Something you WANT. Something you NEED.

“I need that mommy.”  This is what Bella, my two year old, says to me about everything from her binky – don’t judge me on the binky thing we are working on it - to the remote control.  She needs to paint, she needs to blow bubbles, she needs to talk to her brother on Skype, she needs to play in the sink, she needs, needs, needs.  I am not sure how she learned the word need and not the word want.  When she says she needs gum, which is the most needed thing in our house these days, I ask her, “do you need gum or do you want gum.”  To which she always replies, “I want gum.”  But only because she wants me to give her the gum and does not want the lecture about how she NEEDS air, food, sleep, exercise but she does not NEED gum.

We recently took Bella to a rural primary school in Jamaica, to deliver some supplies they needed and to begin the process of teaching her to give to others, what we hope will be a lifelong endeavor for her.  It was her first foray into hands on philanthropy.  It is our hope that Bella would start to learn what NEED really looks like and juxtapose that to what WANT looks like.

Now I know that WANT and NEED are close cousins, I know that WANT can be as strong a word as NEED in some circumstances.  I also hope that Bella becomes a self assured woman that can make her WANTS known and have her NEEDS met.  But what we are trying to teach her right now, by teaching her the difference between WANT and NEED, is that sometimes we have to set aside our own WANTS to attend to the NEEDS of others.  That it is not inherently bad to WANT, but that it must be tempered with the NEEDS around us. 

picture by Anna Skladmann

The bottom line is that I don’t wish to raise a Paris Hilton, whose main goal is the pursuit of getting all she wants, acquiring lots of stuff, having the best and shiniest things, and showing the world how great she is by this very pursuit.   I hope to have a daughter who has, wrapped up in the pursuit of her own happiness, the desire to help others.  That her desire to meet the NEEDS of others is wound up so tightly in her being, that her very happiness demands she think of others too – not instead of herself like a martyr, not at the cost of her NEEDS, but certainly at the cost of some of her WANTS.  I hope that she has all she NEEDS for the rest of her life, but I hope that she willingly and at some point automatically gives up some of her WANTS in the fulfillment of the NEEDS of others.

It seems to me the gulf between NEED and WANT is no greater demonstrated than at Christmas time.  This is a time when many families rush about buying up as much stuff as they possibly can in an effort to give their children a fabulously magical Christmas.  It is also a time when many children go without even the basic needs like warm clothes or heat in their homes.  It is a time when families gather together for huge meals, parties and happy laughing times.  But it is also a time when many are very lonely, some devastatingly so. 

It was with this thought – about the disparity that occurs at Christmas – that my husband and I decided to adopt a new philosophy about gifts and Christmas. One that we hope will begin to teach the difference between NEED and WANT, one that will engage us in thinking and doing for others and one that will still give our children a memorable Christmas.   It is a two-fold approach; keep Christmas magically manageable while turning the larger focus on helping others.  This Christmas I think gave me a great foundation for the first ½ of this equation; keeping Christmas magically manageable.

Our children still get gifts.  But they are just a few well thought out ones, rather than a crazy abundance that has become the hallmark of Christmas for many.  Here I have to pause to reflect on Christmases past when I went ridiculously crazy and filled rooms with gifts.  I understand the thrill of the hunt for the hot new gifts, I get the beauty of overabundance, I certainly have felt the thrill of having my oldest child come down to more gifts than he could have possibly opened in a week – no joke, the poor little guy begged to stop opening gifts.  So I say this, few gifts and well thought out gifts, with no judgment on those who like me have done the overboard thing. 

Thanks to a pin on pinterest, our gift giving is simply four gifts; something you want, something you need, something you wear, something you read.  I had a great time researching perfect gift to fit each category and ended up with great gifts for each of the children.  Now two of my children are so young that everything Christmas is new to them, starting a new tradition with them was easy.  Luckily my oldest just rolls with the punches and has never been one to care for lots and lots of gifts – I think I ruined him with that one Christmas of crazy overabundance.

The four well thought out gifts for each child, a large family gift and fun filled stockings – that’s it!  It made for a less stressful Christmas for us in terms of shopping, and took not one iota of magic away from Christmas.  In fact I would argue it may have been even more magical as our focus was not on a bunch of gifts, but on the few we had and enjoying them together.

As for the second half of the equation - turning the larger focus on helping others - it’s a new work in progress.  We certainly are always open to opportunities that present themselves, but for now we are working on establishing a family mission statement that we hope will inform our focus on helping others during the holidays and beyond.   We have some ideas and are excited to see what happens this next year! 

_______________________

Two asides:

  I am aware these are not a completely novel ideas, they might not even be the best ones, but they are what we think will work for our family and I believe it will be fun to see our kids start to take a more active role in helping others as they grow up.  Our youngest ones are one and two years old, but it is my hope that if we pattern this new Christmas equation for them, they will eagerly join as able and even help shape and expand the ideas and traditions as they grow up. 

You may also wonder where God is in this conversation and these decisions, especially in light of the fact that we are talking about Christmas. He is at the very heart of this.  He is in the reduction of the gifts and in the magnification of helping others.  He is in the desire to raise children who think of others as automatically as breathing.  He just does not have to be mentioned at every turn, for us He is bigger than that.

Are you Santa?

The reign of Santa has begun in our house this year.  After a respite of some 8+ years, between the awakening of Taylor to the adult world – and thus the loss of Santa - and the awakening of Bella to the world around her, Santa is back!  Bella is two, so magic is not only very real to her, but it is also quite normal.  It is magically normal that GUM only appears after dinner is over, it is magically normal that her big brother Taylor can pull large balls out of her ears, it is also magically normal that a rather robust older man in a shockingly bright suit would bring her toys and candy if she is good.  No real leap of faith for Bella, her Mother says so, her Father says so and the world about her says so.  Must be true!

But what happens when she learns it is not so.  What happens when her friends at school learn from their older siblings and share this truth with her?  What do we say?  Will she mistrust us?  Will she extrapolate this to other parts of her life?  Will she extrapolate this to God?

You might think, since I have been through the life cycle of Santa with Taylor, that I am a pro at this, that I understand the intricacies of the before, during and after Santa belief for children.  But Taylor was an easy child, he does not even remember when he found out.  He pretty much took it in stride and kept walking.  And maybe Bella will do that too – and Zachary just behind her.  But I still worry that one of them will be the child with the broken heart, the child who feels betrayed or the child that learns to mistrust.

I can tell you it was with great relief that I found this blog from a mom who was busted.  Her child asked her in a note, if she was Santa.  I suspect this gave the mom time to contemplate.  The letter she wrote her daughter in response is perfection itself.  The care for her daughter’s feelings, the regard that she gives for the importance of this event and the wonderful way in which she allows the magic to continue in her daughter’s life is astonishing.  I share this letter with permission from the author.

______________________________

Dear Lucy,

Thank you for your letter. You asked a very good question: “Are you Santa?”

I know you’ve wanted the answer to this question for a long time, and I’ve had to give it careful thought to know just what to say.

The answer is no. I am not Santa. There is no one Santa.

I am the person who fills your stockings with presents, though. I also choose and wrap the presents under the tree, the same way my mom did for me, and the same way her mom did for her. (And yes, Daddy helps, too.)

I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.

This won’t make you Santa, though.

Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.

It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.

Santa is a teacher, and I have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.

With full hearts, people like Daddy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.

So, no. I am not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. I’m on his team, and now you are, too.

I love you and I always will.

Mama
_____________________

Thank you  Martha Brokenbrough for allowing me to share this.  For a look at her entire blog entry regarding The Truth About Santa check it out at http://www.cozi.com/live-simply/truth-about-santa

Dodging Perfection

I have a confession; I have an addiction to perfection.  It is an unrequited addiction I assure you, it would be as if I said I had an addiction to winning the lottery – I never have won the lottery, I never have reached perfection.  But I have an addiction to try none the less. 

Take pumpkin patches for example.  We try a new one every year, looking for the perfect total package – pumpkins GROWING in the fields, handsome, well groomed animals to look at and maybe touch, beautiful tall trees offering cooling shade, a barn is always a welcome touch, food is optional but a warm drink is nice.  We never find the perfect patch.  In fact I never like the pumpkin patch we just visited as much as the one from the previous year, which can be maddening.  It means each year we are moving away from perfection, slowly but surely.

The Christmas holiday season brings out the worst in my striving for the best, certainly more than any other time of the year.  This year is no exception and although I have given myself permission to have a less-than-perfect holiday season, the problem lies in the fact that I often don’t end up listening to myself. 

Sure I have a potty training toddler who believes the house is her personal art project, an 11 month old walker who likes to disassemble things at breakneck speed, at least one crazy cat that insists on inviting strange woodland creatures in for nighttime romps and a dog that is on her last leg celebrating her last Christmas, but this Christmas season is going to be particularly bad for my addiction to perfection because I know ahead of time just how far the miss is going to be.  

How do I know how far my miss will be?  Because for the first time in my life, I actually know what perfection looks like.  Who has shown me this perfection?  You all have!  Well actually those of you who belong to the same club I belong to; the club that propagates perfection in tiny increments, the club that never shows you the whole picture but rather small snapshots of it’s beautiful parts, the club that has you thinking you can sew, glue gun, arrange, paint and cook your way to perfection – and in some cases purchase it.  I have seen your face, Perfection thy name is PINTEREST!

Perfection that is not my life!

Oh yes, I am already morning the shabby chic fabric bows that will not be gracing my packages, the paper bag advent calendar that my kids will not be opening every morning, the sparkling sugared cranberry brie bites I will not be cooking, the wreath of radishes I will not be hanging on my door and the popcorn garland we will not be stringing.  I mention only a few, but they are all in there, the board is simply labeled Christmas – one of 44 boards containing 1129 pins and 108 followers, but who’s counting?

The thing is, as much as I want a house that looks spectacularly perfect, my children want to make forts. As much as I would love to have a quiet glass of wine while I listen to bluesy Christmas music, my children would love apple juice while dancing to some rockin’ Chimpmunks – I could add some PINTEREST perfection to even the kid version of this by freezing candy chipmunks in the ice cubes of their drinks.  As much as I need to have the pumpkins off the front porch and all the Christmas decorations up by the 1^st of December, my children need their parents to simply play with them.

And so I give in, for the sake of the two little monkees that break my heart every time I look at them, for the big monkey that has made me so proud in college and for the ape that owns my heart – sorry honey had to stay with the theme here.  I give up the pursuit of PINTEREST perfection and promise to simply enjoy the chaos that is our life, for now.  So if you see me fretting over homemade christmas candies, stressing about pretty packages or sweating over the perfectly painted ornament, I give you premission to pull me aside and remind me of what is important.  As for PINTEREST, I will continue to pin, but it is for the future you understand!

Have you found your Veep?

veep (vEp)

n. Slang

1. A vice president, second in command, right hand person

2. Someone with whom you have shared so much that no matter how long it has been since you have seen or spoken to them when you do it is as if no time has passed, someone who reminds you of a glorious past (real or perceived)

A Veep is not reserved for presidential candidates or CEOs.   Whether we know it or not, a Veep is both something we all want and someone for whom we all search.  My search for a Veep started very young.  To understand how important having a Veep is to me, you must go back to 1967 in the Blue Ridge Mountains, down in the Shenandoah Valley.  My mother was in her senior year at a boarding school called Shenandoah Valley Academy or SVA.  She was not a delinquent, a druggie or god forbid, a loose woman /gasp/, but rather this was a sought after place, a veritable teen wonderland. 

Although the year was 1967, the school had remained in the 1950’s, frozen in an age of innocence.  The girls still wore skirts and blouses with headbands and clean faces, while the boys wore white collared shirts, slacks and loafers and with their hair parted just right.  You know the time period, even if, just like me, you weren’t alive.  We see it on TV and in movies.  A simple happy time.  Clean happy faces, clean pressed clothes, clean fun.  This is what the SVA of 1967 is like to me, a golden age.  In fact the pictures I have in my mind, the stories I hold in my heart and the feelings I have for that place make me nostalgic for a time and place that I never experienced.

It was in this bubble, this safe haven, where my mother met HER Veep.  I could not even begin to share all of the stories and adventures that bonded these two women to each other.  I am not even sure I am at liberty to share how the name Veep or her alter ego Viola came about, but suffice to say, they love each other deeply and their friendship has withstood the test of time.

My Mother                Her Veep 

Growing up we vacationed with the Veep and her family, spent weekends each other’s homes and played games that we made up ourselves – like GAAAUUD (as in guard but also has a version that is similar to god) which consisted of us kids being thrown on the sofa over and over if we tried to get up.  In short we shared our lives together.  We were always so thrilled to see them, the Veep family, and I remember the excited feeling I had that someday I would have a Veep too! 

Truth be told it has not always been easy for them – my mom and her Veep.  I have seen times when they are as tight as ticks and other times when they do not quite see eye to eye.  But like a good marriage, they persevere.  I don’t know how they do it; maybe they remember the good times when times are tough, maybe they remind themselves that ‘she is just doing the best she can,’ or maybe they just love each other despite their differences.  Whatever it is, this perseverance is what makes her my mother’s Veep.

It was with these expectations of a 1950’s perfect bubble world where I would find my Veep, that I attended SVA in the mid 80’s.  I stayed only a year.  After years of hearing stories, seeing pictures and witnessing the resulting friendships, I attended SVA looking for my mother’s school and my mother’s experiences.  I did not allow for the changes that had taken place over the years, not only in the school but in the world.  I wanted to travel back in time and I was continually disappointed when I was faced with the reality of my own time.  One problem was that I had created a dream SVA that NEVER existed, not even in my mother’s time.  The other problem?   I thought I would run smack dab into my Veep.  “Good day Tara.  Here is your room assignment, your class schedule and if you will step right over here this nice young lady will be your Veep.”

To be fair, when I attended SVA it was a grand place, still a veritable kid haven.  There were great teachers, fabulous students and awesome activities; it was still a place that was tucked away from the cares of the world and contained vestiges of a simpler time.  I would even venture to guess that my Veep might have been there.  I just did not stay or invest myself enough in the school or the people to find her.

Since I had been looking for my Veep almost all my life, it was with great celebration in my heart when I thought I found her in a friend.  We saw each other daily, shared intimate details of our lives, laughed and cried together.  She was a dear dear friend of mine for several years but alas she was not my Veep.  I was devastated when I first realized this.  But I was going through a divorce and to be fair to her, it was unpleasant all around to be in the midst of it.  She bailed and never returned.  And I began to doubt that a Veep existed for me.

It has only been recently that I have begun to realize a few things about this search for my Veep.  I have been doing the same thing with the Veep search that I had done with my time at SVA (and perhaps even other things in life but don’t make me look at everything).  I was disregarding reality and trying to create a person who does not exist, even for my mother.  Yes THE Veep, my mother’s Veep is an original, never to be repeated in any time/space continuum.  She is a dear friend to my mother, sharing an incredible history together.  But like the SVA in the bubble, I have created in my mind a fantasy friend that reality simply will not allow for.

Is this right?  Am I never to find even a fax simile of a Veep?  Actually, if I factor in reality and account for myself in the equation, I have several Veeps – and I would venture to guess that both my mother and her Veep have other Veeps too!

I have the Veep that did stick with me though the divorce, who said the hard things but loved me anyway, who comes to the important events even though she is an introvert, and who used to share chocolate volcano cake with me wherever we could find them (but now we have both given up that vice)!

I have the Veep who comes to our spur of the moment dinners, who never fails to brighten my day with her positive outlook on life, whose husband is one of my husband’s Veeps, whose son swears that he is Bella’s fella, and who loves my children even when they are rotten!

I have the Veep who after many years has resurfaced and it is as if she were never gone, who has one of the kindest hearts I know – she hand feeds her dying lizard and takes care of stray cats, who calls me once a week just to chat, and who thinks I am so darn funny!

I have two sister Veeps who are incredible, for whom I have waited and waited for adulthood to arrive and for whom the wait has been worth it, who are fiercely loyal, mama bears to all our children and who are beautiful women in their own right.

I have the two Veeps who my husband found for me, who have got to be some of the nicest women you would ever meet, who are intelligent and witty, and who live far away but whom I hold near in my heart.

I even have the Veep who did go to SVA, who I have gotten to know better in the last few years than I did in the brief one at school, and who I think is one very cool chick!

For the sake of brevity I must stop there but I know I have other Veeps and I love and appreciate everyone one of them for whatever time we spend with each other, however brief or eternal!

So I think maybe there is a spirit of Veep, in all the women in my life, that I have been tapping into without realizing it.  Perhaps some Veeps come and some Veeps go, perhaps there are major Veeps and minor Veeps, and just perhaps true Veeps are around forever.  I don’t know any more.  What I do know is that instead of searching for my Veep, instead of hanging on to an unrealistic ideal of friendship, I have decided to just enjoy the women in my life and simply let the rest of it take care of itself.  As for the 1950’s bubble school called SVA?  Well I am holding onto that one for my dreams!

Cheers to Brian and Amy

My dearest friend Amy, I post this so that you may know and Brian may be reminded just how awesome you are and that he really is the luckiest guy I know.  I love you Amy!   And Brian, well you are growing on me!

October 2, 2001

Amy French weds Brian Korich

In the spirit of our younger years, when we used to make up top 10 lists for one another (yes, just like David Letterman used to do)…I have made up a top ten list.  Since Amy is well indoctrinated in the top 10, this one is for Brian, so here are the…

Top 10 Reasons Brian is lucky to have Amy in his life

10.  Amy is laid back about time – for Amy the clock is only a gentile suggestion – so dinner at six has a two hour window built in!  What this means for Brian is that Amy will not be upset if he is late for dinner, she won’t likely be there anyway.  Perhaps what Amy knows and the rest of us need to learn is that “among life’s great regrets is all the time wasted being early for everything.” 

9. Amy is all about family and friends – all of those here today are a testament to how much Amy and Brian both cherish their family and friends. You may not know this but Amy put her whole self into this Wedding, she thought of each and every one of us during the planning. What this means to Brian is that you have a partner who takes your family and your friends as her own.

8.  Amy is diligent – Amy is an A student, actually she is likely an A student without trying but instead of taking the easy A she works her tail off, making sure everything is perfect and thus assuring herself the hard A.  What this means for Brian is that Amy is a hard worker, never taking the easy road if the better one requires some elbow grease, Amy does not fear hard work…it also means you get to join her in this so roll up those sleeves Brian.

7.  Amy loves to laugh – I never have a conversation with Amy where she is not laughing at some point, she seems to find humor in all kinds of situations.  What this means for Brian is a household full of laughter.  I think you will both find that laughter really is the best medicine for what ails you, so no matter what comes your way if you can laugh together everything will be fine!

6.  Amy is a great listener – she is a constant communicator, great with phone calls and texts, always keeping in touch.   What this means for Brian is that you have a partner who hears you, you just have to talk!  No problem there right?  But it means that you have a real listener as a partner.  Now I cannot guarantee that if you talk about the same thing over and over that her eyes will not glass over, but I would bet good money that she heard you the first and even fourth time and will remember what is important to you (unless it has to do with tooth pain or furniture then all bets are off).

5.  Amy is a planner – just look around you at this beautiful celebration, Amy makes lists, checks them twice, talks to people about them, worries about them, and then ultimately executes her plans beautifully.  What this means for Brian is that you should just sit back and let her do her thing because look they turn out wonderfully.

4. .  Amy is fiercely loyal – although Amy is very forgiving when those around her injure her; hurt her friends or family and you would be better off wrestling bears than tangle with Amy.  What this means for Brian is that he has found a loyal partner for life, and a fiercely protective mama bear should any cubs join them in the future.

3.  Amy is beautiful – come on look at her, she is hot!  What this means for Brian is that he gets to spend the rest of his life waking up with this sleeping beauty, sitting across from such loveliness, and having this sexy lady as his partner.  Not too shabby!

2.  Amy has a heart of gold – she thinks of others always, she cares about even the smallest of those who come into her life, she always has time for the children around her, she runs a hotel for stray cats just outside her front door compete with heating pads, fresh food and water, and she even hand feeds ailing reptiles.  What this means for Brian (other than haveing his lizzards well attended to) is that his partner is empathetic and will always think of others, including Brian, before herself.

And the #1 reason Brian is lucky to have Amy in his life…

1.  Amy is perfect for him – if the previous 9 reasons don’t have you convinced, then just look at them.  They really do complement each other perfectly.  What this means to Brian is that Amy is not just the Yang to his Ying but she is the filter to his fish tank, the salve to his cat scratched sofa and the heart to his beat.

So if you would join me in raising our glasses to Brian’s good fortune in finding Amy, may their life continue to be filled with beauty, loyalty, love and laughter!

41 Apologies on my 41st Birthday

It is a saying that I use all the time, “perception is reality”.  It holds true in most situations, what you perceive not only informs your reality but usually creates it.  Because perception can change, so can reality.  Hang in there it gets less metaphysical.  Perception based reality  is why you can hate someone you used to love and in some rare instances love someone you used to hate, all the while, the someone in question remains essentially the same.  It is why two people can see the same event and have very different stories and feelings about it.  It is why people can fight over an issue, each having diametrically opposed solutions, all the while wanting the same ends.   It is also why some believe I am a nice person, while others think I am horrible.

We all have a picture of ourselves in our minds.  I am Tara, loved by my husband, children and family.  I am kind, giving, hardworking and witty.  I also tend to be shy.  I live in a comfortable home in a wonderful neighborhood full of great neighbors.  I have 3 highly driven children whom I love dearly.  Blah blah blah. 

But then watch this.  She is Tara, I don’t like her much.  She is a self-centered, braggart who leaves her children with a nanny instead of raising them herself.  She also can be snotty.  She lives in NORFOLK, a dangerous place full of gangs.  Her kids are fussy, demanding and cry a lot.  Blah blah blah.

I know there is nothing I can do about what people think of me, and that is not really what intrigues me.  But rather, it was interesting to me that such diverse pictures of me – of all of us - are floating around out there.  No pictures are alike, no pictures are accurate, yet still we all make decisions based on those pictures.

If you are reading this blog, likely I am an ok person in your reality.  But there are a few people on this planet for whom I am not only not ok, but for whom I am a cautionary tale at best and a cuss word at worst. 

A harmless point in case (because there are worse ones believe you me):  on trip to the mud flats with campers from Camp Blue Ridge, I made a new friend, Kim.  I don’t know why, but I pushed her in the mud pit.  I think I was trying to be funny or maybe that is revisionist history, but her tears and what she said to me told me exactly the picture she had of me, “Friends don’t push each other into the mud.”  In her reality I am not a good friend, but in my reality I am a good friend.  I have lots of other pictures of myself that override that one.

Is that it?  Do I have a more complete picture of myself than others because I have all the pictures of myself?  Or am I revising the pictures all the time, telling myself that I did this or that for a good reason?  Whatever it is, all I want for my birthday is to take some of the bad pictures off the table.  This won’t do it, but it is all I know to do right now – if you have some magic eraser that takes away sins let me know but for now here are 41 apologies on my 41^st birthday.

I am sorry that I:   broke my promise to you,  blindsided you,  told your secret,  missed your special occasion,  did not get you a gift,  was not careful with our friendship,  did not confide in you, did not sign up for the same camp as you,  pushed you in the mud pit,  teased you,  kept the truth from you,  did not invite you to the party,  left you holding the bag,  stuck my nose in where it did not belong,  wrote that mean e-mail, went to formal with your crush, slapped you, did not send a thank you note, ended things poorly, ignored you, hit you with a vehicle, broke up with you on your birthday, tricked you, did not call you back, laughed at you, behaved like an idiot at your wedding, lied to you, did not clean up my mess, did not make you a priority, hog tied you and put you out in the rain, poured milk on your head, asked for a new roommate, lied to join the club, made fun of you, broke your watch, disregarded you, did not stand up for you, made you cry, forgot about our lunch, embarrassed you, and unfriended you on facebook.

"What did you get me?"

Just a few years ago, my husband lived, worked and schooled in Durham, England.  There he was single, footloose, and presumably fancy free – although if you know my husband “fancy free” is not something you would likely call him.  Call him laid back with a slight neurosis about car travel or identify him as chill with a case of Eore type melancholy, but don’t call him fancy free.  However, in Durham he was as fancy free as his personality would allow.  There he met some very lovely people, with lovely children, and some lovely people with out lovely children, and some lovely people who were yet to have lovely children – you get the picture.  Flash forward.  Two of these groups, from the first and last categories, now live in Washington State.  It was from them to home that we were flying when he asked me, “What did you get me?”

Bella relaxes on the plane

Ok here is the picture; we had just reached our cruising altitude of 32,000 feet as my stress level continued to rise, I am holding a crying 2 year old while dealing with my own anxiety from turbulence that seems to come from nowhere – yes both the turbulence and the anxiety seem to come from nowhere, the dangling participle works either way – it is the 4^th anniversary of our wedding and my husband turns to me and asks, “What did you get me?”  He thinks he is being funny, although he should know that at 32,000 feet NOTHING is funny to me.  I am silent, but I think to myself, I got something for you buddy!

Archie remains calm while kids go wild

More years ago than I care to admit, my fear of flying kicked into overdrive as my friend Amy and I returned from a vacation in Mexico.  Flying on a Mexican airline (ok go ahead, collective gasp away), in a storm (oh it gets better), one of the engines appears to catch on fire (not true, we were going through some crazy rough clouds and the lights on this airplane were an unfortunate red – yes you got it, red lights + clouds = red smoke/fire), and the attendants seemed not to speak English (we certainly did not speak Spanish).  After a semi-emergency landing (there were storms everywhere but in retrospect we were not likely in danger) we got off the plane in Charlotte, hundreds of miles from our final destination, demanded to get our bags and go through customs, and finally refused to return to the plane.   The airline representatives were upset with us, the customs officials were not all that thrilled either and we certainly were mad at everyone (including the drunk lady two seats ahead of us that seemed to think everything was funny and worthy of a song, just before she decided to fight with whomever was willing).  I did not fly again for years and years.

I have been quite successful over the years at NOT flying.  I have coaxed friends into traveling to me, I have taken the train to destinations that are unreasonably far for such travel, I have drugged myself silly when air travel was mandatory, but mostly I have given up on many fun opportunities.  A few months ago I decided enough was enough; besides I did not want my fear of flight to affect my children or to keep our family from trips.  I would master this or at the very least travel regardless the fear.  So I booked a flight for the four of us to Seattle to visit the lovely people.

 One of the lovely people married us, on a beautiful August evening in 2007 beside the water on a local estate.  There was a nice breeze coming off the water and the night turned out to be a cool 74 degrees.  This was a miracle since the day before was in the 100’s and the day after in the high 90’s.  Our wedding day was perfect. 

Laughing because Archie spontaneously kissed

me in the middle of the ceremony

Our Wedding Huppah

Standing under our Huppah, with our friends and family all about us I made these promises to Archie;

                I promise to allow God to be at the center of our lives

                I promise to walk by your side and be your friend

                I promise to share my life and my love with you

                I promise to take your family and friends as my own

                I promise to talk to you about the good and the bad

                I promise to listen to you, to share your joy and your tears and to make them my own

                I promise to share with you all the happiness I find

                It is now and forever more within me to be a part of you

Promises Made

It was one of these promises that brought us to Seattle that week; “I promise to take your family and friends as my own.”  These were not just his friends; the lovely people were his chosen family as well.  We are generally all born with family, a lovely institution to protect and nurture the young and an equally important unconditional support system when we are all grown up .  But we need not stop with the biological when we think of or create our families.  The lovely people of Seattle are part of Archie’s family.  And I realized I NEVER would have gotten on that plane if they were not part of mine too.

“What did you get me?”  Well my darling husband, the one within whom my heart still finds comfort and love, I fulfilled one of the promises I made to you on our wedding day; I traveled by plane to see the lovely people, our family.

The Lovely People (category one)

The Herms Family

The Lovely People (category three)

The Embry Family