The Wednesday Pop - Vol. 3 . . . these things I KNOW.

I'm not sure of much.  The events of last Friday, bunched up with all of the other confusing events in this complicated world, have left me sad and confused and wondering about what I KNOW.  I've wanted to be able to give my children some sense of calm, as we discuss the good things we know about God, this world and the people inhabiting it.  I've been grasping at the people and thoughts and things that I know are good.  I've found myself whispering prayers that I know, have known for a long time, and wanting to laugh and visit with the ones who create a sense of comfort in me.  

As sad as things feel right now, I'm noticing that working to remember what's good, decent, interesting, meaningful and loving brings us some much needed comfort.  Dad has always been one who does that for me, so today's essay jumped in front of me.  As I began to put these words in place, it seemed almost obvious that what I need (what I'd like to write about) is what I know.  And I may not know much about many things, but I know A LOT about this guy named Pop.

So here, my friends, are some things I KNOW.  Just thinking about them is making me smile, and smiling is bringing me some comfort.


I KNOW that as long as I live on this earth, I will not have a warm sweater or jacket in a cold restaurant if my father is with me.  I've come to terms with this.  I know it to be true.  He spent the first half of my life, urging me to 'bring along a jacket in case it gets cold' and for reasons I can't explain, I know that he will continue to catch me without said warmth.

I KNOW that there is such a thing as a happy medium (and I KNOW that I don't find it often).  I know because of Pop.   My Dad has a hold on moderation unlike anyone I've ever known.  He get's it!  I'm amazed by his understanding of the happy medium, keeping things in perspective and moderation!  I want his ability to find this perch between too much and not enough.  For my 48 years, though, I've just watched in amazement.  

He can take a nap that is just the right length.  It makes him feel better!  He doesn't stay asleep for four hours, waking up in misery, or rest nervously, only to get agitated.  He can eat a sinful dessert, just enjoying enough to get the taste and not so much he feels like he needs to be rolled away with the rest of us.  He can read a great book, but put it down when it's time to get some sleep.  What's that like?  I can't imagine, but I KNOW it's possible, as I've watched it in action all of my life.  

I KNOW that at any point, in any place, during any event, with any circumstances, my father would find me and meet me where I am.  I've always known it.  Pretty wonderful, huh?  I write this as a serious point, and I'm a different person for knowing this down in my soul, but we have laughed many times about the ways that Dad can find us in any situation.

There are 92,746 seats in Sanford Stadium in Athens, Georgia.  It's a big place.  Please believe me when I tell you that once, at a UGA game, my father sat on one side of that giant arena and found me on the other side, in the middle of 92 other thousands of people!  He had no idea where I was, but was sure I was at the game, and he found me!  He's like that.  He is like a mother bear in that way.  He know's where his kids are, physically and emotionally, and he gets there when we need him.



I KNOW that truly listening and hearing people is a gift.  I've been heard, and I know this is true.  My Dad hears the people around him.  He listens and he hears us.  I can think of no greater gift, and I will forever try to be the listener he is.  Most of us are busy.  Life is complicated.  We hear too much chatter; too much distraction.  It's hard to really listen and difficult to really hear the ones we love.  It's hard to know people.

My Dad knows people, and all of my life, I have watched the gift that his listening has brought to the people in his life.  He is who I watch to learn how to listen . . . how to hear . . . and how to really know folks.  I'm working on it, and probably will be for a long time to come, but I've got the best teacher ever.  Listening is a gift and I know that my Dad gives it freely wherever he goes.  This I know.

The world is crazy.  Things are hard to understand.  I don't know a lot.

These are some things I know, though, to be sure.  It makes me feel better to think about them.

What do you know?

Why the blog? - you ask. Because we can't rewind.

Good question.  I've been thinking about my blog lately.  Last week was my first planned week off from the blog and it had me wondering.  Had me looking back over the last year, little snippets and pictures from the year's stories and reports.  Some days, as I stared out over the vast ocean expanse or heard my kids giggling and splashing in the surf or quietly paddled the back waters of the low country, I let myself wonder about the blog, the stories, the tales and the work.  I silently asked myself what I thought about this new form of communication - the blog.  I listened as my mind went to work, recalling the thanksgivings and the muses about writing and using pictures to mark my time.

I like it, I heard myself say.

I think it's important to tell my stories.  It's not that my stories are any more important than anyone else's - that's just it.   We all have to do it.  If we don't, they get lost.  And that makes me sad.  Over this year, I've begun to hear a running discourse in my head.  Usually it feels productive and mildly entertaining.  I seem to be writing the blog as I maneuver through my days.  I try out different phrases or wonder about a myriad photographs and I consider the ways to transfer an idea to my friends.  It's like my own little storybook, happening all in secret.  Maybe that makes me sound crazy.  I'm fine with that.  It gets on my nerves sometimes, too, though, and I wish my brain wouldn't keep thinking about how to show it with pictures or how to tell it with words.

But I'm beginning to believe that it is what it is.  It's my stuff, awaiting its chance to get out, to tell the world, to be heard.  We all have it - it just gets told in various ways.  For now, it seems to me the blog is working.  One of the most rewarding dividends of Press Pause  has been what you all give me back.  I've received the most awesome letters, heard your amazing tales and been swept away by your comments.  If what I write, what anyone writes, stirs something in you to tell your stories - we all win.  And little pieces of what makes up our lives get sprinkled a little farther and a little longer.  It's important.

I remembered a lot of folks this past week - thought about old friends, past co-workers, loved ones who have left this world - and it filled me with a greater sense that our telling and our listening are vital.  If the stories die when the worn out bodies do, then too many amazing things are lost.  I can recall bits of stories that my grandfathers told and I can remember that I laughed and laughed and laughed.  I don't remember the details, though, and I didn't ask enough to keep the stories alive.  I wish I had.

Hopefully, in years to come, my children will read back over some crazy lines from some plain ole' day in 2012 and get a little clearer picture of who I was when I was the forty eight year old mother of three.  Hopefully.

I think it might work.

A few years ago, my Dad was witness to a line from my son Harry that completely explains our need to know.  Dad was whistling, as they rode along in the car on a day of errands.  'Pop' is a whistler extraordinaire, and it's difficult to describe him without adding the whistle.  My son is a thinker, a wonderer, and I treasure that about him.  Harry, in the back seat, asked Pop how he first learned to whistle and Pop explained that his father, Pappy, had been a whistler and Pappy had taught him how.  Harry pondered on that for a few minutes and then came out with the wish - words I'll never forget.  "You know what, Pop?"  he said.  "Don't you sometimes wish that we could just rewind?"

You got it, kid.  I wish we could.  I wish I could rewind, with a magic button with a two left pointed triangles, just like on the dvr.  I wish I could sit Harry down with Pappy and I wish they could laugh together and tell each other stories and that Pappy could teach Harry about whistling.  I wish Pappy could tell about how he learned to whistle and about how it was when he was growing up and about his multitude of adventures, growing up poor poor and parentless from his young teens.  He could tell the awesome stories about hiding in the train cars and hiding under the hay - the ones whose details I cannot remember.

I bet Harry's big brown eyes would be wide open.  I bet he wouldn't move a muscle.  I bet he'd never be the same.  And . . . I bet after the sad stories and the tales of adventures and mischief, Harry would take Pappy out to the driveway and teach him a thing or two about how to do tricks on a pogo stick.  They'd switch stories and it would be grand.

Yeah, my sweet Bear, I do wish we could rewind.

The stories . . . the funny ones and the sad ones, the serious and the silly - we have to tell them, share them and keep wondering and listening.  We don't have a rewind button, but we can sure press pause
on little bits of times.  I figure it's when we are telling and listening, sharing and remembering, crying and laughing that we are really awake to all that's around us.  I don't want to forget those moments and I want to hear about yours, too.

We can't rewind, so let's wake up and share the good stuff while we are here.
I'm listening.

List 32 - I need a weekly test!

We're back in the school groove.  Well, we are beginning to move closer towards being back in the school groove.  Here are a few surprising facts about the academic year, so far - we have not yet been late to school, I am working diligently on our 'family command center' (sure to be a popular blog post in the future) and we have been packed up and ready each night before bed.  Impressive, I know.

Part of getting back into gear is the inevitable routine.  Some of the routine we love, and some we'd rather not have to endure; nevertheless, September finds us all trying to re-fit our square pegness into the round holes of the organized world.  It can be tough!

I like the predictability of it all, though, and sometimes I'm comforted by it.  I love that we have 'late start' Wednesday and that two days after that is 'spirit day/casual dress' Friday!  I love that current event paragraphs are always due on Thursday and that football games are on Friday nights.  I even love the ever-present FRIDAY SPELLING TEST.

It's odd, really, that I'd like such a mundane thing.  I can count on it, though, and, gosh darnit, I like that!  No children were consulted in the writing of this post.  The opinions shared here are not necessarily the opinions of the actual Friday test-takers.  Life told us long ago that spelling tests were on Friday, and we get it.  If you have a lot to do later in the week, you know you have to study your spelling words early.  It's like brushing your teeth when you wake up (or immediately after you told your mother that you just brushed) - school starts with a spelling test on Friday morn.  It's simple, really.

I got to thinking last night about how it might be a good practice for the rest of us.  Maybe we all need to be held a little more accountable (to ourselves) about what we're working on - maybe we need to spend a little time each day preparing for the quiz on Friday.  It wouldn't be for the whole grade or anything; it could just count like a small test.  It would need to be each week, though, as we'd need to get in the habit of it all.

Hmmmm.  That would change things!  I'm trying to imagine my weekly quiz needs.  Maintenance is foreign to me, so this could be life-altering.

Here are my Friday morning quiz questions:

1. Is there anyone you need to reach out to or be in touch with?  Do so now, before preceding to number 2.
2. What made you laugh this week?  Did you share it with someone else?
3. What needs to be removed from the 'worry' list?  Strike through it.  Be gone.
4. What did you learn this week?  Have you decided how best to alter things to arrange for the new knowledge?
5. Do you have any socks that need to be matched?  Go do it.
6. Could you open your closet door in front of anyone besides your best friend?
7. Is something trying to get your attention?  Maybe you should listen.
8. Did you remember to spend some time just listening?  Maybe you could plan for better next week.
9. You know those things that you do that you really love?  Think about why you love to do them.  You could add more of that.
10. What's the one thing that you could actually do to afford yourself some joy this weekend?  Do it!

What are the questions on your quiz?