The Travel Tree

I was cleaning out my old purse last night and came across the key I thought I lost to our cabin last summer when we spent a few days off the grid in the mountains of West Virginia whitewater rafting. 

It's just a generic, old-school plastic blue key chain with the place we stayed stamped on it, and our cabin #784 written in black Sharpie, with a silver Lowe’s key attached. 

I was about to pitch it, and Chris says in passing, “We need to hang that on the Travel Tree.” 

Brilliant!

Lucky for us, I keep the Travel Tree up until at least Valentine’s Day each year. 

So, another experience was added to our family tree of adventure last night.

The Murray Travel Tree is resurrected in our master bedroom every holiday season, and it seems to mean something slightly more special with each passing year, as we continue to add our favorite memories of destinations visited.

I often leave this unique holiday tradition up and shining bright through Valentine's Day, because I love the warmth it provides our home during the dreaded season of cold and darkness that inevitably follows Christmas every winter in Southwest Ohio. 

Our “firsts”: Santa Cruz & Monterey

I grabbed an ornament on a whim from a little souvenir shop on the boardwalk in Santa Cruz during our honeymoon touring along California's Highway 1 in July of 2000. 

And, then another was added from the Monterey Bay Aquarium later that week. 

Both ornaments were special to us at the time, if only for being quaint little keepsakes from our first vacation as a married couple. 

Little did we know these two holiday relics would come to symbolize the iconic start of an extraordinary family tradition for decades to come.

Our first few years of marriage included several getaways. We marked our one-year anniversary with a vacation to Key Largo & Key West that July, and headed even further south to Cancun that October (only one month after the dreadful September 11th attack on our country).

We ventured down to Florida several times thereafter (and even lived in the Sunshine State for a while!) – Jacksonville and Amelia Island, the legendary St. Augustine, Orlando and Disney, Tampa/Clearwater/St. Pete and the like scattered throughout the Gulf Coast seashore. 

We also sailed the open seas on a few cruises down into the Bahamas during these single years of fun and adventure! 

And, I snagged up an ornament every new destination we visited.

By the time we moved back to Cincinnati in 2004, I had accumulated quite the collection of destination-based ornaments from our travels. Our first Christmas season in our new home was when the notion occurred to purchase an artificial tree for our master bedroom whose sole purpose would be to hold those precious vacation memories. 

The Travel Tree was born!

Unique family memories captured

Sometimes I’ve had to be creative through the years, like the key on the blue, plastic keychain from West Virginia this past summer. 

Or, like when we went to Cabo San Lucas for our fifth wedding anniversary and I was unsuccessful in finding an ornament, so I converted a magnet from a Cabo market into one that Christmas. 

We have sand dollars that were plucked by hand from the bottom of the ocean floor while visiting Florida's Hutchinson Island in 2016 that are used to “fill holes” throughout the Travel Tree each season. These organic round ornaments hang from shiny red gift wrap ribbon. And, the boys and their daddy often reminisce about filling our bucket with them that hot July afternoon. 

Another random favorite is from our first boating trip to Kentucky's Lake Cumberland in 2013 - a red neoprene unsinkable keychain dye-cut into a life jacket. 

Some of the boys’ favorites when they were younger were the Disney ornaments - I'm sure for all the "magical" memories the destination conjured up in their little minds from our family vacation there in 2013, as well as the other colorful ones mommy & daddy collected when we visited as DINKs a decade prior. After all, who doesn’t want to commemorate every moment of time sprinkled with pixie dust in Disney?!

They’re teenagers now, and old enough to remember the origins of many of the ornaments that adorn our Travel Tree, like the one from Hilton Head, and North Carolina's Outer Banks, and San Diego & Catalina Island, and Florida’s Treasure Island, and the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee, to name just a few.

But, I loved fielding the many questions that would arise each year when they hung ornaments from destinations they had not visited with us, as the tree contains not only family vacation memories, but ornaments from our getaways before they were born, and even business travel we both experienced. 

One of my favorites is that round, red glass Las Vegas ornament. Little does our oldest know HE is our most beloved Vegas souvenir from our 2005 Sin City getaway!

Timeless treasures of past, present & future

Much has changed for our family-of-four through the years, including a big move in 2017 to our 5+ acres about 45 minutes east of Cincinnati. But, that tree has remained our constant, holding our precious memories on its branches in the timeless fashion it was destined for years back when I first purchased it.

As our boys have grown, it has morphed into something that Chris and I genuinely enjoy decorating as an “old married couple,” since those knuckleheads have far less interest these days.

And, that’s okay. 

He and I appreciate this tree’s symbolic nature, as much as we do the way it lights up our bedroom with memories every holiday season. And, one day I’m confident they will “get it” (when they're no longer testy teenagers!). Until then, we’re keeping the nostalgia and fond thoughts of great adventure close to our grown-up hearts.

Murray adventures of past years. Check.

Murray adventures of the present year. Check.

Excitement for many more Murray adventures to come in the future. Double-check!!

Every destination we’ve been blessed to partake since our West Coast honeymoon is represented somehow on this tree - those of every family vacation, boating excursions, every special getaway shared as a young couple.

Some of them are touristy and make us laugh. 

Some are beautiful and make us smile. 

Some display photographs that capture our getaways in timeless fashion, while others were created out of vacation desperation!

However each ornament may have ended up on this tree, those that adorn it are treasured family mementos that fill my mind, heart and soul with unadulterated happiness. 

And, because I needed a little extra joy a little earlier this past holiday season, the Travel Tree went up a few days after Halloween in 2020. What better way to escape the turmoil of a pandemic year than to daydream of sunnier days - both past and future.

It's now Valentine's Day 2021, and it makes me smile that our Travel Tree is still shining bright more than three months later. Although, last week I noticed its lowest few branches no longer lit. I mentioned it to my 15-year-old, and his response was candid, and admittedly quite dramatic. 

"Well, mom, probably because you put it up on Halloween!"

I replied back with a chuckle, “It was like November 2nd or 3rd, thank you very much!”

So, after some consideration, maybe I'll take it down sometime this week when we're all housebound with #winterstorm2021.

Maybe not.

Because, in the darkest days of winter I truly treasure the sacred time spent daily on my knees at the foot of my bed saying my prayers with it shining bright. I look up and thank my God for the memories this beautiful tree holds for our family, and the hope it contains for whatever journeys and adventures lie ahead for us. 

Christmas is the season of perpetual hope...especially amidst all that was stollen from us in 2020. And, keeping the Murray Travel Tree up just a little longer into 2021 makes my heart full of peace, hope and joy for better days ahead full of laughter, sun and adventure.

 

Carpe Diem

There is humility found in the simplicity of this single day of life, as there will never be another today.

 

I used to think being simple was a characteristic of weakness - that those who took life "one-day-at-a-time" were people that were struggling with their current reality. 

It's taken some of life's greatest losses to appreciate and admire those that have learned to embrace a simpler life, those that just enjoy today. For true joy in our soul is found when we acknowledge the basic blessings around us.

The contentment gleaned from believing in a power greater than ourselves.

The food on our table, and a roof over our heads.

The love and adoration of our spouse.

 

The health and well being of our family.

Nature and the great outdoors. 

All the things we muddle through life taking for granted have become crystal clear during this recent season of drought - a season when so much was taken, yet so much remained. A season in life where God seems to be trying harder than ever to get our attention.

My mother was a simple human being. Her preference for the mundane was one of the characteristics she possessed that often drove me crazy when she was alive. 

Didn’t she want more out of life? 

Didn’t she have goals and dreams that she aspired to achieve beyond the basics in this life? 

Did anything truly rattle her to the core? 

I often asked myself these questions when I was in her presence during the less-than-ideal circumstances she often found herself living, and it puzzled me. But, she never wavered. With my momma, the simpler the life, the better. 

She loved the sun and being outside. She enjoyed working with her hands and watching things come to life before her eyes. After years spent overweight and discontent, she strived for strength of body and soul. Exercising fueled both. She was a homebody. Although, in her forties she became a little more adventurous! She got a taste of the beauty beyond her home state and enjoyed the exploration. In fact, in her last few months of life she was planning to marry the love-of-her-life down in the mountains of East Tennessee. They were working on a fixer-upper - a small ranch at the base of the woods that they gutted to the studs. Mom was simple.

Now as a mother, I look back at her outlook on life and cherish the person she was. With her, life was generally not at all complicated. Mom's mode-of-operation was quite clear to those of us that knew her.

Be more in the moment. 

Get outside for some fresh air.

Enjoy the sun. 

Live for today.

If only we could all live our lives like this. Imagine how different our world might be?

The twenty-first century rat race robs the majority of us of our joy. Today’s family is far too focused on where we are going tomorrow to appreciate where we are today. It’s not that we don’t genuinely desire joy, but we’re just far too busy to embrace what's right in front of us. The journey is often wasted away by keeping up with the Jones'. 

It's a tough lesson to learn when so much of our current reality is fixated on where we're headed. But, contentment can never be achieved until we slow down long enough to truly appreciate the day at hand. Instead, we're focused on everything we wished we had.

A bigger home that's decked to the nines.

A fancier car.

The best private school or select ball team for our kid to join.

Always moving on to bigger and better than what we currently have. 

Yet, before we know it, we’re in our “dream home,” our babies are all grown up, and we find ourselves at the brink of divorce, because we never stopped along the journey long enough to truly appreciate the pure joy we could have shared with one another each and every day. This vicious cycle is why more than half of all families are left broken.

Granted, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t deserve the mother, nor the wife-of-the-year award. 

I'm short with my family. 

I yell. 

I'm impatient.

I get "hangry" at least once a day.

And, I probably drink too much wine!

But, one thing's certain - I can look back on the years of my boys' lives and say with confidence we did our best as a team of parents to teach them what’s truly important in this life through our actions – family, faith and an appreciation for the world around them. 

When they were littles I tried to live each day to its fullest with them, because I knew they would only be my babies for a short season in this life. I may have lost a little bit of my sanity in the process of being a stay-at-home-mom back then, but if I lost it in order to produce a solid foundation for my two boys, it was worth all the sacrifice.

We made the decision for me to be a stay-at-home-mom when my oldest was just a babe - a decision that was partly fueled by the loss of my mother to a brain hemorrhage shortly before his conception. My pregnancy and post-partum experiences weren't the typical season many mothers are blessed to partake, but instead was manhandled by the giant elephant in the room - her death. 

Grief. It's a beast.

The circle of life can bring us to our knees, stripping us of all we thought we knew to be true in this life, and simplifying our existence to the utter core. And, it changed me. 

Losing her and gaining him in a single season in this life proved that so much I "valued" was truly fleeting in the grand scheme of my existence. Not my extravagant plans, nor my career; not my newly-built house in the suburbs with the large mortgage, nor my new SUV meant much of anything next to her passing soul, and his thriving little life in my arms. The material is truly fleeting. 

Me staying home strapped us financially. I put my career on hold in my early thirties during a time when most of my friends were still climbing the corporate ladder and banking cash for their future. I traded intellectual stimulation and adult conversation for insane amounts of Thomas the Train and poopy diapers for nearly five years. 

But, I didn't miss a single milestone. 

Not a single step, or a single new word. 

I made their baby food, and we enjoyed countless days outside in the great outdoors. 

I taught them both their ABCs and their 123's. 

My oldest was even counting in Spanish by the time he hit preschool! 

Life with them back then was exhausting and exhilarating all in one fare swoop. 

There wasn't going to be anybody raising my babies in those early years but their momma. The experience sucked the life out of me some days. But, our littles are only little for a season in this life. Experiencing every ounce of them is what a momma should do. It's simple, and it's mundane. But, it's what lays the foundation for good humans.

No truer words were spoken about the early years of raising children - the days are so very long, but oh the years so short.

I eventually went back to work. And, my babies grew up. Life got away from me, and it became slightly more complicated. 

Two careers, and two in sports year-around.

Homework, and dinners on-the-run.

Life happening for four different human beings under the same roof.

Okay, so like nearly a decade-and-a-half got away from me in the blink-of-an-eye, and everything in this life has become more complicated. And, now all of the sudden I have a high schooler and a middle schooler. 

And, in the words of country music singer, Kenny Chesney, "Don't blink."

But, somewhere in the thick of those years in between the monotony of the baby blues and the terrible-two's; the frisky-four's and the now raging teenage hormones, were a lot of amazing experiences together, and important decisions that have inevitably molded our boys into respectable young men. 

The long Saturdays spent at the nearby state park. 

The weekend getaways and family vacations we made priority (even when the funds may not have been abundant).

Church every Sunday. A prayer before our meals, and before we close our eyes every night.

Simple life together. That's what we do.

I'm confidant we've taught them to appreciate this life, and the world around them, and to live it with some level of simplicity and appreciation. And, I'm equally as confidant that our God played the biggest role in guiding our family down the right paths at just the right time.

Several years back we made the decision to move our family out of the rat race of suburban life. We downsized our home, and upsized our property. 

Out in the country we can breathe a little better and life is a little slower. It's where our boys spend hours-at-a-time outside getting dirty, and swimming in our pond, and shooting hoops. It's where we can see the stars at night. And, wow are the sunrises and sunsets something to behold. They get tired of me snapping pics of our beautiful landscape out here, but oftentimes it takes my breath away.

Don’t get me wrong, years later into this parenting gig, and years since losing my beautiful mother, I still have not found the purest of joy in this life. The evils of our world get the best of this mom - competition, and comparison, and jealousy, and exhaustion.

But, when I look back on these days spent as a parent, the last thing I want is to have regret. Because, I’ve also learned that regret is a powerful force that can rid us of our ability to experience the joy God intends for us in this lifetime.

As parents, our simple actions speak volumes more than our words ever could. 

How we invest our time.

Where we invest our money.

Children are sponges. And, they are watching...soaking it all in.

That’s why it’s so important to seize each and every day with our kids. Building memories today will reap benefits beyond anything we could ever communicate to them throughout their lives. Every season should be experienced as "the season" that will mold them and shape them into the beings God planned for them to be. That's our job as their parents - to be God's heart & hands & feet in their lives. It's really quite simple.

Parenthood has taught me the true meaning of the phrase Carpe Diem. 

Seize the day.

And, it's a shame I didn't "get it" when mom was alive. But, I hope she sees that I've grasped it as the mother of her two grandsons. I hope she's proud of this daughter I've become...slowly and surely... with time & grace.

All too often we lose sight of how important it is to focus on what is happening today, because we’re too busy planning for tomorrow. But, our little ones have no concept of time. Their joy is found in the simplicity of the day at hand. And all the “today’s” added together produce the journey we experience with them as a family. And, wow, does it go by quickly.

Best selling author and founder of The American Wellness Project, Greg Anderson, said it best. 

“Focus on the journey; not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity, but in doing it.” 

It doesn't get any simpler than that. 

So, inhale, and take it all in. 

Embrace your journey together. 

Live this life to its fullest as a family.

Time spent together is a simple concept. And, it's one we genuinely do not appreciate until it's gone.

So, always remember this day is a gift. That's why we call it the present.

It's really very simple.

Time: Life’s Elusive Entity

Time.

The one thing you wish you had more of when you’ve lost someone so special to you that every bone in your body aches for one more day.

It’s what you yearn for when your testy toddlers all of the sudden have grown into independent young men.

And, what your soul wishes would just stand still when you’re hundreds of miles away from home with your family, and it’s day six of your once-annual, seven-day getaway off the grid.

It's elusive.

As a young child, time ticked away so slowly from one grade-to the next. When the season of Halloween hit, I can remember thinking it seemed so far away until Santa would make his appearance and deposit the goods. Now, as an adult, that blessed season between the first of November and New Year’s Day flies by in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that's why I leave our Christmas decorations up well beyond the Epiphany. I need more time to enjoy all that the season has to offer, and it truly doesn't slow down long enough to do so until after we celebrate the birth of Christ.

“Just wait until they get to school,” I recall more than one experienced parent advising me when I was a stay-at-home-mom in the throes of the “terrible three’s” with my oldest, and my youngest teething, and every single day seemed like Groundhog Day. “You’ll blink and a year will pass,” they’d say.

No truer words were spoken.

Time slips from our fingertips as quickly as sand when we squeeze it. Ticking away the days and the months and the years of our lives quicker than we can count them ourselves.

It’s been one week since that very moment in time when I knew life was about to change for a while. The time was 10:30 on a Friday morning in early Spring. I dialed in to a conference call that ended by 11:00. And, just like that, something special I'd worked diligently for nearly a decade to build was taken away. For how long, only time will tell, but for a moment, my life stood still. A moment in time I will never forget.

I hung up the phone and I looked out my bedroom window at the Spring about to explode all around me with color, but not quite there yet. The grass getting greener than the day before, and the trees beginning to bud with life. Every color of bird basking in the sun as they flew between my birdhouses for their free-reign snack. And, I closed my eyes. And, I prayed.

In that moment in time, I prayed for clarity. And, I prayed for peace of mind, body, heart and soul.

Although a full week has already passed, it's as if time is standing still out here on our nearly-six acres of heaven-on-earth, while the world around me is falling apart. An invisible enemy is virtually consuming our earth one country at a time. I am in awe of its enormity, while in the same breath terrified of its power. I’m a part of this extraordinary moment in time when Covid-19 has changed our world forever. A moment in time that could have never been imagined just a few short months ago is now our living, breathing reality.

Six months ago, I was watching my youngest play soccer in 90-degree heat. And, we took our boat out for one of the last sailings of the season. The boys were a little more than a month into their eighth-grade and fifth-grade school years, and we were preparing for Fall. September 2019 feels like a lifetime away. So much has changed forever.

But, one week ago I was granted a sliver in time to just breathe in the life that’s around me. And, in the days since, I’ve been stopped in my own tracks by just how much of my reality has been held hostage by the hectic life I've created by my very own doing. I never realized how captive I was held by the chains of life’s agenda until I hopped off the train and stood alongside the tracks.

Numerous times this week I’ve caught myself in the midst of plowing through an activity with my head down at break-neck speed, for fear of time in the day running out before I can get my to-do list complete. And, then, I realized I could slow down. In fact, I could stop if I wanted to.

So, that's just what I did each and every time my mind went to that harried place of anxiousness over what to do next. It was eye-opening to digest how many times a day my mind automatically resorted to this exhausting existence.

Plow ahead!
What's next to conquer?
What time is it? Because, I have to get on to the next task by this time or that.

I’ve had to reassure myself more times than I can count this week that my existence does not need to be held captive by life's busyness. It's perfectly acceptable to just slow down and take the time to do something with ease. I can breathe through it, and take it all in, with no fear of what I have to do next, or where I have to be in another hour.

Severing the restraints of time has been amazingly liberating. However, it makes me sad to know that it took this entire world coming to a literal stand still, in order for me to stop the rat race and breathe in this blessed life I've been given.

This week, I sat in one of my pondside Adirondack chairs more times than I can count and just rested. And, when my husband was ready to take his remote work day lunch hour, we ventured out our long gravel drive to our countryside backroads for a few miles of much-needed exercise in the fresh air. I got my hands dirty in my flower beds for hours on-end with no worry on my mind of where I needed to be, or who I needed to rush off to ball practice (although, our whole household is truly missing sports right now!).

Time stood still this week at home, kind of like it does when we're on vacation far away. It was a gift. I rested. I took in the sunshine. I prayed quietly throughout the day whenever I felt I needed to. I did what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. And, every time I felt myself slipping back into that harried rush of time, I remembered to just breathe.

This moment in time feels like I'm exactly where God wants me to be. I'm home. And, I'm trying my best to be still. And, I'm trying even harder to just listen to him.

On Friday, Pope Francis stood in an eerily-empty St. Peter’s Square in Rome and led the world in a special Urbi et Orbi blessing. At one point in the livestream, I was one of 114,000-plus human beings across the globe praying with him for the eradication of Covid-19. We prayed for the protection of God’s grace to cover our healthcare workers and first responders, and for God’s gentle hand to bring peace to those suffering from this horrific virus. We prayed in global unison, hopeful for a miracle.

For that moment in time on Friday, I was connected to this world in a way I've never known, and it was powerful.

The Pope recited words of reflective encouragement. “Seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It’s a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. A time to get our lives back on track.”

His words echoed through my soul as if it were God himself speaking them. What he was communicating I knew to be true, because I had felt it in the pit of my gut from the moment my world changed in response to this invisible enemy.

It's truly a unique time of choosing. A time to separate what's necessary in our lives from what's not. A time to get life back on track.

My soul is at a different sense of peace than I've ever known in this moment in time. But, I'd be a fool to think life will remain this way once the world begins to heal from the grips of Covid-19. When all the mandates are lifted, and the kids are back to school, and we return to work, and all the necessary evils that eat away at my precious time will again be squeezed into a two-day weekend. I know the ticking clock will once again be something I find myself racing up against. But, I pray I keep this moment in time as close to my heart and soul as humanly possible. I pray it changes me from the inside out, one day at a time, until this season of unknown comes to an end.

These times are like none other. A season I hope to never experience again as long as I live. So many lives lost, and changed, and transformed forever. But, God is working through these trials like none other. He's here amongst the despair and fear.

In the words of Pope Francis, "Seize this time of trial as a time of choosing."

Don't let it slip away so easily. 

Because, it will. 

Time is elusive. 

And, it's something we never get back once it's passed by us.

I pray I never lose sight of this blessing I’ve been given during this season of life. Time has slowed down. And, I'm thankful. This moment in time is mine to embrace and experience with every ounce of faith inside of me. This time is a gift from God. That's why it's called the present.

Perspective: My World A Month Ago

Our world is currently spiraling in an unfathomable manner. Lives have been lost at an astounding rate globally. Towns across America ordered under quarantine. Schools shut down. Doors of retail and restaurants closing up shop one-after-another. The National Guard called in to maintain order and assist where needed.

I spent the better part of this past week not only wrapping my head around the dramatic shift in how we now must live our lives in quarantine, but attempting to prepare myself for the inevitable.

And, then the inevitable happened on Friday.

I was laid off. 

A career slipped out from under me in a matter of weeks as an invisible enemy virtually consumes this world in just two months’ time. A once-stable career marketing a first-class national restaurant brand that’s been a part of my life for the better part of the last decade taken away in response to the mere fact that there's nothing left for me to market when our country is under quarantine.

The emotions are certainly mixed as my new reality sinks in, but every time I feel fear creeping up to the surface of my soul, a peace that surpasses understanding overtakes it like a tidal wave. I can’t help but feel blessed beyond my wildest expectation, because I truly am. I witness humanity across our globe in deep despair, and I shed tears of gratitude for all I've been given during this tragic time. 

Since part of my personal world has fallen victim to this horrific pandemic’s far-reaching grip, I now suddenly feel a little more connected to the rest of this desperate world. My heart aches for my co-workers, and the millions of others whose jobs have been impacted, especially those who may only have one income, and who will lose critical medical benefits by the end of the month. The financial toll it's taking on millions is so devastating, and it's happening in every community far and wide around the world right now.

I hurt for the tens-of-thousands of families who have already lost loved ones to this pandemic. The number of confirmed cases of Covid-19 in the United States surpassed Germany and Iran today at nearly 24,000. That makes the US the fourth highest number of confirmed cases in the world, as of today, Saturday, March 21, 2020. Ohio was at 247 cases as of 11:00 PM today. And, most alarming to my little world, the first “community spread” case in our Southwest Ohio county was announced last evening.

The virus is here. It’s in my community. And, I’m scared.

I toss and I turn at night, prayerful that this evil spread does not enter my home and over take the ones that matter most to me - the ones that I’m not-so-proud to admit I greatly take for granted on a regular basis. Life has been far too busy to give them the time and attention they deserve. I’ve had far more important priorities to dump my most precious time and attention into on a regular basis.

Until now. 

Exactly a month ago I was in the midst of overseeing a regional cause-marketing campaign for my company with one of my favorite non-profits. I had early morning TV interviews, and afternoon radio talk shows. We ran the media circuit promoting this amazing campaign. And, when I wasn’t working, I was glued to the television just to see if we got more media hits to help support the outreach. While watching the news, I was intrigued by people stuck on these cruise ships in different parts of the world dealing with a virus that seemed so far away. And, I’m not gonna lie – internally, I was accusing that same media (who I hoped would continue to cover my campaign) of completely embellishing what was happening halfway across the world. “Surely it’s not that bad,” I thought to myself. “Now, get to the story about my campaign.” 

One month later, I spent this past week glued to the television listening to Ohio governor Mike DeWine’s daily (and sometimes multiple times daily) 2:00 PM press conferences to announce the latest case number counts, statewide mandated closures, and harried warnings to head for my daily life moving forward. Flanked by Dr. Amy Acton, who at times has looked as if she could fall asleep standing up, DeWine has led the charge for our state and kept the health and well-being of Ohioans at the forefront over the last two weeks as we anticipate the next link to be broken in our everyday chain of functional life. I found myself moderately addicted to the news this week, nearly waiting with baited breath for the latest local update on how the pandemic would continue to impact my little piece of the world.

Will the bills get paid? Will anyone in my household catch this nasty virus? Will my sister and sister-in-law, both on the frontlines in the healthcare industry, be exposed, and bring it home to their families? Will my older relatives be okay a month from now? And, will my kids go back to school before the end of the school year?

So many questions racing through my mind when I lay my head down at night. Yes, I was laid off. But, I still have everything in this world that matters most to me. None of that has changed in this moment of time. Thank you, Jesus.

One month ago I was completely stressed out about what I was going to get my husband for his February 25th birthday. This man, who always goes out of his way to make my birthday amazing, doesn’t ever ask for much. How would I make it special for him? And, when would we celebrate it with the family, because our entire weekend was eaten up with commitments. And, I was admittedly annoyed and short-fused over my frustration, which seems a bit counter-intuitive. 

And now, one month later, I’m tossing and turning at night fearful of what will happen if this wicked virus gets a hold of him. A man that spent nearly three years battling random chronic issues, and ultimately could barely get up out of bed in the morning or open a bottled water on his own one year ago at this time, was finally clinically diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis last April – an autoimmune disease he is now getting infusions for every other month at a local cancer center. And, although those infusions have drastically changed his life for the better, they greatly compromise his immune system. If he catches this virus, it could be life-threatening. 

By the way, I ended up getting him a pair of Brooks running shoes for his birthday, because he’s now running several miles a week for the first time in years! His body is stronger than it’s been in a long time, and he feels so good. Please God, protect my husband from the potential wrath of this virus. He’s finally feeling himself again. Please keep him well. If I get Covid-19, I can fight it. If my boys get it, they would surely be able to kick it. But, how do I protect my husband from catching this? I toss and I turn all night.

One month ago this week my oldest got an expander installed at the orthodontist, and I’m embarrassed to admit how much we let it consume our week. He has little-to-no pain tolerance, and that expander was an adjustment. Literally.

He barely ate for days, and started getting bad headaches because he wasn’t eating. He couldn’t focus in school because his whole 14-year-old self was out of kilter. He didn’t go to after-school weight training for football, because his mouth “hurt too bad.” And, I'll admit, I was irritated by his embellished response one month ago this week, because I had bigger fish to fry. He didn't need to miss anymore school for this, and maybe if he went to weight training it would get his mind off his temporary misery.

“Toughen up, kid,” I thought. “It’s just a hunk of metal glued to the roof of your mouth. For real.”

Fast-forward to this week, one month later. It’s our first week of school at home, and he woke up early every day, made himself a cup of coffee in our Keurig, fixed his breakfast, and signed in to Google Classroom for his daily eighth grade workload in Honors Algebra, Social Studies, Science and LA without hesitation. He took his classes, and signed in to chats with teachers, and followed through with every bit of his work this entire week with no assistance or persistence from either myself or his dad. 

My oldest is growing up, and this week he proved how responsible he really is when the chips are down. Or, maybe he’s just excited to do homework in his PJs?! But either, way, I found myself thinking “For real, kid. You really are pretty outstanding.”

A month ago I was struggling internally about the impending season of Lent – we would fast on that next Wednesday, February 26th, which is never a pleasurable day. And, the burden of all the things I truly do need to give up and work on would linger in my mind and on my heart and soul. This Lent felt extraordinarily heavy to me for some reason – perhaps a precursor?

I set some personal intentions for the season. And, I gave up the norm – chocolate and Chardonnay. WOW, did I make a mistake on that one in this season of life!

But all jokes aside, how heartbroken I feel a month later to know we will spend the rest of Lent, Easter and beyond with no mass and no Holy Eucharist. It seems so surreal. Had I known Ash Wednesday would have been one of my last masses this holy season, I surely would have been more attentive to the message. I miss church already. Because, I'm a real big sinner who craves that renewal every single week. I need Christ's body and his blood to sustain me through good times and bad. But, especially through the trials of life, and this one is certainly no exception. I just miss church.

I think about my worries just a month ago, and it humbles me the curve balls life has thrown in such a short stretch of time. On the weekend of February 21 - 23, my “overwhelming” concern was trying to pick up groceries, clean the house, get the fam to church, attend a local benefit for a special family in our community, hopefully squeeze in a work out, and attend my 11-year-old’s basketball games in just two days’ time. Watching him on the court is the highlight of our weekend, but two games every Saturday put quite a dent into the winter weekend agenda. I would run all weekend long, be completely exhausted and real cranky by Sunday evening when I was still trying to complete the rest of my hectic to-do list before manic Monday kicked in.

On this very day, one month later, I would pay some serious dough just to sit in a gym and watch that boy do what he does on the hardwood for an afternoon. Our whole household misses basketball. Alongside the NBA and the NCAA, his season came to a screeching halt two days before his tournament championship game. 

We might refer to sports as merely "games," but they truly are such an important part of the lives of many of us and our children. These "games" make our lives a little more tolerable.

One month later, I am applying for unemployment with the state of Ohio, and I’m relieved, and thankful and blessed. Because, in this horrific season of life, when this entire world is being forced to be still, I have the fortunate opportunity to slow down and breathe through this crisis with as much ease as humanly possible. And, that is my new intention.

I have the fortunate opportunity to be home and be 100 percent focused on the needs of my family, with nothing pulling at my attention other than Mike DeWine’s next press conference. I can help my youngest with his online learning, and if my oldest ever needs me, I can help him too (except for Honors Algebra – his dad is the “math parent” in our home). We can enjoy an outdoor activity on our property for “gym class” every day, or head up to the town park and walk, run or shoot hoops whenever we want. I can cook dinner without having to rush someone out the door to practice (even though I desperately miss both of them playing sports right now!). We can sit at the table and eat together most nights. I can clean my house as slowly as I want. I can sit on the dock of my pond and read a book all afternoon if that's what the day brings. And, I can pray for as long as I want every morning without interruption.

We’re going to get through this tremendous season of crisis. And, when we do, I desperately want to be able to look back and know I did all I could to be a graceful voice of reason to the ones who love me most. Because my boys will remember this moment in time. They will remember how I handled their “homeschooling”, and the fun we had during “gym class.” They will remember this season in life we shared as a family, and how we responded. I want to be their calm in a stormy world of unknown. And, I know God wanted that for me as well. That’s why he gave me this gift of time with them.

Right now, our world is eerily quieter than it’s been in my entire lifetime. And, so is my living room. It’s a chilly early spring night. We’ve had a fire going all day long, and the Hallmark Channel started playing Christmas movies this week to calm the anxiety of our great nation. Everyone in the house is in their own quiet place right now, giving one another some personal space and time to just be alone and in our own minds for a bit. And, that’s a lot to be thankful for on this day – total peace of mind, body, heart and soul in this very moment in time. I will not let my thoughts race to what life will be like one month from now. I will place my fears in the hands of my God.

And, I will take a deep breath, and then I will exhale.

Sons are a heritage from the Lord

Their boutonnieres have been ordered, a new pair of shoes purchased for one of them, two new shirts, and new ties (whether they wear them or not is another story!) It’s the eve of my boys’ annual Mother / Son Dance at their school, and I find myself reflecting on how special the opportunity is to accompany these two on our “date night” tomorrow.

They say there’s no special bond than that between a mother and her son. It seems like just yesterday when I was muddling through the first few months of my oldest’ s life here on earth. Despite all the many years I’d planned for motherhood, that first season wasn’t one of my most stellar. Not even a year prior, my own mother had passed unexpectedly, making post-partum  nothing short of trying. He was a tough audience his first few months out of the womb, yet I can’t help but think that I must have been a pretty challenging host as well! Although those times back in the early days of our relationship were a bit of a struggle as we got to know one another, we bonded in a very special way, and still do to this day. We understand one another in a strange, but amazing way. I can barely believe it’s been eleven years.

Then, about two-and-a-half years after birthing my first, I was rolled out of the OR after the planned cesarean section of my second with him tightly latched onto my breast as if he had been participating in this act for months. It took him no time flat to master the skill. And, then he literally grew up before my very eyes, with skills that continue to amaze me with every passing day. I honestly feel as if I have all but blinked and he’s morphed into this too-cool-for-school second grader that’s challenging me to the core, while also teaching me more lessons than any other human being on the face of this earth has ever taught me. He’s brilliant and amazing and stubborn as a mule. And, I’m so very proud for all that he is.

We'll start getting ready for our "date night" about 3:00 tomorrow. I’m sure my oldest will gripe about his sport jacket not fitting quite right and his new shoes being uncomfortable (they are two sizes two big, but I am confident he will still complain about them being too tight!), and my youngest will be less-than-enthused about being jazzed up in a tie (his preference is a Steph Curry jersey), and I'll probably utter a few curse words under my breathe trying to get the three of us out the door on time. But, any negative energy will quickly fade away once we're on our way. It's a special night that's all ours, and there's no other place I'd rather be tomorrow evening than with my two crazy little boys at their school dancing the night away.

We’ll join some other moms and their sons at a local restaurant for an early dinner, before heading to the dance, where I may or may not get lucky enough to score a short slow song with either of them as the evening progresses. I'll take in every minute, watching these two cut the rug with their buddies – one with absolutely no rhythm whatsoever, and the other with moves that could put MC Hammer to shame back in the 90’s!

It might be the last Mother / Son Dance I’ll attend with my oldest. He’s a fifth grader this year, and is probably going to realize tomorrow evening that the majority of the boys in attendance are younger than he, but he’ll be okay with that for this moment in time, because he likes to be the "big kid" amongst  all the others and their silliness. One of his very best buddies will be there and they will break it down, and chat it up, and fill their plastic solo cups ten times with pop, and love every minute of it! He’s my old soul that’s still wrapped in a blanket of childlike innocence.

If I'm lucky, I'll get a few more years as my second grader’s “date” at this annual event, yet part of me fears he may decide to bail before his time, once his big brother is out. So, I’m going to savor him out there dancing, and laughing, and enjoying time with his little peers tomorrow night. He’s got some moves, and he’s real smooth! And, just maybe, I’ll get to steal him away for one slow dance, hopeful that it won't be the last.

Treasured times like these are numbered with my boys as they grow up before me. Many days spent as their mommy exhaust me beyond belief. And, others frustrate me to the utter core. But, special moments like the ones we will share tomorrow evening are to be cherished – such sweet, innocent, beautiful moments.

I’m their mommy. And, they're all mine – for this one night. And, if I get the chance to dance with them, I’m gonna hold them tight and wonder how I got so lucky.

"Sons are a heritage from the Lord."
Psalm 127:3

Attention Moms: The Struggle is Real.

For better or for worse, I established a high standard for my future role as a mother at a young age. Although an involved and available stay-at-home mom when I was an adolescent, my mother left us when I was at the impressionable age of 13. As I grew into adulthood I came to better understand the reasons for what became of my family. But, as a teenage girl, I spent several years feeling nothing short of abandon by her. I endured many sleepless nights missing the woman who bore me, and aspiring about the mother I would one day become.

She and I spent most of my twenties attempting to make up for lost time. We bonded together, along with my younger sister, who now had a young child to raise on her own. A once broken family found healing as adults - her and my father even re-gained the peace and respect they had lost so many years prior. It was a season of redemption for this daughter.

And then, just about the time my family became restored, she left me again. Only this time, it was for good. My beautiful mother suffered a brain hemorrhage at 48-years-young. Six weeks later I found out I was pregnant with our first child.

The argument will always be on the table - is it nature or nurture that has the greater influence on us as we grow. I contend, however, that it's the forces of good versus evil constantly at play in the world around us battling for the upper hand in our subconscious at any given time. Our God desires nothing more for us than an utter state of peace, love, joy and contentment, yet there is always the devil lurking around the corner ready to steal the goodness right out of our heart, for he loves nothing more than to rob us of our joy. And, the struggle is real - whether we're eight-years-old or eighty.

That boy of mine is precious to me. His smile has always melted my heart. He's handsome and sweet and genuinely funny. He can truly be quite the charmer. Not to ad, he's a leader in the classroom and on the ball field. He's one of those kiddos his little peers look up to. And, as a parent, I take great pride in that. Through my rose-colored mommy shades, he's perfect...just like I always aspired to be as his mommy.

A stark reality recently brought me down a few notches. Despite the best of my intentions and genuine effort, my children are not immune to falling victim to their own free will. And, when the reality of this stared back at me this week, it was ugly.

The guilt immediately overwhelmed my heart and soul like a heatwave in the dead of summer. I began to put it all together - the little white lies, the subtle changes in behavior, the issues bubbling to the surface over the course of the last few months that we tried to handle appropriately with each given occurrence, but that I also denied were much of anything at all - it was all now undeniable.

I want nothing more than for others to adore my children as much as I do, for they are reflections of my husband and I and the love we share as a family. But, this boy of mine greatly angered me. And, for as much as I can barely stand to admit it, he humiliated me. And, worse yet, he disappointed me. I immediately began beating myself up over how it had escalated to this point.

What happened to my innocent little boy?

Where did I go wrong?

What could I have done to raise him better?

Then, something pretty amazing happened. Somewhere in between the convoluted reality of a mommy's deep -rooted love for her child, and the realization that this child is indeed flawed, God's grace was revealed to me. My child taught me that I'm no better than him at juggling the multi-faceted balls of this life. Without having an inkling of imagination beyond that he had done anything short of greatly disappointing his parents, he taught me that I'm the one that's a far cry from perfect as his mommy. In fact, I finally accepted through the eyes of my child this week that I’m very flawed as well. Just like my sweet little boy, I've given in to this world's temptations on more occasions than I'd like to admit. I've hurt others at the expense of my own pride. And, I've strayed from the path God wants for me on a regular basis.

I may be more than three decades older than he, but I am truly no better at discerning the difference between good and evil than he. I am his mommy, and certainly have periods of adult-like clarity, and, God-willing, a bit more wisdom. But, when it comes down to it, I am a child of God just like he is, and I make just as many mistakes - often times quite grander than his transgressions. So, who am I to be angry at this child for his lack of better judgement? Obviously it is the role of both myself and his daddy to school him in the differences between right and wrong, and to punish appropriately. But, I realized that his transgressions lent themselves to something far greater than that. And, it's only by the grace of God that my eyes and heart were vulnerable to the truth at that very moment.  

This discouraged mommy had the fortunate opportunity to bring myself to his level this week, and it's at this place that the epitome of clarity nearly plowed me over. I stared into he and his sweet little friend's innocent eyes as we sat "crisscross-applesauce" together with her mommy, and just talked - with no condemnation, or judgment, or fear. We were all four as real as real can be in that moment. And, it's at this place that I fully began to comprehend the fact that I am a terrifyingly blemished mommy who is just doing her best to raise this little boy and his big brother, and that I too fail. And, that it's okay to fail. We all make mistakes and we're all flawed, but we all also serve a God that's always willing to forgive, so long as we admit our wrongdoings and ask for that forgiveness.

With tears welled up in his eyes, and red blotches popping up on his cheeks, my child looked into the eyes of his dear friend, whom he had hurt, and said he was sorry. And, my heart grew in that moment as I witnessed innocence finding its way back to a little heart that knew he had failed those around him.  I too found myself on my knees asking for forgiveness (and help) a little more than usual this week - pleading for guidance in this world of sin where failure can capture our heart and soul and drag us into a perpetual pit of darkness.

When we remain rooted in the viscous cycle of our past sin and regret, we become a product of it, and it's hard to escape. So we just fall victim over and over again, because it's easier to just keep doing what we've always done. When we feel unworthy for a period of time, the tendency is to just stay right there within the sin in order to punish ourselves (and sometimes even those around us) without even realizing that we're doing it.

Something special was laid on my heart this week through the innocent filter of my child. I truly grasped the fact that it's often times during our greatest failures in life that we experience our greatest growth. Thanks to a little something amazing called grace, we are able to pick ourselves up by the bootstraps and move beyond the sin and shame, and into a place of redemption. I just wish my mom was here this week so I could share with her this grace-filled breakthrough. She would have completely understood, smiled, and hugged us both.

Romans 5:3-5
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Prettier

My mother, Melinda Lane Stranko Goodman, was a beautiful woman.
An overweight teenager who got pregnant with me at 19 and my sister at 24, she became heavier with both pregnancies, and disliked who stared back at her in the mirror every day for the first thirty-some years of her life. She longed for outward beauty. Then, her season came. Mom found a way to gain control of her life through a nearly 100 pound weight loss, make-up...and, really big hair!

Despite how she may have felt about herself on the outside, my mother was always beautiful on the inside. Her glass was perpetually half full, instead of half empty. The weather forecast was always partly sunny in her mind, versus partly cloudy. She never longed for many material items, for she appreciated the little things in life. And, I never knew her to truly sweat the small stuff. She had a positive perspective on most days, and embraced her situation, no matter how gloomy the outlook may have appeared. That large smile of hers lit up a room, and her laughter was utterly contagious.  She was the epitome of pretty.

For those who knew my mother in her thirties and forties, they recognized a tall, slender woman who seemed to be in good shape. She strived to be healthy and strong. And, most of all, she always looked pretty. She was not vain, but her outward appearance was very important to her. She exercised for at least an hour to two a day and utilized at least another nearly two hours on her hair and face. Deep down, even at her prettiest, I’m confident my mom didn’t think the woman who peered back at her was pretty.

I spent many years longing for her attention and priority, especially in those few years when she made herself the priority for the first time in her life…those few years before she left us. As a "tween," I witnessed my mother's transition into a stronger, more confidant woman, but the impact was not-so-positive on me as her young daughter.  She got up enough courage to say enough was enough. She wanted a new life, free from the chains of her past. My family was broken, and my heart ached with hurt and resentment over the mom I watched walk out the door with only the clothes on her back.

Hurt and resentment. That’s that kind of stuff that makes the soul ugly.  Resentment over her absence in my life manifested jealousy, greed, negativity and anger in my soul that festered for many years. And, I let it block us from the genuine love our hearts could have experienced as adult mother and daughter.

Although we had several years in my early adulthood to make up for some lost time, the pain from the past hung over our relationship like a sort-of-fog. The cloud didn’t completely overtake us, but it certainly prevented me from genuinely letting her back in to my heart. Sadly enough, my God took her home long before I had the chance to completely appreciate her inner and outer beauty all wrapped up into one fantastic person. For now as a wife and mother, I not only understand how important it is to prioritize the time to do things that make me look and feel pretty, but more importantly, I long to be pretty on the inside, just like she was.

During daily mass this past week, I sat in a center pew in plain view of Jesus hanging on the wooden cross of St. Bernadette Parish. And, it struck me how much more joy there is to be had, and that My God wants me to find it through his son, Jesus Chris. As I sat gazing up at His son’s body hanging on the cross above me, a deep longing to just be prettier over-took me…and not an external beauty.  I finally realized how badly my soul just longs to be joyfully-pretty.

My God always has a plan. And, I’ve never doubted that. But, his adversary, the ugliest of them all, can meet us in places we never knew he existed, and take us for a ride we don’t even know we are on, until we’re deep into his pit of darkness. And, although My God is always there right beside me, I have my own free will. And, that freewill chose to be ugly for quite some time, despite my faith and the love I am blessed to have all around me.

This journey called life can get messy. But, thank goodness we have a Savior to bring us out of those ugly places. I want to be pretty. I want my husband to feel love when I’m in his presence. I want my children to think of joy when they think of their mommy. I want my friends to know HIS peace when they know me. This seems so simple. And, it truly is. A content soul breeds peace, love and joy, and that’s what I long for these days, because that’s what makes a human being genuinely pretty.  And, that’s the kind of woman I long to be.

My God, make me prettier. For, as the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for you (Psalm 42).