Friday, November 27, 2009

Evolution to Black Friday

The all-important, make-it-or-break-it, indicator of the year to come, retail big day - Black Friday!

Hype was almost unbearable last week, the anticipation, the sneak peaks and websites claiming to know which one of the cavernous cinder blocks of blue or red specials would tout the best deals, the recounting of horrendous tramplings, camping out, and wigs flying off circulating the website like the lines around the store.

In this wild, wild place I ventured this morning, armed with my perused ads and strategy - he to one store, me to another, both aware that since we did not forgo dessert and actually went to sleep last night, the bargains on the TV and laptops would not be our's.  But we thought, it is still early, only 5:22am, surely there will be one, maybe just one of the things on the list for our three youngest children.  Cell phones charged and ready, he dropped me off at Target and then headed over to Wal*Mart.

Were there really that many people in my little town of Kirkwood who needed, really needed a bargain this early?  My first thought.  Why didn't I make a latte.  My second thought.  Ok, this may be fun to see who snagged the big items.  My third thought.

I turned to my left as I was entering the store, and sure enough, the security was verifying the receipt of a smiling couple who had one of the coveted 32-inch HDTV LED flat screens!  Their waiting paid off (I think?) for only $246 and whatever else was in their cart.  I'm sure their breakfast talk would be congratulatory.

My meandering and peaking took me on a human snake walk through the store, every aisle to the left of me was filled with people, standing, some reading, all waiting to pay for their items.  And it was only 5:30am!  I decided to peak into electronics and the red cameras were gone.  Oh well, my daughter is really a Minolta film kind of five-year-old photographer anyway.

I ran into one of the Vice Principals, shared our joint joy over Kirkwood winning the annual Turkey Day Game.  Talked about how crazy this was even as her husband took their handful of merchandise to find his way in the line, all the way at the end of toys, hope he had his music on.  I then peaked into the toy section, noticed the few things I'd get weren't on sale.  Then that thumping buzz in my pocket signaled a call coming in.

"Did you find anything?"  My husband was asking about my success and regaling me with the lines and crowds over at big blue.  "No, but ran into some people though."  I kept looking and was almost tempted to get my laundry detergent but knew that this small purchase also would require the line waiting.  The dirty clothes could wait a little longer.  "Meet me out front."  "Gotcha," my reply as I scurried out the door, feeling somewhat triumpant that I did not succumb to any of the sale signs, seeing a caramel latte in my future.

Hubby and I headed over to St. Louis Bread Company for a light breakfast and conversation, a rare moment in our busy lives.  We decided to walk over to Game Exchange, peaked in, nah, we both said, and walked out.  It could wait.

A quick look in Toys R Us let us eyeball a few items we wanted but not bad enough to wait in another human chain of retail accomplishment.  Did see one of my young cousins on the way out, she on her feet at the register, a long day ahead.  "Hey cousin." "Hey cousin."  Our quick exchange of acknowledgment as I headed out the door.

We did venture into Best Buy and couldn't be convinced to buy their blue door buster camera, "No, she is a pink camera kind of girl."  I spent a few minutes educating my husband on the virtues of a 1080 versus a 720dpi on the flat screens.  "All I see right now is the extra couple hundred dollars, it can wait."  Out we walked, feeling extra proud that we still hadn't purchased anything except breakfast!

Kohl's did us in.  We found a pleasant store, helpful sales people, and a tolerable crowd, fast moving lines, and things we actually needed.  The girls have new symphony dresses and I picked up the picture frames.  We also made a pit stop at the jewelry department and the girls have new earrings (no one tell them!)  We also walked out with $30 in Kohl's bucks that we will use next week to get their shoes for the symphony.  The bags we carried out represented $250 in savings and we picked up that extra $30 - Kohl's reward was $10 back for every $50 we spent.

My hubby and I gathered snacks for his daddy and daughter day.  It was only 11:45am when we hit Schnucks.  He instructed me not to say anything about what was in the cart, the kilowatt smile on his face declaring his anticipated joy at spending a Friday with his princesses.

The girls were jumping up and down when we returned, earger to know if we bought them anything.  The youngest son was dressed and ready to hit the door.  Their dad was gieving out dollar bills like lollypops and the teenager was thankful and wide eyed at his bankroll.  The kid and I went back out after I replenished my grabbed a quick shower and a water.

Hanging out with a teenager in the afternoon of Black Friday was interesting, the things they let you know.  He listened to an old man talk to him about his high school days while I sipped a peppermint mocha at my favorite independent bookstore.  I was introduced to the virtues of a PSP while he and I ate cajun shrimp at Roadhouse 66, a Webster Groves independent restaurant.  After a scoop of Serendipity butter pecan, he and I headed out the Toys R Us.

December birthdays along with three booked weekends brought us to the place of shopping on Black Friday.  It made me smile today, the people we saw, the items my son and I decided to purchase for the girls.  This really is his only free weekend to shop so he, his sisters, and his dad are back out there, the crowds decidedly thinner.

How did we get to this place of Black Friday frenzie?  Especially in this second Christmas of the recession.  Maybe the bargains on outgoing models still signaled success to some who had a hard year.  I told my husband it was the hunter-gatherer in us, a primal need, that drove the masses out in the dark morning after Turkey Day.

It makes me laugh, this my fourth Black Friday in 23 years (such a thing did not exist when I was in high school).  I used to wonder about my former corworkers who returned on Monday to regale us with the bargains they snagged.  Sleep was too important to me in my former corporate life to waste it outside in the cold, I wouldn't have a chance to sneak in a nap the way I do now.  The other big change is that I had girls, when I had boys, I always knew I would find what they wanted.  Something about those girls.

My day was full and fun.  My crew is hanging out with their dad, the evening still young.  I showered, grabbed a lemonade, and will enjoy the new book from Pudd N' Head Books as well as the quiet.  This has been my evolution to Black Friday.




Friday, November 20, 2009

Thinking About Black Friday

This is holiday season.  It is upon us.  Retailers are at the ready.  Waiting.With.Baited.Breath.

I was talking to my cousin this morning about Black Friday.  I asked him was he going to go brave the retail sport of trying to find a bargain.  He recounted to me a time, a few years ago, when he thought he was early when he went to Best Buy at 7am.  He was thinking he could get a jump on the shopping and surely no one was up on the Friday after Turkey Day to be out shopping.

Wrong on all accounts.

 He said he had to walk all the way around the store just to get out, it was wall-to-wall people and the thing that dragged his happy-that-I-ate-well sleepy self out-of-bed-for was already sold out.

The last few years I have donned my sweat shirt, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed out to the throng. Part of it is to find a deal, part of it is the sport, part of it is the excitement, and more of it is my M.B.A. in marketing doing my annual consumer observation.  One year my husband and I tag teamed each other through Toys R Us searching for just the right items for our then 1 year old daughter, 3 year old daughter, and 10 year old son.  Then we hit the line and had great conversations with people we never would have talked to.  There were mini strategy sessions about which stores had the best deals and the fastest moving lines.  Philosophical discussions ensued about the virtues of Wal*Mart versus Target.  Debatges about support local businesses and why all the fuss to get more stuff?

That was years ago before the recession/depression has pulled the country from our retail stupor and shopping addiction.  Job losses greater than 27 years ago, more so if you are black and brown, homelessness among the middle class on the rise, more kids going to bed hungry, is this really the season to get into the combat sport over the latest toy?  There isn't even a latest, must have toy although I do imagine some of my Mocha Mom friends will make sure they have the new Disney Princess, Tiana doll wrapped and under the tree, I certainly will.

What is it about the holidays and this time in particular that makes people give up a month of coffee or manicures or whatever to engage in this day?  Perhaps it is the excitement of being around people since most of the country lives in manufactured neighborhoods.  Or perhaps with the joblessness it is the need to be among fast moving people again, or maybe it is the hopes that the shrinking budget will stretch long enough for there to be something under the tree.

This year my husband and I decided we would purchase the Sunday paper and review the ads, decide which stores have the thing we are looking for, and set out early.  My son, now fifteen, and I talked about getting up at 5am to go out again, just he and I, ending our shopping morning around 11 o'clock over pancakes and mochas.

It is the joy of taking time out of our lives to just casually sit and listen to each other, perhaps that is part of the event, families that travel to be "home for the holidays" meet with cousins to carve out as much fun as possible. 

I am excited about going out this year.  Not so much for the shopping but because I am going with a purpose. We already started our discussions with the kids that there won't be an overflowing tree this year, I especially have said this every time I have stepped on one of my daughter's toys or picked up yet another doll or piece of doll clothing.  Their rooms are stuffed, my youngest daughter has a birthday coming up and I expect there to be more things stuffed in there.

But this year we are doing something different.  As much as my children have, there are others who do not.  I told them we are adopting a little girl this year and will give her presents she wouldn't otherwise have.  We are tying it into my daughter's early December birthday celebrations.  The kids had a meeting and decided that what they really want is a flat screen TV, a computer, and a Wii.  I told them they will not get all of that but we all agreed that it would be great to get one family gift for everyone to enjoy.  And we will be getting ready for the grandchildren that are due in January.  Something different to our celebrations.

I imagine this year will include stops to my favorite independent retailers, those small businesses that truly are the backbone of our economy.  My coffee run and pancake run will be with independents.  I always buy books for presents so I will make a stop at my favorite bookstore.  There are some unique presents to be had if I simply walk down Argonne, Jefferson, and Kirkwood Road.  The few dollars that I spend will be spent at home.

It is the longing in us that brings us out of our homes during that time from when the calendar page turns to November.  We long for meaning and connection and an experience.  The retailers are hoping that our longing will translate in dollars exchanged and packages carried out, they are already boasting about their sales, this is their time to hopefully break even.

I think ultimately it will be a time when we realize that what we really want are more than the gifts long forgotten in the closet but the connections that build a treasure in our heart.  And that is what the season is really about.


Monday, November 16, 2009

Living The Minute, Leaving The Legacy

Life is a funny thing sometimes, the twists and turns it takes us.

They say that truth is stranger than fiction, no one would believe the things some people have lived through.  How could so much adventure, love, tragedy, or drama impact one life?  Yet, sometimes, isn't that what makes life rich in the first place?

I've been spending the last few weeks alternating between trying to develop a plot for National Novel Writing Month and my duties as Mom-in-Chief.  I'm on my quest to reach 50,000 words, knowing that I need to journey to at least 75,000 for an actual book.  It is something, this process of bringing fiction to life, trying to create believable characters, staying away from cliche' and the junk I can't stand to read, and be caffeinated enough to get a first draft out in one month.

When I step away from the computer and into my world, I wondered about the journey we all take.  We want to be remembered, relevant, leave something meaningful in that space between birth and death.  It was actually a point that I agreed with when I heard Tavis Smiley speak the other day.

I had to spend my Friday night with my husband at yet another rubber chicken dinner, well for them, for me it was a roasted vegetable and pasta meal (oh the pleasures of being vegetarian!).  It was for an organization I hadn't heard of but one of the things he has to do for his university.  Ironically, the HDC is 45 years old, just like me.  And perhaps the reason I hadn't heard of them is because my life has been blessed enough to not need their services.

Anyway, it was their 39th Annual Dinner and Awards Night.  They had some marquee names (who are these people anyway, put their pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us) and a live orchestra serenading us during dinner.  I didn't know any of the awardees and only some of the people around us.

Polite dinner conversation is always the course for these dressy events.  I think I was kind of peeved because my husband only told me about this one Thursday night.  I told him he is lucky I have a closet of appropriate attire.  Thanking God silently for my solid upbringing and always-ready-attitude.

The program finally came to dinner and Tavis Smiley was the keynote speaker.

I will put out a disclaimer here, I am not a Smiley fan.  I think he is an opportunist and a disgruntled Hilary Clinton supporter who is still peeved that President Obama became president without his help or endorsement.  Actually, I think he is peeved because he wanted to get another book or another feather in his cap as the self-proclaimed voice of black america like the rest of the so-called leaders/scholars/voices.

His behavior during the campaign was not something I agreed with.  He seemed more upset that then Candidate Obama did not seek out his "must-have" approval while running for President of the United States.  He made a great big point of wearing that chip on his shoulder during his State of Black America promotional event.  And his pettiness was put in place by Randall Robinson for the 10th annual event.  I was also less-than-impressed with his take-all-my-marbles-and-go exit from the Tom Joyner network and took his show to PBS.  I digress.Again.I admit, I am not a Smiley fan, did I say that already?

I also tend to think that he is self-serving and a bit of a propagandist, wondering what does he really do except make a great self-promotion campaign to be the voice of a black America that is served only by his corporate paycheck.  I have yet to see any action, nationally, as a result of his forums or covenant with black america, except to try to get more black people to buy his books and more corporate types to pay for his jets across the country. 

And that us lowly St. Louisians should feel honored that he pre-taped his show just to fly out during the week from Los Angeles and oh, by the way, he had to jet right out after the speech, no time to mix and mingle with the little people who weren't fortunate or on-time enough for the pre-show VIP reception.  All that for $75-100 a plate.  I wonder how much Tavis got for his generous time?

Well, I was slightly surprised.

Tavis spoke of true leadership and legacy.

I will concede another point and say that he does have a great memory for quotes and this probably dates back to his Indiana Pentacostal upbringing.  His voice has that oratory that I know was developed in the black church.  And having grown up in the church myself and daughter or a theologian and great orator, I could hear the sprinkles of a few "Amens" throughout the room.

And he did have a point about the unemployment rate.  The blacks national rate is often quadruple those of white counterpoints. He also made a point that the corporate top cats (probably including some of his sponsors) got rescued but the rest of us have to wait for an employment summit to talk about the 10.2% national rate (inherited economic mess, let me remind you).  What is the President going to do about the poor, the disenfranchised, the black and brown people?  So again, on that Tavis Smiley had a point.

And I agree that not everyone who is a self-proclaimed leader is truly a leader.

Legacy, that thing we leave behind, the eulogy someone else will say as he mentioned.  What will they say about you?

Is it the clothes you wore, car you drove, house you lived in that will stand as a lasting memorial to your time on earth?  Or is it deeper to include the lives you touch, the people you helped, the lasting affect you have on a child - good affect - that will be what people talk about when you are dust in the ground?

I thought that was a good part of his speech.  Perhaps that is the thing that happens when you are forty-five and can hear the memory of one's father saying "there are more years behind me than before me."

Tavis also had another point that I agree with, we do not know.  The next moment, the next breath, it is not promised to us. Something the preachers used to tell us over the pulpit, often in a way that was more hellfire and brimstone than promoting us to do something more.

Yet it is a point.

We are only here for a handbreath.

In my father's family, that handbreath for three generations ended before the fiftieth birthday.  It was his sister, my dear Aunt Flora, who was the first of his generation to reach that number and now almost thirty-five years past that number and still counting.  My father lived almost twenty years past that number.  The heart ailment seeming to cancel itself out by the fourth generation and cancer being the thing that drew my father's last breath.

It was that awareness of  how short the time really is that forced daddy and his siblings to live full lives in that space of time, larger than life legacies left behind.  Something the rest of us are trying to live up to.

I updated my life insurance policy recently because my youngest child doesn't graduate from high school until 2022.  I, if God says the same, will be fifty-eight years alive.  That seems so far away and even as recently as twenty years ago, I thought that was ancient age!  Funny how the advancing of time makes us realize we are living in the fullest moment right then, right now.

The time I have on this earth is a blessing, I hope I have blessed others as much as they have blessed my life.  There are people I want in my great cloud of witnesses, people I want in my legacy count, people I want to remember my essence.  I cherish the lives that have crossed my path, some for a moment, some for a lifetime, some for always.

It is something, again, that I agree with about Tavis' speech, we only have a minute, sixty seconds in it, what are we doing with the time?





Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Writing Journey

Still writing, 7630 words so far. Not bad considering I didn't start on the 1st.  I started a week after National Novel Writing Month began.  Will I make it to 50,000 words by November 30th?  Not sure, that is the goal.  The plot is still developing, new characters coming and a love story thrown in.  It is more suspenseful with a dark character who bothers me but looms behind the distance in the story.

I have been writing for two hours, I have two stop now and go get Keziah.  I think the stop and starts of my day is what is making this harder than I want.  I want to step away from my life and just write, perhaps over Thanksgiving Dwyane will take the kids out shopping or something.

The process is good, forcing me to think more about my craft, more so in a sustained setting than during the leisure of developing a story over a longer period of time.  I know the editing will be a bugger and I am resisting urges to stop and research more.  The novel spans a period of time, right now I am in 1982.  Anyone remember Fame?  Man, I really loved that Leroy Johnson character back then, I would stop everything to watch Fame.

The journey is the thing with this novel.  I decided to make it a real city, trying to think of fictional landscapes when the real ones are good was just a waste of time.  And I met a printer today while writing at Kaldi's.

I wonder what my daddy would think?

Well, back to the day!

Sunday, November 8, 2009

A Moment on Health Care

After much debate and pointing and accusing, the House finally passed the Health Reform Bill. 

It is an important first step.  Important enough for me to step away from my novel to talk about it from a personal point of view.  Important enough for me to momentarily stop worrying that my daughter wouldn't have insurance.

Health is paramount in my house.  Every day, every meal, every night, it is first and foremost on my mind.  We have very real concerns about having universal health care.

We have asthma.  Myself and my two daughters are often plagued by the airway constricting and frightening gasps for air that accompany these bronchil spasms.  Our heart races and the inside of our chest feels like someone turned on the furnace in 100-degree heat.  Our chest heaves in and out and we squeeze our eyes shut willing more air to squeeze through.  An asthma attach is frightening, even if you know the triggers and have lived with it your entire life like I have.  It is even more frightening when you see it repeated in the faces of your daughters.

As if that is not enough, my youngest child battles daily with eosinophilia.  It was described to us, when she was sixteen months old, as asthma of the GI-tract.  Her stomach and intenstines are often subjected to the same kind of violent attacks that happen to our lungs, except instead of gasping for air, she is gaging, gripping the toilet, throwing up buckets.  The onset is sudden, sometime as a result of accidentially ingesting an offending food like milk products, or simply the result of being awake.  There is no cure for either one, no rhyme or reason why she is stable one minute or sick the next. 

Health is very important to us.

My daughter is now five and has had intermittent battles with the toilet as a result of a medicine cocktail that results in some of her hair falling out.  Cure one thing, affect another.

We eat nutritiously and I cook from stratch.  We eat organically when we can and she has learned to love fruits and vegetables that most kids her age would frown up at.

Yet, she has to take close to $120 per month worth of medicine (and that is with insurance) to just keep the symptoms at bay.  Even then, she wakes up at 2am gasping and coughing, often the cough from EGID causing asthma to flare up, me rushing for the breathing machine and a mixture of ipatropium and albueterol.  She finally settles down for a sleep and wakes up chipper.  The child is resilient.

It is her resilence that kept me going in the fight for universal healthcare.  If my husband took another job or we moved or something happened to our university health care, she would not get coverage by private insurance.  Asthma?  EGID?  Eczema?  Seasonal Allergies (allergic to every grass, tree, bush, mold and pollen in St. Louis). 

I smiled this morning when I saw the flashing headlines on my computer.  I wish I had been hawake shortly before midnight to see the historic vote.  President Obama has moved the bar on something I voted for.  My daughter's illnesses and cost is only a fraction of what this family spends on health care.  Her quarterly surgeries, her doctor's visits, her medicines, added to everyone else's trips to the doctor and medicine, makes it a college-tuition worth of bills. 


Is the bill everything everyone wanted?  Certainly not.  There are some who argue about the abortion ban introduced by the Michigan congressman.  Others who fear overweight and obese people will be mailgned.  To me, it is simply a first step in the right direction.  It goes to the Senate and then the President.  It will be one step, an important step, a historic step. 

And that is a worthy moment on health care.  Maybe then we can breathe.

The Story Is Telling Itself

This story is unfolding! It is telling me what to write, no title yet. Introduced new characters yesterday.

I'm up this morning writing before we hit the highway to Lee's Summit.

The process is interesting, sustained time at the computer, my fingers are numb. Never tried writing an entire book in one month before.

It is funny how these characters develop their voice and become real to me, I am turning over my shoulder now, feeling the chill of one of the darker spirits. I brush him off my shoulder and remember that I am the one deciding his fate with the power of my keys!

Back to writing, the story has more to tell.


Thursday, November 5, 2009

Taking Back My Worth - One Mom At A Time

I have to say something really bugged me today.

My youngest child is five years old. She is in half-day kindergarten. That means that for 3 hours she sits in a classroom coloring, sorting, and counting. Not enough time for me to do anything else since I have to drop her off and pick her up on time, lest I get the stare down from the teacher's aid if I am even a couple minutes late.

Well, standing on line, a full ten minutes before the anticipation of the doors open, watching all the other suburban moms wait for their little cherubs, there was something that bothered me. It is how much the role of at-home-mom is devalued or diminished. This is not easy work.

Salary.com posts salaries of careers. It is always a good gage when preparing for an interview or asking for a raise (do those even exist in this economy?) to at least check out the salary range for the particular position. This site and its reporting of the mom salary always makes annual buzz on the morning news circuits. It then leads to a discussion of the never-ending mommy wars between at home and at career moms (notice, I did not say "working moms" because all moms work!). The last time I checked, it put the salary at $119,000. I nodded, yep, that is about right.

Back when I was working outside my home and had never worked at home full-time, I use to daydream about all the little games I could play with my then three sons, the laundry that wouldn't pile up, the pristine house that would result, all the things I knew at-home moms were enjoying...then I became at at-home mom and the rose colored glasses came off.

A simple thing like finishing a meal is not something at-home moms can count on. I know my mornings are often rushed between getting the girls ready (every tried to do a little black girl's hair in the morning while making breakfast while finding the other little black girl's homework while making sure the teenage son didn't forget anything and still trying to get a cup of coffee because you were up at 2am with said little black girl?????) and making the fight through morning traffic to get them to school on time. I'm often grabbing a granola bar or simply listening to the tune of my growling stomach while I drive the bubbly girls to school.

Or what about those beloved coffee breaks and lunch breaks that working moms get? I remember those. I used to walk over to the Plaza and shop for new shoes and suits, enjoy a gourmet lunch someone else made, and then get back to my office to "regroup" before my next meeting. I remember meetings.

Meetings were an excuse for the corporate types to stop at the snack cart and get some kind of snack from skittles to soda to snickers to make it through the 30-minute PowerPoint presentation that really could have been summed up in a 2-minute email. Just a reason for grown-ups to gather in a room and talk. And the company I worked for back then was notorious for these "meetings."

Or what about thinking? You know. Taking a moment to let an idea flourish in your mind before you write it down. Actually hearing your own voice in your head without your little one demanding a snack every five minutes or making a mess that has to be cleaned up before your husband gets home. Just think about the privilege of thinking without little ones constantly knocking on the door of your thoughts. Silence.

Yet, in all the I miss, being at home has been rewarding, my five-year-old pretty much doesn't know anything else. It has also been hard at times. I have had to fight to maintain my self-esteem and worth. To know that I am creating legacy, making a lasting impact, far more than any marketing plan I ever developed.

So, standing on line I also realized the public perception of a well-educated, reportedly strong, tenacious, and determined woman such as myself was doing "nothing" but "wasting" her education by being at home. The perception is worsened because I am black. See, I live in this affluent suburb where the majority of the people at home are white women. I am not part of that mommy & me club, never was, even when I first came home and my second-grader was about 18 months old. They looked at me like I did not belong, and to society, perhaps I didn't.

Black women have always worked. That is why the whole women's lib was not about us. We were not trying to burn our bras (they cost too much) and already knew we brought home the bacon and fried it up in a pan. When doors started opening for more black men to have stable jobs and a home (like First Lady Michelle Obama's dad), more black women made the decision to forgo the new hat or new purse so their kids could have something more valuable than big momma's cornbread - their mother at home (why I love Mocha Moms, Inc).

I understood the double-standard even more when I started rewriting the script for the next few years of my life. My daughter is not in school long enough for me to work part-time or even full-time without paying my whole check to KinderCare for babysitting. So I began exploring what my new life would be like next fall when all my children are finally occupied from 8:40-3:40 (who set these school hours anyway?). It is in this exploring that I understand the shallowness of our society.

This society, does not value the things that matter. Education? We are lower than some third-world nations. Health care? Nope, only for the rich. What about family (not talking that right-wing, conservative religious version) if your skin color is something closer to caramel. Arts? How about being ridiculed because you sit and look at the trees while you muse on the short-story you are writing? Or the composition dancing around your head? Or the decision to eat ramen noodles until that new CD hits the stores? Creativity is not valued in this society. And sadly, neither is motherhood, not really. Children are treated more as little commodities or things to be managed rather than souls to be nurtured.

I told someone the other day that I would not trade anything for the time I've had to be a part of my children's lives. I've watched my daughter grow into the confident 2nd grader who reads like a 4th-5th grader. I've nurtured my five-year-old's health to a point where she is not heavily medicated, on formula, or with a feeding tube in her stomach due to her chronic and incurable illness. I've seen my son in his plays and musicals and performances, without having to cringe about missing work she I could get him to rehearsal on time. I've talked to my son serving in the U.S. Navy at five o'clock in the morning without worrying about being tired at some boring meeting. And I'm not standing at the ready, able, to leave in a moment's notice when my son's children are born in January. These are things that do not have a price tag, that are worth more than a thousand coffee shop trips.

Today, I stand proudly as a full-time, at-home, working-mother who has contributed to the future of society. I will stand on line this afternoon to pick up my daughter, and actually sit and listen to her regale me about her day. I will sit with my kindergartner while she reads me a story and shares her popcorn snack. My son knows I am here at a moment's notice to take his forgotten French binder up to the high school. These are the reasons for my air, and for that, I am fulfilled and worth more than the latest designer pumps.


Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Finding Purpose

Have you ever thought about how life unfolds?

I am reading "have a little faith" by Mitch Albom. It is a tender story, unfolding over several years, of an old rabbi and an old preacher. It is told throw Mitch's encounters of their history. One of the things that keeps standing out to me is how much faith does play a part in our life and how life unfolds in many ways.

I've always been taught to believe in divine direction. I know that God has a purpose for me. That is something daddy always told me. I remember in dismay saying to him, about twenty years ago, "well, I wish God would hurry up and tell me because I am tired of waiting." He and I were sitting in Jiffy Lube in Jefferson City getting my car serviced before my then two sons and I drove back to Chicago. I was twenty-six and by some standards, old. It is funny to me now when a lot of young women haven't even had children by this age now.

My daddy was trying to encourage me to keep motivated, to keep going, to stay strong. I was divorced and the mother of two young sons trying to make it in Chicago without support, without child support, and without relief. I came home to my daddy for a break, a respite. Then he told me those words, that there is something God wanted me to do. I responded in what I hear now as anger and dismay.

In reading the book and in reflecting on my eldest son's short life this weekend, I pondered purpose. I do believe we are all divinely created for something to give back to the world. We can not take our possessions with us and contrary to the bumper sticker, the one with the most toys does not win. The journey of life sometimes leads people to know immediately what they are supposed to do. I admire those people. My second son is such a person and so is my third son. These were the two little ones with me when daddy pronounced my purpose still unfinished.

My life's spiral has taken me on many different journeys. I have been writing it down, like a memoir, and as I take the walk down the path of yesterday, many purposes have jumped out at me. I have six children. I have my education. I have worked with people. I have read books. I have written poetry, essays, and short-stories. I have loved and lost and felt and hurt and laughed. I have lived. Is this my purpose?

I believe it is not something that can be found in a commercial book, despite the success of Rick Warren's "The Purpose Driven Life." Perhaps it is that we want to be remembered and to leave an impact for future generations. To create and generate and innovate.

The reason for my existence, for our existence is to live and love. Biblical scholars may say it is to love God and love our neighbors. I believe that is true in any of the major religions. I also believe it is to help each other.

God did not create us in a vacuum, we are created to be relational, to be a part of each other. And in that is where faith and purpose and destiny can be found.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Writing the Journey And Trading Nothing For The Time

I took an afternoon to get away and reflect on life.

I started writing my memoir. Funny the thing that happens to you when you start to write down the story. Memories knocked on the door that I had closed long ago, demanding to be opened and heard and acknowledged. Some were good, some were bad, all are history.

It struck me over the weekend as I spent time with my living children on Saturday and mourned my deceased son on Sunday, that life is a drama. I love to read, often drawn to the human interest real-life stories of ordinary people. It reminded me of how much we impact others. It also reminded me of a strength that I did not often acknowledge.

A wise friend told me, toward the end of my day of reflection, that there is still purpose to pursue. My heart skipped a beat and my eyes teared up in acceptance. Many are the words still to be written.

I hold a memorial for my son every year, each year changes on how I choose to reflect, but I do it because like my Jewish friends who have the tradition of Kaddish for the dead, it gives me pause to honor life. There wasn't a candle to light but words to scribe. An amethyst stone from the museum to sit in memory. Sunshine radiated through the changing leaves of Forest Park, a smile raining down from above.

The unfolding of days and the melting of months happens quickly. We are only here for a moment, a whisper of time, a breath. In that time, I wonder, how many of us truly consider the space between the dashes. The beginning we do not know of for we were only infants pushing out into a world, it was before memory. The ending we do not know about the time or place or method because we are not divine. It is simply the middle, the dash, where we can have the most affect. I determined in 1982 to make that dash relevant and significant and that my son's death would not be in vain.

My journey has taken me to some dark places and some wonderful places. There have been some deeply painful times and some times of complete joy. I have lived long enough that my son is about to be a father. Another generation is forming in the womb. This is celebration.

I have also lived long enough to know that writing down the spaces is part of my purpose. Even as I wrote the things behind the door yesterday, I also remembered that while my story is unique to me, it is like the wise Solomon, in his waning days, wrote in Ecclesiastes. "History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new." Ecclesiastes 1:9 NLT.

But we chronicle and write anyway because there are lessons in this life. My experiences of life and death at 18 gave me the heart and words to share with my grandson's mother. She is almost 20 and having her first son. What a confusing and joyous and wondrous time. Having walked the path she is on gave me the power to tell her she would forever be in my life, never neglected or abandoned or ignored, she is becoming a mother. Revered, honored, and cherished for bringing another life into this family.

The journey is the thing. Truly. And I wouldn't take anything for mine now.