Celebrate Good Times

We're in the middle of moving to our new house, and my oldest child is turning 10. It seems like I was cradling him in my arms as a baby just yesterday. Where has the time gone?

Of course, I can't help but think of when I turned 10 myself. We had just moved from North Dakota to Guam (Wow! There's a stretch!) a couple of weeks before my birthday. We didn't really know anybody. We didn't even have a house yet, and were still living in a hotel. However, after church, my mom spontaneously invited everybody at the service to come over to the hotel (which had an outdoor pavilion) for a birthday party.

My mom and sister rushed off to get a cake before the guests arrived. My dad and I took off for McDonald's for the party grub. I will never forget the conversation that took place as we pulled up to the drive-through.

Attendant: May I take your order?
Dad: Yes, I'd like 50 hamburgers.
Attendant : 50 hamburgers? 
Dad: Hmmm, yeah, that might not be enough. Better make that 100 hamburgers.
Attendant (possibly looking for a hidden camera): You want 100 hamburgers?
Dad: Yes, please.
Attendant: 100 hamburgers?
Dad: That's right. I need 100 hamburgers.
Attendant: 100. Uh, yeah, that's going to take a while.
Dad: That's ok. (pause) Oh, and I need ketchup and mustard, too.

Decades later, this memory still makes me laugh outright. In fact, it's one of my kids' favorite stories, too.

I suppose if there is a lesson to be learned here, it's that it is always a good time to celebrate life, and other people -- even strangers -- are all too happy to cheer with you.

What's your favorite birthday memory? I'd love to hear it!

On Finding Fault

Everything was going fine at church yesterday until I switched seats to be nearer a friend. Then we sat down for the sermon, and the most foul stench assaulted my nose.

Surreptitiously, I looked around. No... I knew all these people. None of them could produce that odor. Then I looked around for a baby. After all, I was in the unofficial "baby section," so maybe there was a poopie diaper somewhere. But no. Not a one.

The smell, though -- it seemed so close. Eventually, I had a thought. Could it possibly be me?

Yep, it turned out that it was. A giant doggie-doo was mashed into the bottom of my shoe. Eeeeeeeewwww! Nasty!

Given the grossness and the humiliation of the situation, I didn't want to let this event go to waste. So after some reflection, I've come up with some life lessons:

1. Prior to church, always take the sidewalk. Never walk across the grass.
2. Before I decide other people are the problem and start slinging accusations, I should probably take a good look at myself.

Given the subject matter of today's post, I figured that we could probably forego an illustrative photo. However, for your listening pleasure, here is Eric Clapton, career legend, with today's theme song. Only imagine you could be singing this to me, instead of the other way around.

The Stars by Night

Several years ago, I found an amazing site called ted.com. It's full of "riveting talks by remarkable people, free to the world." I'm so pleased that TED now has an iPhone/iPod app and that some of the talks are even available on Netflix!

Today, I watched a TED talk called John Lloyd Inventories the Invisible. John Lloyd is a British comedy writer, TV director and producer. (BTW, he is responsible for producing all four seasons of Blackadder, one of my all-time favorite shows.) I highly recommend checking out his talk; however, here are two quotes that really intrigued me.

"Galaxies? Hundred billion of them estimated in the universe. A hundred billion! How many of them can we see? Five. Five out of the hundred billion we can see with the naked eye. And one of them's quite difficult to see unless you've got very good eyesight."

"The stars by day. I always think that's fascinating. The universe disappears. The more light there is, the less you can see."

I think I was drawn to these words because they express a lot of what I've been feeling the lately.

Two months ago, I would've said that my life was pretty clear. We were following a nice, comfortable routine. I knew what I'd be doing every day of the week. Our schedule was kind of dull, but it was familiar, predictable, manageable. However, in the last few weeks, everything has been turned topsy-turvy. I've gone from seeing clearly to being in the dark.

Last month my husband interviewed for a job in another state. Should he take it, we would have to move. The company has already indicated that an offer is coming, but because they are onboarding close to a hundred people, they're backlogged. As a result, we will probably have to wait a couple more weeks to see what it is.

We don't even know whether we'll take the offer when it finally does come. In the meantime, though, everything has become hazy and uncertain. This lack of clarity has affected everything from the way I approach the house, the children's schooling, the activities I commit to, even (unfortunately) at times my temper toward my husband.

While the uncertainty has a discombobulating effect, I feel it's also given me a glimpse into a bigger universe. Who knows? We may decline the offer in the end, but right now, we're enjoying daydreaming about something new and different. It's kind of exciting to live not in the now, but in the potential. Once we decide one way or another, all that -- the options, the opportunities -- will dim out one by one. But for the moment, here in the dark, there are still choices and possibilities. There are still stars to wish on.