Waterproof Mascara and Other Disappointments

Sure, it says waterproof. And, it's true. Try cleaning it off with anything short of comet and you won't get very far. But, shed a few tears and it smudges right up. You can buy mascara from 2-35 dollars and the one thing that they all have in common is that they have great sticking power at night when you are trying to remove them and questionable staying power when you have a cold or are bawling your eyes out.
What a disappointment. I mean, I've seen the commercials. I've seen the models. I've seen the magazine advertisements. This is NOT how it's supposed to work. I'm supposed to be able to go to the movies and cry my eyes out and rub them with my hanky and all is to be well.
Real life differs from advertising. In many ways. And in many situations. Many that are more important than mascara.
Have you ever noticed that cars are sold by using schmexy women? I have. Now, guys, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't know any women who are going to sprawl all over your car just because it's nice. Sexy or not. It just aint gonna happen.
And what about the good times being had at the bars with the alcohol flowing freely and everyone getting along. Now, I'm not a bar girl, but the bars I've been in are often more somber feeling than a party atmosphere. And the drunks I've been with are not as sophisticated as the people in the ads........they just do and say stupid things and forget about it later. But, it is comforting that the ads say "drink responsibly" at the end. Sure, it really looked like the people in the ad were being responsible.
The movies are full of wonderful romances and friendships. And I have yet to find a real life one of either kind of relationship that matches the traits portrayed in the movies. The nice girl doesn't always get the handsome rich guy. Hardly ever. The dorky girl rarely outgrows it. (this, I know from personal experience ). A two hour fight and misunderstanding rarely, if ever, ends in riding off into the sunset in a convertible.
Oh, but how we hope. and wish. and sigh. and long. Oh for life to be as good as it can be portrayed. But, usually, it's not.
And so, some people become cynical. They become critical and full of bitterness. They moan and grumble. They pick and complain. They are hurting because their dreams and hopes and wishes are not as they'd like. The world fails to meet their expectations. People are not "enough".........good enough, smart enough, nice enough, kind enough.
And, I regret it on their behalf. Because they miss out on so much in real life while bemoaning how it doesn't measure up to the wishes they have. It's a waste of time and energy. It's troubling to me because it eats them up from the inside out. And.........they become what they are moaning about. They become what disappoints them so much. Sad, huh?
Nothing is like the media portrays. I choose to think that the "perfection" often portrayed is because God has "set eternity in the hearts of men" and we seek what it will be like when all is whole and healed again. When things aren't broken and lacking.
Because I'm pretty certain in heaven that the waterproof mascara will be exactly that. Of course, wait, if there are no tears in heaven.........oh mercy, I might never know if it's really waterproof or if it's just because I don't cry anymore.
blessings,
rhonda

Cell Phone ME!!!

Well, while I was doodling pictures, I doodled myself as a cell phone. Glasses and all. Yes, a skirt. Kinda looks like a twinkie with hair and arms, but hey, I know what it is.
It all started because this morning I was talking with my kids about how important it is to connect to God. How they have to find their own ways, own places, own times. And I was telling them how important it is so that they can recharge. Keep strong. So that when troubles and worries come, they will be prepared.
And suddenly it struck me and I said, "just like keeping your cell phone charged. You have to have it ready in case of an emergency. And for traumas. And for planning. And for getting good news. And for hearing about people's hopes. And for that occasional surprise call when someone just wants to say that they like you. And that they were thinking of you. You need it to be charged if you are going to share giggles or fears. The point is that the phone can only be the conveyor of information and emotions if it's charged up and ready to go. Otherwise, it's just a paper weight.
I'm much like that cell phone. Given time to be charged up, I'm with you.......ready to share, giggle, run around, play, enjoy, cry, scheme, encourage, clean, or whatever comes up. But I have to take the time to get charged. I have to plug in. I have to get rejuvenated.
That's how it is. For me.
Now............if getting recharged would only help me draw. ;) Maybe one day.....
blessings,
rhonda

What Do You Hold Onto?

Drew a little picture today. I know. Scary. I do not draw. But let me tell you about it. Stick girl. High heels. Little skirt. Curls. Pouty Lips. Gripping an umbrella in her left hand. On the umbrella handle it says "God". One word on each of the four panels of the umbrella. HOPE. FAITH. PEACE. JOY. Big drops of rain falling all around. Perhaps she should wear RAIN BOOTS!!!! Entitled: What R U Holding Onto?
When I hold onto TRUTH. Hold onto God. Hold onto His ways. Hold onto His presence..........THEN, I find faith, hope, peace and joy sheltering me from the storms that come frequently in my life. I can walk in the rain. Safely. Dry. Not always avoiding the storms. It still rains. But it's a walk in the rain. It's dry. I'm sheltered.
Love dwelling in the shelter of the MOST HIGH GOD.
blessings,
rhonda

Unplugging

My three youngest children are the last ones on earth to be without cell phones. I know. They have told me. Often. My thought is that if everyone else has one then they don't need one because it's not like I leave them stranded alone on a desert island or at the school a few hours later than intended.....wellllll, actually, that second one could have happened. But never the desert island.
But, I do have a freshman in high school without a cell phone. And an 8th grader. And a sixth grader. And it makes me gleeful. NO, I'm not glorying in their discomfort, or in their being shunned or otherwise abused for not being up to par.
I am gleeful because they are being given the gift of freedom. They aren't available 24/7 to solve the world's problems with their friends. No school chums can stalk them or text them at all hours. They are free to sleep. They are free to play. They are free to be in a room with the other people who are in the room. It's a gift.
Having a cell phone is a convenience. And a huge stresser. Life was easier when we were unavailable sometimes. When the world could live if people could not be reached in an instant. Kids have to solve every relational issue RIGHT NOW......no matter if they should be in school or sports or music lessons or even sleeping. There is no delayed gratification. No patience. No sleeping on it and getting back to it tomorrow.
When I was a kid (yes, by the way, it was the dark ages when I had to sit by the tv in the morning and wait for the stations to start broadcasting shows because I got up too early) I could get "lost" in a field or a walk to the park. If someone was being a pain, we left them until later when they came around and wanted to play nice. We had to talk face to face. Or on a corded telephone where everyone could hear what we were saying. And NOBODY would ever have dreamed of calling our house after 10pm. EVER. It just wasn't done. When I went to bed I was allowed to have a full night's sleep without any teen/adolescent worries or dramas. Well, except for the ones still running through my mind. But, in my room alone, it was safe from all of that crud.
Not so anymore. Kids are bombarded incessantly with problems, pains, traumas and relational conundrums. They can't focus on anything else because the people in those phones are incessantly demanding their full attention.......or at least partial attention. Tried to have a conversation with a teen lately? They check their phones ever 20 seconds. Literally. And if it's not with them, you would think that they were being asked to prance naked through the school cafeteria carrying an umbrella singing "Feeling Groovy".
It's time that adults take note of the pain in the lives of children. They just CAN'T say no to their friends........and they have a hundred. So, take the time to talk with them. And let them know that you aren't mad at them. That you want to give them a gift. A gift of a good night's sleep. An uninterrupted meal sometimes. A talk with their grandma.
Unplug them. Put their phone away FOR them. At night. Whenever you note that it is causing undue stress and pain. Be the BAD guy. Their friends will hate you. Kinda. They might hate you too. But it's still a gift. The best gift. Time to be peaceful. Time to think. Time to grow. Time to just be.
I turn my phone off sometimes. Drives people crazy. I leave it on at night.......after all, I have a lot of kids and friends and I wouldn't want them to have an EMERGENCY in the middle of the night and not be available. But, frankly, I'm old and people don't call me when it's too late. Unless there's REALLY a need. No, I turn off my phone when I need to let my mind and heart wander. When I need time to breathe and not answer to the whole world. It's remarkably rejuvenating.
blessings,
rhonda

Self Care

The words all women long to hear........"just take care of yourself." I mean, for many of us, our truest and deepest fantasy is a week away at a beach in the middle of nowhere. With books. Movies. Beach towels provided. Meals delivered. Alone. I know, I know, UNACCEPTABLE. It brings our guilt out in full force. Imagine, wanting time to only think about myself. I shudder just voicing the thoughts aloud. We have been well trained not to want for ourselves. Not without guilt. It varies in it's form, but it seems to be something we struggle with as a gender.
So, counselors and therapists tell us to engage in "self-care". Boy, it's hard.
It's hard for me to say what I need. Well, actually, when I say what I need, it's hard to accept that it can bother people and that can be ok. Not that I have to be mean spirited, but I am allowed to have feelings and needs. I am allowed to think what I think. Even if I'm not right. Even if I'm misunderstood. Even if I am completely off base. I am allowed.
But the problem is giving myself permission. And then, when I do give myself permission, I back off of it when people respond poorly. Always afraid to hurt others.
What about you?
I worry that I'm being selfish. Being unkind.
But I am learning. I am really learning. Hope there's not a test because I need more practice.
But what I'm learning is that the best way to get this lesson imbedded in our hearts is to get our friends and loved ones to do it. Remind them. See them. Give them permission. It's quite the gift. In so doing, it will raise your own awareness.
Take a day off now and then. Stay in bed. Take a hike. Read a book. Go somewhere you want to. Do something with a friend. Don't check in. Be unavailable.
Beware, when you need things there are sometimes crises and it's not a bad habit to take care of others too. Just not at the expense of yourself all of the time. Self care isn't about learning to be selfish. It's about learning to love yourself as you love others.........because honestly, until you learn to love yourself this way, you'll never REALLY be able to love others.
Enjoy the journey. I know that I am.
blessings,
AND, i really love you my friends who walk this journey with me.
rhonda

IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK????

Obviously it is. Or I wouldn't have to be asking the question. Or maybe it's not and it's just that somehow our culture has allowed too much permissiveness and privileges without responsibility. I seem to have way too high of expectations for my children. So, maybe it's not about is it too much to ask but more "is it too much to expect?"
Have raised these kids since they were preschoolers to do certain things. Every morning they get up, get dressed, comb hair, eat, brush teeth. Every afternoon there are things to be done. Each has a "chore" and everyone is asked to do something to "help" around the house every day. Also, they are asked to do something for them; something like running, walking shooting hoops.......exercisey good. Then, also they get to read or play a game or something. I don't want the tv on all afternoon. Or video games. I want them to be out living. Half the time you'd think that I was killing them........the other half they are glad.
But then, when it's all said and done, I don't mind that they watch tv. Or veg with a book. Or sit in a bedroom that is kind of messy. I mean to say that what I am trying to teach my kids is that they have certain responsibilities in the world. Without being asked. They should notice AND take care of the dishes or forwarding the laundry or vaccuuming just because they live in a house. Just because they respect the other people in their house. They should learn to force themselves to go do something for themselves because it's a good habit for THEM when they are grown..........to get away from work or brain sucking activities for awhile.
But, going back to work is reminding me that it's a lot to expect. Not a lot to ask. When I'm here, I ask. They comply. When I'm not, I still expect, but they have to REMEMBER. They have to choose. And that's hard.
And sometimes I wonder, "is it too much to expect." And maybe it is a lot. But I have realized that it's not too much. Because it's not for controlling or perfection reasons. It is for the sake of training. It is so that they will hone their skills and become people who transition more easily to their own, grown-up lives. It's because I care about them. About their futures.
It's not easy. I care HOW they do the things too. No just dumping some comet in the toilet and flushing. No scooping the crumbs onto the floor. No leaving clothes thrown on the couch in a pile. It's not enough to ACT like you did it. It needs to be done in good faith. It deals with character. I want them to be proud of who they are. I think that having responsibilities makes them look more closely at who they are becoming.
But, really, tell me, is it too much to expect?
Must not be. Cuz they are sure doing well. Oh, they falter, stumble, and sometimes don't even want to, but they keep doing it anyway. They keep trying. And growing. And learning. And that's what it's all about. It's not really about the perfection of the things that are done, it's about WHO THEY WILL BE. And that is MY huge job in life..........to help them grow, become, learn, be challenged, be leaned on, be trusted, be, dare I say? EXPECTED TO BE CONSTANTLY AND BLESSEDLY MORE MATURE.
That's my job. Day to day. No matter how much sleep I get. No matter how much I have to do. No matter how tired I am. Because that's how I GROW CONSTANTLY AND MORE BLESSEDLY WHO I AM SUPPOSED TO BE.
It's a win-win. I commit to do my job and it is to make them commit to do their job.
And, bottom line, we love each other. Oodles. So proud of them. They are the Ice to my Cream.
blessings,
rhonda

20 SOMETHING..........

More like 20? No, something else. Today as I was walking into the building from a break at work, I suddenly realized.........again..........I'm a GRANDMA, a mom of 6, five pregnancies. This was after admiring (ha) the little pooch on my belly. I say little in the kindest, most dishonest way. And, frankly, admire may be a little strong.......noticing was more like it. "Oh, IT WIGGLES WHEN I WALK. LAH DI DAH DI DAH. OH IT WIGGLES WHEN I WALK." Can you tell that I was in a hurry? But, seriously, out of the blue in a nearly audible voice I heard, "what did you expect, that you would look as you did in your twenties." I literally stopped. I laughed. I felt so much better. I mean, when I was in my twenties, I didn't expect women to all look like women in their twenties, but now that I'm older, I keep holding up this standard. Why, I don't know. I don't even mind my body, but there's this deep down place where I know there's a bit of shame feeling. I am not what I once was.
And well you might say, "why thank God that you aren't what you once were." I was skinny. Had perky boobs. Tight glutes. Firm arms. Smooth skin. Pretty umblemished, unveined legs. Didn't even know what a stretch mark was..........literally. Never been stretched. In more ways than one. BECAUSE, I was also shallow, untested, small, obnoxious, fearful, trouble making, self righteous, a pleaser. Oh, I looked better. On the outside. But the real work over the years has been going on in the inside of Rhonda. Deep down. Learning. Growing. Becoming. No, not just becoming a little larger of body, but larger of heart and definitely of spirit.
I am learning who I am. Who God has always seen me as. I am growing in the desire to not be religious but to have relationship with the creator of all........including me.
My belly jostles when I rush. And darn those women who are my age and are firm and supple and perfect. They may very well been placed in my life as the thorn in my side to allow me to trust the one who made me. To know that that's not what MY life and purpose are about.
Oh, I like looking and feeling pretty. By my own little standard.;) But today, I realized that I'm actually pretty happy with who I am and maybe it's time to clean those shame feelings about how I look out of my heart's closet and get rid of them.
For better and for worse........I'm not longer in my twenties.........and I'M MOVING ON.
blessings,
rhonda

Kill, Death, Suicide

This last weekend I took a class on suicide intervention. I spent 16 hours with a group of two dozen people talking about death by choice. Talking about how to talk to people who are unusually depressed, talking about death or going through huge life changes that might throw them into those feelings. I learned about ways to overcome the taboo/stigma of suicide. And, I had to do the hardest thing of all.......I had to learn to ask THE QUESTION. The question is not: are you thinking of hurting yourself? It is not: Are you ok? The question is: Are you thinking about killing yourself? or Are you thinking about suicide?
Let me tell you, this was WAY out of my comfort zone. We role played and I dislike that anyway. So, I had to get up in front of other people and act out a scenario where I had to ask THE QUESTION at some point in the conversation. It was hard. But you know, this weekend changed me. Somehow talking about death and the feeling that death could be an option for someone and exploring the causes and indicators made me feel empowered. Well, first it drained me. It's DIFFICULT. It's painful. It's heartbreaking.
But I draw people who say things like this. And I got some tools for how to deal with it. It was an incredibly useful class. It was engaging and enlightening. Amazing since it was all about suicide.
If you have the time, take the ASIST class. It won't be easy. It won't let you off of the hook easily. But facing those hard questions makes you look at life with just that much more thankfulness. It causes you to see how easy it is to slip into habits that might be life changing. Or life ending. Thought patterns. Neglecting self-care. Settling for an existence rather than a full blown life. Blaming instead of accepting choice. And, it causes you to see how dark depression can become. And to want to be a light in a world full of many dark and scary places.
I learned that it's ok not to always be the one. It's ok to just go so far in helping someone. That was a huge relief to me because the weight of such a burden seemed unbearable.
Learn to say the words, kill, death and suicide. Learn to be direct. LEARN TO ASK THE QUESTION. You could be the one who notices someone and hlep to save their life just by asking.......
blessings,
rhonda

Working

I started a job this week. I have heard from so many people, "oh, that is boring, isn't it?" and "this day is so long." and many other similar quotes. But, frankly, I guess my gift is that of being easily occupied. I grade open ended standardized tests. Hundreds a day. All on the same subject. On a computer. In a warehouse that has been transformed into an office. And you know what? I'm happy. I'm thankful. I like my job. I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I have a job in this economy. I find satisfaction in trying to do it well. I want to get better and better at it. I want to be a good friend to the people around me. I want to learn to take the small moments off to learn how to refresh and revive quickly.
Work is a gift. A treasure. The people who are complaining to me haven't tried to run their own business and gotten no paycheck with a LOT more work put into it.
But sometimes, I think it's easy just to get into the habit of complaining. Of stressing. Of obsessing. Of being unhappy.
I choose something different. I choose to live today fully. When the young man at the store asks me if plastic is ok, I respond enthusiastically and look at him. When the checker greets me, I try to ask them about their day first. We all have work to do. If we all understand that, then we can all be about making everyone else's job more pleasurable.
I choose joy. I choose hope. I choose. It's my choice. I love that. This is not something that is being done to me. I choose.
blessings,
rhonda

I think that I shall never see

I think that I shall never see anything as sweet as that birdie on the tree. That's right, not IN, but ON. The tree was about my height. Looks dead. Stick like. And the beautiful Robin perched upon it as if it were a royal throne. He didn't care that it was the shortest tree. Or the ugliest. Or the driest. He pushed out his breast and sang. And in doing so, brought joy to my very short lunch break. Real joy.
It's amazing how seeing someone in not the best of circumstances choose to "sing" to be happy, to smile, makes life so much more bearable. All is not lost. Things are not as terrible as they might seem. It's like their willingness to bear up under the struggle with love and humor allows us to look at our own lives and stand a little taller, breathe a little deeper.
That's why community is so important. You have to be around others. You have to see others. If you don't, all you see is you. If all you see is you then you get bogged down in your pain, trauma and drama. But, when you lift up your head and let the sun shine on your face, you see the faithful, robin-like folks who look at their life's circumstances and declare, "I am content."
It's easy to be the chicken. Always poking around on the ground looking for cast off food or seed, intent on only what is right in front of you. It's also easy to continually envy the soaring, out of reach eage. But, somehow, the robin, though very common, is very inspiring. Beautiful eggs. Faithful singer. Flying and yet down to earth enough to affect the average person. Yep, I wanna be like that robin. I want to look around and sing a bright little song that brings joy and hope to someone along the way.
blessings,
rhonda

Playing

Playing is the work of preschoolers. To them, building a block tower or coloring a picture or playing with dolls is learning.........it's what makes them learn how to do things. But, as we all grow up, somehow we change the rules and we make it that work is the bad stuff and play is the good stuff.
As usual, I want to challenge that misconception. Sometimes labor is icky. But, honestly, a lot of work seems like play if it's right for you.
When I say it seems like play, I mean that it is pleasure inducing. It maintains your attention. It is not a drudgery. It's the thing that speaks to the deepest part of who you are. It's what you were made to do. And, sometimes, you can even get paid to do it. That's the sweetest deal of all.
We make a mistake with kids. We always ask them what they are going to be when they grow up. We look at the available vocational options. We research what makes the most money. But, as I walk along raising these marvelous people......or, more likely, being raised by these marvelous people........I learn that those ideas are off. What we should be asking is "who are you? What makes you soar? What keeps your attention? What delights you?"
When we ask the right questions, we take kids, and other people who are seeking purpose in life, from looking at the thousands of options and the daunting expectations to a place of comfort. Who are you?
Do you love being with children? What about the elderly? Do you like being in front of people or behind the scenes? How do you cope with stress? Do you need a deadline to get work done? Do you work well when having to be self-motivated? Are you a night person or a morning person? What absolutely fascinates you? How do you feel when someone yells at you? Are you athletic? Are you musical? What kind of music? What instruments?
As we ask these questions, first of ourselves and then of our loved younger counterparts, we find a refreshing change. Suddenly our play becomes our future "work" goal. The things that define us and bring us joy are the things that we are seeking to do as adults. And you know what? It can change and evolve over time. We can learn new skills. We can move from making underwater baskets to crocheting in the rain.
The thing is that work IS a big decision. It is a daunting choice. But if we take things that we love and mix it with our career, then it feels more like play. It is like wearing clothes that fit us style wise as well as size wise.
I like kids. I like being in a professional environment. I like schools. I like seeing kids grow and change. So, teaching is a good fit for me. Though not every day is sunshine and lollipops. Those other days you just remind yourself that you ARE getting a paycheck.
What about you? What about the kids you love? Have you pushed them to be things that aren't a good fit? Do they seem awkward and uncomfortable in the avenues they are traveling. Maybe it's time to remind them that you are proud of WHO they are and not of WHAT job they do. Maybe taking off the pressure of performing will give them time to look at what really gets them jazzed.
I struggle when I see kids being forced to go to business school because "it's practical". Or being told that they will only receive fincancial help from their parents if they choose a traditional major. Some kids belong at the police academy, not Stanford. Some belong teaching aerobics. Some should be preachers. Or camp counselors. Some should be pursuing constant activity in the art world. Some should be fashion consultants. Some should be closet organizers.
The thing is that we live in a country where you can do just about anything and make it a business. It's just that we get caught up in the whole competition of who's doing what.
I do believe that kids should be as prepared as possible to go to college when in high school because then they can make that choice. I also believe that college gives a few years to grow up before entering the work place as adults. But, some kids would be miserable if forced to go into academia for yet another four years. But, on the other hand, would be content working at a coffee shop while enjoying doing music on the side.
I had a sister who got a four year degree and then chose to work cleaning houses because it afforded her the opportunity to keep her own schedule and to travel. She loved it. She got her degree in art and then went and did what she wanted. Is she successful? I think so. But some people would ask where the job security is. My answer is that none of us ever have job security and if we think we do........we live an illusion.
Watch your kids. Watch them playing. Watch yourself. Your friends. What we play is who we are. What brings us pleasure has a lot to do with our overall sense of well being.
Take the time to figure out those things and the career thing will fall into place. And your relationships with those youngers will be so much smoother and richer.
blessings,
rhonda

Jumping Through the Hoops

Often there is no avoiding jumping through the hoops. We rebel against it. Push hard. Hold back. A picture much like Snoopy being walked on a leash. We behave as if we are choking, when in reality, if we just walked peacefully along, all would be well. It's something about authority. It begins very young. That first "no" is the beginning of a whole lifestyle.
That's why it's so important, from a very young age, "to train up a child in the way that he should go." Notice, I didn't say break his spirit or make him docile. I didn't say that you should be controlling and demanding. But I am saying that from birth on to young adulthood, we, as parents, are responsible to train........teach, mentor, coach, lead, mold, shape, guide. We need to let kids know that it is not acceptable to simply be rebellious or oppositional just for the sake of being that way. Privileges need to be earned and not just once......behaviors must continue to keep a privilege. For instance, if a child makes his bed (this is for a four or five year old), he might be given the privilege of watching a favorite cartoon. However, if he goes and turns on the tv on a morning without making his bed and says, "you didn't tell me," that is defiant. It is a standard rule. It does not need to be reiterated every day.
My kids have had a morning routine since they were preschoolers. It is so established that we don't have to talk about it anymore. However, as they enter the teen years and begin to show signs of defiance by being continually late or not eating breakfast or making the morning miserable for everyone else, then there are consequences which are put in place immediately. If they don't get up on first call, they go to bed early. Period. If they make us wait.....not make us late to school, but make us wait after the appointed time to be in the car, then they owe time back to the family. Period. If they argue about the consequences, the consequences continue to increase until they decide to comply. Period.
I have very little desire to argue with my teens. And, I have to say, we rarely do. And I'm not saying that if they are going through a hard moment that I won't hear them.......but I do NOT tolerate unkindness, disrespect, meanness or bullying as a way for them to cope.
You see, we all have to learn to jump through the hoops. I don't really want to write my resume, cover letter and fill out hours worth of paperwork to get a job. But, if I want a job, I must. I might prefer that my job start at 10 instead of 8. Tough luck. If I decide to show up at 10, I will be shown the door.
Not teaching our children the ways that society works is a disservice. If they think that they can keep a boss waiting because they wanted to spend more time in the shower, they will find themselves unemployed.
Some hoops are unavoidable. To go to school, vaccination cards need to be turned in. To go to camp, you have to have a physical. To take a trip out of the country, you need a passport. We can rant and rave and wish it weren't so, but some things aren't worth arguing about.
Because I have taught my children the "hoops" of our particular family, I can now teach them about the things that do matter to fight about. Injustice. Abuse. Belittling. Meanness. Crime. Stealing. Dishonesty. Some things are worth rebelling against. Some things are worth losing a job over. Some things are worth losing a relationship over. But if I don't TRAIN them to see the difference, they will either always be compliant or always be rebelling. They won't know the proper time for each thing.
It's a lot of work. It requires daily, moment by moment input. It means getting up when I want to sit and being very clear about what I mean. It means that sometimes I blow it and have to say and mean that I'm sorry. But, looking around at the behaviors in schools, I am convinced that too many kids are being left to figure everything out for themselves. They haven't been taught hoop jumping as a norm of life.
If kids grow up cleaning up dishes after themselves, it's not a big transition to take turns cleaning the kitchen and then, ultimately, to being responsible for cleaning their OWN kitchen. Isn't that our job? To keep training with the goal of independence in mind?
How can they ever be independent if we always slack on training? How can they know what to expect in the world if we don't set any standards in our homes?
I am not talking about being mean or being slave drivers. And I certainly don't mean that our love should be based on how they perform. But it is my fervent belief that children feel more confident and more secure when they know exactly what is expected and what the hoops are. Then, they know what to expect in return.
Kids are smart. They will push until they find the boundary. Just like they snuggled up next to the edges of their cribs when they were babies and how they liked being swaddled as infants. Too much freedom makes them feel vulnerable and unprotected.
If you haven't started, start today. Make a list for them. Let them know what you expect. Let them know what they can expect from you if they do or don't comply. Um, and by the way, they don't need prizes for doing what they should be doing. I mean, it's nice sometimes when things are rough or something, but I have never gotten a prize for being on time for work each day......just sayin'......
But before you begin, make sure that they know how much you love them for who they are. Tell them. Tell them why you are doing this. Tell them how desperately you want to help them to become men/women who are capable and confident adults who can survive the ups and downs that life is going to bring.
Then, stick with those hoops. Don't back down. DON'T ARGUE. Arguing is one of the first things that needs to go...........you get to choose, you are the parent. BUT REMEMBER, it's not about power, it's about teaching and training, so don't make a bunch of stupid rules. Think about character. Think about respect. Think about the basics of what they need to leave your house in 10, 5 or 2 years. Then go for it.
Praise frequently, but only when it's real. Thanks for getting to the car on time, it is really nice when we don't have to wait, and I know you are not a morning person. Thanks for setting your alarm, it helps me for you to be up and ready to go. Thanks for getting to bed on time. It makes things easier on all of us. Thank you for being so good about your_______ job, I really appreciate how I don't have to tell you every day. Your room is looking so nice. I enjoy being in this living room that you vaccuumed and cleaned. It's so pleasant being in the nicely mowed yard. Oh, I really like how you did more than just the dishes, that really helped me.
On the other hand, if they do a cruddy job, don't accept it. If they make every step miserable and make you worn out fighting it all the way, say so. The first moment it starts to be that way, it's important to say, "if you don't change your behavior and your attitude, I have lots more for you to do......." Don't be afraid. It only takes a few consistent days before they figure it out. "Oh, you can't work for me while you have a cell phone? Well, I'll keep the cell phone until I see that you are doing what you need to." "Oh, I CAN'T tell you what to do? Oh, well, that means I shouldn't be giving you money or internet or cell phone or car privileges. Come talk when you want to change this." When they do come talk, don't be bullied or guilted. What a crock that is. You owe them certain things........unconditional love and safety, food (not desserts or snacks), shelter, school.........the rest are gifts.
Teach them well to jump through hoops. It will make daily life easier. Not just for you. The kids will feel confident and secure. You won't waste time arguing. But the best part is that you will know and begin to see that you have done everything you can to prepare them for adulthood.
happy jumping.
Now, I gotta write that resume.
blessings,
rhonda

Voice

In literature there is an element called "voice". It is the underlying substance of an author. It is what you hear about who the author is and how he feels about his subject. It's his word use. His style.
Voice is an important element. It brings life and originality to a piece. You can tell who wrote a piece sometimes just by the voice.
And in life, voice is important. Bringing to every situation who you are. Your gifts. Your talents. Your ideas.
But sometimes, our voices are silenced. Or sometimes, we forget what they sound like. Or we change them to make them sound like someone else's. Sometimes we just get quiet. Sometimes we choose to be silent. It's difficult. At best. Our voice is precious. It is our very own. Never to be duplicated.
And there are people who love our voices. And tell us so. There are others who tolerate it. Still others dislike it immensely. Not how I didn't say the word hate.;)
And we gauge how well we are doing by how people respond. And at times, we just give up. No matter our age or supposed maturity.
I know. I'm there. Not sure what my voice is supposed to be or how it should sound or what it should talk about or be silent about. I want to grow and spread my wings. I want to be open and share. But I also want to be a person that other people like ok. Not easy. Complex.
How in the world do we expect teenagers to figure this out? I'm 45 and it's way too much. But this thing I know.........living using our own unique voice with abandon and excitement every day means that we truly live. Though some don't even like us. Even then, maybe there is more joy in living than in pretending. We tell our kids that it's true. Tell them to be themselves. Tell them to use their voices.
So, why are we so easily silenced as adults? Why am I so easily troubled by using my voice? Who I am seems to be way out there. And that bothers me. Lack of confidence? Perhaps. But I think that it goes deeper. I think that as we become adults we learn that there are a few ways to get along in the world and if we don't then we lose. No friends. Not great jobs. Nobody to hang out with. But can we really be happy if we lose our voice anyway? What a conundrum.
The only solution is to live as we are. With our voice. And wait. Patiently. There will be those with whom our voices sing beautifully in great harmony. And we will hear and be heard.
Don't fear. It's there. Use your voice. Even if your voice is to be quiet. Or still. Or loud. Or different. Learn when your voice needs to be quiet. But not silenced. Learn how to be polite, but not at all costs.
Wait, maybe it is too complex. My voice often gets me in trouble. Makes people irritated or troubled. Even when I mean to be kind. And sometimes I hunker down in the shelter of silence. Look for alone time. Hide. But, honestly, though I need to be kind, I can't not write. I can't give it up without feeling like life itself has been changed. Altered. Diminished.
Use your voice. In love. In kindness. In gentleness. But use it. And then just keep living even if people don't want you to. It's who you are.
blessings,
rhonda

Standards Based Assessments

I am just sitting here this morning feeling happy that there are not standard based assessments for being a mom or a homemaker. I am totally too laid back about many things that drive other people crazy. And getting back my test scores would completely annihilate any sense of self worth that i might have. There might be questions like:
What do you do with the birthday candles after you take them out of the cake?

How many times a week do you clean your floors?


Which day of the month do you clean out your refrigerator?


I cringe at the thought of how I would be assessed. I am not a total slob, but with only a few questions allowed, it could go very badly for me. I would feel compelled to say, "I don't meet your standards, but I do lots of other things well. Please, ask something about my strengths."

I don't think that they would be so excited by the fact that I throw the candles in the drawer to use again next time.
That I clean my floors when they bother me.
That I clean out my fridge when it smells or has something spilled. Or, very importantly, when I need the tupperware back.
The point is that how I look is dependent upon what questions are asked. That's how it is when there is a standard based assessment. It is based on set criteria, not on an individual.
Unfortunately, many of us live our lives like this. We judge everyone from the view of how a rose should be, smell, behave.........when not everyone is a rose. There are hyacinths and black eyed susans. Peonies. Columbines. Irises. If all of my questions and expectations have to do with being a rose, only a few will measure up. I will live disappointed and they will live feeling condemned.
This happens a lot with parents and kids. See what and who you have living with you and ask the right questions. All flowers should actually flower though they don't all make roses.......all kids should be respectful and grow in character, but they won't all be A students or superstar athletes or musicians. Look deeply. Find the beauty in the kids around you and help them to become who they are supposed to be. Help them grow into the person they were created to be.
They will be so thankful to be judged by the right standard.
It works with adults too!
blessings,
rhonda

Living in the Good Old Days

We've all heard the stories. Some of us are even beginning to have our own stories about "the good ol' days." Strangely, usually the times that we are living through don't seem like them.
You know, when the baby isn't sleeping and the toddler is sick and the dog runs off down the street and the house looks like a wreck and your pastor's wife stops by unexpectedly, it doesn't feel like the good 'ol days.
Or when the music is turned up to a blaring, beating level and your child suddenly sports clothing that seems ridiculously awful and a haircut that matches and the relatives are expecting a family portrait. Those don't seem like the good ol' days either.
Or when finals are looming and you have to work and your dorm mate stays up all night. Those definitely don't seem like the good ol' days.
Or when that boy said he liked you but he didn't really and you have band and volleyball and homework and everyone is expecting so much. Those days don't seem like the good ol' days.
The good ol' days live in our minds as memories of happier times. Funny how good high school or college or baby hood with the children can seem 15, 25, 50 years later. But at the time, it can be simply trouble. Painful. Hard.
Maybe we should think about today with the perspective of 25 years from now. How will these troubles that we are now living through feel after the passage of time. It's not easy.
But hey, raising 5 babies wasn't easy but my heart swells with the memories. Childbirth was certainly not easy, but somehow I don't think that I remember exactly how painful it was.
I am trying to see things differently. I am loving being the mom of teens. Of knowing them. In the NOW. I want to be living the good ol' days. Not waiting to appreciate them when they are but a fading memory.
I hope today is a part of your good ol' days. Engage each moment and see the memory in your "future view." It will make today even sweeter. Enjoy it. Savor.
blessings,
rhonda

Middle School

I went to "Air Band" for my middle schoolers tonight. And I was mesmerized. Not by the quality of the performances. Most of them were put together in 30 seconds in the gym while awaiting their turn. I was mesmerized because my two middle schoolers got up and performed.
When I was in middle school, I wouldn't even have shown up because getting on a stage and acting stupid would have been WAY out of my comfort range.
It's such a difficult time. Bodies are growing so fast that they can't keep up in coordination. They look different, sound different and act different every few days. And yet, my kids were brave. I was so proud of them. They choose friends that challenge them. That help them to be courageous. They got up and did their thing. They laughed and had fun. And you know what? They both won prizes.
Gotta love middle school leaders. They know how to celebrate accomplishments. It's not about quality, it's about willingness. I am so proud that they were willing. Of course, they had the advantage of having been waiting to do what their older brothers got to do......
Maybe it's easier to be in middle school once older siblings have already done it? You know what to expect.
I'm not sure, but this I know: I would never go back to middle school again. I'd rather clean windows.
blessings,
rhonda

The End

Isn't it funny how we hate the endings to things? Like movies. Or a book series? We fear the endings of friendships. Of marriages. Of lifelong relationships. Of life itself.
What is it about "THE END" that puts so much fear into our hearts? How come we are afraid?
I actually think that we were made with eternity in our hearts. We were created with a sense of the infinite in our minds. And endings are painful.
I do not like the idea of things that make me feel good ending. But, ending is better than pretending. Ha, the word ending is in pretending. hmmm. Interesting. But things end, my friends. No matter how wonderful. No matter how good. No matter how dedicated we are or how hard we try. Sometimes people have to walk away. Walk on. Sometimes they need to fly without us. And it's bitterly painful.
But with every ending is a beginning. I know. Trite. Very. But you have to begin again. Because things change. People leave. It happens.
What will you do? Where will you gather your strength from? I mean, seriously, I lament the ending to a book, the ending to something bigger really reaches deep.
But what I have learned is that one moment at a time brings me to a new place. I learn how to function in new ways. I learn that I do indeed still breathe. Still have plans. Still learn new things. I learn that living goes on even in my pain. And that within the pain I can find hope.
But honestly, I have to say, there are times when I find no redeeming ideals for myself. But when I look at the other person, I find many. And I comfort myself in that.
When you see the ending coming, gather courage. You will need it. And, it's just like a book, you can feel it winding down. And though you slow down and wish to make it last, inevitably, you will eventually turn the last page. And for awhile you will think of those times and experiences and happinesses. You will mourn. Cry. Laugh. But you will live. You will find that you are still worth it.
Seems depressing, huh? Sometimes living hurts. Sometimes it stomps us down. But the thing is that it doesn't change who we are. It only accentuates it. Draws out our character.
You will make it through. You will find joy again. You are loved deeply and completely.
THE END.
blessings,
rhonda

If

Such a little word with so much power. It holds the balance of decisions. It is the deciding factor for children.
If you clean your room
If you aren't sick.
If you want to.
If they only call when they need something.
If things change.
What's funny is that every if seems to have a then.........
then you can go to the party.
then you can go to school.
then you can come over.
then they probably need space.
then I might come see you.
Sometimes I don't like the word very much as an adult. I certainly didn't like it as a child. Too many wonderings. Fearful that it wouldn't happen. Frightened that the "if" would not be met. Frightened that "if" I did do something then something bad would happen. It went both ways.
If has the power to change lives. Plans. Places. Decisions.
I am learning a lot about it at my rather ripened age. If someone doesn't take the time......then......get a clue. That's hard. Even at my age. But, necessary to learn and get through it. So, I just put on my big girl panties and take a deep breath and ..........wipe my tears......and go on.
And IF I do it often enough, eventually I will believe that I have gone on.
blessings,
rhonda

My Life as a Mime

Sometimes I feel like the mimes that I see street performing in cities. There they are in front of everyone, trying to get through the wall or out of the box. Communicating as best they can without voice. Covered face and hands. Everyone sees and laughs. Funny to see them. Amusing.
But not so much when you feel like the mime. When you are pushing to get out of your box. To be heard. To be seen for who you are without the painted face. It's easy to laugh with everyone. To be jovial. To give smiles to others. But sometimes, when your hand nearly breaks through and you think that you have finally touched a real person, you find it's just part of the show.
It's painful. Reaching out can be grueling. Especially if you are feeling needy. If you are needing words but you can't speak.
It happens a lot. You are not alone. I keep reminding myself too. Nobody's life is perfect. Though they always seem better than our own. ;) Nobody is pain free. Hear my voice, though it is silent like the mime.....hear it with your heart. You are beloved. Even in your aloneness. Even in your loneliness. Even in your box. Or cave. And whether others take the time to hear you or just stop to laugh and be entertained, it doesn't change who you are and how valuable you are. For your worth is not dictated by other's acceptance nor understanding.
And when you don't find the compassion which you are seeking. Just stop and rest. Breathe. Try. Though, I do know, that's hard. Cry. Whatever it takes so that you can get back up on your feet again tomorrow. Because each day brings hope of actually being seen. And heard.
I do know. And, I'm sorry.
blessings,
rhonda

When I Grow Up.........

Well, it's a little later than some, but I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher. Still do. But now, I know that being a teacher can come in many forms. I do want to teach. I want to live near the ocean. Have a little house. Not too much to clean. You know, not one of those mansions that you see for rent. Just enough.
When I grow up, I want to be a good friend. No matter where my friends are or how they are doing. I want to have a sensitive heart. I want to see them and embrace them.
I want to write. Lots and lots. I want to be used. Poured out. In this manner. It is a passion. A desire. A dream. Maybe a columnist. Maybe a new sort or Erma Bombeck. I love her. My heroes...Lucy and Erma. No wonder I'm so weird. I don't want to write things that are perfect. I want to write things that are constantly growing. Changing. Morphing. Learning. I only desire that they touch deeply into at least one other heart.
When I grow up, I want to wear lots of cute clothes. Even when I'm cleaning house or gardening. And scarves in my hair. I want to sit in the sun or the shade and read a book and sip lemonade. I want to be near enough to the ocean that I can walk the beach regularly and look up to the One who loves me most.
I want to inspire those coming behind me. Not by my perfection but by my genuine and complete love. Not to be walked on. But to love deeply from the heart.
I want to travel. Not expensively. Not to see the great wonders. I simply want to see places and people. I want to sit in the coffee shops or on the streets and have a tea or a coffee and spend the evenings enjoying the scenery and the normal people.
I want to grow up. I want to keep dreaming. And when I am 65, I hope that I have more hopes and dreams for more growing up........and when I'm 75..........85...........95........105. As long as I have breath I want to keep growing up. To the One who made me to be me. At each stage. With everything.
blessings,
rhonda

The WHOLE Experience

I love my percolator. I know. I know. Most everyone out there has drip coffee or pressed for the great drinks. Which, I do love. But, my percolator gives me the whole coffee experience. I open the coffee, get to smell it, spoon it into the basket, add the water, plug it in, wait and then......the perking starts. I love the anticipation of the sound of the perking and the aroma that permeates the house. And, I love the moment when the perking sound whooshes to a halt and the coffee is ready. Then, a pretty mug with lots of half and half and it's not just a cup of coffee, it's an experience. It's wonderful. The cup warms my hands. I sip it delicately so I don't burn my tongue. Delicious. Memorable.
This is probably why I am not so enamored with coffee at places like the bank. You know, with a big tureen with a spigot and paper cups with powdered cream. It's coffee. Often, it's even a good kind of coffee. It is lacking the fullness of the coffee experience.
Life's biggest pleasures can be the littlest things if we just take the time to make them an experience. To truly engage in the moment. To savor the adventure that is found in the smallest of things. We focus too much on what the results of the experience will be. With coffee this means simply waiting for the caffeine infusion to do it's magic and make us sane.
It's like a vacation. It's great to go. There are innumerable things to do. To see. To enjoy. But the whole experience begins way back with the dream. With the hope. With the desire. Then the searching and planning. The looking forward to the event. The getting there. The little things that happen along the way. The serendipitous events that we never planned. The sights. The smells. The funny things. And yes, the ultimate destination and "the plan".
Your life journey is much like that. You have to have the dream. The hope. The vision. But it's not all about the results nor the destination. It's about the road trip. It is about the process. The whole experience brings more living to your life.
Most people miss it because they never dream or hope or push for something a little bit exciting. That's sad. Look for it. Look for ways to make it happen. Push towards it. That dream. That goal. Even if you never ever get there, it makes each day more satisfying and fulfilling.
Live the whole experience. Don't settle for less.
blessings,
rhonda

Who B Ur Friends?

You know, it's easy to tell a lot about a person based on their friends. When watching kids go downhill, one of the first alarms is the change in friends. But, our friends say a lot about us for all of our lives. Do we have friends who stick around? Are they loyal? Are they kind? Are they able to tell us the truth? Do they do things that make us feel good? Are they kind? Do they laugh a lot? Do they build us up? What makes them tick and makes makes us bond?
We women love our relationships. Sorta. We also hate the pain that they can cause. Hard to be such complex beings who long for closeness but struggle with being accepted. It can get pretty intense at times. And yet, we crave it so much that we keep working through it. We keep working to have the depth, the blessing of being known and knowing. Of being held dear even when we are completely out of it and unable to give.
Who are these women who come beside us? Walk with us? Bless our socks off? Who are the ones who touch our hearts with healing when we need it most? Who bring us meals? Who make us laugh? Who have coffee with us? Who understand our inner most thoughts?
Today, I thought that it would be fun to tell about others. You know, so much easier than telling the good things about ourselves. So pick a friend or six and tell us their attributes or a story of how they have walked with you. Who your friends are says a lot about you. So, tell us about them.;) I promise, it's a lot easier than listing your own 20 attributes!
blessings,
rhonda

Spilled Gravy and Other Messes

Did you know that spilled gravy could stay on the counter at my house for weeks if I didn't clean it up? Or milk from a cereal bowl. Or make someone clean it up. Ditto for the chocolate slathered on the front of the silverware drawer. And the jelly dripping down the side of the counter. Not to mention the sticky doorknob or the refrigerator with juice spilled. Kool-aid dribbled across the tile. Silly putty on the couch pillow. Popcorn dropped on the floor. Candy wrappers from Easter hither and yon. Peanut butter on the pantry door. Seriously, these are the norm. Daily. And I have great, helpful kids.
But it's like each person thinks, "nobody will notice." Or something. Not really sure. But you know, I'm not sure we really outgrow this stage without a lot of concentrated effort. We always hope someone else will clean up our messes. At work. In relationships. In parenting.
It's hard to face what we have done sometimes. It's like dropping a box of eggs. There's no easy way to clean it up, but if you wait, it just gets worse. Relationships are just the same. When you blow it. Or when you need to make changes, it's best to get to it. Though it's hard to gather the will to do so.
So, when I see the stuck on food and the egg yolk drying on a plate, I am going to take it as a reminder to keep on top of things in my relationships. To keep things "cleaned up" so that I don't have to face a worse mess later on.
Hope you do too. Especially with those great kids in our lives. We need to be that example.
blessings,
rhonda

Patience

There I was, having finally decided what to do with some of my time this morning, out in the garden. Tined implement in my hand. Ready to work. And I began. But, boy, weeds and grass are everywhere. Peeking up, right next to my purtiful flowers. I worked gently but determinedly. This year, I am starting early. I usually wait way too long. A little a day is all I am good for, so I have to make it count.
It was fun to see all of the things in the ground coming up that I hadn't even realized were there yet. Many annuals which are gifts from birthdays past. And the work which put them there. A patio area that I adore. ..... which I am extending this year to include one of my favorite areas around the house to sit on a summer morning.
I don't claim to be a master gardener. But, I am passionate about planting and gardening. I love seeing the surprises too. Every year something comes up that I think, "wow, didn't know that would be here this year."
But, some things die. They just can't handle the climate or my lack of skills or the rather rocky soil. Strangely, I always feel as deep a sense of regret over those things as I do joy over the surprises.
As I worked, I prayed.....that's my norm for praying. I am not very good at simply sitting at a desk or something. I am much more able to pray when sewing or writing or reading, or singing, or gardening or moving soil or walking........I get distracted when I'm just sitting at a desk, but when I've got my hands busy, I am completely "on task". Anyway.......as I was praying this morning, I was simply grateful to a God who makes things new every year. Who takes the time with me to give unexpected blessings. Who enjoys making me smile. I was thankful that He enjoys cultivating and being with me just like I enjoy my garden. And, just like I am with my garden, He has a plan, but it isn't what others think it might be, it's not of what perfect might look like to others' eyes. His plan is to make ME. Delightfully, me. He isn't looking to make me stive to be something else. My garden just lets me work and does it's thing in the shape and with the ingredients I have put in. It would be silly to think that MY garden would turn into a zen garden overnight. Or that I would expect it to. Or a rock garden. Or a desert garden. No way. It's just what it is......eclectic, fun, full of memories and labor, of money and time. I have invested myself into it and I love it.
"Ah, I get it, God." You invested yourself into me and you take pleasure in ME. Not in my trying to perform. Or be good enough. Or thinking that I can ever do enough. Or earn your favor. I don't have to. You already gave everything for ME to be FREE to be who you made me to be. A slave to nothing. No standards. No norms. No societal markers. FREE. To grow and learn and enjoy the learning.
He is a patient God with me. Completely willing to wait the years to see a "flower" on the plant. Completely content to sit with me. To love me. To till. To give. To water. To encourage. He does not grow weary of me. As I do not grow weary of my dear little garden. For all of it's weeds and grass and rocks and menagerie of plants that are mismatched.........I adore it. For I created it.
"I get it, God. You delight in me not because of what I can accomplish but because you made me just like I am."
He delights in me. Today. No matter how or what I am today. Really. No matter. He sees the flowers when all I'm seeing is the weeds. He sees the seeds. He sees the hope.
Delights. Has patience. Encourages. Enjoys. Me.
Wow.
blessings,
rhonda

WhO aRe YoU?

Been talking to yourself lately? Maybe literally, maybe just inside your head. What have you been saying? Is it uplifting? Is it worth saying to yourself over and over?
I don't know how it is for men, never having been one, but I know how it is for me and for my friends and acquaintances who are women. We trash talk ourselves. We say it to others and we say it to ourselves. We note all of our flaws and places where we need to grow. We do not celebrate who we are or how we are or how we look. I know how hard it is. I fall into the same trap. Because sometimes, we are parroting what we have heard or are hearing from others.
But what I have learned having a half dozen kids and more if you count the others whom I love, is that what we hear is what we think of ourselves and what we think of ourselves is how we live. Uh oh.
So, talk carefully to yourself. Talk purposefully to yourself. Choose relationships that edify and honor who you are. If you have family members who do not, still choose to speak well to yourself.
With that in mind, I want to see how many women can post 20 good things about themselves.....words or phrases. Think about your character. personality. looks. abilities. talents. gifts. dreams. faith. accomplishments. desires. relationships. Look for the good things in each and please post it. Not easy at all. But what a blessing for each of us to get to see other women living in freedom. Other women embracing the fact that they were respectfully, carefully and wonderfully planned and made: you are no accident. You are not someone who should be like someone else. You might have lost your way on your journey. You may have royally screwed up. Probably everyone reading this has. But you are the only you that has ever or will ever be made and you were made with a plan and a purpose in mind. You are loved.
You need to celebrate you...........I know, it doesn't seem too humble. It seems arrogant. foreign. uncomfortable.
Throw off the chains. Do it anyway. It will encourage others. It will lift them up. And, my friend, it will lift you up. Remember who you are. Or find out for the first time. It's part of the journey. Embrace it wholeheartedly.

blessings,
rhonda

Found:

Found: One middle aged woman with a few dings and scrapes. Smile seems to work ok. Full of vim and vigor and sometimes vinegar, especially if pushed too hard. She has been missing for a long time. She is quite spunky. Enjoys an afternoon rest. Seems to have forgotten her age. She is fun to be with. Not incredibly stylish, but comfortable in her own way. Has fun doing simple things. You can't really take her out in a crowd; nothing wrong with her, she just doesn't enjoy it much. She enjoys solitude and close friends much more. Evenings with a book are just her speed. She also likes dancing with friends or listening to music with a beat but not the kind that sounds like a hammer banging. She has no idea who sings most songs. She is fairly limited in political knowledge. She is adept at organizing events for her family and can cook for near army sized crowds without batting an eye. And, her cooking isn't too bad. She likes to please; sometimes to her detriment. She hopes and keeps on hoping, but she isn't stupid. She knows when to say, "enough". When she loves and trusts, it's deeply and fully. She doesn't give those away easily, but she does give them genuinely. She dislikes games. She is skilled at keeping things running around the house. Enjoys painting and planting flowers. She's not as strong as a younger woman might be, but she has learned to work smart in her slightly older age. You should see her with kids; she loves them with her whole heart and expects their very best in effort and attitude. She loves to laugh and kid around but not in place of depth and being real. When those she loves are threatened, she is grizzly like: get out of the way. She likes comfort foods and has a tummy that proves it. Chocolate is a treat. She notices the little beauties all around every day. She's genuinely thankful. She had forgotten who she was. But, after writing this ad, I think I'll just keep her. She's worth having.

blessings,
rhonda