Too Busy.

My new least favorite word in the English language is “Busy”. I just love talking to people and all they do is go on and on about how busy they’ve been. In my head, I always think “doing what?!” Then, undoubtedly I will be talking to someone and launch into how busy I’ve been…. I can feel the slap of my own words coming back at me… “Doing what?!”

What does this have to do with my life in the death care business? Everything. What does it have to do with you? Probably, a lot. We’ve all gotten so “busy” lately. I use the “quotes” because busy is subjective and more often I’ve realized, an excuse for not following through on something. Sorry I didn’t call you back – I’ve been busy. Sorry I didn’t get those cookies made for the bake sale – I’ve been busy. What am I really saying? I’m too busy for you or the commitment I made to you. Are we really all that busy? And if we are, what are we busy doing?

Jim hears it all the time in the funeral home. I wish we’d gotten to spend more time together – but you know, life gets busy. I meant to take her back to XYZ place before she died – but you know, life gets busy. I hear it, use it and deal with it in my own life. I’ve started 30 projects I haven’t finished. Why? I’m busy. I haven’t called my Grandmother since Thanksgiving. Why? I’m busy. (If you’re reading this Gram, I’ll call you soon – promise!) It’s excuse, after excuse, with excuses on top.

We live in 2013. 2013 people! We have phones that are smarter and more capable of getting stuff done than most people I know.  We have all the technology, modern equipment and gadgets we need to make our lives easier. And yet, we’re busier than ever. I think back to the old days. People got up at the crack of dawn to WORK – really WORK. Manual labor stuff. Working like your life depended on it (because it did, back then) Not this stuff most of us do daily (no offense). THEN, they came home and the work didn’t stop. What do we do now? We have our kids in every activity imaginable – guess that counts as being busy. We fill our non-working hours with things that supposedly make us feel better about ourselves – “Me Time”, as they say. I don’t know about you, but other than that – I’m not really all that busy. I have a full time and then some job AND help my husband with our business when I can. I have two fur-kids who require attention (yes, just as much as human kids). I have a circle of friends. I have hobbies, like to stay fit and of course, have a house to keep up. (ish…) But, I still have time. More importantly than having extra, I could do a better job of prioritizing the time I have. That sound you just heard? That was me hitting the nail on the head.  Priorities people, heard of ‘em?? That’s another soap box. (Yes, I have a soap box collection – get off me) You can’t afford groceries? Maybe you should get rid of that iPhone and the freshly manicured nails your texting on it with. P.R.I.O.R.I.T.I.E.S.  (whew, I feel better now)

Anyway, I digress. My main point is busyness. When did having a full schedule become an excuse for putting off the things that matter most? I got Jim a couples devotional for Christmas. We made a promise to each other that we would get up early and do it each morning. How many times during the week have we done that since Christmas. ZERO. We’ve caught it a couple Saturdays, but sporadic at best. What’s more important than being with my husband and working to make Christ the center of our marriage? Hmmm…. Can’t think of one single thing. I see it so often, to the point I was immune to it for a while. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and look back with regret. Facebook had become a priority in my life for a while. (priority, addiction… tomato, tomaaato. ) I got rid of it. Simple as that. And you know what? I don’t miss it. Honestly! If anything, I feel like a huge weight has been removed from my life. Now, I’m not saying you have to go that drastic --- but what would happen if you refocused your energy and time on things that really matter in your life? Matter for your marriage, your family, your faith? Sounds simple – and I think it is. My marriage is more important than 10 extra minutes of sleep in the morning I’ve been making more important than having devotional time with my husband. Calling my grandmother regularly is more important than….well…. almost anything. Don’t look at this as some monumental feat you can’t take on. After all,  you’re busy. Look at the little things – the small areas you can trim back the unimportant and beef up the important. Just a thought. Carry on.

Let's just take a breath....

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91

I've tried, tried for over 36 hours to close my eyes and pretend that Friday never happened. That 20 sweet, beautiful, innocent kindergartners are home with their parents tonight. But, they're not. And I can't make sense of it.

I wrote a blog on 9/11 about how 11 years later, I still can't wrap my head around the tragedy. Well, apparently the world wants to give me some practice because there hasn't been a shortage of tragedy lately. But, the latest act of violence...... is kindergartners. Angels, precious angels. I can't even put it into words -- and putting things into words, its what I do.

Friday, for the first time EVER, I got involved in a political discussion on Facebook. One of my friends made an ignorant comment (in my opinion) about gun control and after trying to process the killing of 20 children and listening to my coworkers incessant babble -- I put my two cents in. I got involved in a mug slinging, sensationalist political fist fight about gun control while 40 parents went home to empty houses and thought about making funeral arrangements for their kindergartners. What the hell is wrong with me?! What the hell is wrong with this world? How, in the name of God, could someone do this? How could anyone look a sweet, innocent child in the face and pull the trigger? I don't get it, I will never get it.

I'll save you the "Kumbaya", "Lets all get along" crap. I'm someone who's life literally revolves around death. Literally. I see it everyday of my life. And I don't have an answer for this one. I don't know how the families will ever move on. I don't know how the surviving students and teachers will ever recover. I don't know how any of us make sense of this.

And, to top it all off --- the sorry S.O.B responsible for yesterday's massacre killed himself. How convenient. The rest of us are left to pick up the pieces and he makes a calculated exit. Good thing I'm not the judge and jury for the hereafter.

And we all want to take this opportunity to beat our political and moral chests. Gun control this, pubic schools that. Really?! We want to make that the issue? A man walks into an elementary school and opens fire after killing his own mother and we want to argue with each other? GROW UP. The world is hard and it's getting harder everyday and we need to decide if we are living for this world or the next. We can scream about tougher gun laws and the pros of homeschooling all day long -- but it doesn't bring back 26 innocent lives. All I can do is pray. That's all I've got.

So, what to take away from this? You read my blog today looking for answers or a different perspective -- but you might walk away disappointed. All day Friday I kept thinking about two things. I got cut off on my way to work and not only blew the horn, but cursed the culprit. It was a girl, about my age -- who probably didn't see me. But, in my haste and hurry to get to work, I showed her much less than I was called to. I also thought about my beautiful niece who is in kindergarten. I could get through the day with watery eyes, but when I thought about her -- the waterworks started. Death at any age is hard for those left behind -- even when it comes as a blessing. But, the death of a 6 year old... there are no words.

So, my moral tonight is this: Let's all take a deep breath. Go hug your families. Snuggle those beautiful babies and tell your spouse you love them. Remember that we are called here to love each other. I'm not preaching a high and mighty sermon here -- I am trying to remind myself too. Everyday I have to make the decision if I am going to be who He called me to be, or if I am going to get down in the mud and join the fist fight. We've taken enough punches folks. It would be all too easy to let the events at Sandy Hook Elementary fill us with hate. Right now, I hate the man who robbed 26 families of their loved ones. Hate him. But, lucky for me I have a God whom I can pray to for the strength to find forgiveness. That's my prayer for all of us -- strength. I can't give you anything else but my prayers. I can't do anything for the victims, but pray. I can't think of anything that will help, but pray. So, pray. If you are a praying person - pray. If you've never prayed in your life -  pray. Pray for the families, the first responders, the victims and the nation that tries to wrap our heads around it. Just take a breath and pray.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

Thanksgiving: Here's My Beef....

It makes me sick how sugary sweet, faux-thankful some people get this time of year. I love Thanksgiving, don't get me wrong. It's a holiday that gets too little attention -- with Christmas apparently starting in August these days. But should we need a holiday, a little turkey on the calendar to tell us we should be thankful? Now, keep your pants on as I explain --- this is going to offend some of you.

Lots of folks make lists this time of year of all the things they are thankful for. All the happy, joyous, beautiful things in their lives. I love the lists on Facebook --- "Today I am thankful for my wonderful job!" -- is that the same job you were complaining about yesterday, or is this a different one? Or, "Today I am thankful for my amazing Husband/Wife!" --- same one who didn't do XYZ right yesterday, or someone new? I'm guilty of this too folks -- no pointing fingers here. There is NOTHING wrong with being thankful this time of year. My fear and my concern is that we aren't thankful EVERY day for EVERY moment, event, person, breath in our lives. It's easy to be thankful for the cute babies and gorgeous homes. But, what about the crippling cancer that might rob you of your life --- but has brought you closer to your family and taught you to enjoy the moments you have? What about the first marriage that you are so embarrassed about? Without that -- you wouldn't be who you are today, loving your true love the way you were meant to. What about the house fire or flood that made you realize a "home" is not four walls and furniture?

I find myself getting so caught up in thinking about what "things" I have to be thankful for this time of year. I feel like I have to make them really good, so people will simultaneously think "she is so blessed and she is so humble!" Well, I AM blessed -- but some of the biggest blessings in my life have been things I promise you wouldn't find on any Facebook list this month. More than that -- I am (I am trying to be) thankful for the blessings in my life throughout the year, not just in November. It's a struggle, I'm not gonna lie. Life gets busy, the bills pile up, Jim leaves his cereal bowl on the counter AGAIN....and suddenly, I'm not thankful. Not in my heart, anyway. If someone asked me about my life,  I would smile and say "oh yes! I am so blessed!!" But, I'm not always living as though I feel that way. I need to stop. I need to get over it and realize that I AM blessed, every day. Every circumstance, struggle, speed bump is an opportunity, a gift. Lofty? Absolutely. But, I've never been a girl who shys away from a challenge.

So this year, I am going to be thankful that I have the opporunity to move forward from this day striving to appreciate my life. Not just in the great moments, but in the tough ones too. I can appreciate my job, even on the days I want to stay home. I can appreciate my health, even on days when my Crohns Disease kicks me in the gut. I can appreciate my marriage, even on the days we need boxing gloves. Don't stop being especially thankful this time of year - lets all just try to remember that we are just as blessed on a Tuesday in April as we are on a Thursday in November.

Who's Calling?

Who's calling? Whose calling? Eiher way....I don't get it. What's my calling in life? Blogger extrordinare? Of course, but there must be something else.

I keep waiting for the call. It comes from God, I suppose. Does He call collect, because I'm not getting anything.

Jim's calling is to be a funeral director. I know that as sure as I am sitting here. I tell people that all the time. Especially when they ask - "how did he get into that?" He was called. I've never asked him how the conversation went, but the message was clear. How a man who shoots deer, yells at football referees on tv and will eat the last scoop of ice cream in a heart beat, can be one of the kindest, most compassionate people I've ever met is beyond me. But,  when you experience a death - you want Jim Dobbins in your corner. He's calm, collected, yet warm and caring in difficult situations. He's genuine, honest, trustworthy and a man I can be proud to call my husband. His number one thought when working with a family is always the family. We opened Simplicity Lowcountry Cremation & Burial Services to give families another option. Jim couldn't stand to sit across from a grieving family and ask them for a $10K check for a funeral. And -- that's on the low end.  Jim sees this as his way of helping people at one of the most difficult times of the lives. Honorable man, noble calling.

I - on the other hand - got nothing. I'm good at naps. A decent cook (haven't killed anyone yet). I aspire to be crafty, but Pinterest makes me feel so inadequate.  I have a good job, that I am pretty good at --- but it certainly isn't my calling. Maybe my call will come later in life -- maybe I'm a late bloomer of sorts. Some people have suggested I write a book. Seems like an awful lot of work to go through with no guarantee any one will publish OR buy it. For a time I thought my calling was to be the perfect wife. But -- I'm sure fellow wives can agree with me -- "perfect" ain't gonna happen. So.....

What does all this have to do with the death care business? Well, a lot. At the end of your life you are basically reduced to a name, some dates and an occupation. So, it begs the question -- do you want a flashy title that reads well in the paper -- or a calling that truly made a difference? Not that the two are mutually exclusive - but sometimes that's the case.

I've come to realize that I am wonderful "support staff". I aspire to be the help mate God created me to be. To my husband, to our business, to my community. Maybe that isn't flashy, but it's who I am. Maybe I will write a book. Maybe I will be a mom someday. But ultimately, I can rest easy knowing that I was a steady, dependable presence in the lives of those I love and care about. How will that read in the paper? I need to start working on a way to make it sound a little sexier than just "Helper".

Maybe you are lucky enough to be doing what you love and loving what you do. But -- if you aren't.... dig deeper. Look past the salary, the corner office, the fancy title. We're all here for a reason, what's yours?

Dear Dad...

Last Friday marked the 28th anniversary of the day my father was killed in an automobile accident. 28th anniversary - sounds like it should be a happy occasion. I make Jim celebrate the anniversaries of our first date, our wedding, my first Michigan State game. 28th anniversary of the day my father was tragically and irrevocably ripped out of our lives -- doesn't have the same ring to it.

I'm just now, at the age of 29, beginning to understand the wide expanse of the hole he left behind. Why now? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I'm in a good place in my life. Maybe that's when all the stuff you couldn't deal with before bubbles up to the surface. I was 16 months old when he died. I have no memories of him. I don't remember what his voice sounded like, how he smelled, what it felt like to have him hold me. All the things a little girl (and a 29 year woman) should know about her father. Don't think for a second that losing a parent at a young age is somehow easier than losing them later in life. You lose a parent, it sucks - period. He never taught me how to throw a softball, never taught me how to dance before prom, never threatened the lives of any boy who would hurt his daughter. I'm not bitter - well, maybe a little. Why him? Why me? Why does this have to be ONE of the tragic defining moments of my life? Why can't I be the normal girl at school with a mommy and a daddy? Why can't I call him up today and say "Hi Dad, was just thinking about you" I don't get it and the more I think about it - the angrier I get. But, that's not my point today.....

When I was little, I used to fantasize that my Dad was going to come back to me. Maybe he was in the CIA or witness protection. One day he would show up on my door step and apologize for all the years he missed. We would hug and begin the father/daughter relationship I had longed for my entire life. I wish I could tell you those fantasies faded with my childhood -- but they're still there,  just under the surface. And, during difficult times in my life - I secretly entertain the idea that he could still come back. What would I say?
Dear Dad,

Ok, yes this is weird. I'm writing you a letter (for the whole world to read by the way). And, you're dead. That might send me over the edge just writing that. Dead. But, you're not. You are very much alive - in me. I like to think that I am a little piece of you that gets to live on. I like to think that some of the good in me comes from you. I like to believe that I have become a woman you would be proud to call your daughter. That's my biggest fear in the world - that you would be disappointed. You left this world far too soon and left behind what? A daughter who can't seem to get it together? I'm trying Dad, but I need you. I need my Dad to tell me that its ok, that its all going to be OK. I need you to be HERE.

I've made some bad choices Dad -  done things I'm not proud of. Would you have loved me anyway? Would you have shook your head in disappointment or wrapped me in your understanding arms? I guess I'll never know. And, that kills me. I won't rehash the events of the last 29 years -- we do have an audience. I guess the long and the short of it is - you weren't there. When I was in a bad relationship - I needed my Dad to be the superhero that rescued me. When I finally met and married my best friend - I needed my Dad to walk me down the aisle. When I graduated high school, college, got my first job - I needed you.

But, I'm Ok Dad. In the grand scheme of where I could be in my life -- I think I'm doing pretty well. Mom is ok too. She misses you - every day, though she would never say that out loud. I have good friends, a beautiful home and a job that pays the bills. I have two men in my life I wish you could meet. My husband, Jim, is the man I know you picked for me. I can imagine you and God sitting on a cloud looking down to earth saying, "he's the one for her -- go have somebody event something called EHarmony so we can get them together" The other is a Jim too -- my father in law, Papa D. He's a Dad any girl would be lucky to have. He already has a beautiful daughter of his own, but he has love enough in his heart for me too. He protects me and looks out for me -- I know someday you will shake his hand and say "thank you for taking care of my little girl".

Well Dad, I gotta run. I'm at work and bawling like a baby at my desk as I write this. Don't worry -- we'll still have our regular chats -- when I'm running or driving or snuggling in for the night. I love you. I miss you. And I thank you for being a man I can be proud to call my Dad. I'll be seeing you -- I still need those dance lessons. Oh - and give Grandpa a kiss for me.

Love, Miranda

9/11

I'm not sure that I set out to write a post tonight about 9/11 -- but its all I can think about. 11 years later -- the footage is still everywhere. All the major networks will show the attacks in real time tomorrow morning. All of us will awake with fresh wounds -- as if  they ever really healed.

I write alot about ideals. About seizing the day and not letting death get the best of you. You'll see your loved ones again, no big deal. Yes, big deal. I'm embarassed to say it really has taken 11 years but I think the gravity of 9/11 has finally hit me. I've watched countless documentaries on the subject (Jim is borderline obsessed). I've seen the footage so many times I still see it when I close my eyes. I've listened to all 2, 819 names being read at Ground Zero. I'm a big picture girl. I get the big picture of 9/11. We were attacked, we responded and went to war. The landscape of our country, our psyche, our world -- will never be the same.

After we relive the tragedy tomorrow and lick our wounds for the appropriate amount of time -- we will again start remembering the good that came from the bad. The hope that rose from the rubble....or something like that. How do I wrap my head around that? Like I said -- 11 years later I am just now getting it. Most of you have probably been where I am now. Maybe you processed and moved on -- please tell me how. How am I suppose to reconcile with my head and my heart the fact that almost 3,000 people were killed in a single day -- for a single reason? Then, my big picture brain really gets the best of me and I think -- what about the Holocaust? The genocide in Africa? The tsunami in Indonesia? Countless lives lost. Tragically lost. Aren't all lives lost tragic? Would it be worse to lose a loved one to 9/11 than a car accident?The result is the same -- isn't it? What's the point? All of the sudden the world seems very big and I feel very small. I'm worried about getting laundry done and ticked off at Jim for leaving his cereal bowl on the counter again -- and all this tragedy is happening? Happening DAILY. I don't see a tenth of it -- will never hear about it on mainstream media -- will never have to process its ugliness.

Maybe that's it. Maybe we were forced to see the ugliness of 9/11 over and over and over again. Maybe that's why its so disturbing. I live a privledged, sheltered life. I've never feared for my life because I worship Jesus Christ. I've never feared a terrroist attack in my country -- even AFTER 9/11. Am I naive, stupid, out of touch? Death is everywhere. And, the best I can hope for is to die an old lady warm in my bed. (yes, I pulled that from Titanic, don't judge me) So - where do I go from here?

You have to learn from everything -- good,bad and ugly - or this ride we're on really is pointless. What have I learned from 9/11? Don't worry -- I'm not going to pull out flowery cliches about Carpe Diem and God has a plan and it all works out in the end. 9/11 doesn't work out. There is no amount of reasoning or religion that will make that day OK. There is no amount of ignorance or denial that will change the fact that everyday death is a reality for so many across the globe. My lesson from 9/11? I am one hell of a lucky girl. I live in a nation where people were running IN to burning buildings to save their fellow citizens. I live in a world where for everyone trying to destroy life -- there are others trying to preserve it.

Tomorrow when you turn the tv on to watch the coverage (you know you will) figure out what it means to you. Decide how the defining moment of our generation is going to define you. My goal -- still feel 9/11 next week. Still feel lucky when I pick up Jim's cereal bowl. Still feel privledged when I see someone flying the American flag. Still feel honored to serve families in times of loss -- whether that loss comes as a blessing or a tragedy. Still see God and know that 11 years ago Heaven was blessed with the arrival of 2,819 angels.

May God continue to bless the families of 9/11 victims, the first responders who showed the true courage and tenacity of the American spirit and our men and women in uniform -- who defend our freedom daily.

That's Life, Baby.

"Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride" - Gary Allen

Life isn't always beautiful and like a NASCAR race, it's not always a beautiful ride -  sorry Gary. And, unlike NASCAR, there's no safer barrier, no helmets, no holds barred. Sometimes it's OK, sometimes it's great and sometimes it's just plain ugly. That's life, baby.

I just got back from a trip to visit family in Michigan. Technically, they were Jim's family first - but, I love those Dobbins' like they were my own. We went up to visit for various reasons. But it was our first time away from the funeral home. Away - we thought - from the daily reminder of the circle of life. W.R.O.N.G. If ever there was a "full circle" trip -- this was it.

Let me back up. "That's life, Baby" -- the title of this blog is a phrase I find myself telling my husband all the time. We are running on zero sleep - that's life. We had an argument over replacing the roll of toilet paper - that's life. Our friends enjoyed a long summer of days on the beach, we spent long hours growing our business - that's life. God never promised it would be easy, He just promised He would always be with us. And, in the grand scheme of LIFE -- Jim and I are blessed beyond our wildest dreams. I have moments of doubt and so does he, but at the end of the day -- it doesn't get much better than this. I am married to my best friend - literally. Who else can you make up new words like "snarf" with,  at the airport when some guy sounds like he just sneezed and barfed at the same time? And -- still be laughing about it 3 days later :) Who else knows you so well it's comforting and infuriating -- depending on the situation. We have a beautiful home, a growing business and live in a part of the country most people dream of visiting. But - life ain't always beautiful. Back to our Michigan trip.

I met my nephew. My sweet, snuggly,  6 month old miracle nephew. I rememebered what love at first sight felt like. (I've experienced it before -- I've got two nieces who have Auntie M wrapped right around their little fingers). My brother and sister in law tried for 6 years to have this little munchkin -- he is beautiful, he makes LIFE beautiful.

A month ago my brother in law had a horrible accident with a table saw. He lost one finger and may never regain full mobility of two more. Is he upset? Absolutely. Is he thinking about it when he holds his beautiful son? Maybe. But - when he's down on the floor, blowing on his tummy and making him laugh - I'm guessing a lot of things get put into perspective. That's life, baby. As my Mama D would say "Schtuff happens". And, sometimes that "Schtuff" sucks. Holding my nephew, seeing his Daddy in a way I've never seen him before -- sometimes that "Schtuff" is awesome.

Jim's uncle has cancer. Four words. One of which - cancer - is enough to send any of us running. He has a loving wife and two beautiful daughters who might, in no small way, have to face life with the hole of his loss. We had dinner with him - one of the best nights I've had in a long time, probably my entire life. We drank the good wine, told the great stories and said "I love you" without thinking about it. He and his wife recently traveled to Paris -- a top destination on my bucket list. I teased Jim about taking me there for my big 3-0 next year. 30 in Paris, what would be better. His uncle said - do it. Don't wait. I hope we hold on to that. Not that we go to Paris necessarily, but that we seize every opportunity - every day. It's so easy to get caught up. Date night can wait. The anniversary of the day we met isn't really THAT important. The movie will be there tomorrow, the restaurant will still be serving next Friday. But - none of us knows what our fate is. I wonder how many times Jim's uncle looks back and says - I wish I had taken that trip, surprised her for lunch, hugged them just a little tighter.

So, what's the difference between my beautiful nephew and Jim's uncle? What makes one the beautiful part of life and one the ugly part? Perspective? Maybe. One is at the beginning of life and one is staring down the barrel of the end. But -- aren't we all? I could die tomorrow and when all is said and done -- was my ride a beautiful one? That isn't decided by fate or circumstance -- it's decided by me. I can get fighting mad, or I can get mad and fight. I can sit down and take it as it comes -- or I can make it happen. I can't cure cancer. I can't make the hurt that life deals us go away. But, I can remind myself every day of my sweet nephew and the promise of new life. And, I can remind myself of Jim's uncle and the reality that life here on Earth is temporary and unpredictable. That's life, baby.