Of Buckets Lists and Details

My friend Cheryl began adding to her Bucket List this week and wondered what others had added to theirs. I told her in my very worst snot-nosed-brat voice that I don't have a Bucket List and don't plan to have a Bucket List. I simply must do a better job of keeping my mouth shut. Or at least moderating my tone.

I don't want to start a Bucket List for a few reasons. The first being, I'm not a huge fan of thinking about my mortality. Not that I think I'll live forever in this body on earth. Thank God that's not the case. It's just too sentimental for this mama's heart. So there's that.

While I do like the idea of planning adventures to do before we die, I get lost in the grandiose and forget to focus on the smallest details. And that's really the main reason why I don't have a compilation of hopes and aspirations. I've been to England, France, Italy and Switzerland. I've visited the islands of the Caribbean. I have ziplined, parasailed, water skied, tubed and jetskied.I've had babies at home and in the hospital. I have driven crazy long distances. I have laughed and cried and have done once-in-a-lifetime. And they were all fantastic.

When I dream of taking my husband to Japan for a month so he can enjoy first hand what he finds endlessly intersting, I forget to look at him and love him right now. When I wonder what it would be like to take my daughters away for significant birthdays, the years have mentally passed and I overlook the joy in their play and thoughts today. When I imagine my son graduating high school, the last child to fly the coop, I forget that my home will be empty of all their beautiful faces.

Sure, I want to travel and play and try and do more with my family. Yes, I want to learn to paint and how to edit photos. I'd love to be able to take my mom to Venice and go fly fishing with my dad. But what I really want is to love them all right now, in the miniscule details of everyday life, amidst the clutter of homework and dishes and parties and practices.

My bucket list is, instead of being large and wild, a hope to shine a microscope of attention of each of the important people in my life. Right now. Today.

Love Day Diatribe

Maybe today isn't the best day for me to write this post. I woke up with a raging sinus headache that has literally left me speechless. If you know me personally, this is the kiss of death; I sure like to talk. My precious children are on a scheduled break from school despite having had only 3 full days of school so far THIS MONTH. And we're all about to go bonkers. In other words, I didn't just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I dug a hole in the mattress and started growing roots.

I opened the dreaded facebook page to a smattering of Happy Valentine's Day wishes. Twitter was rife with the same well meaning drivel. All I could do was sneer. Bah! A pox on all these red hearts and "one of kind" corporately manufactured "sentimental" gold charms. Gag me.

To be clear, I have no problem with people expressing their love for one another. Fantastic. My problem with Valentine's Day stems from an early predilection for romance that has since been replaced with a deep and abiding love for myself and the people in my life.

Sure, sure. Romance is amazing. Who doesn't love the scene in "Pride and Prejudice" where Mr. Darcy confesses, clumsily, that the opinionated Miss Bennett has "bewitched [him]. Body and soul." Sigh. Sure, I loved the early days dating my now-husband of nearly 16 years. We couldn't wait to talk on the phone (people used to do that), we would pedal bikes through Pittsburgh snow storms just to be together. Delightful days, all. And yet, there is something so transient about those days. While now I can see, almost touch, something so adhesive about having come through the last 16 years together. And more.

But my abhorrence for Valentine's Day is more than just being content in my marriage. I can't help it; I'm disgusted with a culture that elevates couples and relegates singles to the sad little corner with their sad little single selves. It is not unlike the grotesque ideals of beauty women confront every day: thinner waists, bigger boobs, and a man on your arm. There is always someone telling us we are not good enough, pretty enough, or worth enough. The suggestion is that you're loser if you are alone today. And I will not abide that.

So, it comes to this. Women and men have value because they are inbued with it. Not because they've earned it. Second, people are of value, whether single, married, dating, divorcing, etc. Just simple fact. Finally, I love my husband every single day. I know he loves me every single day. I don't need card companies and jewelry makers to mandate my love.

I know some of you love this day and that's great. I will even smile if you tell me to have a nice Valentine's Day. As much as you can celebrate it, I can choose not to. So there.

I told you I was in a snit.

Asking to be Loved

My day started with a lurch. I went to bed angry that something I had planned and looked forward to wasn't going to happen. At least not in any way remotely like I had imagined it. I woke up with the tang of resentment and bitterness coating my tongue. This sensation crept into my abdomen and built a small hut. It stoked a fire of pity and whining that smoked up and filled my body with loathing and lethargy.

I trudged from room to room, gulping scalding hot mouthfuls of coffee, restless but unmotivated to make a change. I stood pointlessly in the office and allowed the bitterness, the resentment, the frustration and anger to send its permanent address card to the postmaster.

Yuck. If there's anything worse than feeling sorry for oneself, it's standing resolutely knee deep in the stinking pit of it and declaring, "Come on in! The water's fine!"

I posted a little blurb on Facebook, a pitiful request for someone to say something nice to me. You know what? You staggered with your responses. I feel like Sally Field. You like me! You really like me!

What surprised me about the comments was how divergent and representative they were. Of course, I mean my friends made comments that truly represent me, or aspects of me. But more than that, the comments they made represented them. And what an amazing display of unique and wonderful people I saw! I saw the beautiful face of each person who replied: earnest, funny, quietly witty, brilliant and simple.

I am heartened. In light of my recent posts about identity, I find the diversity of my friends illuminating. In fact, I do "belong." Because I know you and you know me. Thank you, every one. You make me blush.

Love List Project

So I'm in the middle of making dinner, and I see this color on my cutting board. The inside flesh of a sweet potato. It strikes me: I love this color. I mean, I reallyreally love this color.

Then I think of my friend Kristin, and how over at her blog, she is working on something called The Love List project.

I promise to write more about this later. But....

I immediately tried to distill my love for this color into 140 characters so I could post it to her via Twitter. This is what I came up with, but instead of Twitter, I'm writing it here, because I want you to go look at her site and answer her questions about what you love and tell me, too.

I love the flesh of the inside of a sweet potato and a simply meal lovingly prepared.

Now, I must run because that lovingly prepared meal awaits.

Practicing Gratitude

*photo credit: yellow goat designs

In my post Thanksgiving stupor, I found it difficult to sleep. Turkey and stuffing and sweet potatoes collided with champagne cocktails and the regular family tensions. I was awakened at four by my niece who was hitting the WalMart for deals on Black Friday. She kept flicking the light on and off trying to find her jeans, a nightmare of disco strobe lights. When I finally told her leave the light on until she found them I realized I'd be awake the rest of the night.

My mind turned to my worries. Darkness has a way of making our troubles crawl out of the crack in the closet door, turning them into to veritable bogeymen of the adult life. I felt restless and thankless, despite the family exercise earlier of sharing what we were most thankful for.

When it was my turn, I chose to give a glib reply to keep the cycle moving and get the focus off me. But as I blinked into the darkness (after the kid left the room, having shut off the light), I felt disappointed in my answer, and in myself. I preach to my kids the importance of being thankful but I had not walked the walk as they say. I won't let any Christmas stuff into the house until December. I rail against the marketers who push their purchasing agendas on us. I don't want us to shuffle past this day of thanks without pause, especially since truly considering Thanksgiving should turn our minds to a proper attitude for Advent.

Advent, in case you're wondering, has nothing to do with Christmas shopping, or Black Friday, but that's a soap box for another day.

One can only toss and turn for so long before one must confront the reasons for worry, the darkness that frightens. I started ticking off my concerns, and challenged myself to find its converse and found that indeed, there is much to be thankful for.

Worry about money turns to thanks for a warm bed and a full belly.
One kid struggling with a tough school year turns to praise for a great school and active teachers who love her and care for her.
Blended family newness and all it's awkwardness becomes a bigger, more joyful family with more stories, more life, more experiences, more to love.
One family members' struggle with depression gives rise the thanks for doctors, medicines, therapists, and relationships that potentially heal the hurt.

My list went on and on and for every half empty glass, my mind found a fresh source to fill it. I found that as I ticked the yuck off my list, I fell into a sense of peace. I remember reading a devotional years ago that asked readers to practice an attitude of gratitude. This kind of thanks is so much more than the pop-culture, Oprahology that some practice. It is an intentional remembering of the source. It is a reminder of the words of the apostle Paul who exhorted Christians to "be thankful in all situations." He did not say be thankful FOR all situations but in all.

This is why I can find the silver lining, the half full cup. This is why when I practice an attitude of gratitude, it does more than illuminate the half fullness. It in fact, brings it to overflowing.

*I LOVE these earrings. Just in case you're wondering what I'd like under the tree...just saying.