Forgiven

There seems to be a theme that keeps coming up in my life and the life of my girlfriends, so I thought I'd blog about it.  Forgiveness.

So, I didn't really grow up with the Waltons or the Cleavers.  You could say that the Hallams were more like the Simpsons.  We got a lot of things wrong.  But one thing that we got right was forgiveness.  It was a trait that my parents instilled in us at a very young age.  Perhaps it's because we made so many mistakes.  I'm not sure.  But I somehow grew up without the ability to hold a grudge.  I do get angry - very angry at times - but once someone has asked for forgiveness, it's nearly impossible for me to say no.  It's definitely come in handy in my marriage, in friendships, and with my family.  I guess you could say that I've just always understood that most mistakes - even big ones - are done without malice and that the people making the mistakes are as flawed as me.  And since God has found a way to erase all the crap I've pulled, I should give a few breaks now and then too, right?

Here's the thing.....holding a grudge doesn't really hurt anyone but you.  In most cases, the other person doesn't even know that you're daydreaming about the 101 ways you could wipe their existence off the planet.  However, that grudge eats away at who you are, making it difficult to trust the people who love you most.

There really aren't many areas of my life that I feel comfortable giving out strong advice.  Sure, I play around with it in this blog, but most of the tips I've used in my marriage and friendships have come from scripture, wise friends, and my own mistakes.  Very little comes from my wisdom.  Trust me on this one.  Let it go.  Give them and yourself a break.  You'll be amazed at how much lighter your load is.

Update

It's so hard to believe the surgery was only 11 weeks ago - hard to believe because it feels like a lifetime ago.   

I was frustrated a few nights ago because I found myself overly exhausted again, so I vented to Mark about wanting to be "normal" again.  He, like the wonderful husband and friend that he is, allowed me to decompress, then he asked if I felt better now than I did when I couldn't eat pretzels because they were too loud - than I did when my vision blurred when I walked - than I did when I had difficulty typing because the sound of the keyboard was excruciating - than I did when I couldn't listen to the girls laugh because it was painful.  Wow.  Yes, I do feel better.  I feel much better.  I have nothing to whine or complain about.  My life has been given back to me - our lives have been given back to us.  

The day after this conversation, I went to Dr. Ostrowski for my follow-up appointment.  He said that he continues to be amazed at the speed at which my body is recovering.  To me, it's not an amazing body, it's amazing Grace. He asked if I'd had any difficulty.  I shared w/ him that the only scare was the previous day, when I was trying to blow up a very stubborn balloon, and almost landed on the floor due to dizziness.  He said I'd probably aggravated something but hadn't injured myself, then said that my only restriction going forward was stubborn balloon blowing.  :)  It is pretty astonishing.  My hearing's back to normal.  There is no numbness at the incision.  All "bobble head" vision is gone.  The only side effects that bother me are fatigue, migraines and headaches, and pain where the chewing muscle was cut and is trying to regenerate.  Oh, and the headache meds cause my face to flush, which can be a little embarrassing.  But it's all very minor, and as Mark pointed out, a completely different life than I was living only 3 months ago.  That's something for which I am very thankful.  There are so many reasons to be thankful.

Thank Heaven for Brothers

I woke up Saturday morning thankful for my brothers.  I promptly wrote a blog about them, only to have it eaten by a system error.  So here I am, recreating a moment that left me laughing at memories.

I have two brothers, Keith and Tony.  Keith is 10 years older than me and Tony is 18 months older.  Being the youngest, I still like to believe that I'm the most mature of the bunch.  Those of you who know me know that is a frightening thought.  Those of you who know Tony and Keith know it to be accurate.  And, hey, as I've pointed out before, this is my blog so I can make it true if I want.  

Keith is my fearless brother with the million dollar smile who looks at least 10 years younger than he actually is.  He often does things that some people believe to be brave but I believe to be boneheaded.  For example, he recently WRESTLED AN ALLIGATOR near his home in Florida because he thought it would be funny. He's the eternal practical jokester and once introduced my brother Tony to all of his friends, only to tell them in private that Tony was struggling with his sexuality so would appreciate it if everyone would be sensitive with him.  Tony didn't find out until months later when Keith's friends were surprised to learn he was married to a woman.  Wow.

Tony's the coolest person on the planet and dresses even better than me (a fact which really annoys me).  His laugh is infectious - you can't help but feel better when you hear it.  He's also a perfectionist - possibly even more so than me, if that's possible.  Tony doesn't like cats - hates them - but for some strange reason, they LOVE him.  He has the same affect on babies - he holds them like they could electrocute him but they just can't get enough of him.  He is a quality control engineering manager at Toyota and also owns two businesses - I think he's restless.  

So, aside from practical jokes, what did I learn from my brothers?  I think I learned to be tough:

• I gained tolerance for high temperatures during my rides in the clothing dryer.
• I learned endurance through spending long hours inside a toy box while Tony sat atop playing Atari.
• I developed a strong stomach the summer Tony's football buddies decided it would be funny to leave their sweat-laden uniforms and pads in my Prelude for three days in the 90 degree heat, infusing it with boy-smell for the next year.
  
• I learned how to operate under pressure during our many fire extinguisher fights during which we would leave welts that lasted for days.
• I learned to throw and take a punch in a variety of forums.
• I gained an ability to laugh in the face of fear during the many nights Tony jumped out at me from the woods wearing a mask.
• I learned self preservation during the rides on the school bus, when Tony and his friends would ask if they could go camping in Hallam's Holler during the weekend (the name they so kindly gave the dimple in my chin).
• I learned that getting even is for cowards - for when you get even, you leave your opponent room to retaliate.  
• I learned to not take myself (or others) too seriously.

Before you feel sorry for this innocent little sister, be assured that I instigated at least 95% of what I received and enjoyed it in the process.   And amazingly, we all love each other deeply.  They're two of my closest friends who can make me laugh like no one else.   I'm thankful for those boneheads.

Let us not fool ourselves

Do you ever find yourself in the middle of the rat-race, saying, "I'm doing it for my kids?"  I'm doing it to provide for their educations, to provide a home, to make sure they have great opportunities?  I found myself going there this week and it's a place I tell myself not to go.  

I like what I do.  Most of the time, I even love what I do.  But there are days that I, like all of you, just downright hate it.  I get caught up in the motions of work and can't remember why I'm doing it and start feeling like that poor gerbil trapped on a wheel.  Yesterday, I was even talking with a friend about it and said that if it weren't for my kids' educations ahead, I just might hang it all up and open that snack bar in the Caribbean.  [Actually, I'd probably start up some kind of homeless mission but you get the point - I'd be flat broke.]  He asked me if I thought my kids would be less happy that way and pointed out the fact that he had very little money as a child but never noticed.  Exactly.  Because our kids, rightfully, care more about being happy and loved than about going on extravagant vacations or spreading out across 4000 square feet of real estate; and they certainly don't spend 18 years of their lives worrying about how to fund the 4 to 8 they'll spend in college.  

I guess what I'm trying to say is that we need to be very careful to not put our kids in the middle of this.  They simply want and deserve happy parents.  Sure, we're all going to have a bad day once in a while, but if you find yourself coming home unable to give yourself to your family because you've slaved for them all day long, you need to ask yourself if it's really worth the price you're all paying for admission.   As Isaiah 29:11-13 says, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Your kids want the kind of prosperity that comes in this verse, not the kind provided by a job.  Are you prospering?

Update

Okay, so I've had a few friends notice that I've avoided the topic of my overall health the past couple of weeks.  Before I start complaining, I'll preface it by saying that I feel so much better than I ever dreamed I would feel 2 months out of surgery.  Keep in mind that my friend who had this surgery was still taking 2 to 3 hour naps every day at this point and a lot of people aren't even back at work full time until 3 to 4 months out.  There, disclaimer said!

I'm tired.  Daylight savings isn't helping, but I was tired even before the time change. This is getting better with time.

My head hurts.  It's a superficial pain - just under the surface of the skull.  It's odd because it even hurts in places where I didn't have the surgery.  It's not severe and it only comes when I'm very tired.

I'm more irritable than usual.  It usually takes a LOT to get me rattled - a LOT - as in, I have super human freakish abilities to not get rattled.  I sometimes get rattled now when I'm tired.  Not very often and it's not severe, but I notice that things bother me that normally would not.  Little things - like people not doing what they're supposed to do when they're supposed to do it.  Funny - a friend of mine said that maybe I'm more normal.  But again, this is getting better and like w/ the pain, it's really only present when I'm very tired, like today.

But I'm also blessed.  I'm playing with my girls again.  I spent last weekend at Holiday World running through an indoor water park with screaming kids and had a great time.  I'm working on a project that I  couldn't have done 3 months ago - it's a project I certainly wouldn't have entrusted to a fainting goat!  And I'm loving every minute of it, even when I'm tired.  God has surrounded me with beautiful people who I care about and who care about me, so they forgive me when I'm irritable, tired, and a pain.  :)  And yes, to answer your questions for the 16,000th time, I am overdoing it some. (Even though it doesn't seem like it, I do appreciate the concern and care.)  But come on, I CAN overdo it now.  The year before the surgery is a series of blurs so I'm sure that some of me is making up for lost time.  I promise to watch out for warning signs and not cause harm to myself or those around me, but let's face it, I wouldn't be the me who you care about if I gave up easily, would I?????

Don't fill up your lives with right

OK, so I've tried to write this blog several times and had to resort to saving it as draft. In the end, I've come to conclude that it's much easier and funnier to dole out advice to our guys than it is to swallow it ourselves. So, here it goes, girls. This one's for us.

A very good friend of mine said something incredibly powerful a few months back. She said it at such a humble, heart-broken moment in her life that it made me think that more women needed to stop and listen to what she had to say.

She is an amazing woman. She's a great and loving Mom. A strong person. A talented employee. A kind and generous spirit. A woman of faith. Incredibly intelligent. I could write a book about how much I love her as a person and a friend. She did well in college, met a boy who she fell head over heels over (the feeling was mutual), and eventually married. They ultimately had kids. They did everything "right". Then one day they woke up and realized they had forgotten each other some time along the way. They had become such great parents and people that they no longer had room in their lives for each other.

So, what was this important advice that my friend shared? She said that she wanted more women to know how easy it is to forget. She wanted more women to know how easy it is to concentrate so hard on doing everything right that you get it wrong. In short, don't fill up your lives with right. Remember your husband. He needs and deserves you too.

Something I try to tell myself is that one of the greatest gifts I can give my girls is to be madly in love with their father. A few weeks ago, Morgan (my 7-year-old), came into my bedroom and asked if I would ask Mark to read to us that afternoon. I asked why she wanted me to ask him. She said, "Because he's crazy about you." Crazy about me. My friend is right. I need not forget.