Mom’s 100th

Mom’s 100th. April 17, 1921. What I have learned since she has been gone. 

I have learned that my mother’s critical heart was born long before me. Life’s challenges drew her inward, and, whatever joy might have been was now depleted. It wasn’t until I understood the ‘why’ that I was able to heal from her verbal attacks. The ‘why’ had nothing to do with me, and not necessary to divulge. 

However:

Sometimes, you have to step away from life’s anchor, to see what’s important and precious. To become ‘unstuck’, I had to be willing to move. Protect my heart, but, move my emotions; move my opinions; move my stubbornness; move my ego; move my anger and pain. You get it, I had to move…dislodge…relocate and dissolve my unforgiving heart.

I had to let go and love my mother unconditionally, even though and especially, since she passed away 3 1/2 years ago. Why? FREEDOM…to…move…on. 

Once I CHOSE to let go of all the obstacles that were drowning me, I noticed her beauty; her goodness; her generosity; her ability to make others feel special. Once I released my moments of despair, my clarity of choice allowed me to flourish, be happy, release anger, AND, forgive.

My mother didn’t always value me, but I know she always loved me. Some will say you can’t have both. I believe it depends on who, and where you place the love. Whether you’re born into family or you marry into it, you have to decide how much devaluing you will take. I could have walked away from my mother at any time, but I valued her, and that was worth being loved.

Now, in this season of my life, I have accepted that some will not appreciate my heart; some will choose to let me go, but I’m okay with that, because I have found my own value. My mother taught me through her passing away, GOD’s love and forgiveness is greater than any heartache. And, memories: the good ones survive, while the difficult memories have sunk to the bottom of the sea, gone for good.

Choose who you want in your life. It takes work to grow friendships, whether family or friend. They falter and they flourish. I miss my mother, but it took 3 1/2 years to get to this place in my heart.

Finally, during the difficult years of caregiving for my mother, I held onto, and prayed these words:

‘Lord, help me to replace misery with hope; hopelessness with faith; and, judgment with grace.’ Grace, such a beautiful and powerful word. It is by God’s grace I have a joyful life.

Happy 100^th Mom. I know you’re listening. Say ‘hi’ to Dexter.

chemistry

I’m not sure how chemistry works, when certain humans and pets make a permanent impression on our lives. Terry made an impression on me in our first introductions. We didn’t have a clue that 7 ½ years later, we would marry at end of 3 months of dating. God had a huge role to play in our lives, that’s for sure. And, sometimes, we have to follow that sense of feeling, emotion, naiveté, and, spiritual guiding.

Animals have an innate ability to sense and judge, who they can trust and love. It’s the luck of the draw when you bring a pet into your home. At the first meeting a cat can size you up without blinking, and decide if you’re worth their time, and attention. We had that pet. He sized us up before he moved from the neighbor’s house to ours. Several bird feeders in the backyard, didn’t hurt. One by one, they disappeared. The bird feeders.

I came home from work one day, and found a cat sleeping at the end of my mother’s bed. She had been sick, and, he noticed. Dexter moved in a few months later, and over the next eleven years, he laid by her side when she was sick. And, toward the end of her days, he barely left her side. Five months after she passed, he followed. She still needed Dexter, and maybe his job wasn’t over.

Never overlook chemistry. You might find a ‘Terry’ or a ‘Dexter’ hidden in the treasure.

Dexter’s last walk-about, March 2, 2018, before he passed from a tumor on March 12, 2018.

• 

The Obvious Sinner

Sometimes, God has a purpose for using the obvious sinner, and not the silent sinner. 

Sometimes, the louder the arrogance, the more open our eyes. We don’t sleep through a storm with the obvious sinner. We hear the wreckage before the vision.

Sometimes, God uses rough edges to clear the obstacles, imperfections to raise awareness, and, noise, to wake us up. WAKE UP!

Sometimes, we do what we’re told, and follow the leader; the obvious; the silent illusionist; the slight of hand; the fibber, the debunker. Who holds the truths? That is a question, not a statement.

Sometimes, we trust the obvious sinner, because transparency overrules a secret heart. Silence is dangerous.

Sometimes, we can’t hear the truth of the silent sinner. There is not even the whoosh of a breeze; hidden on purpose.

Regardless, of who you vote for, listen very carefully to the obvious sinner, AND, the silent sinner. They both have a lot to offer, and, a lot to hide. Our future depends on the choice we see and hear. Facts and truths outweigh feelings and thoughts.

Freedom is at stake.

“For all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God.” Roman’s 3:23

are my words worth a fight?

I had no courage growing up.

 As a teenager, I had no ability to voice my opinion on anything without being hit. If I sat in the car with my Vietnam Veteran, schizophrenic brother, I would even get hit for being silent.

 In 2008 Facebook was created. It was the same year Obama won election. I didn’t vote for Obama. However, I never, ever, said one derogatory thing about him. I know humiliation. When Facebook friends or family made disparaging remarks (never about his color, only his decisions), I chastised them. Facebook emboldened me. I finally had the power to speak my mind, and no one would hit me, physically, that is. So, I began to carry a mental butcher knife, like the real one my brother had chased me down the street in the middle of the night, trying to kill me.

One day, in the early FB years, I thought my opinions mattered, and got into a heated non-political discussion with a family member. Although, my facts were correct, I bullied. I became the very human I feared. It happened again, and again. Oh Facebook, the floodgates were opened for people like me, who never had a voice, or, the courage to speak.

Therein began the separation of human grace. It didn’t matter that I carried empathy in my heart, GRACE was missing. Yes, it’s possible to have one without the other.

Throughout the years, I began to see the destruction that I, like many on Facebook, had created. Our opinions, valid or not, were meant to show our strength and wisdom, when in fact, it showed arrogance.

2016 hit us like a Cat 5 hurricane. Let’s call it Hurricane Trump. Like him, or not, we have lived a tumultuous four years. The media and DNC attacked him with vile lies. Lots of lies, and nobody bothered to fact check them, so they must be true, but many were not. Trump lied too, and he was disrespectful. When he made the comment about John McCain, I wanted to rip out his throat. You don’t say those things to Vietnam Veterans, especially, one who stayed in a POW camp, broken and tortured, when he could have gone home, because of his influential father. Do you know why he stayed and endured torture that you and I cannot even comprehend? He didn’t want to leave his POW mates. Honestly, that alone humbles me. Trump made fun of the disabled, and there’s no way to spin it.  Not very presidential.

The sad part is that Trump has gotten some things done, that the public never sees. Good things for the country that he genuinely cares about. Why don’t we see them? Because he waves his tweets like a rusted butcher knife, handing them off daily to the media. Each one gutting the other, until they’re dead, only to be revived the next day. Who is left behind to clean up the daily mess? You and me. I am exhausted. I am not going to talk about the election in November. That ship has sailed. Believe what you will. My prayer is that you believe nothing, until you fact check everything.

One more thing. The attacks against each other continue.

Christian Liberals attack the Christian Conservatives (can you believe it?), and when I responded with the question that I thought we were on the same team, I was attacked, and felt I was being chased again with a large butcher knife. Only this time, it was from Christians. My sin: I questioned. When an Evangelical meme was made fun of, again, by a Christian, I thought we were on the same team. Only this time, I wasn’t nice, and flashed my knife. I took off running because I forgot about GRACE.

I’ve stopped running now. It doesn’t matter how factual my posts are, regarding this election (I fact check all sides as best I can). You see, the people who know me, know my heart. So, when we have a lively discussion regarding the current political situation, we kiss and make up at the end of the conversation. Bottom line: our friendship is more important than politics. When, I was told I don’t understand and should be more sensitive (yesterday’s post), I cried, because some are not willing to kiss and make up. Not one word has been written about the disrespectful memes I described, but I don’t get a pass because I’m on the other team (actually, an Independent). In the Facebook post, I stated that “I was disappointed that black liberals were so disrespectful toward black conservatives”. I should have shown more grace in the continued wording, but it was too late. The post turned into something completely different. Our country is polarized. This is not a Right issue or Left issue. It’s a human issue. It’s a heart issue. Most importantly, it’s a GOD issue…or lack of.

Social media is what we make it. There is A LOT of beauty. Catching up with old friends, commenting on vacation photos, and praying for those who need help. However, be careful, social media also has an agenda, and right now, it’s very one-sided. That is the importance of fact checking. If you Google something, you’ll have to research a dozen negatives in order to locate a positive. That positive may be the truth. Research more, because the very issues that make you angry, may be false. Try this: antifa.com. See if it’s true or false. I honestly don’t know, but I should.

The trauma I endured, lasted for years with little parental help (sort of like FB, except I couldn’t delete). I understand PTSD because it still lingers over 50 years later. The pain of bruised eyes; cut lips; bloody scalp from hair being pulled out; choked numerous times; dropped off in a field, beaten and left behind; seeing one cat hanging from a rod, and another being drowned in the toilet (both lived when I got to them); those traumas are all real. I understand aggression and fear, but I will never see myself as a victim, only one who is still a work in progress. I understand that GRACE is what we all need, and my goal is to breathe it in, with no hesitation. Just like air. Breathe in, breathe out. 

 

happy birthday

Happy Birthday, to My Terry.  June 21, 2020

 

Today is Father’s Day, and Terry ’s birthday. Terry doesn’t celebrate Father’s Day, but he has been a father of sorts to many young people. It began when he carried the children of our friends on his shoulders and played in the pool. Some, without a father to fill that position. It may not sound like much, but he was present (burned up a few hot dogs on the grill while playing, ha). We loved and took care of a youngster, who needed a father and a mother. Her grandmother was present, and so were we.

Mentoring became important when Terry joined 100 Black Men of Orange County. He was present and committed. When it came time to help a struggling young entrepreneur (one of many) build his business through online video projects, he was present. Some money was made, but not enough to cover Terry’s gentle voice, steering the young man through the fears of facing a camera, and being patient enough to wait. Yes, wait. The phrase, Time is Money, is not important. Slow, calming breaths, sips of water, lunch in the Wall kitchen, encouraging words of wisdom, and more… patience…that’s Terry’s purpose. He has the same value when volunteering numerous hours at church, and, has become the ‘computer/TV guy’, helping our elderly neighbor across the street, who lost his wife, and daughter. Terry is always just a phone call away or knock on the door. He is not distracted or too bothered to help. Well, maybe a deep sigh once and awhile.

You probably know that twenty-six years ago Terry married a Norskie (half, that is, the rest is questionable), from Orange County. We met while working for Norwegian Cruise Lines and haven’t stopped traveling since. One of my greatest joys is filling my wanderlust with this man.

Did you know that Terry has a lady on the side? Her name is Lucy, and she’s absolutely in love with him. I’m okay with it. She likes to sunbathe and hang out with Terry in the office. Our last cat, Dexter, loved him too, even though we had a ‘no cat on the dining room table’ rule, he managed to hoodwink Terry into sharing his sandwich on a few occasions.

It sounds like I’m writing about a boy scout, but in reality, we’re all imperfect (thank goodness). I don’t thank my former Marine enough. I forget to be ‘present’ sometimes. He makes me feel safe and wanted and loved, unconditionally. Terry is patriotic and loves our country. He’s so proud of his heritage, and never forgets where his roots began, even before Rockingham, North Carolina. He knows who he is.

So, Terry, happy birthday. You are loved by amazing, loyal, and beautiful friends, a loving wife, and two, cool cats. Laurie

 

Sometimes, Powerless, Sometimes, Mighty

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but, one of power, love, and sound judgement.” (Timothy 1:7)

A few weeks ago, I awoke at 3 am, and was prompted to pray for our former pastor, and his wife, who I’ll call Betty (Betty is the go-to name), a gifted minister. It wasn’t important that I knew what to pray, only that I pray. A few days later, I called to explain, and left a message on her voice mail. She soon called back, and, in our conversation to catch up, she asked how I was doing. Under my breath, I said, that I’d had some anxiety issues this past year, and tried to move on in the conversation. Wait, let’s go back, she said, and for the next hour, Betty confided in having severe anxiety issues, and shared how she dealt with them. How I work through issues might be different from Betty’s, but the foundation is the same.

PRAYER IS THE MOST IMPORTANT GIFT AND TOOL.

I’m thankful to my husband and friends who prayed for me. I didn’t realize the 3 am wake up call to pray for friends, meant the Lord was using Betty to minister to me. At the time I began my blog on anxiety, I had alienated the Lord, with my silence. I wasn’t too tired to pray for friends or family, but I was too tired to pray for me. Years ago, I worked as cruise staff on the S/S Norway. At the time, it was the largest ship in the world, three and half times the length of a football field. After my first three months of working eighteen-hour days, seven days a week, I went home for vacation. Completely exhausted, I tried to sleep, and I vividly remember saying, out loud to myself, “my mother is going to find me dead in the morning, because I was too tired to breathe”. These past years of care giving for my mother, working, and conservator for my brother, left me too tired to breathe in the unconditional love of God. My imaginary fear of the unknown ‘what ifs’, accelerated after my mother passed away. I was left too weary to be embraced by my loving husband and faithful friendships.

I don’t know if I’m alone in this backward thinking. The Lord patiently waited, until I asked for help. Too tired to think, but I shouldn’t have been too tired to pray. Thank God, others did. Since then, I am inhaling slow, deep breaths, and, asking the Lord for guidance, through my prayers, faith, and trust.

If I trust that the Lord is going to heal my imperfect heart of fear, then, I know I’m going to be okay. The key is believing what my heart and the Lord say. I don’t want to be held prisoner by fear and anxiety. I’m trying to take slow, deep breaths, so I don’t come completely unglued, carrying old baggage I should have dumped years ago. But, noooooo, I hold on to it, like some gaudy, prized possession. I must keep reminding myself that by having faith in our Heavenly Father’s unconditional love for me, HE unlocks, and releases, all those pesky ‘issues’ that hold me hostage. The ‘issues’ that quietly devour my well-being, whether physical, spiritual, emotional, or, mental, one, deep red bite at a time.

Some friends have asked why I allow myself to write so honestly and expose some of the problems regarding my ‘life-with-Mom’ anxiety issues. Very simple: because, I know I’m not alone. When I wrote ‘Empty, But Not Alone’, it was in response to a friend who felt lonely. Aside from one sibling, her family had all passed away. I understood her aloneness, and, knew there were others.

The face of anxiety is different to everyone, but it still grabs tight, stealing shallow breaths; acid forming burps; paranoia; and, little sleep. Mom issues are the root of my anxiety, add an absentee father, a once violent schizophrenic brother, and there you have it. Am I a complete mess? Sometimes, but, I’m very good at hiding it, until my hubs, or close friends, call me out, and remind me how good my life really is. I am so grateful for honest friends, and, a patient, loving husband. If I trust that the Lord is going to heal my imperfect heart of fear, then, I know I’m going to be okay. The key is believing what my heart and the Lord say, with endless amounts of gratitude.

I confused my disappointments, with defeats, when I should have seen them as opportunities to grow, and blossom. The Lord has a strong message for me. “YOUR disappointments are telling me I have failed you, which I have NOT. Are you blaming ME for your disappointments, your anxieties? Your fears?” The Lord was very clear, when he said they were mine, not his, but HE would carry them with me. In fact, as my Heavenly Father, HE would carry the load, if I asked.

Why are some of my blogs surrounded by struggles?  It’s what I know. My anxiety is not daily, not always weekly, sometimes, months pass, but when it hits, WOW!  Can’t breathe. Dizzy. Failure. My natural, God given joy is extinguished. A lot of my fear was attached to the anchor, who died, September 2017, my mother. I allowed her to pull me into a world of critical dysfunction, continuing with her last breath. For weeks, after she passed, I sat on her bed, still arguing with her. It felt good, because I knew she wouldn’t scream back at me, reminding me of being her failed daughter. Failed, because I wasn’t like her. I was kind, compassionate, forgiving, weak. My love for her was unconditional.

I have been reminded by friends and coworkers, that my humor is back, my face looks more relaxed, and there is a new bounce in my step. Yet, my, anxious desire to plan and prepare for the future without the queen anchor, has gone into auto drive. I can’t focus or settle. Sell the house; buy a condo; in state, out of state; take care of brother. What if my husband doesn’t want to live in the once fabulous state of California? How do I choose? For heaven’s sake, I have gotten so tightly wound, I seriously cannot breathe. Now, I sound like a brat!  You know why? Because my anxiety controls me, and that’s why I am too tired to talk to the Lord or pray for myself.

Realizing my self-worth, unlocks the tentacles that fear, and, anxiety hold over me…until I relapse. I have not been shy about the nearly crippling lack of self-esteem my mother showed me. I have chronicled some of the ‘after affects’ in my blogs. Ironically, I believed healing would begin the day after she passed. I looked forward to getting rid of her furniture, pictures, and everything attached to her memory. When we remodeled the kitchen, several months later, all the furniture, including much of my mother’s was crammed into the living room. When everything was complete, we kept some of the furniture I so longed to discard. The reality hit that when I am older, with all new ‘stuff’, I won’t be able to touch, see, or smell the past through vintage family furniture, or have my evening’s brighter, with an ancestor’s antique lamp. Mom’s green couch became the center point to our sitting room, and we use it daily…. I confused my disappointments, with defeats, when I should have seen them as opportunities to grow, and blossom…and…have endless amounts of gratitude.

 

“I tried to hold on to your last breath, but I realized I had to let go, so I could breathe the next.” 9/30/2017.

Anxiety is unique to everyone who carries it, but ultimately, we all share that one thing in common ~ FEAR. It didn’t matter that every single day I tried to be a good daughter, but it was never enough. I knew my mother loved me in her own way, but guess what? It wasn’t until the last few years, I realized that my mother’s dislike for me, had nothing to do…with me. Her unrequited love for my father (her words), continued long after they divorced, and he passed away. They were oil and vinegar, and the worst was brought out in both. I was the reminder of her love, and loss of him, with my appearance and personality.

Anchor. Stallworth. Immovable. Critical.

You are valuable to your friends and family. Value isn’t wrapped in quantity, but quality. I spent too much time when I was younger filling my sadness and anxiety with people who I thought cared for me. It took me years to realize, that friendship is about the quality of who stands with me, when life overwhelms. Surround yourself with people who respect you, unconditionally.

“I can’t erase the memories, but God can erase the pain.” 9/30/2017

 

This blog was originally written September 8, 2019 but posted April 4, 2020, during the pandemic. I have to remind myself to exhale, get on the treadmill to walk off some tension, and most importantly PRAY. Much love to you all!

 

26th

February  19, 2020

                                                                ‘26’   YEAH,BABY!   ‘26’

 

I met Terry in January of 1986, at the private Captain’s Cocktail Party, for V.I.P.’s, onboard Norwegian Cruise Lines   S/S Norway. As Director of Sales & Incentives, it was his job that week to schmooze the V.I.P.’s and hopefully garner future business. I was one of three hostesses onboard the ship (no, I didn’t seat passengers for meals), and, it was my job to help the group that week. I was on the cruise staff.

A few days prior, I was taking the boat tender into Saint Thomas, V.I., and watched Terry’s group on the wild Kon Tiki tour boat pass by, returning to the ship. They had been snorkeling, and drinking rum, lots of rum, on a very, naturally warm, Caribbean day. As the other tender passed by, in beautiful Charlotte Amalie Bay, I thought to myself, “they look like they’re having a great time”. I was always exhausted, working eighteen-hour days, seven days per week, three+ months, without a day off. I didn’t have the time or energy to party, but it sure looked fun.

My helping Terry and the others lasted for a few days, but our friendship continued, platonic, for seven and a half years. Then, with several, long time lapses in between, we got married.  We mostly saw each other onboard one of the five NCL ships, for short periods of time, when Terry would be part of the sales team. Honestly, we hardly knew each other. We never spent much time together, but, those pesky butterflies kept fluttering, in and through, my heart. I later found out that Terry felt the same.

What kept our friendship moving forward was his kindness, and respect. He was married when we met, but our friendship never evolved to something we would regret later. In fact, it wasn’t even an option. My past blogs go into more detail on how our friendship evolved into love, years after his divorce. But, for today, my story, his story, is continued love, kindness, and respect for those around us.

Terry was laid off from his job, in his early sixties. The curse of getting older, and, the managerial stupidity of letting years of knowledge and experience, plus, a Rolodex, go away. For years he had thought of videography as more of a hobby, buying cameras and computer editing equipment along the way. Now, we were in a good financial situation, manageable bills, for him to pursue his love of moving pictures. And, he did. Fast forward to a few weeks ago.

Terry had set up his studio for a young, nervous client, who wanted to create forty company tutorials for the internet. I was in the family room, working on my tablet. As Terry stood behind the camera, the young man stopped and started, trying to act natural, but still, he stammered, and was frustrated. I hadn’t planned on listening, but I could hear Terry’s calm voice through the door, reassuring him to slow down, take a deep breath, and, begin again. I sat on the couch, smiling, as the man I fell in love with all those years ago, mentored this sweet young soul. A few days later, when, the stories and teaching was complete, I told Terry how proud I was, of how he handled the situation. You see, it is grace, patience, and respect that lays the foundation, for a successful young man to blossom, or, in my case, a middle-aged woman to trust. It’s the very thing I saw in Terry so long ago.

Today, I celebrate 26 years of marriage to someone, who I barely knew, but had a feeling, and believed it was planted by God. “He is the one, Laurie”, I felt the Lord’s tender spirit whisper in my heart. And, in the words of Terry, “you’re a keeper”, Laurie!

So are you!  Laurie

Alone, but not empty

The sliver of separation in the curtains allowed a trickle of light. I could still barely read 4:00 am on my watch. At 5:30 am, the alarm would chime, and, a few hours later, we would be leaving Budapest for Los Angeles. My heart ached, knowing, aside from two cute, rescue kitties, we were going home to an empty house. I lay there facing the ceiling, missing aunts and uncles, grandparents, pets, and even my mother. All of whom had passed away. Some, decades ago; some, recently. These emotions seem to come out of nowhere, and I wondered why they all hit at 4:00 am in a Budapest hotel.

My husband and I had spent the week on a beautiful, Danube river cruise, with dear, loving friends. I was excited to see their joy in experiencing their first European trip, buying gifts for grandchildren, and taking pictures to text home. We had no children, and, I’d gone through a period of intense jealousy over what they had, and, I did not. Mind you, these are beautiful humans who would never make me feel…loss. It was all me.

During the week, there was a family onboard, spending quality time together. Particularly, the mother, Betty, and, her late twenties, daughter. It was sweet and tender, and they had a connection my mother and I never shared. We had all noticed the daughter on the first day. She was so beautiful, we stared. Even in my mid-sixties, I envied her. This young woman appeared to have the whole package, beauty, grace, a small waist, and a wide smile.

Later in the week, my husband and I took a hiking tour straight UP to a castle. It was long and steep, and muddy from rains the night before. I had been preparing at home, on my treadmill, and felt confident I could do this…until I looked up. Had I known how difficult it was, I never would have done it, but I didn’t want my fear to hold back my husband, who would have stayed behind.

Betty was slowly making the same trek, and we trailed last. I told her son in law, he should catch up with the rest of the family (including his beautiful wife), and we’d make it sooner or later, together. My husband kept close tabs on me, but I waved him on, too.

This gave two old gals time to talk, as we grunted, and sweat, and slipped in the mud. I asked if her daughter was a model, and I hoped she didn’t think I was a stalker, because I kept looking at her darling, short haircut, and envisioned it on me (a short, stocky, senior). I learned her daughter was an accountant, and, couldn’t wait to have long hair again, following eight months of chemotherapy. She had been diagnosed with cancer two years prior. That stake of jealousy pushed into my heart, hurt.

We kept marching upward, gathering mud, and more sweat, pushing one foot in front of the other. I prayed I wouldn’t lose my balance, and tumble over the side of the mountain; or roll back down on my fanny; or do a muddy face plant. I was trying my darnedest to focus, and not yell ‘squirrel’, because I’m easily distracted. I wasn’t really in the shape I had imagined. I hadn’t climbed Vernal or Nevada Falls in Yosemite since my twenties, but at least now, if I fell and rolled down the mountain, I’d bought travel insurance for the trip.

Ultimately, we both survived, but the morning wasn’t over yet. Once we reached the castle and investigated where Dracula was imprisoned, there was a line of taxi’s bringing tourists back and forth. I told my husband that’s how I wanted to leave, but then the tour guide started motioning for us to go toward the ‘lower’ castle, and I was swept up in the line. Holy cow, a steep, slippery, muddy trek…down. The terror of falling and breaking something other than just my pride, prevailed.

But I survived. We all did.

This hike reminded me of a hard-boiled egg. I love them, but it takes me longer to peel one, than it is to eat it. By the fourth or fifth egg (not eaten all at once), I’m so impatient, that I rip off more than the shell. Sometimes, the Lord guides us through life the same way. It’s painful getting to the destination where the Lord wants us, to grow and prosper. HE patiently peels away layer by layer, my sins of stubbornness; jealousy; envy; vanity; self-esteem issues; pride…all my imperfections. I’ve been on a lot of destinations with the Lord. I know HE values me, but sometimes, I make his work difficult, peeling away all those layers.

There is an important side note to this story. Throughout the week, our traveling companion, Mary Ann, had been impressed by the Lord to talk to Betty’s daughter. Unaware of the history, she prepared a note with a bible verse specifically for this young woman. I did not read it, but I know Mary Ann, and, it would be a note of encouragement, of hope, and finding one’s self within the Lord. A note of God’s love, layer by layer.

Here it is, yes, my heart still aches at times, and, I sometimes feel alone, but I’m not empty. I wish I had children and grandchildren, siblings (I have one, older schizophrenic brother), nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles, but I don’t. I do have a very sweet, loving husband; thoughtful, gifted, and loyal friends; sweet kitties; and, one heavenly Father who loves me enough to peel back all my complicated layers, no matter how many destinations it takes.

 

***For the record, I am responsible for the lack of ability and wisdom in taking the hike, not the cruise line.

***There’s no way Betty will ever read this, but just in case, Betty’s name isn’t Betty, and she doesn’t live in…oops…never mind.

The Big 25

I was a late bloomer to married life. However, marriage to Terry wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t done something truly ridiculous, and, pretty crazy. I ran off to sea at 32 years old. It began when my friend and I took a cruise on the S/S Norway, in May, 1985. She had filed for divorce, and I broke off an engagement. We were a mess, and a cruise was the perfect place to rest and regroup. I loved the liveliness, and watching the cruise staff work. Oh, did they work. I would later come to realize it, beginning July 6, 1985, on the Norway: 7 days a week, 18 hour days, 3-4 months without a vacation. Did I mention the ship was 3 1/2 times the size of a football field? My feet, calves, and whole body ached from so much work, not to mention, I was low on brain cells at this point. I WAS OVERWHELMED. Every week, I told my coworkers, I was leaving on Saturday, and never coming back. Flying home. Hasta la Vista! I won’t let the door hit me on the way out. Gotta go, ba-bye!

Well, I worked mostly on, and, sometimes off, for over 6 years, and 5 NCL ships. I changed my mind.

When my friend and I got off the cruise in May, I went into the office, at the dock, and inquired about a job. I didn’t really want it, as much as I wanted to be accepted. Pretty sad, I know, but my self-esteem had shrunk. Four weeks after my interview, the manager of the cruise staff department called, and told me to pack my bags, I was leaving in two weeks. TWO WEEKS!!!! But! But! But! TWO WEEKS! I prayed about it, and you know what the Lord said? What do you want, Laurie? So, I did it! I left behind: 2 cats, with the woman who sublet my apartment (yes, I still feel guilty, but, they were in good hands, except for The Night Stalker, but that’s another story); my job at the travel agency ( I was a dyslexic bookkeeper, who my employers actually liked), great church, oodles of friends, my mother and grandmother. Generally, I left LIFE behind.

I met Terry in January, 1986, when he brought potential clients on board the Norway. We became friends, strictly friends, but those pesky butterflies kept flaring up every time he would bring more clients on board, one of the five ships I worked, and we’d have a chance to visit. Still, just friends, until one day in 1989, I stayed the weekend with my friend, Judy, in Miami. I said hi to her boss, Terry. He told me he’d been divorced for a year, and had a crush on me. Me too. In 1991, we went to a concert, while he was in Orange County (by now, we’d both left NCL). In May, 1993, Terry was in Long beach, Ca, for business. This time he said he didn’t want to let go. This time, for the first time, he kissed me…but he lived in Miami, me-Orange County. Well, he visited a week in July, a week in August, got a new job in Los Angeles in September, we were engaged October 31st, and married in February, 1994. This is the Readers digest version. Phew, I need to slow down, I’m out of breath…from thinking.

The purpose of celebrating 25 years of marriage, was summed up by last years blog, celebrating our 24th.

***************************************************************************************************************************

February 19, 1994, was a very special day for me, my wedding day. I married a little later in life, but, Terry was worth the wait. There are many ‘living life’ stories I have learned throughout 24 years of marriage. I have learned that marriage isn’t about winning, or having the last word. It’s about compromise, and respect. Two words we should use ALL the time, not just in marriage, but with everyone. I have learned that losing an argument, is sometimes a good thing, because it’s just not worth the consequences of winning. You know, gloating, raising a feather. In all honesty, Terry and I have had very few arguments. We seem to mesh together, allowing each other to do what we have to do, and, say what we need to say. We both have conflict issues, and for me in particular, a ‘conflict less’ life is a good thing.

We are both followers of Jesus, which means we are so far from perfect, that sometimes, we’re a downright mess. But, HE still loves us, and ‘un-messes’ us, making our humanness a little healthier than the day before. We face another challenge, and, try harder to be good people, not perfect. Having a relationship with God has been the true reason our marriage and friendship has lasted. Because of our flaws, Jesus knows when we need a little extra help, trying to understand each other. For those who have different beliefs, or no beliefs, this works for us, and, I’m not preaching, just telling it like it is…

I am tearful as I write this post. So blessed with another anniversary, but, the three elders, siblings, who helped to make my wedding special, are gone now. I miss them so much. Uncle Larry and Aunt Dotty both passed away in 2005. My mother, September 29, 2017.

Hug your family and friends, and be kind to everyone. We don’t know their history, their story, but we are called to love.

Big thanks to these folks who participated in making our day special.

Perspective 2019

Perspective has been my favorite, and, most important word/meaning for years. I haven’t always taken perspective seriously, and I’ve really made whopper mistakes in how I treat people. Perspective has taught me empathy when seeing others who are uniquely different, and, understanding that we are all different to someone. Perspective, by its nature to me, continually shows kindness, patience, and, compassion. Most importantly, curbing my criticism and judgement. Have I got it so perfectly right? Far from, but my perspective teaches me to see outside of myself, be positive, and open my eyes. I miss a lot of beauty in people if I keep my eyes shut. Being humble and less arrogant, does make me a little more likable. Likable is a good word. It allows to draw people toward me, not repel. I found this saying on Andy Andrews Face Book post. He’s very perspective.