Well, it's here kids - NYE 2013. (by the by, its only recently that I understood what the abbreviation NYE stood for - yes, the blonde is natural) I've realized that I am not big on spending my NYE reflecting on the year that's coming to a close. I feel like it's harkening back to Gladiator days, thumbs up or thumbs down? Did you love it or hate it? It was a year of my life - filled with joy, sorrow, victories and struggles. It wasn't perfect, it didn't suck - it just was. I learned some lessons and think I am all in all a better version of myself than I was at the end of 2012 -- that's all a girl can really hope for, right?
I'm also not a resolution person - at all. Let's be real peeps - how many of you have actually made and kept a resolution past February 1st? I don't think setting goals are bad, but lets make them realistic and lets make them about something that matters. This isn't a "resolution", but I told Jim this year my goal is to be more comfortable in my own skin. I want to be happy with who I am, where I am. To quote a Katy Perry song (God, help me) "I have to love myself the way I want you to love me". I want a closer walk with God (always a good one) and I want to continue to grow a loving, healthy marriage (a direct correlation to a closer walk with God, I think). Other than that, I'm gonna try to be me.
I guess my point is: keep moving forward. If you want to look back (briefly) on 2013 and take stock, go ahead. But don't be moored to your mistakes, short comings and struggles. I promise, 2014 will have it's share of problems. But, if we make the choice to look for joy- it will have that as well. And - to get preachy for just a minute - don't hate the struggles. The moments of joy wouldn't be as amazing if you hadn't been through moments of pain. The mountain never seemed as glorious as when you just walked through the valley. I am a blessed girl. That doesn't mean my life is perfect. But I have husband I adore, a family I love and friends who love me in spite of myself.
So cheers, my friends. Raise a glass of champagne or chocolate milk to yourself tonight. You may not have rocked the world in 2013, but many of you rocked my world. You loved me, read my blog, inspired me to be a better person. You touched the lives of the Sunday school class you taught, the stranger you gave a smile to, the family member you reconnected with. And that my friends, is worth celebrating.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
It Don't Matter if You're Black or White
Anytime lyrics from a Michael Jackson song become the title of your latest blog post - you can bet what follows will be epic.
I've been uninspired to post lately (since Easter, apparently) But, I think the dry spell is over. Now, I'm sure by reading the title of this post, you've assumed race will somehow be involved. And, you're right. My husband would probably like me to insert at this point that the views expressed in this blog are mine and mine alone. I have an opinion - that doesn't make me right, but if you don't like it , there are a billion other blogs you can read. Moving on...
I'm not sure where I should start... I guess the beginning is as good a place as any. I was raised in the South. (yes, born a yankee - but there was sand between my toes for my formative years -- so all things being equal, I consider myself a southern girl) I didn't grow up with black friends or white friends - I grew up with friends. I didn't give "race" much thought, honestly. Does that make me sheltered? Naïve? A lucky, privileged white girl? Probably so. That's not to say I didn't see color. I did. But, I didn't see the conflict surrounding it. My roommate in college (and, one of my best friends) was black. She taught me all kinds of things (being the sheltered, naïve, white girl I was) but not because she was black. I remember asking her one time, after she used the "n" word, why is was ok for her to do so - but not me? (or, any other Caucasian - for that matter) She had a pretty good answer, I thought. Basically, she supposed it was like how women can call each other "bit&#es" as a term of endearment - but we wouldn't tolerate a man saying it. Same for the "n" word. White people had used it as a label of hate for so long, we dare not say it now.
Fast forward 11 years (yes, it's been 11 years since my freshman year in college -- what?!)
Yesterday I experienced my first black funeral. Enter naïve girl again - I thought a funeral was a funeral. Nope. White people need to take note. I have never been to a better celebration of life. The family entered the church first, followed by 250 folks singing "I'm Free" at the top of their lungs. EVERYONE. Singing, giving praise, hands raised - it was amazing. Everyone was family. Maybe not blood, but they took pride in telling you how they knew the deceased. There was crying, sure - it was a funeral. But - it was - triumphant. I watched it all - in wide eyed amazement. If you felt compelled to stand, raise your hands in praise or call out during the service - you could. Jim and I are currently looking for a church - I kept thinking, I wonder if they would mind us coming here? It was moving - in a way, quite honestly, I haven't been moved in a long time. .
Ok, ok -- time to tie it all together. What does all this rambling mean? Well, maybe nothing to you - but I had a realization. I think, like a lot of people, I have always towed the line that we are all the same. It seemed wrong to suggest that any of us were different. Guess what, we're different. All of us - men/women, white/black, gay/straight -- and that's not a bad thing -- it's a beautiful thing. I don't want us to all be the same - how boring would that be?
I've been uninspired to post lately (since Easter, apparently) But, I think the dry spell is over. Now, I'm sure by reading the title of this post, you've assumed race will somehow be involved. And, you're right. My husband would probably like me to insert at this point that the views expressed in this blog are mine and mine alone. I have an opinion - that doesn't make me right, but if you don't like it , there are a billion other blogs you can read. Moving on...
I'm not sure where I should start... I guess the beginning is as good a place as any. I was raised in the South. (yes, born a yankee - but there was sand between my toes for my formative years -- so all things being equal, I consider myself a southern girl) I didn't grow up with black friends or white friends - I grew up with friends. I didn't give "race" much thought, honestly. Does that make me sheltered? Naïve? A lucky, privileged white girl? Probably so. That's not to say I didn't see color. I did. But, I didn't see the conflict surrounding it. My roommate in college (and, one of my best friends) was black. She taught me all kinds of things (being the sheltered, naïve, white girl I was) but not because she was black. I remember asking her one time, after she used the "n" word, why is was ok for her to do so - but not me? (or, any other Caucasian - for that matter) She had a pretty good answer, I thought. Basically, she supposed it was like how women can call each other "bit&#es" as a term of endearment - but we wouldn't tolerate a man saying it. Same for the "n" word. White people had used it as a label of hate for so long, we dare not say it now.
Fast forward 11 years (yes, it's been 11 years since my freshman year in college -- what?!)
Yesterday I experienced my first black funeral. Enter naïve girl again - I thought a funeral was a funeral. Nope. White people need to take note. I have never been to a better celebration of life. The family entered the church first, followed by 250 folks singing "I'm Free" at the top of their lungs. EVERYONE. Singing, giving praise, hands raised - it was amazing. Everyone was family. Maybe not blood, but they took pride in telling you how they knew the deceased. There was crying, sure - it was a funeral. But - it was - triumphant. I watched it all - in wide eyed amazement. If you felt compelled to stand, raise your hands in praise or call out during the service - you could. Jim and I are currently looking for a church - I kept thinking, I wonder if they would mind us coming here? It was moving - in a way, quite honestly, I haven't been moved in a long time. .
Ok, ok -- time to tie it all together. What does all this rambling mean? Well, maybe nothing to you - but I had a realization. I think, like a lot of people, I have always towed the line that we are all the same. It seemed wrong to suggest that any of us were different. Guess what, we're different. All of us - men/women, white/black, gay/straight -- and that's not a bad thing -- it's a beautiful thing. I don't want us to all be the same - how boring would that be?
Living your eulogy or your resume?
There was a great post on Connecting Directors today. It was entitled Are You Living Your Eulogy or Your Resume? It was written by Arianna Huffington and is certainly worth a read. I fought the urge to send it out as a company memo. You can read the piece for yourself (and I suggest you do) - but here's the premise: The bullet points we are constantly trying to add to or live up to on our resumes are not likely to appear anywhere in our eulogy. I remember my grandmother's funeral. She sold insurance for 20+ years - it wasn't mentioned once. Jim's uncle died in February. He was THE small town doctor. I heard from hundreds of people that turned out for his visitation - not one said, "he really did a great job curing my shingles". They talked about his kindness, his humor, the love he had for his patients and his family.
I've been battling with this issue myself for a while. I'm not "ambitious" in the traditional sense. I've discussed it here before - but climbing the corporate ladder and getting the top sales award doesn't appeal to me at all. I realized a long time ago that my legacy wouldn't be forged in a board room. At the end of the day, you are reduced to the nice things (hopefully) people say about you at your funeral. My biggest fear in life is that a) there won't be anyone that comes to my funeral and b) those in attendance will have nothing worthwhile to say about me. Seriously, I worry about this. Occupational hazard? Maybe. It drives Jim nuts.
I'm not going to radically change lives with this blog and Arianna Huffington probably won't with her thought provoking piece - but I hope it does give us all a pause. We get busy. We get caught up. We try so hard to keep our jobs in order to preserve our lives - that we fail to live the lives we are trying so hard to save. Jim and I realize the reality of this better than most. That doesn't necessarily mean we do a better job at doing what's important.
Work isn't bad. It's noble, honorable - and if you are lucky, what you do on a daily basis to earn a paycheck can impact lives in a positive way. I just hope we all look at the other opportunities we have to impact our families, our community. It will be nice to have people say wonderful things about you at your funeral. But, even better - those things will be the true representation of how you lived your life and made the important things a priority.
On a completely related note, my husband is skinning a rattle snake in the garage as I type this. If he goes first, that's definitely going in his eulogy.
I've been battling with this issue myself for a while. I'm not "ambitious" in the traditional sense. I've discussed it here before - but climbing the corporate ladder and getting the top sales award doesn't appeal to me at all. I realized a long time ago that my legacy wouldn't be forged in a board room. At the end of the day, you are reduced to the nice things (hopefully) people say about you at your funeral. My biggest fear in life is that a) there won't be anyone that comes to my funeral and b) those in attendance will have nothing worthwhile to say about me. Seriously, I worry about this. Occupational hazard? Maybe. It drives Jim nuts.
I'm not going to radically change lives with this blog and Arianna Huffington probably won't with her thought provoking piece - but I hope it does give us all a pause. We get busy. We get caught up. We try so hard to keep our jobs in order to preserve our lives - that we fail to live the lives we are trying so hard to save. Jim and I realize the reality of this better than most. That doesn't necessarily mean we do a better job at doing what's important.
Work isn't bad. It's noble, honorable - and if you are lucky, what you do on a daily basis to earn a paycheck can impact lives in a positive way. I just hope we all look at the other opportunities we have to impact our families, our community. It will be nice to have people say wonderful things about you at your funeral. But, even better - those things will be the true representation of how you lived your life and made the important things a priority.
On a completely related note, my husband is skinning a rattle snake in the garage as I type this. If he goes first, that's definitely going in his eulogy.
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