Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Coffee Day

Dear Coffee:

I held you in my hand as I browsed Facebook this morning, and I discovered that it was your special day!  People were toasting you and roasting you and telling you how wonderful you are, and I had to join in.  Of course, you know how much you mean to me, not just today, but every day of the year.  A love like ours doesn't need to be validated by social media, but it is so magical that it has inspired me to climb to the top of my online platform and declare to all my readers that I am in love with you.


Remember when we first met?  I was only 8 years old, and I breathed in your unique aroma.  I drank of your brown goodness (2 sugars and 3 creams) and I knew I'd found something special.  I tried to get as much of you as I could, at restaurants and on the road, in the kitchens of my relatives and even at home.  You were everywhere, in one form or another.  When I look back on my life, the stressful moments and the celebrations, the holidays and birthdays, the hotel lobbies and airplane galleys, you were there for me.


Our relationship changed, naturally, as I grew up.  These days, I enjoy you with a little flavored cream, often in a to-go mug as I run my kids to school in the mornings.  Occasionally, we even meet up at a local shop.  I still enjoy the times we can sit outside together, fresh air and warm coffee.  You have perked me up after sleepless nights, given me the energy to get through another day of diapers, laundry, pbjs, repeat.  You have kept me warm on the cold days, when rain has soaked me through as I struggled to get three kids in their car seats.  You are who I want after an afternoon snowball fight.

Coffee, you are universal.  You go with everything.  You wash down a delicious pastry as easily as a ham sandwich.  You pair with dessert and breakfast, or as a stand alone.  You taste delicious dressed down in black or dolled up with whipped cream and caramel.  You let me choose cold or hot, and you never ask anything from me.


We both know I've dabbled in some other beverages.  You forgave me for the Butterbeer I drank over spring break, accepting that what happens in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter STAYS in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  You co-exist with water and Coke and wine, because you know that you'll always be my first love, that none of them compare to you.  And you'll be there for me to the end.  I've seen you in the hospitals and nursing homes, and we know about the senior discount.

Happy Coffee Day friend.  Thank you for all that you give me, the caffeine and sugar and warmth.  Here's to many more years of you and me!

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

This One's for the Girls

Do you remember that Martina McBride song, "This One's for the Girls"?  It came out around the time I was living on my own and spreading my wings, and it was my anthem for awhile.  The verses are directed to girls of different ages.  To the girls in high school, Martina urges them to "stand their ground when everyone's giving in".  To the girls in their twenties, "living on dreams and Spagettio's", she encourages them to embrace the journey of life.  To the girls in their forties (and older, presumably, since her video features grannies in their seventies and eighties), Martina reminds them that "every laugh line on your face made you who you are today."  I love this song because it recognizes that as we age, we enter a new stage of life.  We shift our priorities and our hopes, we live differently.

First class, baby!

This week, I spent several days in airports and hotels.  It reminded me SO MUCH of my early twenties, the magical two years between college and marriage when I worked as a flight attendant.  I was living on dreams and Spagettio's in those days.  But I was living.  Instead of taking the job that I could do and would pay my bills, I took the job that excited me and enabled me to travel extensively. I went to Europe and saw aurora borealis and explored museums and new cities.

Just moments before I went overboard...

After two years, I came to a very natural shift that made me want to leave the world of airlines and suitcases and settle down to build a home and a family.  For the last ten years, the most important role of my life has been a wife and a mother.  I have lived.  I have danced in my living room and skidded in a mess of vomit and ridden carousels and been the giver and receiver of a million hugs.

We are smiling to hide our fear.

But another shift is coming; I am in the midst of it as I type this.  My children are growing up.  This school year is the first time I've had all of my kids enrolled in school. (The youngest is going to preschool twice a week, so a minor shift for now.)  I feel this pull to embrace a new season of life.  There is so much that excites me, so many passions to sift through.  I want to advocate for children and orphans, for those with special needs and those who have experienced abuse.  I want to be the air that lifts the wings of the women in my life, the way other women have been for me.  I want to do the hard work of healing and unity that brings people together in my city.  I want to keep living.

Windswept at the beach.  Sports Illustrated turned me down.

So that's been the reflection on my mind these past few days.  There is so much risk in life, isn't there?  There's the bad risk, like getting in a car with a drunk driver. (If you want to know why this is bad, ask Princess Diana. Oh wait, you can't.)  There are bad risks, like staying in an abusive relationship, or mismanaging your money so you end up homeless.  But there are good risks too, risks like moving to a new city or taking a job that challenges you.  Risks like saying hello to a stranger or going out to feed the broken and suffering people of the world.
Could not get the boys on board for this one

The thing about these life shifts is that the definition of risk changes with them.  A young woman with no children can travel to far off places and follow her dreams.  A suburban mom can choose to petition her government to adapt the Nordic Model or start ministering to women coming out of addiction.  A woman facing retirement can decide to mentor teen moms and march for racial unity.  Each of these are brave, risky lives.  Each of them follow the advice of Martina McBride, to "love without holding back, to dream with everything they have."

Ladies, I have lived my life.  And I have many, many more years to keep going, to choose life over comfort and safety.  So do you.  I believe that the worst thing we can do with these years is to hide away, to choose easy, to watch the world pass us by.  What kind of life is that?  Courage is not something we are born with, it is something we take hold of and grow the more we use it.  The time for careful planning and deliberation is over.  Get up and live.