It's official.
I am a sap. And a girl at that.
We were watching a movie tonight and I unexpectedly found myself in tears wishing there were superheroes to make it all better.
Not one of my finest moments, but at the same time, I realize that we all want to believe there is someone out there who can and will make it all better for us if they only knew our personal plight.
Powerful and strong, the superhero could make right the wrongs and punish the evil-doers and malefactors of the world in the way that would set a rich example for those tempted to follow in unsavory footsteps.
Saving planes from crashing, trains from jumping their tracks and terror from happening by sheer force of will and superb physical training, these superheroes would make the world a better place and keep things from going awry.
But superheroes don't usually show up in capes and flashy boots when trouble happens. And powerful men and women of extra-worldly skill don't inhabit my neck of the woods.
What I do see are people who bring tears to my eyes in ways that beat a sappy movie any day.
The men and women who change things for the better around them in quiet but important ways who don't get noticed unless something 'doesn't' happen.
I've wondered sometimes if we could see each other with that all powerful x-ray vision or whatever it takes to reveal who we really are, just what we would see in each other. The good stuff that makes other people's day just a little better by a single degree. The times when our light shines brighter and illuminates the path for someone who might be struggling with their own personal crisis. Those moments when we lay aside the Atlas hold we have on our personal world and shoulder the load of another in a superhero pose for just a little bit...
We don't get press agents to reveal 'our glory' and when we trumpet it ourselves, there is a tinny, hollow ring to our own words that reveals us for the patched and second rate thrill seeking shams that we are.
Superheroes in the movies don't seem to bask in the adulation. They seem to be somewhat abashed and self-effacing when it comes to their personal appearances and their skills.
People who are truly great men and women take a page from that book, too. They just step into that role as powerful beings to intercede for those in crisis, then slip back into their everyday clothes and routine as quietly as they can. They don't thrive on attention, they are content to feel good for someone else and to have that special feeling of having done something for another who needed them for a moment in time.
When I reflect back on the seemingly endless batallion of people who have made my life better by degrees, I see capes and boots and utility belts with special pouches for all of the elements that have saved me in crisis or peril.
They don't see them on their own person, because that's what a real hero is - someone who just does what needs to be done, then moves on. No applause, no big deal, happy to hear 'thank you' and just fade out and let you shoulder the load once again - stronger, better and whole.
So while I cry a bit at movies that make me feel good about heroes, I cry genuine tears of thanks for the men and women who are heroes in real life that don't even know who they are.
April 3, 2009
April 2, 2009
Not What the Manufacturer Intended...
The expectation when we purchase a product is that it will perform at or above our expectations. Sometimes, that isn't exactly what we get and to disastrous consequences. Other times the products exceed our wildest imagination and take on a life of their own.
Such is the saga of products which have, over time, passed through my life and the lives of family members whom I hold dear.
When we were just kids, Momma had done all of the shopping and everything was put away after a typical station wagon load of grocery purchases and errands. Late that night, we all realized to our dismay that she had forgotten to buy the TP. She was pretty sad about it too, with visions of 'alternative wiping materials' flashing through her head and toward the linen closet.
So Daddy dutifully went to the one store that was open that late at night, which was a truck stop that also had some grocery items. This was a real emergency and price was no object! We needed relief!
Price is ALWAYS an object to Daddy. He grew up during the Great Depression and learned firsthand what it means to make sacrifices and choices that meant the difference between what HAD to happen and what was just a nice idea. Money conscious and careful in his purchase, he returned home to us - the crowd of people hopping on one foot while waiting patiently for our turn in the bathroom - with the treasured paper.
He opened the paper shopping bag to reveal BROWN toilet paper which proudly proclaimed that it was made from recycled paper. (Needless to say, the jokes about THAT issue were profuse...just what kind of paper had they recycled to give it that dubious color?)
It had, and I am NOT making this up, little bits of what can only be described as bark and wood slivers visible in the weave of the coarse paper.
The strange part was that these rolls of TP was almost as rough as sand paper, it had NO perforations to tear it and it (almost) required your foot on the roll to rip off the paper in your hand. Have you ever tried to stay balanced atop the potty while placing your foot delicately on the roller to steady it so that you can apply all of your strength to rip off a piece of TP sufficient to the task at hand without rolling off of the toilet seat and onto the bathroom floor?
Talk about 'Industrial strength' TP! This stuff was made to last!
This was the early seventies. Recycling and saving the planet all while hugging a tree was in vogue. However, the quality of this particular product didn't enhance my opinion of saving the planet anything. It gave me more than a bit of pause about the alleged 'biodegradable' indicator on the label.
If it was this hard to rip off the roll, it might well NEVER decompose and generations of archaeologists of future times would have a museum piece to rival whatever is discovered in Ancient Egypt! I just didn't want to know about it...
Us girls decided that truckers must have less sensitive hind parts than most of the rest of the world. Since the truck drivers of the world are on a tight schedule and seldom sleep, it only figures that they are not the frilly type who would secretly squeeze the Charmin.
But all homilies aside, the toilet paper saw us through until a more adequate purchase could be made. Daddy kidded us and grumbled that we used 'a lot less toilet paper' and we could save a bundle of money if we kept buying that brand. He had this theory that we used entire rolls of TP for each bathroom trip.
Well, Dad...you DO have 4 females in the house to counter the 2 males and a dog who obviously isn't interested in how soft ANY toilet paper might be...
But this isn't the end of our saga of money saving and cost effective purchasing that neglects the comfort factor. Oh, no.
Cantrece.
All I have to do is say the word and watch my older sister dissolve into a helpless fit of laughter.
Cantrece No-Run Pantyhose.
Yeah. Now that's a great idea, right? Uh, not so much.
After weeks on end of purchasing new hose for one or the other females of the household after each church service, Daddy went to David Lee's on the Square. This place had adequate clothing and accessories. If you didn't care which decade they came from and were only concerned about prices. Naturally, this is the point in which we enter the story. I don't want to give you the wrong impression. All of the clothing and other items we were given while growing up were modest, decent and trendy. But they were not meant to be budget busters. With a houseful of kids to feed, clothe, provide medical care and braces for, Daddy and Momma had to pinch pennies until Abe Lincoln not only screamed, but passed out in frustration. We were considered "well turned-out" when it came to our attire. But there were times that fashion and reality clashed.
Enter the Cantrece No-Run Pantyhose. Guaranteed not to rip, sag, run, tear or wear down at the heel, these pantyhose most certainly seemed to be a harried parent's dream! To a teenage girl...try nightmare.
They came in one color. A reddish Beige.
NO ONE IS BEIGE!
NO ONE!
Not even the lovely mannequins who adorn the ladies department and upon whom some hapless sales girl had actually placed a pair of these guaranteed sure-fire sales winners. I just want to know, did the mannequin like the fit...?
But I digress...
Now, the object of purchasing these packages of hosiery was to stop the red ink from flowing across the balance sheet based on emergency purchases of hosiery. They were, after all, guaranteed for full replacement or your money back if they ripped, ran, snagged, tore or wore down at the heel.
I want to meet the evil person who designed them. They lived up to their guarantee all right.
They were made out of cloth that can only be described as a type of sandpaper, light grade, suitable for exfoliating your legs while you walked. They were beige and matched nothing in your entire wardrobe, including your skin.
Nothing deterred them. Fingernails couldn't penetrate the weave and no amount of yanking or pulling would destroy their beige wonder. Week after week, these hose lived like a Frankensteinian monster on two legs. They would not die!
Now, we were grateful to have pantyhose. But we were also conscious of the fact that there were other colors, other weaves and softer material. But sadly, these brands DID run, snag, rip and tear.
So the Cantrece pantyhose lived on...and on...and on.
I don't recall when they finally gave up the ghost or under what circumstances.
It appears that I have some sort of mental defect there. Perhaps I drank some Milk of Amnesia or something.
But I do know that eventually, the "L'eggs Eggs" made their way into our lives followed by the little plastic envelopes of "No Nonsense" and a host of other brands.
Now that we are all adults, the only thing that I know for sure is that if we ever want to have a discussion that dissolves into hilarity at the drop of a word, all we need say is 'brown TP' or 'Cantrece'.
Don't you wish your childhood had been so rich?
Such is the saga of products which have, over time, passed through my life and the lives of family members whom I hold dear.
When we were just kids, Momma had done all of the shopping and everything was put away after a typical station wagon load of grocery purchases and errands. Late that night, we all realized to our dismay that she had forgotten to buy the TP. She was pretty sad about it too, with visions of 'alternative wiping materials' flashing through her head and toward the linen closet.
So Daddy dutifully went to the one store that was open that late at night, which was a truck stop that also had some grocery items. This was a real emergency and price was no object! We needed relief!
Price is ALWAYS an object to Daddy. He grew up during the Great Depression and learned firsthand what it means to make sacrifices and choices that meant the difference between what HAD to happen and what was just a nice idea. Money conscious and careful in his purchase, he returned home to us - the crowd of people hopping on one foot while waiting patiently for our turn in the bathroom - with the treasured paper.
He opened the paper shopping bag to reveal BROWN toilet paper which proudly proclaimed that it was made from recycled paper. (Needless to say, the jokes about THAT issue were profuse...just what kind of paper had they recycled to give it that dubious color?)
It had, and I am NOT making this up, little bits of what can only be described as bark and wood slivers visible in the weave of the coarse paper.
The strange part was that these rolls of TP was almost as rough as sand paper, it had NO perforations to tear it and it (almost) required your foot on the roll to rip off the paper in your hand. Have you ever tried to stay balanced atop the potty while placing your foot delicately on the roller to steady it so that you can apply all of your strength to rip off a piece of TP sufficient to the task at hand without rolling off of the toilet seat and onto the bathroom floor?
Talk about 'Industrial strength' TP! This stuff was made to last!
This was the early seventies. Recycling and saving the planet all while hugging a tree was in vogue. However, the quality of this particular product didn't enhance my opinion of saving the planet anything. It gave me more than a bit of pause about the alleged 'biodegradable' indicator on the label.
If it was this hard to rip off the roll, it might well NEVER decompose and generations of archaeologists of future times would have a museum piece to rival whatever is discovered in Ancient Egypt! I just didn't want to know about it...
Us girls decided that truckers must have less sensitive hind parts than most of the rest of the world. Since the truck drivers of the world are on a tight schedule and seldom sleep, it only figures that they are not the frilly type who would secretly squeeze the Charmin.
But all homilies aside, the toilet paper saw us through until a more adequate purchase could be made. Daddy kidded us and grumbled that we used 'a lot less toilet paper' and we could save a bundle of money if we kept buying that brand. He had this theory that we used entire rolls of TP for each bathroom trip.
Well, Dad...you DO have 4 females in the house to counter the 2 males and a dog who obviously isn't interested in how soft ANY toilet paper might be...
But this isn't the end of our saga of money saving and cost effective purchasing that neglects the comfort factor. Oh, no.
Cantrece.
All I have to do is say the word and watch my older sister dissolve into a helpless fit of laughter.
Cantrece No-Run Pantyhose.
Yeah. Now that's a great idea, right? Uh, not so much.
After weeks on end of purchasing new hose for one or the other females of the household after each church service, Daddy went to David Lee's on the Square. This place had adequate clothing and accessories. If you didn't care which decade they came from and were only concerned about prices. Naturally, this is the point in which we enter the story. I don't want to give you the wrong impression. All of the clothing and other items we were given while growing up were modest, decent and trendy. But they were not meant to be budget busters. With a houseful of kids to feed, clothe, provide medical care and braces for, Daddy and Momma had to pinch pennies until Abe Lincoln not only screamed, but passed out in frustration. We were considered "well turned-out" when it came to our attire. But there were times that fashion and reality clashed.
Enter the Cantrece No-Run Pantyhose. Guaranteed not to rip, sag, run, tear or wear down at the heel, these pantyhose most certainly seemed to be a harried parent's dream! To a teenage girl...try nightmare.
They came in one color. A reddish Beige.
NO ONE IS BEIGE!
NO ONE!
Not even the lovely mannequins who adorn the ladies department and upon whom some hapless sales girl had actually placed a pair of these guaranteed sure-fire sales winners. I just want to know, did the mannequin like the fit...?
But I digress...
Now, the object of purchasing these packages of hosiery was to stop the red ink from flowing across the balance sheet based on emergency purchases of hosiery. They were, after all, guaranteed for full replacement or your money back if they ripped, ran, snagged, tore or wore down at the heel.
I want to meet the evil person who designed them. They lived up to their guarantee all right.
They were made out of cloth that can only be described as a type of sandpaper, light grade, suitable for exfoliating your legs while you walked. They were beige and matched nothing in your entire wardrobe, including your skin.
Nothing deterred them. Fingernails couldn't penetrate the weave and no amount of yanking or pulling would destroy their beige wonder. Week after week, these hose lived like a Frankensteinian monster on two legs. They would not die!
Now, we were grateful to have pantyhose. But we were also conscious of the fact that there were other colors, other weaves and softer material. But sadly, these brands DID run, snag, rip and tear.
So the Cantrece pantyhose lived on...and on...and on.
I don't recall when they finally gave up the ghost or under what circumstances.
It appears that I have some sort of mental defect there. Perhaps I drank some Milk of Amnesia or something.
But I do know that eventually, the "L'eggs Eggs" made their way into our lives followed by the little plastic envelopes of "No Nonsense" and a host of other brands.
Now that we are all adults, the only thing that I know for sure is that if we ever want to have a discussion that dissolves into hilarity at the drop of a word, all we need say is 'brown TP' or 'Cantrece'.
Don't you wish your childhood had been so rich?
April 1, 2009
April Fool's
Teachers must hate April 1st. Students revel in the mischief they can create and the aftermath of raucous laughter that follows a well executed practical joke.
Seldom are jokes really 'practical' in nature. They are more pratfal and frat house than practicality and common sense.
Of course, not all jokes are reserved for April 1st. A few I've heard of were right up there in the annals of best ever.
There was a rather obnoxious football player who was always abusing and tormenting the other players on the team. Finally, the equipment manager, who was a too frequent target for this other young man's dubious attempts at humor, had enough.
It was well known that the football player never washed his sox or his jock. Superstition led him to believe it gave him extra power over the other team. Yeah, that power is B.O., buddy!
But in the waning days of the season, the equipment manager saw his opportunity. Carefully applying a thin layer of unscented therapy balm to the inside of the jock, he kept to himself, did his job and waited until the fun began.
During the heat of the game, the temperature both in the air and inside the jock rose to uncomfortable levels. Anyone who has used one of those balms knows that heat intensifies the chemical reaction, sometimes to uncomfortable levels.
Well, the desired result was achieved and the football player was compelled to depart in haste from the field to try and shower off the offending substance that was creating a new and unpleasant sensation for him.
No lasting harm was done and although he couldn't prove it was the equipment manager who had done the deed since others had been victims of his cruel humor, he certainly stepped more lightly around the manager afterwards.
Pretty evil in its intent, huh?
Well, tamer stuff has also created havoc personally for intended targets. Here are some cheesy and well used favorites:
Rig the Sprayer
Put a rubber band around the push button of the spray nozzle (the kind with a hose) so the button stays down. Point it forward. When the victim uses the sink they will get a wet surprise!
Drippy
Use a pin to make a few small holes in a plastic disposable cup. Offer a drink to the victim and watch while the liquid dribbles out onto their shirt.
Do the Splits
Find a scrap of cloth. Place a dollar on the floor and stay nearby. When the victim comes by and bends down to pick up the dollar, rip the cloth loudly. Most people will reach back to see if they ripped their pants. One of the original classic April Fool's pranks of all time!
Forgetful
Tape magnets to the bottom of an empty coffee cup, and attach it to the top of your car. Laugh at all the people who frantically try to get your attention as you drive by.
Tidal Wave
Take about 20 (or more) paper or plastic cups, place them on the victim’s desk and fill them with water. Then take a stapler and staple them all together. You can also put the cups on the floor blocking their door, or just about anywhere.
While You Were Out
Leave a phone message for the victim that says that a “Mr. Lyon” called (or Mr. Behr also works), and wants to be called back. Then list the phone number of the local zoo.
Mouse Trap
Take a Post-It note and place it over the eye of the victim’s optical mouse. When the victim tries to use his or her computer, the cursor won’t move. Be sure to write “April Fools!” on the note!
Of course, I wouldn't suggest doing any of these pranks as that would be beneath us both.
But in the interest of history, here is information about how April Fool's Day is alleged to have begun:
The history of April Fool's Day or All Fool's Day is uncertain, but the current thinking is that it began around 1582 in France with the reform of the calendar under Charles IX. The Gregorian Calendar was introduced, and New Year's Day was moved from March 25 - April 1 (new year's week) to January 1.
Communication traveled slowly in those days and some people were only informed of the change several years later. Still others, who were more rebellious refused to acknowledge the change and continued to celebrate on the last day of the former celebration, April 1. These people were labeled "fools" by the general populace, were subject to ridicule and sent on "fool errands," sent invitations to nonexistent parties and had other practical jokes played upon them.
The butts of these pranks became known as a "poisson d'avril" or "April fish" because a young naive fish is easily caught. In addition, one common practice was to hook a paper fish on the back of someone as a joke.
This harassment evolved over time and a custom of prank-playing continue on the first day of April. This tradition eventually spread elsewhere like to Britain and Scotland in the 18th century and was introduced to the American colonies by the English and the French. Because of this spread to other countries, April Fool's Day has taken on an international flavor with each country celebrating the holiday in its own way.
In Scotland, for instance, April Fool's Day is devoted to spoofs involving the buttocks and as such is called Taily Day. The butts of these jokes are known as April 'Gowk', another name for cuckoo bird. The origins of the "Kick Me" sign can be traced back to the Scottish observance.
In England, jokes are played only in the morning. Fools are called 'gobs' or 'gobby' and the victim of a joke is called a 'noodle.' It was considered back luck to play a practical joke on someone after noon.
In Rome, the holiday is known as Festival of Hilaria, celebrating the resurrection of the god Attis, is on March 25 and is also referred to as "Roman Laughing Day."
In Portugal, April Fool's Day falls on the Sunday and Monday before lent. In this celebration, many people throw flour at their friends.
The Holi Festival is celebrated on March 31 in India. People play jokes on one another and smear colors on one another celebrating the arrival of Spring.
1632: Escape of the Duke of Lorraine
According to legend, the Duke of Lorraine and his wife were imprisoned at Nantes. They escaped on April 1, 1632 by disguising themselves as peasants and walking through the front gate. Someone noticed them escaping and told the guards. But the guards believed the warning to be a “poisson d’Avril” (or April Fool’s Day joke) and laughed at it, thus allowing the Duke and his wife to escape. It is not known if any part of this legend is true.
So, no matter where you happen to be in the world on April 1, don't be surprised if April fools fall playfully upon you.
Happy April Fool's Day!
Seldom are jokes really 'practical' in nature. They are more pratfal and frat house than practicality and common sense.
Of course, not all jokes are reserved for April 1st. A few I've heard of were right up there in the annals of best ever.
There was a rather obnoxious football player who was always abusing and tormenting the other players on the team. Finally, the equipment manager, who was a too frequent target for this other young man's dubious attempts at humor, had enough.
It was well known that the football player never washed his sox or his jock. Superstition led him to believe it gave him extra power over the other team. Yeah, that power is B.O., buddy!
But in the waning days of the season, the equipment manager saw his opportunity. Carefully applying a thin layer of unscented therapy balm to the inside of the jock, he kept to himself, did his job and waited until the fun began.
During the heat of the game, the temperature both in the air and inside the jock rose to uncomfortable levels. Anyone who has used one of those balms knows that heat intensifies the chemical reaction, sometimes to uncomfortable levels.
Well, the desired result was achieved and the football player was compelled to depart in haste from the field to try and shower off the offending substance that was creating a new and unpleasant sensation for him.
No lasting harm was done and although he couldn't prove it was the equipment manager who had done the deed since others had been victims of his cruel humor, he certainly stepped more lightly around the manager afterwards.
Pretty evil in its intent, huh?
Well, tamer stuff has also created havoc personally for intended targets. Here are some cheesy and well used favorites:
Rig the Sprayer
Put a rubber band around the push button of the spray nozzle (the kind with a hose) so the button stays down. Point it forward. When the victim uses the sink they will get a wet surprise!
Drippy
Use a pin to make a few small holes in a plastic disposable cup. Offer a drink to the victim and watch while the liquid dribbles out onto their shirt.
Do the Splits
Find a scrap of cloth. Place a dollar on the floor and stay nearby. When the victim comes by and bends down to pick up the dollar, rip the cloth loudly. Most people will reach back to see if they ripped their pants. One of the original classic April Fool's pranks of all time!
Forgetful
Tape magnets to the bottom of an empty coffee cup, and attach it to the top of your car. Laugh at all the people who frantically try to get your attention as you drive by.
Tidal Wave
Take about 20 (or more) paper or plastic cups, place them on the victim’s desk and fill them with water. Then take a stapler and staple them all together. You can also put the cups on the floor blocking their door, or just about anywhere.
While You Were Out
Leave a phone message for the victim that says that a “Mr. Lyon” called (or Mr. Behr also works), and wants to be called back. Then list the phone number of the local zoo.
Mouse Trap
Take a Post-It note and place it over the eye of the victim’s optical mouse. When the victim tries to use his or her computer, the cursor won’t move. Be sure to write “April Fools!” on the note!
Of course, I wouldn't suggest doing any of these pranks as that would be beneath us both.
But in the interest of history, here is information about how April Fool's Day is alleged to have begun:
The history of April Fool's Day or All Fool's Day is uncertain, but the current thinking is that it began around 1582 in France with the reform of the calendar under Charles IX. The Gregorian Calendar was introduced, and New Year's Day was moved from March 25 - April 1 (new year's week) to January 1.
Communication traveled slowly in those days and some people were only informed of the change several years later. Still others, who were more rebellious refused to acknowledge the change and continued to celebrate on the last day of the former celebration, April 1. These people were labeled "fools" by the general populace, were subject to ridicule and sent on "fool errands," sent invitations to nonexistent parties and had other practical jokes played upon them.
The butts of these pranks became known as a "poisson d'avril" or "April fish" because a young naive fish is easily caught. In addition, one common practice was to hook a paper fish on the back of someone as a joke.
This harassment evolved over time and a custom of prank-playing continue on the first day of April. This tradition eventually spread elsewhere like to Britain and Scotland in the 18th century and was introduced to the American colonies by the English and the French. Because of this spread to other countries, April Fool's Day has taken on an international flavor with each country celebrating the holiday in its own way.
In Scotland, for instance, April Fool's Day is devoted to spoofs involving the buttocks and as such is called Taily Day. The butts of these jokes are known as April 'Gowk', another name for cuckoo bird. The origins of the "Kick Me" sign can be traced back to the Scottish observance.
In England, jokes are played only in the morning. Fools are called 'gobs' or 'gobby' and the victim of a joke is called a 'noodle.' It was considered back luck to play a practical joke on someone after noon.
In Rome, the holiday is known as Festival of Hilaria, celebrating the resurrection of the god Attis, is on March 25 and is also referred to as "Roman Laughing Day."
In Portugal, April Fool's Day falls on the Sunday and Monday before lent. In this celebration, many people throw flour at their friends.
The Holi Festival is celebrated on March 31 in India. People play jokes on one another and smear colors on one another celebrating the arrival of Spring.
1632: Escape of the Duke of Lorraine
According to legend, the Duke of Lorraine and his wife were imprisoned at Nantes. They escaped on April 1, 1632 by disguising themselves as peasants and walking through the front gate. Someone noticed them escaping and told the guards. But the guards believed the warning to be a “poisson d’Avril” (or April Fool’s Day joke) and laughed at it, thus allowing the Duke and his wife to escape. It is not known if any part of this legend is true.
So, no matter where you happen to be in the world on April 1, don't be surprised if April fools fall playfully upon you.
Happy April Fool's Day!
March 30, 2009
Letting go...
The phrase has been around for a while - "let go and let God".
The application of the phrase not so long at all. In fact, there are plenty of times that the application phase is completely in doubt.
The devil is in the details for sure and for certain. Doubt is the enemy and a constant presence on some days to the point that productive and spiritual planes are not even approachable.
Fear is the motivating factor that keeps us all mired in complacency, daily drudgery and the murky depths of worry about things over which we have absolutely no control anyway - we just THINK we have control.
For those who have children, the passage from helpless infant to self-sufficient adult mostly happens right on schedule and without too much interference from well meaning but ignorant adults who forget that mistakes are the price we pay for knowledge.
Even those precious infants we see in our mind's eye will make mistakes. They have to. It's part of that priceless contract with a loving Father in Heaven who wanted us to come here and make choices, mistakes, have successes and failures and learn through the process of repentance so that we could choose to come home to Him, if that is what we wanted. He even made a way through our Savior for that to all come to pass.
But we know better than our kids. We can 'help' them. We know what life is really like and we can coach them along. Heaven forbid that they get a bump, a bruise or a bone spur during this mortal journey. If it is uncomfortable, we will be there to soften the blow.
Except we can't.
Growth doesn't happen in a vacuum, generally speaking. I'm sure the scientists at NASA have other ideas about that but with kids becoming adults, it is a truism that really is true.
If we hover over them and stifle them and prevent them from ever feeling the consequences of life, we haven't helped them at all. Instead, we have stunted their growth, made them dependent and, in a measure, truly helpless as adults.
I have often said I don't want a 42-year old, Cheetoh eating, dirty underwear wearing, basement dwelling adult who doesn't have a job sitting playing Nintendo all day because the 'right' opportunity didn't come down into the basement.
But in order for them to learn to do laundry, buy groceries, live on a budget and become responsible, our kids need to practice being adults while we can be there to support them enough to shove them out of our nest of perpetual protection and into the winds that just might be a bit cruel.
That is a hard sell for most Moms. We want our kids to be well adjusted, healthy and in short, to have a happy ending all of the time. But that isn't in their best interests now or in the long term.
They need to stretch out, feel the wind and maybe somersault to the ground in an unglorious heap in order to learn just how it is to fly on the currents that can lift them from the basement and into the glorious light of day.
We want to think that our little Susie or Sam will call us and keep a warm place in their heart for us always. The truth is, if we have done our job the right way, they WILL feel warm and comfortable thoughts about us. But more importantly, they will realize that sometimes the best helping hand we ever gave them was a good, firm push...not enough to truly hurt them, but just enough to propel them over the rim of the nest and into the wind.
Our children aren't made of glass most of the time and for the most part they are pretty resiliant people who can and do learn how to navigate the various life paths that are theirs for the choosing.
We can be proud of them, support them emotionally and give them the room to grow by being willing to let go.
I'm trying to learn how to do that and make the lesson stick, for me as much as for my children, to whom this world will someday belong.
When I figure it all out, and have become convinced I'm doing it the right way, you'll be the first to know.
The application of the phrase not so long at all. In fact, there are plenty of times that the application phase is completely in doubt.
The devil is in the details for sure and for certain. Doubt is the enemy and a constant presence on some days to the point that productive and spiritual planes are not even approachable.
Fear is the motivating factor that keeps us all mired in complacency, daily drudgery and the murky depths of worry about things over which we have absolutely no control anyway - we just THINK we have control.
For those who have children, the passage from helpless infant to self-sufficient adult mostly happens right on schedule and without too much interference from well meaning but ignorant adults who forget that mistakes are the price we pay for knowledge.
Even those precious infants we see in our mind's eye will make mistakes. They have to. It's part of that priceless contract with a loving Father in Heaven who wanted us to come here and make choices, mistakes, have successes and failures and learn through the process of repentance so that we could choose to come home to Him, if that is what we wanted. He even made a way through our Savior for that to all come to pass.
But we know better than our kids. We can 'help' them. We know what life is really like and we can coach them along. Heaven forbid that they get a bump, a bruise or a bone spur during this mortal journey. If it is uncomfortable, we will be there to soften the blow.
Except we can't.
Growth doesn't happen in a vacuum, generally speaking. I'm sure the scientists at NASA have other ideas about that but with kids becoming adults, it is a truism that really is true.
If we hover over them and stifle them and prevent them from ever feeling the consequences of life, we haven't helped them at all. Instead, we have stunted their growth, made them dependent and, in a measure, truly helpless as adults.
I have often said I don't want a 42-year old, Cheetoh eating, dirty underwear wearing, basement dwelling adult who doesn't have a job sitting playing Nintendo all day because the 'right' opportunity didn't come down into the basement.
But in order for them to learn to do laundry, buy groceries, live on a budget and become responsible, our kids need to practice being adults while we can be there to support them enough to shove them out of our nest of perpetual protection and into the winds that just might be a bit cruel.
That is a hard sell for most Moms. We want our kids to be well adjusted, healthy and in short, to have a happy ending all of the time. But that isn't in their best interests now or in the long term.
They need to stretch out, feel the wind and maybe somersault to the ground in an unglorious heap in order to learn just how it is to fly on the currents that can lift them from the basement and into the glorious light of day.
We want to think that our little Susie or Sam will call us and keep a warm place in their heart for us always. The truth is, if we have done our job the right way, they WILL feel warm and comfortable thoughts about us. But more importantly, they will realize that sometimes the best helping hand we ever gave them was a good, firm push...not enough to truly hurt them, but just enough to propel them over the rim of the nest and into the wind.
Our children aren't made of glass most of the time and for the most part they are pretty resiliant people who can and do learn how to navigate the various life paths that are theirs for the choosing.
We can be proud of them, support them emotionally and give them the room to grow by being willing to let go.
I'm trying to learn how to do that and make the lesson stick, for me as much as for my children, to whom this world will someday belong.
When I figure it all out, and have become convinced I'm doing it the right way, you'll be the first to know.
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