2020

Tysen. Beautiful Tysen. World changer, this one. Last Friday I asked her what she was thankful for. "Jumping in mud puddles," she said. Her brother added, "She REALLY likes that." It is true that she is happiest in motion. Twirling, jumping, climbing, running. I'm surprised we haven't found her on top of the refrigerator yet. On Sunday I asked her again. "What are you thankful for today?" It has taken me this entire week to process her answer, to embrace it for myself, to recognize it for the gift that it is. "Me," she said. One tiny word and those big beautiful eyes piercing my soul. "Me." Not mud puddles or Aunt Katie. Not school or silly songs. Not tights or beautiful dresses, princesses or cinnamon rolls. But "me". And then she pressed her face up against the door and made an awkward smashed-up-nose-while-kissing-glass face. Because that is part of her "me". Silly, playful, compassionate...

Traditionally, nursery rhymes don't have the most positive messages. Babies fall out of trees, eggs are irreparably cracked, girls get suspended for taking sheep to school, dishes run off with silverware they aren't married to, and don't forget the concussions (Jack and Jill, plus the old man who bumped his head and couldn't get up the next morning). And perhaps my favorite... There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she didn't know what to do; She gave them some broth without any bread; She whipp'd all their bums, and sent them to bed. Somehow these messed-up messages become the sing-song rhymes of our childhood. We repeat them enough times that 30 years later we are able to teach them to our own children, no songbooks required. And we do. Sometimes without even thinking about the messages. Or the fact that we have the right to retell them. Last night at dinner Kenzi sang us a new song: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; ...

When I asked my nephew Kasen (age 7) what he was thankful for he replied quickly, "Trenton." I asked him to tell me what about Trenton he was thankful for. "He sits next to me. There is this other kid who tries to steal my seat. And I'm not very good at wrestling. So Trenton defends me. He protects me. He makes sure I'm safe." In a world where bullying is far too prevalent, I am so grateful that Kasen has a friend who makes sure he is safe. It's important to have friends. Who are there for you in laughter and when you are fighting back tears. On your most important days and your ordinary days and when you've made another ridiculous mistake. To listen when you need to talk and talk when you need to listen. Who you want to drop everything for because you know they would do the same for you. I'm lucky enough to have those people in my life. People who would wrestle for me and make sure I'm safe. And I am indeed thankful. EMBRACE FRIE...

The gym is a scary, scary place. Guys hopped up on energy drinks and protein shakes. Girls in spandex. Old ladies in the locker room changing into swim suits while talking about "senior moments". Sweaty towels and socks. And that one creepy guy who makes inappropriate remarks about your muscles while you attempt shoulder presses. And so yesterday I had to listen to Skillet's Not Gonna Die  repeatedly as I drove to the gym--determined to sign up for a membership despite my fears--to remind myself that as scary as the gym was it would not kill me. Not the sweaty people or the skinny people or the too energetic people or the creepy guy. Not even the lady who went out to her car to smoke in between reps.   I will be honest. After an hour at the gym I felt affirmed in my fears. It was all those scary things and filled with all those scary people. But it was also full of friendly people. Helpful people. Appropriately happy and hydrated people. People committed to their ...

Last week, hanging out with my friend V. After getting in his truck he says, "I should have opened your door for you. One point against me." We laughed. And started a tally. His parents were at the restaurant where we wanted to eat. Strike 2. Instead we went for pizza. He let me pick the toppings. Plus 1. We went to the park to eat our pizza. I had to go to the bathroom. It was locked. V handed me a pile of napkins. Strike 2 again. He is a really good driver. Plus 1. And so the night continued. Alternating points for and against. And laughing. He texted me when he got home that night. Something ridiculous. Followed quickly by a "My bad. Strike 17." Of course none of the points were of any consequence. Just two friends making jokes. Even so it was interesting to be attentive to what counted as a plus--those things that made me feel comfortable, special, safe. And those that counted as strikes--things that made me feel ordinary. I don't actually ...

Continuing our theme of gratitude , on this our second day of alphabet thankfulness, today I am grateful for my brothers. Timothy is my older brother (by 12 months and 15 days) and the leader of our crazy pack. This week he sent me an email about the American Triple T (which I hear our friend Mike is crazy and awesome enough to have signed up for! You rock Mike!!). This involves doing 4 triathlons in 3 days. Over 140 miles. In the subject line of the email my brother wrote: "This looks soooo stupid! 2015 maybe..." Which is precisely why I love my brother so much. Nothing is ever too big, too hard, too stupid, or too out of reach to attempt. Matthew, my younger brother by 3 years, is a lot like Tim. Claiming all his life that he was the "dumb one" in the family, Matthew went on to college to double major in mathematics and engineering. And when the rest of us had to look at a map to see where Oklahoma even was, he was packing his bags and moving there after la...

I love November. Magically, with the flip of a calendar, everyone is suddenly grateful! Every day people think about and even post on Facebook what they have to be thankful for. Will you? Last week I got the jump on gratitude. My dog Jovi takes a week or two every fall and barks nonstop. Last week was her week. After being frustrated and sleep deprived I decided one morning at 3 a.m. to be grateful. This is what my gratitude sounded like: "God, I'm grateful that you brought Jovi into my life, even if she is barking right now at 3 a.m. It wasn't nice of someone to lock her in a barn and leave her there at 8 weeks old, but I'm grateful that my dad found her in time. Hopefully she only remembers how happy she has been since. You knew I needed her that week, the week of my first divorce. She got me out of bed those first few months and has been my constant companion for the last 7 years. I'm glad she is healthy and alive (as evidenced by her constant barking) a...