Some days are a blur. I look back and think, “what in the world?” It’s gone–one minute, one hour, one afternoon, the whole day–gone; and what has been done? Everyone gets the same 24 hours. Michelangeo had the same 24 hours and look what he did with it–amazing! Bill Gates had the same 24 hours and look what he did. He changed the way the world thinks and works. Mother Teresa had the same 24 and she spent each in humility, serving others. And each of us have our days–what will be done? This past Sunday was Mother’s Day and I read a woman jumped off a bridge and was never found. She had her day and decided what to do with it. Each of us choose. Each of us are faced with where we’re going and where we’ve been, and most importantly where we are–here, now. For good or bad it was my day, it was all mine. I read the foot book with Zach, actually he read it to me and I thought to myself, “he’s doing it.” I smiled thinking that it was just a second ago we were bringing him home from the hospital, baths were had, meals cooked, dreams scribbled down on napkins, calls made, songs began, coffee drank with friends, laughs laughed, stories told, my 24 hours was all mine. Maybe like Michelandelo, Bill Gates and Mother Teresa, I’m not sure while I’m in the midst of it if I’m doing anything, that will make a difference. Maybe they thought the same. Some days I wonder. There are moments in our lives when we have hugh impacts and we know it–I feel it. I’m moved by it and the day seems larger than it is. Then there are days when I’m faithful–that’s the best word I can think of. I keep trying, keep creating, keep swimming even if it feels like I’m swimming upstream, I keep dreaming, keep believing in my 24 hours something is going to happen, something unexpected. I wish I had been on that bridge Sunday, to say, “just wait, tomorrow has so many possibilities. I’ve had bad days and I’ve felt the edge of life. Take my hand and know that something could happen in the next 24 hours. Something could happen through you that could never happen through me.”I believe that, something happens through each of us each day. Some days it feels so small and some days I get to see it. Others might never see, experience it or be moved by it; but it’s real and it happens, so here’s to tomorrow and the blur that it will become.
Category: living
What’s next?
Springtime always reminds me of what is new and what is now… and what is about to be birthed that hasn’t been before. The subject of what’s next seems to come up frequently in my conversations with friends and acquaintances. What’s next with my life.. what’s next with my career… what’s next with the relationships I am in … What are the next risks that I need to be taking… This past weekend I joined a group of youth who are graduating from high school. One of the things I remember about my senior year was that it seemed like everytime I turned around someone was aksing me, “what school will you be attending? What will you be studying?” or “Who will you be rooming with?” On and on came the questions and to be honest with you, I decided many of those things at the very last minute. I know that does not shock many of you who know me. I did not have a clue many times. There were those days when so much was spinning around me that I felt like I was just along for the ride. I had no idea where those decisions would lead me or if when I got there I would be prepared for what lay before me.
Early in my singing I met a business man on a flight from Dallas. He shared some of his life story with me on our short trip. During an interview for his first job out of college, he was asked if he had any experience taking pictures out of an airplane. “Of course,” he replied enthusiastically, “that will be no problem for me.” He did get the job and as he left the interview, he thought to himself, “now how would one take a picture our of a plane?” The first day on his job he was shocked to hear the pilot jokingly say as they started the plane, “at some point we’ll remove this cover on the bottom of the plane. You need to be sure you tie yourself onto the rope provided on the side and ya best hold on; things can get a little bumpy. I’ve never had a photographer fall out while taking pictures and don’t want you to be the first.” “You know, Celia,” he said as he looked into my eyes, “I might not have known what was next in my life, but I was always up for the challenge. I might not have been here today if I hadn’t taken that first unknown step.”
Years ago I read a book about Georgia O’Keefe.. her life as a painter and sculptor. She painted very differently from those painting at the time. She said she loved to paint the desert because most people over look the beauty of the desert. She eventually moved to Sante Fe, New Mexico. One of my favorite paintings of hers is titled “Sky Above the Clouds.” On a trip to Santa Fe to sing, I snuck away to visit the Georgia O’Keefe Art Museum. Words do it that painting justice. Over the years, I have seen her work in museums across the country but this was breathtaking. One of the great surprises was seeing the original artwork of Sky Above the Clouds. I was expecting a small painting and when I walked into the room where it was on display I was struck by its majesty. The painting is the size of the room… huge and filled … bold and beautiful. Painters of the nineteenth century had always painted clouds as if they were looking up at them… she painted them as she saw them from a plane. Crazy. Yet, again in her style she knew her next would not look like her now. I have a poster of one of her works and the bottom quote reads, “ I wasn’t going to spend my life doing what had already been done.”
As I buckle in to write my second book, I feel that way today. I’m not sure all that is ahead of me. I’m not sure if I’m going to be prepared, but really that has never stopped me before and it shouldn’t stop me or you now.
What’s next for us? Really, I have a new glimpses… a few ideas… one thing I’m sure of … it will be new and fresh… if I can help it… I’m just gonna tie myself on and hold on with all my might and see where I end up…. I invite you to do the same…
Happy Flying Friends, Celia
Jackie Street — June 17, 1959 – Feb 17, 2008
Before I moved to Nashville, I met Jackie Street at the Cooker–a restaurant. Jackie had a couple of restaurants that were considered his offices and I met him at his office. He always had time to stop at your table and give you a hug. I never saw him in a hurry. His own troubles never were the topic of his conversation. I want to be more like Jackie Street. Jackie was an incredible bass play who played on lots of live shows and on albums. (I’m using the term album to mean a collection–Jackie probably played on 8 tracks, vinyl, cassettes and CDs). I will miss Jackie.
Comments about Jackie on NashvilleMusicPros.com
Jackie’s song credits on AllMusic.com. I’d be VERY surprised if you haven’t heard Jackie play bass on one of these songs.
If you saw SNL on Saturday 2/23/08, Carrie Underwood’s bass player Mark Childers had “IMO (in Memory of) Jackie Street” written on his bass in big letters. Jackie’s family was told before the broadcast about the tribute and it was a nice gesture. Mark played on “Live Christ” and the rest of the CD in my book.
Jackie, Rest In Peace
On Directions
Who do you ask for directions? I had an experience last month that got me thinking.
I was returning from a visit with my friend Kathleen and I arrived early at my gate at the D/FW Airport, so I picked up breakfast from the McDonald’s in my terminal. Upon returning to my gate I noticed an empty information booth. It was perfect — no one was sitting there; it had a counter and a chair; it was near the door at my gate and it was near the main floor to the terminal. It would be a great place to enjoy my breakfast and to people-watch (or so I thought)! So I did what I normally do, I made myself at home. Placing my carry on bags underneath the booth, I took a seat and began eating my breakfast. Something funny happened. Instead of my watching people, people started watching me. Above my head was a sign that said, “information.” As folks walked by, they stopped. At first I thought, “surely they will know that I’m just at traveler, like them, stopping to eat my breakfast.” I mean come on my sausage biscuit was sitting right there next to my Starbucks. OK I love McDonalds breakfast… but Starbucks was a must! I guess they thought that I had some information they needed and they began to stop.
“Excuse me, do you know how to get to Terminal C?” As I looked up at a family of four, “Sure,” I answered. Catch the Skylink right behind this hallway and it will take you right there. It’s just two stops away and you’ll be there in no time,” I smiled.
A man came by wearing a “Life is Good” baseball cap on his head. “Say can you help me get to the extended parking? I’m having trouble remembering which bus to catch?” “Alright,” I said, “this one’s a little tough.” There was a map nearby and I said, “it might take a while, but be patient you’ll get there. The trams do come my quickly and when I’ve been away from my car for a while I have to stop and think ‘OK. now where did I leave you?’” And off he went.
A lovely retired couple came by asking how one might change a flights and leave a little later on another flight. Hmmmmm I knew they’d need a higher power. “You know what? You’ll need a gate agent to help you. I can’t do that one.” So I directed them to the nearest gate where a friendly agent quickly began to pull up their record and redirect there route home. After a while I picked up my biscuit and thought I might as well eat while I’m here. I called my friend Kathleen and I got so tickled as we laughed at how once again I had found myself in an interesting situation. I told her it was funny as I watched the family of four run off to catch the Skylink train to make their flight. They all smiled and waved at me, “hey thanks for the help.” “Have a fun trip,” I laughed. Kathleen and I giggled that I should leave while I could, before I sent someone in the wrong direction or gave out bad advice and made their trip worse.
One of my favorite movies as a child was “The Great Impostor (1961).” Tony Curtis starred in it. His character took on roles of different people. At times others thought him to be that person and they treated him as if he was. Once he was a doctor and once a warden of a prison. The funny thing is that he was good at his roles. He became who others thought of him to be. Instead of being just the impostor, he genuinely became that person and really was quite good at helping people and at making a difference. Yet he was always wondering if he would be discovered.
The role of information expert fell on me by accident and I don’t encourage pretending like someone you are not, but I felt a little bit like I was in that movie while I sat at that booth. I wondered if someone would finally see me for who I was. I was not the information lady, but someone waiting for a plane and eating my breakfast. I wondered if anyone from my flight had seen me at the booth and wondered “what in the world? What’s she doing? She can’t sit there. What information does she have that can help? There needs to be a qualified official information person in that chair.” I just smiled and thought, “you will have to tell it to the 25 people who I just helped along their way.”
I wonder how it can be that I’m the person being asked for directions when, I’m guessing much of the time. And there are moments when I think, “now I don’t have the answer for you, but I’m here with you and I can point you in a direction I’d look if I were you.”
Here’s the thing, you never know where you’ll find information about your direction and who might be the one to lead you there. God is using all of us. We are all instruments. Even if we don’t feel like we should be sitting in the information booth.
My desire is to move people and I think music is the way I’m called to do so. Sometimes it’s not just a moving of the heart or emotion, it’s more like pointing the way. How do I get from here to there? How do I get un-lost? How can I understand which way to go from here?
I have to tell you that as that family ran by, I had a moment when I thought, “this is it. This is my purpose… to help others on the way to somewhere.” I’m not sure how it works. I spend my days writing and singing songs, telling stories, taking morning walks, chatting over coffee, sharing great dinners, taking road trips, sharing music that I love with others, eating birthday cake to remember someone special, going to a water park, making and taking phone calls, making late trips to sit by a friend’s side and offering words of help and comfort. Sometimes — OK many times – it’s just about being there.
Who are you called to help? Who is your neighbor? Who is near you? Sometimes it is a proximity thing — Love God with all you heart, mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself. The best thing I had to share at that empty information booth that day was myself.
Blessings to you fellow travelers, I love you and my deepest prayer is that wherever these days lead you, that you will feel God’s loving arms around you and know as you journey that you are not alone.
Celia
PS To the guy looking for extended parking: I’m sorry if I didn’t say it at first, but you might have needed to have caught the bus on the lower level. I hope you made it to your car that day. Loved the hat. Life is good!
Just Because
A few nights ago I was helping my sons get ready for bed. I had Max (the oldest) do the usual routine: bath, put jammies on, brush teeth and make the last potty stop. Then I said, “find brother and tell him you love him just because.” So he did. Zach smiled as he hugged him and told him “ I love you.” Then it was Zach’s turn: bath, jammies, teeth, last trip to the potty and find your brother, tell him you love him just because. So he did. Did I mentioned after each declaration of love that the recipient was wrestled to the ground just to make sure they got the message. That was not what I envisioned. It was still one of those times when you remember what is important.
During a retreat I led last month, I sat with a girl who told me that she was struggling with her younger brother. She lamented that he was mean to her and he just didn’t get it. It was clear that she loved her brother deeply. She had learned how fragile life was and she wanted her eighth grade brother to get it. I said, “he’s just being a little brother. You keep telling him you love him, better yet show him how you feel. Find how what he likes to do and do it with him. Find out what he loves just because. Show him what it means to care about him and then love the brother you have today–the way he is right now. Make it about the giving. One day maybe he’ll look back and see the gift he has in you.” I encouraged her to see the gift today that she has in him.
She sent me a text message after the retreat. She said she had just returned from her brother’s band concert. He played drums. I told her about Max and Zach’s night. One day maybe I won’t have to remind them–they’ll just say it because. Because we need to use those words, because we all need to hear those words. At the end of our text conversation, I said, “sometimes the just because moments make all the other ones bearable.”
Isn’t that true? Think about it. Those people who do things for you just because, hold a special place in your heart and in mine. First, they get you what you love and they cherish it! Isn’t it wonderful to have someone know you? Do you have someone who knows what you love? Maybe they know your birthday.. your hard days.. your favorite things? To be known is not only important, it’s sacred. Second, they remember. Not only do they know, but they remember. Third, they follow through. Sometimes I do the first parts well, but I get lost in the third part… the doing. I watch, I listen, I file away, I stop, I ask, I may have the best intentions, but sometimes I don’t get to the finish line. That’s just crazy–I buy the card and forget to send it. I think of them during the day, but just don’t get to the phone to call them. Every once in a while, I remember and I do the right thing.! The look on their face, their voice on the phone when they received a card out of the blue just because. That is what it’s all about. I am a true believer that those moments of receiving carrying us through, because they’ve made the difference in my life.
Last month, I met a friend at the grocery store just because. I loved her and I tracked her down. As I walked through the check out with her, I thought about all the little things she has meant to me over the past years and about the ways I have been there for her. I know God was a part of my being in that grocery store. I also know that on that day, I was part of bringing God’s kingdom, in some small way. My week with her turned out to be just one of those weeks and really it began at the grocery check out aisle four.
A few days ago, I called a friend that came to mind. I had not talked with him in months and I just said, I’m not sure what’s going on but you were on my mind and I called to tell you I loved you just because I do. For a moment the phone was silent, then he said, “I’m not sure how you knew that today was a bit of a set back and a snag, but thanks for the call.” To know someone, to remember, to follow through, to be a part of their moments, to speak those words, to just do something for someone else is the thing. I know it is God’s work that we get to be small part of.
I encourage you to make some moments for someone esle this summer. — Celia
P.S. I have been thinking about writing this for a week and as I sat down to write, I received a card from another friend that started with two words, “Just because.”
Entertaining Angels
She stared directly at me and burned a hole in me with her dark brown eyes. She was holding her mother’s hand and lagging a little behind her mother’s pace. Her red dress was what first caught my eyes and then her face drew everything toward her. She really looked at me as if she knew me and knew all about my life. I wish I could use the right words to describe what I felt but in a minute I knew she knew me. Right there at gate C14, as I made my way to baggage claim, a 2-year-old named Sierra captivated me. Her mother walked by me and she turned her body around to look at me. She began waving and then stopped. I of course, stopped and said, I see you… you are beautiful. What’s your name? As I bent down to talk to her, she had stopped her mother as well. The mother’s eyes were gentle but tired and she smiled and said, Her name is Sierra. By then Sierra and I were in full embrace and I said again, “I see you and I love you.” I had been away from Max, Zach and Ron for days and I was so thankful for Sierra’s hug. As her mother began to pull away, Sierra motioned kisses to me in the air. an appropriate farewell for a 2 year old. Her hair covered in red ponytails, her white shoes, her red polka dot dress, as cute as they were, all paled in comparison to the countenance on her face–pure love.
Have you ever met anyone and see it shining from their faces? And then there’s the knowing… the real, genuine, truthful knowing that is exchanged in the connection. It was more than words shared, because to be honest, I was the only one talking. Her mother after sharing her named, sheepishly said, “thank you,” when I commented on her beauty. As they walked away, I stood and told Sierra “I’ll see you another day. Go with your Mamma, she’s a good Mamma and she loves you and I’ll see you another day. Sierra continued to blow kisses until finally she turned around to catch up with her mother’s stride.
As I made my way down the hallway toward baggage claim and toward my family I was thankful for the gift of our encounter. I have been pondering this season… all it means and all I still don’t comprehend about these holy days. This morning, Zach summed it up on the way to school. We were talking about Jesus and about Easter. We talked about how Jesus came to teach about God’s love and show us how much we are loved and he eventually died doing so. Zach one of my back seat theologians said, “yea, that Jesus loves us more than we can know.” That sums it up for me. Max and I agreed and I wished I had said it that way ‘cause it’s true.
Every once in a while I am reminded of how that love knows me, claims me, sustains me, invites me, embraces me and sees me. Like my meeting with Sierra. Out of nowhere I’m instantly reconnected and reminded and overwhelmed with more love than I can know. I wish that for you. If you see a little girl in a red polka dotted dress, don’t pass her by. She may be Christ’s messenger with a kiss or a hug for you on your journey. It is almost easier to forget to be on the lookout for the angels that live and visit us everyday as messengers of God’s love. Who knows, maybe God was using me that day to see Sierra and her mom and to be of an encourager for them along their way; just as they were to me.
As Paul is closing his letter to the Hebrews, he writes these words, “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:1-2 NRSV)
I sang for a leadership event for Calvary Community Church in the Los Angeles area last month. A small group of leaders and chosen influencers gathered to focus on making their church a more hospitable place. We talked about fun, we talked about being inviting and we talked about being on the lookout. One lady said it well when she said that she was much better at recognizing opportunities in her rear view mirror. I’m not sure how it works, but God is moving and I’m looking out my windshield at what’s coming. Join me on the lookout.
Love you, Celia
Peace
I was at the grocery store check-out … the self-check-out with my six year old Max when she passed by — a friend I hadn’t seen in several years. As we noticed each other, I left my post and my scanning job and hugged her neck. “How are you?” I asked. Immediately I knew the answer by the look in her eyes. It was a only few days before Thanksgiving. I was expecting, “busy, buying last minute baking supplies.” What she shared was unexpected. Her husband has cancer and his chemo was to start on Monday.
I now have totally abandoned my checking out duties and have turned it all over to Max, who, now that I think about it, was doing a fine job! Okay, normally I think I know what to say, but here’s what came out. “Could we get together and get a cup of coffee?” Why do I think Starbucks can cure anything? My dad was that way about hot tea. You could have pneumonia and he’d say, let me whip up some tea with a little honey and lemon–you’ll feel better. She laughed that you-silly-girl laugh, then she said, “I can’t imagine having time as I’ll use all my free time taking care of him.” Ugh, Celia
Then I said what I should have said first, as I grabbed her again, “I love you and I’m so sorry. What can I do? ” Her eyes filled with tears. My eyes filled with tears and the music in the background was little beeps from Max finishing up my scanning. Ahhh and here comes Christmas with all its jolliness and bright lights and me suggesting a chat over coffee and Christmas carols in the background.
Recently, I was with some other friends and I helped them with their family Christmas photo. I stood behind the photographer as he took their picture. I saw this beautiful family in front of me. When I tell you they were model material, I’m not kidding — any clothing store ad people would love this photo on their catalog cover — scarfs, hats, smiles, snow and I thought of pictures I’ve taken in years past. Beneath the smiles and poses there was so much more going on. My friend could have just smiled and told me that everything was great and I would never have known, but she didn’t. She really gave me a gift by telling me the whole story. Her smile quickly turned to tears as she shared the whole truth about this season for her family.
Okay, I am not saying we should slap a warning sticker on our Christmas portrait that says “objects appear happier than they are.” That can’t happen but it would be a fair warning.
Last year taking Max & Zach’s picture in front of the Christmas tree was a bit of a stretch. One of them kicked the other one and someone got poked in the eye. The whole time, I’m trying to get the perfect shot. “Boys… boys… stop that… look my way… smile… big… Max leave your brother alone… oh my Lord, you’ve got to be kidding.” I’m just trying to get both of them in the frame…. forget the smiles!
As I am writing this, I’m listening to “The Best of Michael McDonald.:The Christmas Collection.” When I say it has my favorite Christmas song, I am not kidding. The title is “Peace” and I can barely listen to it without crying. Michael and Beth Nielson Chapman wrote this incredible song. It is everything I wish for my friend in the checkout line, for those friends who took the Christmas picture, really, for all of us this season — is we will all find peace.
That I would fall to my knees this Christmas before the Christ child… become so real, so genuine this year with all that I offer Christ the only gift he needs and the only sacrifice I can truly make — all of me. The smiles me… the I’m hiding something me… Celia who lets others in me; the Celia who cares to share and know that what is behind the picture me….the Celia who tries to fix things with coffee me and the Celia who can’t fix it me….
In Christmas past it did seem easier when all I wanted was an easy bake oven, but Christ offers you and me much more than what we want, what we need this season ….may that peace be born in each of our hearts this Christmas.
May my friend find that peace as she begins this unknown journey and may Christ sustain her through these days. And you and I, may our picture be one filled with love–love we receive and love we unconditionally give. Not that our picture would just look like love, but may our lives be overflowing with God’s joy and may we know the source of that joy – a relationship with each other that is so real and rich that we grab each other and hold on and a relationship with the One who is holding on to us–who knows and loves us best. That one I believe is the Christ child.
on bad days
One of my favorite books is “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst. Alexander has a bad day that begins with waking up with gum in his hair. His day included: no toy in his cereal, getting demoted to third-best by his number one best friend, kissing on TV and lima beans for supper. He finally says he’s going to Australia and his mom in her wisdom says, “some days are like that, even in Australia.”
A few days ago, I started my day by hitting my big toe on a box in my office, first thing in the morning. Ouch! Then, I couldn’t find my car keys. I looked all the places I’ve lost them in the past, I recalled all the places I’d been in the last days, I even dropped by a few and asked about my keys. I always got the same answer, “Oh no, how are you driving now?” Ugh! A few years ago Ron came to me and said, “Celia, I love you, I adore you, but I can’t look for your keys anymore.” What he didn’t realize is that it makes me crazy, too. I have a special place where they are suppose to hang, but did I put them there? Okay, I checked one more time, but no. Maybe if I moved to Australia I wouldn’t need keys.
Next I dropped Max, my new first grader, off on his first big day of school and as I was talking to his teacher about helping in the classroom, she shooed me on my way, and said we’ll be fine. I know she didn’t mean to shoo me. If she knew me she wouldn’t shoo me. Really I taught school, I know what it means to teach them independence, but today he asked if I’d walk him to class and I thought, while I’m here I’ll make myself available. Last year several parents were in and out of kindergarten with learning centers, reading to the class and helping out in the room. When the moms this year talked about how different it would be, I assumed they were talking about themselves, not me. I wanted to say to his new teacher, “I get that he’s bigger now. Trust me, I’m fine, but you might like some help.” About that time, she smiled and closed the door. So I smiled at the closed door and walked slowly to my car. With my spare set of keys in hand, all the while trying to figure out how this year is going to work. Okay, so I felt a little hurt that I’d been shooed. I knew I wouldn’t spend much time in his twelfth grade classroom, I just didn’t anticipate that beginning this year, in the first grade. I made my way home and instead of getting to all the work on my desk. I revisited my quest for, you guessed it, my keys. Ron looked for keys, he really does love me. Then the babysitter came by to watch Zach a little and to get her last paycheck of the summer. I forgot about my keys for a bit. I made some phone calls, bought some airline tickets and did some paper work in my office.
Soon it was time to pick up Max from school. He is a car rider and if you have ever picked up an elementary student from school at the beginning of the year, you know that Australia looks pretty good compared to that line. I grabbed a peach for me and a snack for Max, said goodbye to both Zach and the sitter, hopped in my car, put it in reverse and thought to myself, “I’ll get to school early and talk to the moms about the shooing and my quest for keys.” As I backed up, I checked my rearview mirror, not remembering Zach had adjusted it for his height. I saw the pecan tree in our yard and thought I was clear for take off. As I was backing up, I heard a loud thud and felt a jolt. “Where was the babysitters car parked?” I thought quickly to myself. No, no, no! As I jumped out of the car, Ron greeted meet at the scene. Then the crying and wailing began, “I’m so sorry.” It was only a little ding in her hood, but one I knew would need professional undinging. What’s wrong with me? Why am I not in Australia? As I walked back into the kitchen, I was the one who felt like a teenager. The sitter smiled and said, “I put one of the dents in the front, so don’t feel so bad.” Her smile and hug was a comical relief. Oh, did I mention she was packed to leave to go to college tomorrow morning?” “Yea,” she laughed. We laughed together until her cell phone rang. It was her dad checking in. We all froze. “Ok give me the phone,” I said, and I greeted him with the news. Ok he didn’t laugh, but of course said, “Celia it’ll be okay.” Hold the rest of my calls, because I’m considering having lunch with a Koala Bear. Ron rode with me to get Max from school. I wiped my eyes and mustered a smile as I saw one of the moms. She yelled, “coffee tomorrow morning at Bean Town, the local coffee shop.” Okay, I said over the car. As Max got into the car, we hugged. I told him about the crazy thing mom did and that I was thinking about Alexander and his story and about going to Australia. Max said to me, “some days are like that.” We both cracked up laughing, and he gave me a hug and told me the best thing and the not-so-best thing about his day.
As I sat and recanted this day for your encouragement, it was quite late in the evening and I couldn’t sleep. I wandered into my home office to find a #2 pencil and made my way to our guest bedroom to read. On the nightstand sat my dad’s pocket watch and the book I was finishing by Margaret Becker. It’s called “Coming Up For Air” and it has been just the right thing for this season. I read the last chapter and Margaret shared about the death of her mom and her journey through those days. On the last page she recalls a thought her mom shared with her one day, “the good Lord gave us only this day, M. Make something of it.”
I reflected on the day I’d had. I looked down at my dad’s watch in my hand and thought, “what’s really precious, Celia?” For me, real life is primarily not about my stubbed big toe, or my losing keys, or my being shooed out of first grade class, or about accidents involving cars. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s the small things that take the wind out of my sails, not the big ones. Misplacing my emphasis makes the little things become big things. It’s about my losing sight of the fullness of love in my life–the loss of perspective. What I know to be important, is to love and to be loved. That is pure, rich and precious. Sharing something that is real, something like a smile on a friend’s face when they just rear-ended your car or like a hug from last year’s teacher, who I adored–She and I agreed, we’re all gonna be okay this new year. I know I’ll love this new teacher just as much — shooing and all. A wave from a mom reminds me that I’m not in this alone. A reminder from Max of the best and not so bewt things in our day and every once in a while, there are some days without not-so-best parts–I love those days! God is in the midst of each moment and I am so thankful for this day–even this day. It was one of my days I realize what a gift it is, even the little things, so I must embrace it all.
The next morning I had coffee with six of the moms whose children shared a kindergarten class last year. We laughed about my being shooed. They shared their stories of running into things with their cars. I got up to refill my coffee cup and glanced back as their laughter filled the room and I realized that I was grateful, even for the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. Some days are like that, even in Franklin, Tennessee. Australia will have to wait for another day. I’m off to make something of this new one, and I invite you to make something of yours. Enjoy!
Psalm 118:24 This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Ciao, Celia
P.S. I found my keys, tucked away in a corner right where I left them.
Summertime
This past week Ron and I and our boys drove through a town called Many, (pronounced man–ee) in west-central Louisiana. It is a town where I lived as a young girl. I was amazed at how some things had not changed and others were frozen in time. I showed Max and Zach my house, and the backyard where I made snow angels (the story’s on page 32 in my book). The yard still looked big to me. I showed them the stump of the former tree where I carved my name with the name of the boy I liked and wanted to kiss “Celia + Scott”. I showed them another huge tree that used to have a rope in it. I remember swinging out over onto the roof of an old shed until one of the neighborhood boys went through the roof. That incident ended our Tarzan reenactments. I showed them the hill that my friends and I rode our bikes down. It used to seem enormous. I showed them the old Sabine Theater where I used to watch John Wayne movies and the good old make-you-ugly-cry movies like Old Yeller and Where the Red Fern Grows. We retraced the path where I used to ride my bike and buy a Richie Rich comic book and fudge ripple ice cream cone. I showed them the Baptist church where I played basketball and the water tower that sprung a huge leak one summer and the kids in our neighborhood all played in the water for hours. That tower seems to have shrunk. I showed them the Catholic Church that had an after school program. They had ping pong and pool tables and we would play every week there. I showed them the church that my dad served First United Methodist Church. It was where I learned “Hallelu, Hallelu, Praise Ye the Lord” and “If I Were A Butterfly, I’d thank you, Lord” and “Do Lord” and many other songs. It was where I attended Vacation Bible School with my friends and where my girl scout troop met. I showed them where the Middleton sisters lived and I know why I love old Victorian homes so much. They had a Victorian home across the street from the library and we drank tea on their porch and they had a basket of children’s books for me to read.
I remember my last summer in Many. It was summer of 1975 and I was on a quest. My friend Annette and I were working toward a pair of Icee towels. You had to save proof of purchase coupons clipped from the cups. You could earn a beach towel from Icee and we each wanted a towel. We had to mail in one hundred Icee coupons and three dollars for each towel. (According to Icee.com, the beach towel is now 500 points and $20). For weeks we rode our bikes around town looking and gathering coke bottles to redeem for a nickel each. We used the money to buy Icees and toward the $3. We had a system–we’d collect, clean and then trade them for our money. I can’t tell you how long this process took, but in the middle of that summer, our towels finally arrived. We would display them proudly at our local swimming pool or in my back yard with our slip and slide. I still have that towel today. I spent those summers with my best friends–Annette, Barbara, Sandra, Pam, Jill, Rebecca and I have fond memories of our time together.
At another recent stop in southwest Louisiana, I helped my boys catch green lizards with a friend Noah in his yard. Last week I smiled at their response after I caught one on the side of Noah’s house. Zach said, “My mom’s caught those guys before.” All I could do is smile as I put the lizard in their bug cage. “You bet I have guys … and it’s always fun!” (Incidentally, no lizards were harmed in the making of this newsletter. They were set free that evening to find their families and friends. We’re all about catch and release.)
A few days ago I received an email forward from Debbie, a friend in my book club. It was simply titled “do you remember when?” I rarely have time to sit and read email forwards and hardly ever take the time to forward them on, but this one was good and it got me thinking.
I remember … when summer lasted forever and I took my shoes off last day of school and didn’t put them back on till I had to go back to school after Labor Day, …lying on my back in the grass with friends and saying things like, “That cloud looks like a…” …eating watermelons, …snow cones (rainbow was my favorite flavor), …staying up late to watch a meteor shower, …playing tag until it was too dark to see, …making promises and keeping them, …sleep-overs, …homemade/hand churned peach ice cream; …climbing trees and riding on the handlebars of a bike with a banana seat, …shucking corn and shelling peas on my grandmother’s porch, …baseball cards in the spokes transforming your bike into a motorcycle, …water balloons fights, …catching fireflies for an entire evening.
As I reflect on summers gone by, the thing I remember the fondest is the goodness of it all–the simple blessings that I received. I enjoyed walking my sons down my memory lane and reflecting. As I recounted my memories to Max, Zach and Ron, we talked about what we are loving about our current summer. What made those times special and what makes today special are the people I am spending my days with and making time for simple things. Think about it. I’ll bet it’s true for you as well. Make some time to play today and make it a wonder-filled summer . . Celia
PS I had to pause in the midst of writing this devotional thought to retrieve a toad frog from under the couch, the adventure continues.
Sometimes it’s just right
Some things just feel right. Last week I came home from traveling and decided I’d spend some time with my four year old, Zach, while Max was in school instead of spending much needed time in the office. Ron told of Max and Zach dragging Ron’s golf clubs into the front yard and chipping golf balls over the weekend (while I was away). This morning, Zach suggested that he and I play golf. The weather had finally taken the turn I was waiting for—a spring warm-up. I love warm, growing up in Louisiana, I know hot. Last month I was in Wisconsin and I know it’s warm that I love. It was sunny, starting to turn springy and Zach and I chased the little white ball a bit. As we got outside, he handed me a wedge . . .
I remember my first round of golf. Several years ago, I was in Alamogordo, NM for a youth event. The youth director, Wes, and the choir director, Mike, asked me what we should do on one of our days off. They suggested golf. I said, “I love golf.” They picked me up and we headed off to Cloudcroft Golf Course, which was a beautiful course with lovely homes lining the fairways. As we drove toward the course, I learned that they played together almost every week. Looking back, our experience was pretty comical, especially the first tee. As we arrived, we rented a set of clubs for me, got me a box of balls and a cart. Mike hit a screaming drive and then Wes really got a hold of his first shot. They were both perfectly situated in the middle of the fairway. We headed to the ladies’ tee and as I prepared to tee up my ball, I said, “Ok, how do you play?” They were surprised and I said, “You didn’t know I didn’t play?” They were both shocked. “Well, I am a youth director’s wife — I have a lot of miniature golf experience, but I just know I’ll enjoy and excel at this game.” After they picked their jaws up from the cart-path, they proceeded to teach me how to play. Once I was told I was holding my club too tightly. So I compensated and as I swung, I remember my driver flying out of my hands. It must have looked like an episode of the three stooges. I spent the next few holes trying to make my ball go as far as that driver had. Once I remember picking my ball up and throwing it farther than my best drive. Eighteen holes make a long game for a rookie. Let’s just say that several groups played through. I have to say they were really good sports about the whole day and to many of your surprise, those guys are still my friends to this day.
Upon returning home to the Dallas area from my New Mexico trip, Ron couldn’t believe I didn’t tell them I didn’t know how to play. “Well they didn’t ask me, if I knew how to play. They said, ‘Do you like golf?’ I answered, ‘I love it’ and that was true.'” During our years in Dallas, I encouraged Ron’s friends to let me tag-a-long on their golf outings. One of my favorite teachers was named Bob. He was an attorney and we’d play with him and his two sons, Bobby and Ryan. He always had great tips and I was pretty good at taking his advice. I remember the first time I really got a hold of a ball. I remember the sound it made. And I remember how my grip felt unusual at first, yet I really connected and it was a great shot for my experience level. I did a victory dance. When you hit one great shot, you want to keep on playing. Bob was also there to watch me blow up on a hole. He always had a quick comment or joke for me and he has this explosive. Anyone who knows him will tell you how infectious that laugh is. The game was just never about the score. Bob was my favorite golf counselor. For me the whole day was about enjoying his company and his smile. The golf tips were just lagniappe, (that’s French for a little something extra.) Bob’s way of just gently teaching –he taught with loving eyes, you know, eyes that smiled and laughed and made you feel special while teaching you something. That’s it–he’d say when I really hit one. Then when I’d mess up, he’d smile and say that’s golf. The thing I looked forward to was our time with Bob and his humor and delight in love of our time together, much more than a golf lesson.
When we moved to Tennessee, I continue to play a little here and there I dusted off some old golf clubs of my dad’s and entered the game. I still tagged along when I got the chance. Somehow, my grip changed. I got more and more comfortable with it and yet my game didn’t improve–it got worse. Once my sons came along, I didn’t play for a number of years.
Looking back, playing with those first two guys in New Mexico and our youth worker guys in Texas, and with our friends here in Tennessee, I was the only girl. I should have been the odd person out, but I never felt like I was. My memories of those days spent together on the course were that some things just feel right. You breathe differently, you’re at ease. The company builds you up and you leave better. It had had very little to do with the golf, it was about spending time with great people.
Now, here I was in my front yard. As I showed Zach how to hold a club, keep your head down, loosen your knees, and see where you want the ball to go. Follow through all the way. I can still hear Bob’s words for me and his laugh. The thing I loved most were those days getting to know him and his family. The golf was good, but the family was much better. Losing your ball in the woods, getting stuck in a sand trip, hitting your last ball into the water, like that scene in “Tin Cup,” riding in his cart. I don’t even remember what we talked about, but it fit–like getting a good grip. Something was just right about it. I don’t know what made it so, but I have a feeling it was mostly just being with Bob. Zach brings my focus back to the game and says, “you try one, mommy!” Well I just teed it up and let it go and off it went. It was a beautiful shot over our Magnolia tree that stands near our mailbox. “Wow,” Zach yelled. Hey let’s see if I can really get something going. We live on an acre lot, so I teed up diagonally across the yard. My old grip was back! Long before I changed, changed, changed, I remember Bob’s words, and almost hit the mailbox. On my second shot, returning from the mailbox, I overshot my target and it bounced toward the street. “Mom, that was great,” Zach proclaimed. Just as Ron came out to check on us. “Celia, what in the world? The other day when Zach and I played, I wasn’t hitting them full out. You could hit someone’s house or a car.” “Yeah,” Zach laughed thinking that might be good for a laugh.
I told Zach about some guys who play golf a lot better than mommy like Tiger Woods, and a couple of Louisiana fellows Hal Sutton and David Toms. Like mommy’s a song maker-upper they play golf as their work. Zach said, “next time can we invite them over to hit golf balls to our mailbox?” Next time, we just might. As Zach and I picked up the golf balls and found my last one, in the bushes, I smiled as I realized more than my grip what really felt right was time spent with Zach–real, uninterrupted time. Like golf, sometimes you just don’t connect, the more I over-think things, the worse it is and sometimes, it’s just right. When it clicks, it seems that I’m remembering the importance stuff and forgetting all the other stuff and I’m amazed. Important stuff–like hanging out, doing something together. Time–I do know this life is like a vapor. So friends soak it up and hit some golf balls with your mom, dad, children or friends. Turn off the TV and do something together. Hear stories, tell jokes, laugh, be together, fish, dance, play a game, talk some friends into teaching you something new–thanks, Wes & Mike! Like snowboarding, or playing spades or bunco or crocheting or joining a book club. Because my theory is that Life is too LONG not to enjoy it. You too may finds that “it’s a fit and it feels just right.”