Do People Really Read These . . .

Thank goodness the company I work for has a spam filter on the email.  The only problem is, I am one of the lucky ones who daily has to go through all the email caught in the spam filter for 5 email addresses to make sure a real email from a customer doesn’t get caught there.  Out of the hundreds that do get caught in the spam filter – about 1 or 2 a week are from legitimate customers.   But some of these email really make me wonder a few things  . . .

• Is my current watch too out of fashion?
• Should I give myself the best present ever?  Would that really be the best “cheap-Gucci-watch” I’ll ever find?
• Should I learn chinese and arabic just to see what the 45 emails I’m getting really say?
• Does the Barristers Chamber Marcus Andreen in England really truly want to be my business partner?
• Is my paypal account compromised?
• Do I need a skin care service?
• How do they know I need body parts enlarged?  What if I don’t have those parts?
• Can I really purchase peace of mind for 60% off?
• How does that site “feelingfattoday” know that my medication is ready for shipping?

I guess there are just some mysteries in the world I will never know the answer to.

Letting Go

Today I said goodbye to a co-worker that I have worked with for several years.  She is off to start a new adventure as a full-time mom.  Her first baby is due in a couple of weeks.  As we walked out of the office today at 5:00 I confessed that I was slightly envious. I told her that on the days when she is exhausted, depressed, and up to her elbows in poopy diapers that she is living my dream.

It’s true!  I never planned to have a career outside of being a wife and a mom.  After all the plans written out in my journal when I was 16 about “when I grow up and have kids”, I never imagined that it wouldn’t happen.  At 18 I still had that dream.  I still had that dream at 21, being certain that as soon as I came home from my mission I would find the love of my life and start having babies.  At 25 I reminded myself that not everyone marries young.  At 30 I told myself that outside of Utah it was normal to get married and start a family in your 30’s and that there was no reason to give up hope.  At 39 I believed that if I stopped dreaming it would mean I lacked faith.  Now at 43 — something has changed.  I started realizing that this life I am living, my “plan B” was really God’s plan “A” all along.

I think I felt it coming for awhile – but it took holding a new born baby a couple months ago for me to finally let the Lord open my heart – and allow it to break into a million pieces.  That baby was perfect in every way and as I came home that night after looking into her pure eyes I couldn’t stop the sobs from coming and wracking my entire body.  I knelt down by the side of my bed and wept and prayed for my broken heart and empty womb.  I got up from my knees and found my mother getting ready for bed and said the words out loud “mom – I will never have babies in this life”.  I knew it was true and she did too and I cried into her shoulder as she wept too.

Just like other living things, sometimes dreams have to die.  And I discovered that it’s okay to mourn the passing.

I’m grateful for new mothers who are living my dream and mothers with 6 children who share their baby with me while they go to Sunday School with their husband, and nieces and nephews that always think I’m amazing (I totally have them snowed – don’t tell them.)  All these things are balm to my heart.

I admit that as I got in my car after work and watched my co-worker leave work for the last time I cried just a little and I smiled to myself too.  I found myself wondering where dreams go when they die.  Is there a little dream cemetery?  I like to think so – because every so often I’ll visit and leave flowers.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

– E.M. Forster

The Suit

Sometimes in quiet moments I try to get a real good mental image of myself just as I am. This usually happens after I see a photo of myself and I can’t believe that THAT image is what everyone else is seeing.

Recently I tried to use that image in my head to do a serious self assessment. First I had to let go of the criticism because being truly honest with myself does not equal being mean to myself. I concentrate with eyes closed and try to get a vision of myself as a third party looking on. This will be a good exercise I think to myself as I try to make my visualization more clear in my mind.  Hmmm – “I like her” I think,  “she’s funny, laughs easily, and dresses reasonably well”.  Of course I notice she is overweight, but I remind myself not to judge. I keep watching and as I concentrate I realize that it’s almost like the layers of fat are a suit.  It’s just something she’s put on. My heart aches just a bit because I know why she’s wearing that suit. She put it on to protect the real “her” -  the woman that feels vulnerable and has been hurt by the tumbles and falls that sometimes life deals out. She put on the “padding” to hopefully make it hurt less when she gets tripped up by memories of the past and fears of the future. She knows it’s not real protection – it’s like a life preserver that doesn’t really float – it is only bulky, gets in the way, and makes it hard to row the boat.  I think “What if it were a suit that could be unzipped?”  I wonder what would step out?

In my mind I unzip the suit. I expect a thinner version of the woman to step out like I’ve seen in some weight-loss billboard.  As she steps out of the suit, she smiles at the freedom and fresh air that she missed being so stifled.   She is thinner, but mostly she looks healthy and strong.   She starts to walk away from her suit laying on a heap on the floor. She looks around excitedly and slowly she looks back to the suit – her blanket of comfort for years.   She is shocked as she sees still standing in the suit a small blonde girl in a blue dress quietly crying, afraid and confused.

The healthy me walks back, takes the girl by the hand and promises that she’ll never leave her behind. They will move forward together. They won’t look back.

Counting My Blessings . . .

I’ve learned through the years that it’s a good thing to “count your blessings”.  It’s true!   Sometimes it’s so cumbersome though so I have designed a new system.  I have not just counted my blessings — I have numbered them for future reference.   Today I am grateful for blessings #4, #12, #65, and #29.

Wow — Truly I’m blessed!

And The Winner Is . . .

At the beginning of the summer I posted things that I thought were the best.  Check that out here if you like.  Well not to be a negasaurus or anything but clearly if there is the “best” there must also be the worst.  So here are the winners of my personal “Worst Things Ever” contest.

The Worst Accent In a Movie

Winner:  Drew Barrymore in Ever After

Is the accent French?  English?  Yes it’s a lov-er-ly story.  Yes it’s romantic but come on — she talks like she has a speech impediment.

The Worst Chore I Ever Had to Do

Winner:  Cleaning the grease trap in the kitchen at Oakcrest.

Don a towel around you nose, rubber gloves, and a bucket just in case.  Scooping out the molding greasy gray lumpy water . . .  totally disgusting.

The Worst Blind Date

Winner:  Jay – Former Companion of a Co-Worker 1987

We doubled with his parents to his Stake Gold and Green Ball.  I believe his mother held the brain for the entire family.  As we entered the restaurant she told me she didn’t have any teeth but was getting implants and so she only had 2 screws in her mouth.  She then smiled and showed me — Sure enough — all gums and 2 screws right where Dracula’s fangs would be.  No worries — she gummed down her food AND kept up the conversation.

The Worst Hair Style I Ever Had

Winner:  The Permed Mullet

My senior year of highschool.  It was 1984 and IT was in style at the time.

The Worst Episode of the Brady Bunch

Winner:  Her Sisters Shadow

This episode featured the famous quote “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia”.  Jan whined a lot.  So your older sister was perfect.  At least you weren’t that tattle-tale Cindy!

The Worst Place to Get a Zit

Winner:  Just Right Inside the Very Edge of Your Nose

Admit it — just thinking about this makes your eyes tear up.

Okay those are the winners for this year.  Stay tuned next year for all new categories like Worst Handshake, Worst Embarrassing Moment that Wasn’t Mine But I Witnessed, and Worst Actor Not Even Trying to Have an Accent in a Movie set in England.