Home for the Holidays (Heb 11:9a)

NYC 2012

Years ago, I remember my Uncle Bill telling me not to answer the everyday-ordinary question "how are you?" with the reflexive answer "fine." He said that if someone was taking the trouble to ask me a question, the least I could do was give them an honest and well-considered answer. To this day, I can't say "fine," when asked about my general disposition.

Lately, though, people keep asking me if I'm going home for the holidays, and I wish I could pop off with an easy answer. I know it's just conversation. I know they mean well.  They're just being friendly. However, I don't think they realize how difficult that question is for me.

Because I don't know what "home" means.

When they say "home," I think they mean to family. Unless they don't. Maybe they mean to ask "are you going back to Washington?"

Santa's helper, 2012

The main reason I moved this summer was to be closer to family. In that sense, I am going home for the holidays. I've already been down to my sister's, inspected the tree, and dropped off gifts. I'll be travelling Christmas week to see my parents and my brother's family. There will be laughter and tears, wine and chocolate, twinkling lights and tinsel. There will be a baby underfoot for Christmas day; boxes everywhere, movies no one is really watching on TV, and good food in the kitchen. Is "to family" what they mean when they say "home?"

In fact, I have enjoyed quite a lot of fantastic family time in the last few months. I've seen my nephew play basketball and fight pirates. I was at my oldest niece's birthday party. I'm finally comfortable enough in my sister's kitchen to make my own coffee (though she didn't like my brew). I even surprised mom & dad (who are 12 hours away) one weekend - thanks to my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, who helped me with the details. I took my baby niece for doughnuts, and saw my brother's new place. I even got to connect with an aunt and a couple of cousins when they "escaped" to New York for a weekend. I could've seen another aunt and uncle, if he wasn't a straight-through-on-direct-routes type of traveler (or if I didn't have to work Fridays).  So in that sense, I guess I go "home" most weekends.

Ruston, WA, 2011

On the other hand, if by "home" my inquisitive friends mean Washington, the place I lived until just recently, then I'd have to say no. The time I've spent with my family since I moved has been priceless, and I don't regret my decision to get geographically closer. However, I have been feeling remarkably home-sick for the life I left behind. Home is my friends and our traditions. Home is knowing where the best celebrations are, and where to park when I go. Home is Cyndie's bread-pudding, "fruitcake" from the highschool, and half-day-spa-day at the start of break. Home is making cookies with the girls, attending half-a-dozen kids' concerts/recitals/pageants, helping with the Scott family's annual Christmas party. Home is sharing wine and (re)packing for vacation with my "other godmother;" cold December rain, and evergreens everywhere. Home is a murder-mystery on New Year's Eve. So, in that sense, no... I won't be home for the holidays.



Yet, that's not my home anymore.  I moved. So now I need to make new traditions, memories, and friends here, and I am working on it. That's the really ironic part. By asking if I'm going "home" for the holidays, my well-intentioned new friends inadvertently label me an other, an outsider. As if there's somewhere else I belong. The truth is, my home is HERE, where I chose to live. Maybe not in the apartment I'm in now - as I mentioned in an earlier post, it doesn't feel much like a home - but certainly here in this community.

on display outside the the 610 carwash, VA, 2012

Sure, I am alone in an unfamiliar town at a time of year when tradition and togetherness are the most common themes. When I get that "blue Christmas" feeling, though, I remember that the real heart of Christmas is Jesus, Immanuel, God-with-us. I'm not alone. And I'm not without traditions.

I'm thankful that people care enough to ask about my plans. I'm happy to make conversation. I just hope they forgive my momentary confusion, as I try to decide how to answer that tricky question. I guess I'm not going home for the holidays (though I certainly will be traveling). I am home. At least, as much as I can be this side of heaven.

By faith [Abraham] made his home in the promised land, like a stranger in a foreign country...."
  -Hebrews 11:9a

A woman like... her!

There's a popular song on country-radio right now called "A Woman Like You," by Lee Brice. The fella in the song is teasing his wife, describing how different his life would be if he'd never met her. He shares his fantasies about football, fishing, and fried food. Check it out on CMT.com. It's actually quite funny.

What's that got to do with Mother's Day? Well, it's the inspiration for this post.

Look at your moms. Ask yourself, how would her life be different if she weren't your mom?

I can tell you.

She wouldn't have to wake-up early on weekends if she didn't want to. She could hang around the house in her pajamas, sipping and savoring her coffee, until she decided she WANTED to go out. She could read a book. She could sit in the garden that she planted. Or in her comfy chair in the livingroom she decorated lemon-yellow even if it isn't sensible. She could put her feet up. Relax.

When she's ready, she can throw on her "walking shoes," grab her mp3 player, and go for a walk in the park. No one to bundle up. No diaper-bags. No deadlines. No-one to rush back to. She might even stop off for a manicure, massage, or yard sale on the way.  If she gets hungry, she can grab lunch. Sushi? Sure. Salad? If she wants some. Or, having enjoyed a healthy walk, she might indulge in her guilty pleasure, fast food. Why not? There's no-one to set a good example for. Eating out, it turns out, is not too expensive - if you don't have to feed the kids. 

She doesn't always eat out, though. Her fridge is full of all of her favorite things. Fruit. Veggies. Salad dressing. Seafood. Steak. Chicken. Hummus. Yogurt. Cheese. A bottle of wine. There might be some frozen cookie dough in the freezer, between the tequila and the fancy ice-cream. The fridge isn't too full, though. Fresh food tastes best. So she shops by the week. 

Cooking is fun. She has all the high-quality tools to make it easy. There are no  little fingers to protect from the good knives or to keep the glass dishes away from. She can take her time and make tasty dishes. Asparagus is a regular feature in the spring, squash in the fall. There's no-one around to complain about it.

The decorations in her house reflect her taste and style. Carefully chosen over time, there's nothing tacky in sight. If she tires of something she can replace it. The same goes for her wardrobe. Her clothes are as fit and stylish and comfortable as she can find. She doesn't have to worry about sticky-fingers and sensible fabrics. 

She can go out on school nights. If she wants to go to a play or concert, she goes. She can find hobbies and take workshops without checking anyone's dance and soccer schedules. She can go to the movies without taking out a bank loan.  

She can also take off on a whim. She's free to explore the beach, the mountains. She can hike through a fort or explore a lighthouse. She can snuba or ski, hike or hang-glide. She can stay in a cheap campground that doesn't have a pool - or she can stay in a luxury hotel. She doesn't drive with an eye on the rearview mirror.  With a little planning, she can go to Italy. To Australia. Her vacation days get used for vacations not runny noses, field trips, or conferences. She has a travel budget, because she isn't saving for birthday parties, car insurance, proms, and college. It also turns out vacations are much more affordable when you only buy one ticket, and no mouse-ears.

If she chooses to stay home, she can watch DVD's, any time, no matter what they're rated - all the way through to the end. She doesn't have to fast-forward the scary parts or mute the loud ones unless she wants to. She can stay up until 11 watching prime-time TV. Or she could go to bed at 9. 

She generally sleeps through the night. No bellyaches or coughing fits disturb her rest. No nightmare-driven dwarfs burrow into her bed in the wee-hours.

It really *is* a good life. I know, because it's mine.
But you know what? I'd trade it in a minute for sticky-fingers, do-it-myself-facials, homemade art projects, budget stay-cations, and cheap, kid-friendly food.

So, next time you talk to your mom, remember... her life could have been much different.

You made her the woman she is today.

Happy Mother's Day.

Saturday Night: A Tale of Two Sisters

My sister's wedding (2011). Picture by Michelle Whitehead Photography.

My sister and I, both in our early thirties, both fun-loving, generally happy people, both went out last night. She had a date night. I went to a dinner party.

She tried on dresses and curled her hair. She wanted to wear something that her husband would really appreciate. I donned a costume, dramatic jewelry, and wrenched my hair into old-fashioned braids, just as certain that the details make all the difference.

She made sure the dogs took care of business, tidied up the house, loaded backpacks with clothes, toys, and (of course) the ipad in the car, before locking up and taking the kids to grandma's. I wrestled a carrying-box with soup and bread and cheese and bowls out the door, down the stairs, into the car, then ran upstairs to close and lock the door, thankful that I no longer have a cat named Frog who would have bolted out that open door or taken advantage of the mess I left in the kitchen.

I tried to figure out how to keep soup from sloshing all over my car while I drove. I just wanted there to be something left in the crock-pot when I arrived. She chatted with her kids and cranked up the tunes.

When she reached her destination, she had waiters eager to fulfill her every wish. My friends and I worked together to put the finishing touches on dinner, set the table, and serve each other the treats we'd so carefully prepared.

We talked about jobs and children and coming adventures.

After dinner we enjoyed some drama. My friends and I solved a murder-mystery set on the doomed Titanic. My sister and her husband went to see "Wrath of the Titans." I'm sure doom and  murder were involved.

I was home, in bed, before midnight. I think she was, too. 

The thing is... we both had a great time.

Yes, sometimes I wish I had her life - the kids, the dog (just one, though), the loving husband. I like to think that sometimes she envies the randomness that is mine. However different our lives are, though, we share a love for celebrating life, making the most of every little thing. I love that about us.

"What's the motto with you?"

Mottos are funny things. You don't really choose them. They find you. Mine turned up on a ring I found in the clearance bin. A ring that just happened to fit my fat fingers, and was a style I like. Perfect.

It was also a perfect reminder of the mindset I'd decided to cultivate in this season of my life. Having finally recognized it was past time to stop wishing for things God clearly didn't want me to have yet (husband, children, a home with a view), I knew I needed to shift my focus to the life I actually have.


When I took the time to really look, I had to admit, the life I'm living is chock-full-o-blessings. I have a cute and roomy apartment in a wonderful suburban community. The kind of suburb that still has trees everywhere and no street lights. The kind that has apple-squeezes and Fourth of July parades and daddy-daughter dances at the community center. If I take a nice healthy walk, I can enjoy one of the best views around.

No, I'm not in the boonies, either. With my lovely car (another blessing, thankyouverymuch), and 20 minutes time, I can be just about anywhere. Work. Shopping. A variety of tasty restaurants. Movie theaters. Community theaters. Coffee shops (okay, those are less than 5 mins away - another blessing!).

I travel. That's something I'd have to do a lot less of if I had kids. I know, because my kid sister has 2 kids. I count them in my blessings, too. Even though they live on the other side of the country, I get to see them every year. Usually at a beach or pool. Joy!

My brother added another little blessing to the family last year. He's in a slightly different (though still far away) direction, so visiting him gives me a different vacation experience.

I have a steady job that I usually find pretty rewarding. In this day and age, that's a big blessing. I can pay my bills and still have a little "mad money" to play with. I know I should save more, and I'm working on that (but travel's just so much fun!). Even so, I don't feel stressed out, and that's a blessing.

My relationships are my biggest blessings, though. I get along well with my family. I have more good friends in my life today than many people have in a lifetime. My small-friends invite me to their birthday parties, school plays, concerts, and celebrations. We go ice-skating and do fun projects. Sometimes we even sneak off to McDonalds. My other friends (the grownups) like to have me over to rearrange their homes, cook (and eat) dinner, watch movies or tv, play stupid games (or dance to the wii!) and sometimes even solve a murder. I don't have to car-shop, eat out, or go to the movies alone unless I want to. I can borrow a cup of sugar (or a crock-pot) at just about any hour of the day or night. There's always somewhere to go, something to do, and someone to do it with. In fact, sometimes I have to schedule time home to do my laundry!

In short, I really do love the life I live. I just needed a little reminder.
A good motto will help you re-frame your world. Find one.

Hope

Through my tears, I see you.
I know you.
You love me.

My heart breaks with each love song,
Hallmark commercial,
Soccer game, and Bat Mitzvah.

I cry and shout.
I beg.
You hide.

Silent.
Watching, waiting,
Moving pieces into place?
Or working on something else?

I keep myself too busy to notice;
to feel;
to cry.

Until You corner me,
make me sit. stay.
You stir my wounds,
make me bleed.

You say it will be okay.
There is a reason.
There is a plan.

Through my tears I see You.
I hear You.
I  trust, because You love me.
So, I hope.