Month: October 2016

Soon we will be entering the Holiday season.  For us that means Christmas lights, hot chocolate (even if it is still 80-something degrees outside), and time spent with family and friends.  As we approach this time of gift giving and cheer, I find myself having more and more conversations lately about children who have so much, and yet maybe don’t appreciate that like they should.

The reality is that we all want to give our kids nice things.  I don’t know a single parent who wishes to withhold from their child, but we live in a society that makes balancing giving our children what they would like to have and raising adults who help meet the needs of others more and more difficult to achieve.  We are constantly being shown bigger and better things.  Just think about it – most of us carry a smart phone in our pocket and by the time we have had it two years, we are ready for another one; leaving the one we have to sit in a drawer because we don’t want to throw it away.

I was driving home tonight thinking about these things.  I remember vividly being the family who would have someone knock on the door around Christmas and drop off food and presents.  While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, I do think it has always made me aware that everyone won’t have the same Christmas that I will have in this house.  Should that make you feel guilty? Absolutely not. I know that we all work very hard to provide, and giving gifts is something that should bring happiness to both the giver and receiver.

However, if you find yourself wanting to find a way to reach out and do something with your kids this year, please know that Families First Network has plenty of foster kids who they try to provide something for Christmas. Especially as they get closer to Christmas and realize that there are some kids who will fall through the cracks if someone doesn’t donate. Maybe you want to adopt a child or family.  There are social workers in every community looking for people to help provide a Christmas for needy families. When I used to pick a family for our department to support, I know the list our social worker was making was full by middle October. Our church adopts families every year and sends people out to specifically buy for each person.  This is something JD has been a part of his whole life, and while you might think your child is too young, trust me when I tell you that they pick up on these things at a young age, and look forward to it.

Do you bake or can you buy a baked good?  One of the things that has most impacted my heart in the last couple of years is knowing there is a boys’ home not too far down the road filled with boys whom the state has deemed un-place-able in foster care.  Knowing how much joy they got just from having people decorate their house while they were at school, and drop off baked goods for a week, is something that still makes me tear up. While you probably won’t ever get to meet those kids face-to-face, as there are parameters around when people can be in the house, you don’t have to see the joy on their faces to understand it when they send thank yous or you hear from the home parents about how excited they were. Young men, caught between childhood and being an adult, needing a reminder that maybe there is a warm place in the world.  And maybe, they might find it for themselves one day.  Yes, as small as it seems, you might just give that in a pan of brownies.

Maybe you have a heart for the elderly. I can tell you that my friend, Courtney, is always looking for blankets, socks, coats, toiletries, and other small items to give to her elderly clients. She is a social worker, and they do a drive each year. Often we think about the children, as we should, but we should also remember those who maybe no longer have someone to help take care of them.

My last suggestion is not just a Christmas thing, but a year round commitment. Back in September, we had Bill Wilson of Metro World Child come speak at the church.  If you are unfamiliar with Bill, you should really check out his biography.  Abandoned on a street corner at age 12, he waited for his mom to return for 3 days before being rescued – not by a minister, but by a regular ol’ person who saw a need and took him in.  Thankfully, he was taken in by a kind hearted person who only had his best interest at heart.  In turn, Bill made a life ministry out of reaching children.  His programs allow his team to be in contact over 150k children each week in New York City, as well as countries and cities in parts of the world that we can hardly imagine. They are a boots on the ground organization. While it is easy to look at these types of adopt-a-child programs and wonder if they are a scam, this program allows you access to see how your child being helped and what you are contributing towards.

My child’s name is Jessa Mae – which made my sisters smile because that legit sounds like something I would name a daughter of my own.  The welcome package is full of all kinds of information on your child – including exactly why they need help.  For my girl, it’s not so much that she doesn’t have family, but that her family struggles meeting all their needs.  While there are some who have health issues, or who have a different family life, there are those like Jessa Mae and her family who are just living in a poverty stricken country and need some help with necessities. Maybe it’s a way to introduce different cultures, and countries to your children. Maybe you can’t commit for a whole year.  They are doing a Thanksgiving dinner drive right now for a $25 donation per box.  If you have a minute, I’m telling you that visiting the metro world child website might change your life….or the life of a child.

You see, to me, the greatest gift is the one that keeps giving. It’s the one that brings a smile, but even more important brings a glimmer of hope.  Isn’t that what the Christmas Season is about?  Maybe it looks like bows on packages. Maybe it looks like baked goods. Maybe it looks like a sacrifice of time. Yet to the receiver it could be the gift of hope they have been longing for.

~A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices~

This is a beautiful life.

Last Friday night, I stood on a football field in front of a crowd of people to escort my son for Senior Night.  While cameras flashed, and people looked on, I smiled and did my best not to tear up thinking about how quickly we had come to that moment.  Yet, that moment showed me something about myself. Something I didn’t even notice until the next day.

As with every occasion now, images are uploaded to Facebook and shared on Instagram almost immediately. If you know my family, we fully believe in digital documentation, so if you’re around you better believe we’re getting a picture of it. Selfies, group pictures, wefies (or whatever that made up word was), photo bombs, sometimes staged photobombs….trust me, these women believe in the camera phone. Our conversations include disclaimers to not tag us in any pictures without prior approval. And part of that is with good reason – some people just share everything. I hesitate to think of how many times my unsuspecting face is out on the internet as a part of someone’s background shot. Let’s be real, I’m not known for being able to school my features, so those shots probably clearly show whatever it is I was thinking at the time.

Friday night there were a lot of pictures taken – and I’m not just talking about face close-ups, but full body shots. Video from far off showed us standing on the field. I looked at all these, uploaded them or was tagged in them….and then it occurred to me.  Not once did I look at any of those pictures and think about how I needed to lose weight.  I didn’t point out my chins, or the wrinkles on my face, or the width of my hips. I didn’t shake my head and think about all the low carb options I had passed up, and the gym membership that hasn’t seen use in a while. I didn’t sit down to count weeks until graduation and figure out how much weight I could lose.

Without realizing it, I viewed myself the same way I’d view someone I dearly love.

I saw a genuine, eye crinkling, smile. Eyes that couldn’t hide how proud I was of the young man I have helped raise.  I saw a picture of me and my friend on a field, both smiling through our own emotions. Both understanding just what that moment meant. It’s a picture I will cherish. There was a selfie with my best friend that we laughed about because it was a “one take selfie” – and that doesn’t usually happen because one of us shakes and the picture is blurry.  My sisters. My sister friends. It was a night to celebrate.

Then something else occurred to me. Often we get caught up in believing that the size of our pants or the smoothness of our skin determines our value.  True, we might not say that, we might not even consciously think it, but we sure do act like it. We hide from cameras, crop pictures down to showcase only what we think is the best, and say things like “I have to lose weight” or “I need to lose weight.” The truth is, everyone who loves you already knows what you look like and they love you.  And while it might be hard to believe, you don’t actually have to lose weight.  I am not saying there aren’t benefits to being healthy, but really being healthy encompasses so much more than the size of your pants or dress.

You see, being a smaller size or having a more youthful look, would not have made me one bit happier or more proud on Friday night. It wouldn’t make my strengths stronger or my struggles less.  It wouldn’t make me smarter and it wouldn’t give me more compassion. Those things alone would not do anything except make my pants smaller, and my face less lined. Truly.

Weeks before today, I had chosen today to make sure my food was prepped again, and to get back exercising.  I was realistic enough these last weeks to know that my life would pretty much look like going from one thing to the next until we got close to the end of football season. It has been a busy season. Yesterday, I took time and prepped food for the week; healthy, homemade choices. Yet, I realized – there’s a big difference in telling yourself you have to lose weight and reminding yourself that you want to do something. For you. Just because. Maybe that goal is to run a 5k. Maybe that goal is a pair of jeans. Maybe it’s to be able to keep up with your kids. Whatever it is – it has to be for you. But along the way….

Take pictures. Get in the picture. Love yourself exactly where you are in this moment. Know that one day, when my grandkids or great grandkids look at the pictures from this weekend, they won’t see that I needed to lose weight. Who knows what they’ll see? Maybe they’ll see a smile that looks like theirs. Maybe someone down the line has my eyes and they have wondered where those blue eyes came from. Maybe they’ll look at the picture of their dad and grandpa and see how much they look like him. Maybe they’ll think of me and just remember me…..not what I looked like on the outside, but who I was on the inside. Maybe they’ll think of warm cornbread and even warmer hugs. Maybe they’ll see that smile and hear me laugh in their minds. Maybe they’ll get to a Senior Night of their own, and realize just what that moment meant for a mama, because they are one, too.

There are a lot of things they might see, but I can almost guarantee that not a one will wonder what size my dress was, or if I should have started moisturizing my face ten years ago. They might finally realize where they got their crazy bad bangs from though.  Goodness…I cannot keep that hair doing what it should. haha!  I digress….

This life is a beautiful one. It’s filled with so many people and experiences that mesh to make us exactly who we are in this moment. This moment is the only one we are guaranteed – and I plan to continue to remind myself to view myself the way I would view someone I love dearly….not without flaws, but all part of the person I love. And that, to me, is beautiful.

Just a short time ago, I excitedly showed up to Parent Preview for JD’s Freshman year.  It had rained that day, so we weren’t able to use the field.  Instead, we all came with our camping chairs, set up along side the range they use to practice on, and while a light drizzle fell off and on, I listened to the finished product of his first band camp.  They struck up The Horse for the first time, and with watery eyes, I tried hard to not miss a single note. I sat there fully aware that this time would fly by. At least I thought I was aware.

You can’t fully realize, until the moment you watch them march out of the stadium for the last time at home, just how quickly it passes.

I watched him march in last night and instead of taking the stands, he and all the other Seniors, turned right to go onto the field and meet their families. We waited pre-game to proudly stand there and listen while the announcer went down the line and talked about each Senior and some of their accomplishments.  I’m proud of my son, and his accomplishments, but I’m proud for him.  You see, those accomplishments are his and I just celebrate them. Although, his step mom should get credit for his higher math and science. Seriously. =)

Senior Night. It had arrived.

I tried hard to stay in the moment, knowing that on this part of our journey if you get too far outside the moment, your emotions can get the best of you.  For those who haven’t been here, I can say that I am not sad.  It’s not a feeling of sadness.  It’s more a feeling of nostalgia.  There are few times in life when you can so clearly see that things are changing, and this is one of them. Ready or not.  You hold on.  You let go.  You look up and somehow what you’ve been working for all these years has happened.  I look up into the face of a young man, and know that these are the days we have been preparing for since he was born.

This is a year of lasts, and you can’t help but think of the firsts.

As I stood there on the field with his dad and step mom, I thought again about how thankful I am for our relationship.  I can tell you that nobody in this world wants better things for that young man than the three of us. While we still would have gotten to this moment, it wouldn’t nearly have been so seamless without the three of us being able to work towards the common goal of raising JD. We laughed. We took pictures. We hugged him, and it was time to take to the stands.

The moment came, and halftime was here. His last show at home. It finally turned off chilly last night, perfect football weather. The Showband took the field, and right there in the spotlight of stadium lights, while the home crowd cheered on, and I felt myself tear up, he did it one last time from the top.

I sent JD’s band director a message last week because I wanted him to know how thankful I am that JD had this experience. You see, we are in a program known for winning awards, but as I told him, there are things awards just can’t quantify. Awards can’t measure the pride a child has leaving the field, the friendships, or the memories made. Awards can’t show a crowd standing on their feet with tears in their eyes. Awards can’t show the progression of an unsure Freshman to the Senior trumpet section leader he is today. While awards can’t show those things, my memories will always hold them. There’s no other program I would rather have had him a part of. Period.

 

In some ways, looking back, all too soon the clock was at 00:00. We had won the ball game, and the band struck up The Horse one last time. With watery eyes, I held my phone to video, and tried not to miss a single note. I’ve heard that song played in that stadium countless times now, but nothing beats the first time….until it’s the last.

They filed out of the stands, I snapped a few pictures, and he marched out.

Last night another page was slowly turned, and we came to the end of this chapter. But, as with all good stories, we look forward with great anticipation to the next.

Holding on to the memories. Letting go to watch him fly.

This is a beautiful life.

 

 

Sometimes, when you least expect it, life hands you a reminder – a beautiful reminder…

Since I was 19 I have made my way in this world without parents. It’s something I write about occasionally, but it’s not something I talk about a lot.  A little while back a casual acquaintance made the statement: You know, when you’re having a bad day and you just have to call your mom?

I smiled, and nodded my head, but the truth is – no, I don’t know what that’s like.  I’ve never had a bad day and called my mom.  I can’t relate with father/daughter relationships. There isn’t a person somewhere tearing up thinking about their daughter and far she has come. Or looking at my son and remembering me at that age. That wasn’t to be. While most days pass without thinking about it, because this is my life and the way it is….there are days.  You might think it’s the holidays, but really it’s everyday moments. When I finally finished my degree.  As we approach Senior Night. Wondering if JD feels that he is missing out by not having another set of grandparents. Knowing there is no way I could have changed it, but still feeling guilty in a way that I can’t provide that for him. When I’m sitting one more time at the tire store.  Today.

I was heading home, and it was on my mind. Instead of thinking about all the things I could have missed out on, I reminded myself of the things this life has taught me.  And just when I needed it most – Dierks Bentley’s song “Riser” came on and it reminded me. It is true that I had to learn early how to navigate this life without the anchor of parents. Yet, it made me realize at a young age just what kind of parent I wanted to be. It has pushed me to make certain JD never wonders if his mama is proud of him. There have been times I’ve scraped by, but I have picked myself up each time, dusted myself off, and moved forward with a new plan. I’ve learned to love myself and to be able to remind myself of what I am capable. I think it has allowed me to be able to forgive more quickly – because life is much too short to spend it holding on to the hurt. It’s too short to live very long in “what ifs.” And goodness if it hasn’t taught me to pray and rely on the Lord.

I pulled up in the drive way, and checked my mail.  In it, I saw a package from my friend, Dee, in Texas.  Imagine my surprise when I opened it and the note attached was for JD. It was an old music book she found and thought he’d enjoy.  I stood in my kitchen with tears running down my face, reading the note about how she enjoyed watching his shows, and how she was praying for him to find the right college. While that was for JD, Dee has no way of knowing how much I needed that for me.

I also checked the package again and noticed it was addressed to him.  Oops.  haha.

Here’s the thing – life gives us all things we have to deal with. It gives us all moments where we wish for something that wasn’t to be. But if we’ll let it, it will also remind us of how beautiful it is just the way it is right now. While some of this journey I wouldn’t want anyone else to ever have to walk through, I wouldn’t trade it either. It made me who I am, and for that I am thankful.

It is a beautiful life.

Yesterday evening, the kids filed off the bus dressed in their uniforms and made their way to get their instruments for warm-up.  I was the last person left, and the driver took a minute to ask me the following question:

“When are y’all going to let these kids actually compete? Why would you come to something like this when they are just being evaluated? These kids need to know that the real world is full of competition.  They’ll be competing the rest of their lives and not everyone gets a trophy!”

Um, obviously, y’all – he had no idea who he was talking to.  I had to take a second, through my pouring sweat – because he wouldn’t leave the bus idling and all the windows were rolled up – to get my mind right.  Instead of spouting out my first thought of – well, that’s funny because I get evaluated on my job performance at least twice a year – I took a minute to explain.

I explained that there are competitions where you compete against other bands in your class and we will be at one of those next weekend.  However, this isn’t just an evaluation.  This is THE evaluation.  This is the Florida Bandmasters Association’s assessment of how these kids and their programs perform.  It speaks to the hard work of the kids and the staff, but unlike some other job performance evaluations, the staff have to stand back for that 10 minutes or so and allow the kids to speak for what they have been teaching them.  Nobody is handed a trophy here.  Not a single person.

You want to know what these kids are learning?  You want to know what pressure feels like?  Be the one who steps off too early, drops a rifle, or misses a high note.  You can’t hide.  And it’s on film.  To be reviewed.  By ALL your peers.  That’s pressure.  When I was in band, we’d review the film on Monday morning. These days a video is posted on social media or YouTube sometimes before the band is even back on the bus.  Whether it is the actual recording set up by the band to get a video of their performance, or a parent just posting their shots, their performances are set up for a larger audience to see.

JD is in a band of long standing tradition.  Last night, we got home around Midnight, he sat on the couch and says: Mama, I feel so much more relaxed than I have in a long time.  46 years of straight superiors.  I can go out my senior year knowing it continued with us.  The tradition didn’t fall while I was section leader.  We did our part to carry it on.

We celebrate with the bands who have developing programs and are so excited for them when they get their first year of straight superiors – or even overall superiors.  I’ll cheer the loudest.  However, don’t think that the kids in the programs who historically see straight superiors take that for granted.  They go into band camp knowing they don’t want to be the band that sees anything less.  They put on uniforms, in a band room filled with trophies from bands past, and they realize it takes a commitment every year from each person in the band.

So, why do we do it, Mr. bus driver? Where you see it as “just” an evaluation, we see it for what it really is.  It isn’t a trophy being handed out.  It isn’t being given something you haven’t earned.  It’s being told after months and months of practices that you did exactly what you set out to do.  You wanted to be the best, and you are.  You earned it. You put in the work.  You put in the sweat and maybe even tears.  You set aside personal feelings, conflict, missed out on events because you had a practice to be at, showed up tired, stayed late…..and it was worth it.

You see, this world does teach that competition is what it takes to get ahead, but these kids – well these kids are learning something more valuable than competition.  They are learning commitment.  In a world filled with people willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead, what really sets you apart, and allows you to stay at the top, is commitment.

46 years of straight superiors.  I’m beyond proud of every single one of these kids.

This is a beautiful life.

I can remember how nervous and excited I’d feel each time the drum cadence kicked off, and The Pride of the Red, White, and Blue marched into the stadium. With my clarinet, or as drum major, each Friday night was a night spent making memories to last a lifetime.  I pictured my life – and somehow I never made it further than a different house in that same town, a child who would one day play in the same band, and Friday nights filled with football games as the sound of Star and Stripes Forever heralded another touchdown, and Hey Baby caused the fans to sway and sing in the stands.  That stadium in Pace, in some ways, still represents my childhood dreams.

I watched The Pride of the Red, White, and Blue file in tonight.  I watched them from the home stands, while they took the visitors’ side.  I waited with anticipation for a drum cadence to kick off, and for my child to enter the stadium, trumpet in hand – not as a Patriot, instead as a Tate Aggie.  I held my flathead JD, juggled my phone, and tried to get a video of him doing what he loves.  I wasn’t super successful.  ha!  He entered the stadium, headed into the stands, and all I could think was – It’s a great night to be an Aggie.

You see, fans filled up the stands early, the student section held up their painted signs, and people took to their feet to see one of our very own achieve his lifelong dream to play football.  Markus was born with cerebral palsy, and tonight my hometown of Pace, and the school of my heart, Tate, came to an agreement to allow him to play a play so that he could letter in football his Senior year.  I am sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the stadium.  As the band struck up The Horse, and played our fight song for Markus’ touchdown, I could think of no two better schools to come together to make this happen.  I watched both sides of the field stand up and cheer.  I watched the Pace football players clap for Markus.  I watched two great supportive communities come together in remembering that it is so much more than football.

I am thankful to have grown up in the now not so little town.  I needed then what Pace provided.  I needed a place to grow and dream.  I needed those Friday nights that seem so far away sometimes, and yet can be brought back with the smell of fresh-cut grass, a slight chill in the air, or a harvest moon hanging low on a breezy Fall night.

But I am so very thankful that life took me a little ways over the river.

JD came home tonight and we talked a bit about the game.  Usually we talk about the show, and how the football team played – but tonight our conversation was mostly around that very first play of the game.  JD says: Mama, it really is great to be a Tate Aggie.

I am sure that one day when he looks back on his high school days, he will think about some of his outstanding moments.  I’m sure he’ll remember marching into the stadium.  I’m sure he’ll remember playing “All I Do is Win” after we beat Niceville at Niceville in the regional final last year.  I’m sure he’ll remember the Philadelphia Thanksgiving Day Parade, and after this December – the amazing opportunity he had to play at the 75th Anniversary of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.  But I know in my heart of hearts, long after he marches out of Pete Gindl stadium for the last time, long after that familiar drum cadence becomes a memory, when his childhood dreams are realized and he cheers on his own children as they do what they love – he will remember this night.  He will remember the breeze in the air, the roar of the crowd, and just how it felt to play the fight song when it meant the most.

He will remember the night the football stadium became a field of dreams.  And those dreams were realized.

It’s great to be a Tate Aggie.

It’s a beautiful life.