needs me. She knows if I am here or not and she is very sick. I have to stay with her and be content with what I have done for Joey. I have no regrets with him or his life.”

Looking back, I realize that I would not have that maturity or such a clear, peaceful perspective. However, my aunt and uncle have lived a clear life and avoided regrets. I want to be more like them.

This study will most likely take me more than one month to complete … and that’s okay. I WILL complete it. I appreciate all of the visits and those who are also challenging themselves with me. It warms my heart to see the visiting audience, especially those in other countries. We are all so different; yet, we all are the same. We were born and we shall die.

As I look around, I can see guidance in the most unusual places … as far as living and enjoying this life. Even my little man, Swayze, teaches me. A puppy, a child or a person with special needs seem to hold the secret of a life lived to the fullest. They enjoy every minute. They do not stress over things they have no control over and they are happy just to be doing what they do. Even as I sit and type, my little companion simply enjoys being near me. I placed a pillow on my lap in front of the keyboard and he napped. He is happy and thoroughly enjoys his life. So sweet …

Taking notice of the small things,

Kasi

DAY THIRTEEN: 30 Days to a No-Regrets Life

FYI: THE BLOGSPOT SITE HAS BEEN DOWN FOR 24 HRS FOR SOME REASON. IT DELETED 2 POSTS, SO I REPOSTED THEM. (Just letting you know in case you noticed something strange :)) Keep up with what day you are on in case it happens again.

DAY 13: Sandpaper. Smoothing the edges.

          It is easy to talk about resolving things with some people . . . then there are the sandpaper people. Sandpaper is used to smooth a surface, but it is not smooth when rubbed on our skin. Some people rub us that way. They irritate us. We are most likely all sandpaper to someone, like it or not. Sandpaper people are in God’s plan to smooth us. What interest would there be in life if everything went smooth and in harmony? Such bliss would rob us all of what we are intended to be.

         

These are the common types of people:

• Measuring Tape people: These people let us know we don’t quite measure up. They judge by their own standards of righteousness.
• Hammers: They are as subtle as a freight train, pushing their agendas on others and forcing their ways. They can be loud and demanding or subtle and manipulative, but they are stubbornly committed to using the force of their own will to get their way.
• Skill Saws: They seem to be naturally gifted at cutting others down. They cut to the quick and leave others bleeding on the floor. They win verbal arguments every time- not because they are right, but because they know where to cut to weaken the other’s platform.
• Vice grips: They get a grip and don’t know when to let go. They are extra needy and squeeze the life out of those around them, having no social or relational boundaries. They bounce from one crisis to another, needing support and encouragement.
• Grinders: They have explosive personalities waiting to go off and send sparks flying.
• Axes: They tend to be negative, complaining and always looking for ways to tear down the hopes and plans of others.
• Hatchets: They take smaller chops than axes but hold on to past hurts and grudges longer. They don’t know how to “bury the hatchet.”
• Putty People: (My pet peeve) They have no consistency, no backbone. They are so eager to please, always agreeable and change like a chameleon so you never really know who they are or what they really think. They always say yes. To me, they come across as dishonest.

THE CARPENTER’S PERSPECTIVE:

          We are to look at ourselves before criticizing others. Jesus says in Matthew 7: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? First, take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

          Notice, He did not say to ignore the sawdust. Pointing it out is not judgmental. It is to be said in a helpful, healing way. “Hey, you know you’ve got some sawdust in your eye. Let me help you with that.” That’s good, unless we whack them over the head with our plank that is sticking out of our eye.

         

          As far as when someone else criticizes us, or tries to help get the sawdust out of our eye, we can take it in stride. We must be selective and not ABSORB all of the criticism, nor should we dismiss it. The author says to do with it just as a piece of gum. Chew on it awhile, get the flavor and then spit it out. Take the good 10% and get rid of the other 90%. Don’t swallow it whole.

          A good way to look at the hammer people is that maybe God has placed them so closely in your life to toughen you and stand up to them even though it makes you uncomfortable. {This reminds me of the mean girl in “SOUL SURFER.” The surfer who lost her arm to a shark attack appreciated the competitiveness of the mean girl. It challenged her and made her feel like she was still a threat and good competition.}

          Maybe the measuring tape people are there so you will learn to look to God for approval instead of people.

          Everyone is in your life for a reason, AND you are in their lives for a reason. Reveal goodness to them.

          Living life in this way is quite challenging, but it is a new perspective. I feel an evolution . . .

Evolving for 17 more days,

Kasi