HDG: Stepping Stones

I hadn’t yet made a canvas about the Stepping Stones quote I really like, so for today’s Hump Day Giveaway I made a canvas and am including the original post that explains what it means to me…

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For someone who enjoys words and writing (and let's be honest... talking) so much, I am an extremely visual person. If you ask me what 5 + 4 equals my brain is going to visualize two dice, one with five dots and one with four dots, and then I'll be able to tell you the answer is 9. But I never just think nine without the visual.

And that paragraph pretty much sums up why the mere mention of the words "timed test" gives me a panic attack.

I think that's why I like praying the rosary so much. It's easier for me to get into the repetition and flow of the words, and then visualize those I'm praying for and what I am asking. Even if it's just to see them at peace and feeling loved. For me, it’s a more sincere and intentional way to pray so I'm not distracted by trying to find the right words and getting lost in the "supposed to's" of prayer.

I have the same tendency while writing. Often while typing I have no idea what words are going to come onto the screen until after they are there. I don't think of the words in my head and form the sentences. Instead I am usually thinking of the memory or visualizing my meaning, and from that picture in my head comes the words. Weird, I know... but that's how I work. Oftentimes I sit down to write a post and just ramble on until it's finished, and when I go back to read it and proof it I'm thinking to myself, "Wow. I wonder where that came from."

That happened the other day when I was typing a comment on another blog. There was an ongoing discussion in the comment section and I wrote, "No moment from my God is a rock of burden, it's just a rock waiting to be broken apart into stepping stones."

After I typed it I sat with the idea for awhile and realized that is the exact visual I get when something is weighing on me, but I had just never put it into words before. Whether we are facing a financial burden, a health issue, an employment decision or a personal loss... these are all things that we have to walk through, conquer or accept. They can look like boulders and feel like burdens that weigh so heavy on our shoulders we don't know how we can possibly keep moving or recover.

Now picture that burden, that rock that is so large and heavy, and break it up into pieces. It's not so difficult to carry when you take a piece at a time... what can be done now, what needs to be thought about, and what will come in the future (the unknown of every equation). When that rock is in manageable pieces you are able to stop carrying them and instead lay them out into a path you can travel down.

Are you selling your business? That is a stepping stone to your next job or venture. Are you moving? Maybe this is your opportunity to meet someone significant; maybe it's just a stepping stone to your next opportunity or destination. Did you not get the job you wanted? Maybe God has a plan for a better job a month from now. Are you grieving? Your tears are a step in a process that will take you to a peaceful heart. Those rocks only weigh us down if we are standing still and trying to hold them up on our own.

Set the rock down. Break it apart. Pray for trust and start taking steps on the stones that God lays out before you. The terrain may be rough, but the destination is worth every step of the journey.

To win today’s canvas: Leave a comment before midnight CST telling me a worry you’d like to set down and break into stepping stones. You never know, setting it down long enough to type it out may be just the thing you needed to do today…

Hey, Y’all – Throw Me The Ball

Has everyone reading this heard of the singing group Up With People? When I was little they came and performed at our high school… sang, danced, put on skits. And what I remember most is a choreographed number with a basketball.

They all were wearing bright colored uniforms, throwing a basketball back and forth and singing, “Hey y’all, throw me the ball!” I probably remember it so well because my mom pulled that line out more than once over the years when she wanted someone to pass her a basketball so she could show off her skills. Skills, I might add, that helped take her high school women’s basketball team to the state championships back in the day.

All 5 foot 2 inches of her skills. She was scrappy.

Well, on Saturday I got to watch all 6 feet of her grandson Thomas prove that he inherited some serious basketball skills… without ever leaving my house (obviously). I know he’s six foot tall because the announcer repeatedly said, “Thomas Brophy, the six foot sophomore, is really having a great day off the bench for the Eagles.”

I might have been a little proud.

Thomas was at a three-day basketball tournament in a town not far from here; his last tournament of the season. And wouldn’t you know it, this high school broadcasted the tournament live over the internet. They are a Christian school and I don’t think they have a clue what kind of loving service they did for this auntie who was glued to her computer the entire game.

Glued to the computer, and grateful she wasn’t on Candid Camera. Because here’s the thing: I might get a little into sports. I might be just a little invested when I watch a game… and when it’s a game that my nephew is playing in, I might be just a little ridiculous.

Like screaming at the computer ridiculous. Like clapping and saying, “Let’s go Broph! Hustle!” I’ve never shortened my nephew’s last name and referred to him as “Broph” in my entire life. Put him on a court and at a free throw line, and apparently I do.

And when they made a sign and held it up in front of the camera during a time out that said, “Hi Sara and Riley!” and then added a plug by putting: “www.gitzengirl.blogspot.com” on it for promotional purposes… I may have waved at them and yelled hi even though they couldn’t see or hear me. Maybe.

In case you’re wondering, the Eagles won the tournament. They are conference champions and my nephew tied another player for high scorer in the game.

And I might be just a little proud.

I Should Not Be Your Lenten Role Model

Alternately titled: Remember When I Told You I Was An Idiot?

Do you all remember my nice post about Lent that went up on Friday? How I waxed on about Lenten obligations and my memories of being a kid during the time of no-meat Fridays?

I had written that on Thursday so it would post at 12:01 on Friday morning… and then I went to bed because my sister Laura and brother-in-law Jeff were coming for lunch the next day. My nephew Thomas is an excellent basketball player (just ask me) and he had a tournament nearby this past weekend, which means I got to hang out with his lovely parents.

It was a rainy, crummy day here in Iowa on Thursday, which means I was feeling pretty crummy myself and sleep alluded me the majority of the night. So when I finally rolled out of bed on Friday morning at 11:15, and Laura called at 11:30 to see what sounded good for lunch because they were in town, I wasn’t exactly bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and thinking things through. She said they were right by a Kentucky Fried Chicken and I said, “That sounds perfect! I haven’t had that in ages and I love mashed potatoes. Let’s do that!”

[Does anyone see where I’m going with this yet?]

I hung up and finished putting on my mascara before sitting down to the computer to check on the blog. You know, the one that posted on Friday morning where I told you about my fish/chicken confusion? The one where I’m a smart-alec and tell you all at the end: “And remember, it’s Friday: NO CHICKEN.”

Yeah… that one.

I died laughing as I realized that I just told my sister chicken sounded great for lunch on a Lenten Friday, and called my mom to tell her that I’m an idiot (as if giving birth to me and knowing me for 35 years wasn’t enough for her to know that already). Here’s how our conversation went:

Mom: “You know, when the Hispanic hired hands on the farm learned we only ate fish on Fridays they told your dad that in Mexico chicken isn’t considered meat and is ok during Lent. They said it’s different because chickens come from eggs.”

Me: “Umm… Mom? Unless something changed from my 5th grade sex education class until now, we all originate from eggs.”

And that right there, people, is proof that I get it from my mother.

Flashback Friday: It’s Not Just the Meat

You all know by now that the one consistent thing about my blog is that I don’t seem to have a filter. Which means I often tell you the most ridiculous, idiotic things about myself.

Today will be no exception.

First of all, it wasn’t until quite late in life that I realized Lenten obligations was a Catholic thing. I was in college before I realized that not all Christians prayed the rosary. In other words, I may have lived a bit of a sheltered life. But Lent was such a big deal in our lives growing up, and since I went to a Catholic school and most (if not all) of my friends were Catholic… it just never really occurred to me that it didn’t hold the same requirements in all Christian denominations.

When I was little the thing I remember most about Lent wasn’t necessarily what we gave up (candy, gum, pop, etc.), it was more about the way we would eat. On Ash Wednesday and all the Fridays of Lent there was no eating meat and no eating in between meals. And when you’re a kid and eating supper, thinking about not eating again until breakfast seemed like the most insane notion in the world.

We were a family that had snacks in the evening… ice cream or popcorn or something… so dinner time turned into extended sessions as we all took just one more helping of this or one more helping of that. The rule was that once you left the table you were done, so it was often the dilemma of deciding to go in the other room to watch Dallas and Falcon Crest… or show of all shows, Knots Landing… or stay at the table for one more helping of tuna casserole to tide us over for the rest of the night.

We maybe needed a refresher course about the starving children in Africa, but at the time we saw it as a huge sacrifice.

Not eating meat wasn’t as difficult because we happened to love salmon patties and tuna casserole and creamed asparagus over toast. No, not eating meat was only a problem when I wasn’t sure what meat was.

There was one Friday in Lent when my brother Jerry and I were in town and stopped by McDonald’s for supper. He reminded me it was Friday and that we couldn’t eat meat, we went inside, ordered and went to the car with our bags of food. He pulled out his fish sandwich and looked at me funny when I pulled out my chicken sandwich.

“I told you it’s Friday and not to order meat,” he scolded.

“I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “I ordered chicken!”

Yep.

[This obviously would be another one of those idiot moments… I swear to God I’ve never been blonde. Although at least then I’d have an excuse…]

I choked down the chicken sandwich and worried the rest of the night about the “meat” now sitting in my stomach. A few extra Our Father’s and Hail Mary’s were inevitably said that night… I was a kid that did not suffer guilt lightly.

The great thing about our household is that we didn’t follow rules without knowing why. Mom and Dad were good at talking to us about how we should decide what to do for Lent. We understood that we needed to give up something that wouldn’t be easy, that would be an actual sacrifice, so that we could keep ourselves more mindful of the sacrifices Jesus made for us. A little rumble in our bellies was a good way to bring our focus back to the reason it was rumbling… giving up ice cream or chocolate wasn’t just something we all compared notes about at school, it was something that reminded us every time we reached for it and pulled our hands back that our sacrifice was small compared to His.

As I got older, the things that were given up for Lent were more to bring focus on ways to better myself… things that could be let go of and not picked back up after 40 days was the intention… ways to better my life and keep me on course for better living. And some years it wasn’t about giving up, but rather doing something… or both. There were years I joined a bible study or helped in the kitchen at the Catholic Worker House or became more dedicated to praying the rosary every night. Some of those habits I still continue and some fell by the wayside, but every Lenten season is a chance to more purposefully recognize the suffering on the cross and the ways our own lives could be changed to be more reflective of Jesus.

This year I’m not giving anything up, but there are things I want to work on that I have had a hard time committing to up to this point. For my physical self: physical therapy. For my spiritual self: scheduled, set-aside time with specific prayer for others rather than just random moments. For service: ways I plan to be more present to others who may need encouragement.

This year I’m making it about doing, becoming and reaching out. I know (now) that a Lenten sacrifice isn’t an obligation for everyone, but if any of you want to make a commitment of your own until Easter, leave your comment with your intentions and I’ll put you on my list to pray for.

And remember, it’s Friday. NO CHICKEN.

I Love Jesus, But I Drink A Little

And the winner, according to random.org, is: [insert drumroll here]

Brandi!!! (brandiandboys): i LOVE this one!!! you're just getting better and better. what's your favorite ice cream???

To answer your question: my all-time favorite ice cream would be Blue Bunny Goo Goo Cluster, which is chocolate ice cream with a marshmallow ribbon, chocolate covered peanuts and caramel revel. I haven’t had it in years and now I’m craving it! :)

Congratulations!!!

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I was reading back through the questions I’ve been keeping track of, and so many people email to ask me how I stay happy being confined to the house all day. I have covered so many of the reasons that I have to be happy and choose joy in the little things, but one that I haven’t talked about is the fact that I watch Ellen all the time.

I swear, people, that show is so fantastically funny. I love it so much I actually tried to convince Susie to have the kids play blindfolded musical chairs at Jonboy’s upcoming birthday party… but she nixed the idea for safety reasons.

But no matter how many guest she has on or how many ridiculous games she plays… no clip has ever been funnier than 88-year-old Gladys and her first phone conversation with Ellen. Because I’m telling you peeps, when I’m 88 I’m still going to love Jesus, and I’m still going to drink a little, too.

Just as a side note, growing up we had good friends of our family by the names of Orville and Gladys. And Gladys’ daughter nicknamed her “Happy Butt.” Think about her name and the nickname for a minute. Trust me, you’ll laugh.

HDG: Being Reduced

You all have heard me talk about my friend Susie here on the blog quite a bit. She even goes crazy and comments every now and again, and she posed a great question when I had given you all free reign to ask me any question you could think of. This was hers:

OK...so I can, and have, pretty much asked you anything I'm wondering about, but there's always something that I wonder (worry) about when we get off the phone. When we talk and I complain about the 'little' things in my life OR, in contrast, when I talk about the wonderful day I may have had, do you get at all irritated? - be honest! Because I get off the phone or the computer and think - Oh my goodness, Sara would probably love to have MY problems. OR I think - I just rambled on about all the fun things I did today - why didn't I just keep my mouth shut. I know you 'say' that you want to hear all about my life and my boys and you always say that you live vicariously through me, but I'm always afraid that when I tell you these things I hurt you a little... it's so hard because I want to share EVERYTHING with you - but the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Remember - be honest - I won't be offended.
Love ya lots. Suz

Yep, that’s my Suzaluza… just one more example of why I am constantly telling you all that I have such amazing friendships. It’s truly a gift because we are all so much more concerned about each other than we are ourselves… and I’ve come to realize that it’s the key to a good relationship. If both parties always care more about the other person than themselves, everyone will always be taken care of with love and compassion.

It’s why I fight so darn hard to stay independent… I could never imagine leaving here and being without this family that I chose to create in my friends.

Regarding her question: I can only answer it for myself. I would imagine people with illness and restrictions all react differently when other people’s lives can remind them of their own loss. But for me, #4 on my list of life goals says: To love what I have and not yearn for what I lack. That goal, that decision I came to, is one of the reasons why I am never hurt by hearing about Susie’s day, or anyone else’s. They don’t make me yearn for what I don’t have, but instead I love what I do have through them.

The other reason is because, while I may be physically different, I am emotionally the same person. And nothing in life makes me happier than when other people are happy. And nothing will stop me in my tracks faster than someone who needs my ear to listen. If everyone stopped telling me their happy moments… I wouldn’t have that joy in my life. I truly and sincerely live vicariously through each and every success, joy, piece of gossip, and video of their kid’s concert that they bring into my world. Just ask my parents… when I talk to them on the phone and they ask how things are going, I regale them with stories of my friends and their kids and their lives. Because sharing in what is happening with them is what is going on with me.

Megan, my friend Kelly’s daughter, used to call me and play her piano recital pieces over the phone. I would answer, the piano would start and I’d sit and listen for as long as she played, and then tell her how amazing she was. When she did that, I got to be a part of something outside of my life. When Suz tells me about the hectic morning they had [they always have hectic mornings :)] or tells me funny stories about her day with the kids… she makes me a part of her life.

I can be changed by what happens to me. I refuse to be reduced by it.                                               ~Maya Angelou

And my friends, by complaining when they stub their toe, or telling me about the fun night they had going out to dinner together… they let me know they wish I was there. They make me feel like me. The same person I was to them before I was sick. The one who listened and gave them advice and laughed with them and cried with them. If anything was held back, they would be holding me back… and then I would be reduced by what has happened to me. Of course I long to be with them in all of those moments, but feeling like I was with them is the next best thing.

I’m not bothered when someone gets a paper cut and complains about the pain. Paper cuts hurt. Friendships are not competition, and the levels of pain don’t matter. Pain is pain. Struggle is struggle. Joy is joy. And getting to participate in lives that can be lived in ways mine never will … that fills me up, gives me purpose, gives me reasons to celebrate and reasons to console. By letting me fully be a part of all of their life, they help keep mine from being reduced.

[Suz, your life is important and precious. And I wouldn’t want to miss a moment of it.]

To win this canvas, you’ll need to leave a comment before midnight CST today. And since it worked so well to have a question to answer for today’s post, your comment has to contain a question for me… silly, serious, random, personal, ridiculous… it doesn’t matter.

Only one comment per person, please… and I’ll let you know the winner tomorrow! :)

Camera Shy?

The blog mascot and I were hanging out on the couch the other night watching LOST for the second time, because I like to make sure I haven’t missed any important little subliminal messages they leave throughout the episodes. Needless to say, the second time around Mr. Riley got a little bored.

“If she hasn’t figured out by now that this show is never going to give definitive answers, she’s a lost cause. Pun intended.”

“Oh, good Lord, woman. Is it really necessary to whip out that camera every time you are the least bit bored with your life? I’m not just here for your amusement, you know.”

“Although, I might like a little attention every now and then. And let’s face it, the peeps from the blog come here for me, not you.”

 “Never let it be said I don’t give the people what they want…”

[note from the author: take one look at the smile in that last picture and tell me he wouldn’t be the alpha dog at your house, too…]