Where were you when the World Stopped Turning?

NEVER FORGET

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?

Everything seems so normal. But this date will never be normal. The memories are burned into my brain as clearly as when I saw the Challenger explode, as clearly as the day our school principal announced the President was shot, as clearly as the day I sat with my brother at a memorial for John Lennon. But somehow, these memories are so much harder to think about. Somehow my brain still wants to think it was all just a horrible dream that everyone I know happened to have. But it certainly wasn't a dream. It did happen. And today I feel the need to remember. My FDNY tshirt is all faded and worn out. Don bought it for me that October and all proceeds went to the Firefighters Fund. He bought one for each of us so that we could feel like we were contributing if even just in the smallest way.

I still vividly remember pulling into the parking lot at work and hearing the DJ (Ron Olson) say a "small" plane just hit the World Trade Center. I ran in and flipped on my computer so I could read about it on MSNBC and since I'm a newshound, decided to go turn on the tv in the kitchen to see if the TODAY show had better info. I stood there in horror as I watched the second plane hit. Immediately everyone realized this was NOT an accident and that certainly wasn't a commuter plane. I knew I needed to get back to my desk (I was a receptionist at the time) but it was as if my feet were made of lead. I just wanted to stand there and wait for someone to tell me it wasn't real. The phones were so quiet that day. The only calls we got were from family members and friends who had the next news report or sometimes the next rumor. I remember being terrified to go to a gas station because someone said they were attacking them with sarin gas. Kayla was three and I remember just wanting to race to the daycare and pick her up and hold her. Brian had moved to California and we were barely on speaking terms but I remember his phone call and feeling like I should be nice to him at that moment and let bygones be bygones. Don called about every 20 minutes. At that time he had a job where he was on the road most of the day so he had the radio on and was getting constant news reports. I remember the theories that other planes were in the air and that the West Coast was next. I remember that the White House was a target and suddenly they were showing the President in Louisiana about to get on Air Force One to go who knows where. Then the Pentagon was hit. And then of course Pennsylvania. I will remember that entire day for the rest of my life (as I imagine will all of you). The plane crashes were horrific but when the buildings came down, it was the worst news I'd ever heard in my life. I wonder if the terrorists knew the buildings would fall, or even considered they might. I think of all the people who were in stairwells on their way out when the walls came crumbling down around them. Its certainly one of those "Why God????" questions.

The entire day still just seems surreal. I remember finally going home that night and just sitting in front of my TV. I let Kayla fall asleep in my lap and I laid awake all night just watching the news unfold. My mom had just had back surgery so my aunt was here from California and was supposed to fly home on the 12th but of course was stuck here for another week. Those days when the planes were grounded were so odd. I remember looking up at the blue sky and not seeing anything. The first plane I saw when they started to fly again looked too low. A lot of planes look too low to me now.

Over the years I've found myself drawn to the books, the movies and documentaries. World Trade Center is an amazing film mostly about the good of that day. Remember the good? Remember how everyone was a lot nicer to others? Remember how you were proud to be an American? Remember how there were flags and red, white, and blue everywhere?

Do you remember the first time you heard laughter after 9/11? Do you remember the day when it was ok to smile again? I didn't think it would ever be ok.

God Bless America.
#WhereWereYou

Cowboy

Once upon a time, a boy gave me a box filled with amazing things along with a letter explaining them all. There were crystal flower candlesticks in the hopes I'd always have flowers. And of course, candles so that I'd always have light (and remember him when the electricity went out). There was a Dopey musical figurine so that I would always have music in my life as well as the happiness and magic of a Disney movie. The last thing in the box was an empty heart trinket box. In the letter, he said, "Right now it is empty, but as you fill it, I hope your own heart is filled and is never empty again."

A year ago today, that boy who grew into an amazing man, left us. He still brings me gifts though. I see him in yellow butterflies (not sure why that's his symbol but it is), I hear his laughter - the deepest belly laugh you can imagine. I feel his encouragement that was with me in good times and bad over our 30-year friendship. I think of him when I watch baseball, when I listen to old school country music, and when I say something completely sarcastic. He showed me great love and kindness and I hope he knew how much he meant to me.

There were times we fell out of touch but it was never for long and it was always as if no time had passed. He was my Cowboy. I'd love the chance to sit on his porch again in the country and be mesmerized by the stars after enjoying a dinner of good ol home cooking. Remembering you Rick. Wishing you were here.

Long Live the King

"Rock and roll music, if you like it, if you feel it, you can't help but move to it. That's what happens to me. I can't help it." - Elvis Presley

Where were you when you heard Elvis died?

I was only 6 but I was already a fan. We had just moved to Memphis and when the news came out we loaded up our station wagon and headed to Graceland.   It was pouring down rain but there we stood with hundreds of other Memphians and news crews.  I got my first Elvis album the day I broke my leg.  I was 8.  I listened to it over and over and memorized all the songs.  Teddy Bear and Hound Dog were my favorites back then.  Now I think if I HAD to choose I'd say American Trilogy or Rubberneckin are at the top.   To this day his voice warms my soul. I know he wasn't a perfect human being but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be remembered. Worshiped? Of course not. But today I will listen to my Elvis music and sing along loudly. I'm from Memphis but I would love him no matter where I lived.

 #proudElvisfan. 

#42years

 #canthelpfallinginlove

 #lovetowatchhimdance

New Year's Eve - 2017

"In a dark time, the eye begins to see."- Theodore Roethke

Its funny how we humans think the turn of a calendar page will magically start things over... that we can wash our hands of the days behind and just keep marching forward. In a sense I guess that is true as every new day brings forth a new sunrise and 24 hours in which anything can happen. But there are also continual things that don't just stop because of a New Year's countdown. On Tuesday I will still have to deal with how to get a new car. On Tuesday Mike will still be gone. On Tuesday I will still have to deal with Things that You Don't Talk About on Facebook. In the same regard though, this year has taught me more than any other that every minute counts.... every word, every thought, every action. It all changes so fast.

Kayla said after the wreck that she thought it was a wake up call... not for us necessarily but maybe for the other driver. She didn't know how right she was but it wasn't for the other driver. It was for me. I've been in a fog this year .... a light fog at first but a very dense fog since we lost Mike. I know its the natural process of things and I know I still have a lot of work to do but Thursday's accident definitely started to lift that fog. When I think about the moment of impact and how different things might have been I shudder and praise God at the same time. There is zero doubt in my mind that angels surrounded our car and protected us from further impact. We were given a new chance to live life with clearer understanding of just how precious every moment is.

2017 hasn't been my favorite year for a lot of reasons and turning the calendar tomorrow will not fix all of those things. However my very wise friend Georgia said this when posting about the ice on her lake -

"Perhaps God is saying -Go paint something marvelous , beautiful and glowing with your life today .

Or perhaps it’s a gentle reminder to take a moment of Peace with Him - thaw out and let His light fill your soul .

Or perhaps He’s saying it’s ok to be frozen in life at moments because with every cold snap of life there is
a “just around the corner” -warming of the Son, and soon clarity in the thaw will surface....

Or perhaps it’s just frozen water on a little random lake , on a awkwardly cold day in December -
.... I don’t think so!"

She posted this the morning after our accident. I realized I've been in a frozen state... scared to see what a new day could bring, scared to let myself be close to anyone anymore, scared to put words on paper because words make the tears flow... scared to let God put His arms around me and let me just be.

But after Thursday I'm starting to feel the thaw... the warming of the Son. I'm not on this Earth to stay frozen and stagnant. I've always been told I have a light in me that other people see but I'm afraid I've been hiding that in my own self pity and grief and for that I am truly sorry. I've had friends and family reach out and every gesture has meant the world to me but I'm also realizing I've been my own worst enemy. I was in survival mode. I literally just put one foot forward and took life as it came but I missed out on the joy EVERY SINGLE DAY has the potential to bring. I'm not saying my grief process is over by any means... and there may be days where I feel the need to be in my cave again. BUT tomorrow IS a new year... a new start full of new adventures and new hopes and new goals.

My promise is that I will wake up with HOPE in my heart. That I will choose to focus on the JOY in each moment. That I will let FEAR take a backseat to COURAGE AND STRENGTH. And that I will continue to sit in the LIGHT of the SON and let Him thaw my spirit until it SHINES again.

Sticks and stones

Words.  I love them.  I'm a writer.  Some people speak in actions, some in art, some in song.  I write.  I write much more eloquently than I speak.  When I speak I get tongue tied and what I say never sounds like it did when it was in my head.  I have a deep need to put my thoughts, hopes, dreams, anger, frustration and love down on paper.  Sometimes I walk around for days with things in my head that I know must be written down or they will be lost forever.  

Words.  I hate them.  They can cut right through your heart.  They can make you feel like a teeny tiny ant on the sidewalk... the one going the wrong way that can't find any food.  They can tear people apart, especially when after the yucky words come out, people are too scared to try to turn it around with the right words for fear of rejection.  

My first marriage was not a healthy one.  Angry voices were more common than not along with name calling and humiliation, even in front of friends.  Its been 15 years since that relationship ended and to this day I can’t freely cry because I used to be told I was stupid for doing so…. UNLESS I’m embarrassed.  When someone scolds or corrects me, no matter how gently, I’m a puddle of tears and its unstoppable.  

When we were kids we used to say “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me”.   But that mentality doesn’t hold up to abuse.   Words DO hurt, and unlike physical abuse, the damage isn’t visible to others.   ALL forms of abuse are long lasting and dehumanizing.  

Words have power both for good and for evil.  They can lift you up and knock you down all in the same conversation.  They shape who we are and define our relationships.  It all starts when we are young.  I vividly remember my two year old daughter telling her baby doll in a very stern and frustrated voice, "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!!"  It slapped me straight across the face when I realized she was parroting what she heard me say when we got ready in the mornings.  It didn't feel very good to know I was teaching her that was ok and normal.  From that day forward I vowed to try to be more patient and gentle with my words. As parents we don't realize what an impact every word has, not to mention the inflection and purpose behind what we say.  I have very vivid memories of my dad smacking himself on the forehead with his hands saying "stupid stupid stupid!!"  It hurt to watch and only now do I understand those actions carried over from his childhood.  

I know every parent has the right to raise their child however they see fit but it truly breaks my heart to listen to the way people talk to their kids sometimes. Do I get irritated and frustrated with my children?  Of course I do.  But I don't think its ok to tell a toddler to "Shut up" and I certainly don't agree with public humiliation and shame.  I see it all too often and think if it crushes me, what kind of impact does it have on the child?  

I teach Pre-K 5 and love every second of it but I'm constantly being told so and so said something to hurt someones feelings.  We talk A LOT about kindness in my classroom and several weeks ago I sat them all down to talk about words.  I took a piece of paper and said things I had heard them say to each other like "I don't like your shirt" and "You're not my friend" and with each insult I crumpled the paper up more and more.  Then I handed the paper to one of the kids and asked them to straighten it back out.  They passed it from friend to friend, each one trying to straighten the paper to its original form until finally the paper was so weak it tore apart. I was trying to impress on them that hurtful words leave their mark.  Its a lesson I found on the internet and at the time I wasn't sure how much impact it would have on 5 year olds.   Fast forward to Friday during free time where one of the kids told another they hated him.  He came to me crying and I put the offending child in timeout.  Within the next five minutes two other kids had said the same thing to the offending child, I'm guessing as a sign of solidarity with the kid who was hurt.  Hate is a word that is never ok in my book.  I took all the kids and sat them down to talk again about words and kindness and especially the word hate.  We had a lively discussion that ended with me telling them that each child had their own special voice and talents to share with the world and that no one should ever be allowed to take that away from them.   We shared compliments with each other and I felt good about the life lesson.  Later that afternoon, the child whose friend had said those awful words brought me a crumpled up napkin and said, "Ms Betsey, this is what my heart felt like after (offending child) said they hated me."  

See, children listen.  What we say matters.  I'm not saying everyone should shower their children with compliments 24/7 and never discipline them.  There is always a right time for the right words said in a calm and respectful manner in order to get a point across.  I'm not a Pollyanna that thinks the world is all sunshine and rainbows.   But I do think the world would be a gentler place if we could just step back when frustration and anger take over.   Think before you speak.... old advice that rings so true.  From the time even before our children begin to speak, they listen.  They hear us sing, laugh, and yes, yell.  

Words have power. We say thousands of them every day.   Would you rather use yours to build someone up or bring them down?  Kindness matters.  

Mother's Day thoughts...

Mother's Day is next Sunday. I used work for an industry that pushes love for your mom and while I hit the jackpot in the mom dept, I'm well aware that for many this is a hard holiday to get through.

My heart is with those who have broken relationships with their moms.
My heart is with those who have lost a child.
 My heart is with all the dads who fill the mom void for any reason. 
My heart is with those who have struggled with infertility.
My heart is with those who gone from the child to the caretaker.
My heart is with those who have lost their moms.

My wish for you all is that you are surrounded by other women in your life who can lift you up and help you begin to heal those wounds. Even in the midst of celebration, you are not forgotten.

(These are my words from my heart, not something I copied and pasted. Feel free to share but please give credit if you do.)

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Things were trucking along pretty well for us for a while now. And then last night happened. Due to a freakish medical incident ((#RespecttheHIPPAyall)), Don had a single car accident. Car (borrowed from a friend) totaled, Don thankfully just bruised but what this is really about is just the reminder of how precious each moment is. 

The car stopped feet away from a gas line.

The car didn't hit the tree in the path. 

The accident happened on our street (literally 10 ft from our house-  and not on Hwy 64 where he could have hit someone head on. 

He was wearing a seatbelt and the airbag worked. 

So many factors could have been different. Don't take your family for granted. Don't take your health for granted. We are still processing the situation and there are a lot of complicated things ahead but my husband is asleep in the bedroom instead of a hospital or not here at all. 

For that I'm grateful.