That good ole Steve Miller! He has provided me with a theme whenever one speaks about time and how fast it moves. I guess, like an eagle into the sea.
As we start a new year I can't help but reflect on all the 52 new years I've seen come and go. I always thought that something magical happens in that split second between 11:59 pm at midnight on the 31st of December. I have such great expectations for this moment and yet nothing magical has ever happened. Ever. Yet each year I have such big expectations.
Without going into much detail, I sit here reflecting on the past and projecting what will happen in the future. As a middle-aged woman with a fantastic husband and three marvelous children, what kind of regrets do I have? Lots. Some regrets are of my own doing and others persist because of the decisions someone made on my behalf.
Nagging thoughts haunt me in the quietness of life where I have to find the strength to overtake the doubts and turn them into lessons.
Finding ourselves in a new year should be joyful. People write about how happy they are that 2010 is over. Face it, for many people around the world 2010 was unkind and relentless. I can't even begin to fathom the loss that many people have faced. People I know have faced illness, death, pain and depression. In comparison 2010's struggles have been just a bad hang-nail.
God tells us that we can not know the future. Really the best we can do is live each life one day at a time and live it to it's fullest.
So for this new year I plan to do that. Live. Love. Eat. Pray. I am thankful for the life that I have. And as long as I have wings I'm gona fly like an eagle. To the sea. And be free.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Abbott family name continues...sort of
On August 4, 2010 the name of Abbott is given a reprieve. Marcos Ramon Abbott is born.
In my family until this day I was the lone provider of children. By choice or circumstance, my three kids have been the only children to exist on my side of the family.
When my brother Paul married Sonsoles Fdelapuente in August of 2009, we entertained the possibility of adding to the cousin/nephew/grandchild population.
The result? Marcos Ramon Abbott Fernande delapuente. That's his Spanish name.
Meeting little Marcitos (he's named after my younger brother Mark and Sonsoles' father, Jose Ramon) was amazing! He's such an animated child. He connects with people, he's happy, only fusses when something is wrong, which isn't very often.
Paul and Sonsoles are doing a great job raising their little boy.
We all got a good dose of Marcitos prior to Christmas. They arrived in the states on December 8th. There was NO way we could wait till December 26 to see them (okay, Marcitos) so we arranged a gathering at my brother Mark's house.
Brenna got some great photos, Jo (my sister) got some great videos and we all fell madly in love with this new little Abbott.
His mom speaks Spanish to him and his dad speaks English. When all is said an done he'll also speak French, the language his parents use to really communicate.
The best Christmas present we could have is that it appears the family will be settling in San Diego as Paul has a job waiting there for him. Right now an airline ticket costs $268.
Look out hometown, I'll be seeing you soon!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Smile when your heart is aching
Last week I heard some sad news from two dear friends. The "C" word is the culprit.
When my mom discovered a tiny lump in her breast a few years ago, she hustled right away to get treatment. Her cancer is gone. But her activism is not. She teaches a laughter class at the senior center in her town. My siblings and I kind of laugh at this, which is not the point of her teaching laughter classes. It's a serious thing, if that kind of thing is allowed in laughter class.
If you Google 'Laughter Class' you'll soon discover that this form of education is not a joke. Laughter classes is downright serious!
My mom must be pretty good at teaching this class. She's got the weirdest laugh. Admittedly I was rather embarrassed by it when I was in Junior High, okay, in grade school. Two incidents stick out in my mind: The San Diego Zoo field trip when she saw the Kookaburra. Not only did she SING the song about the Kookaburra, but then she laughed that loud, embarrassing laugh.
Then fast forward, with many other forgotten examples in between, to 10th grade. I was in the showmanship ring with my sheep. During the quiet judging of my ability I could hear that laugh wafting down towards the ring. Somewhere, up in the stands my mother was laughing her head off about something.
Apparently there is a lot of research about how laughter does promote healing. David in the Bible said that laughter (or a merry heart) was like medicine. If anyone knows that, I am sure David would.
When people I love suffer I want to fix it. Yet I have a long list of failing when it comes to performing miracles. Yet I still offer prayers to God and offer love and a shoulder to my friends.
I am not laughing right now as I think about the pain and suffering that may await my friends. Praying for healing and planning to walk through this journey WITH them.....but when your heart is heavy it doesn't seem like laughter is the best line of defense.
Or is it? I think it's time I learned more about my mom's laughter class.
When my mom discovered a tiny lump in her breast a few years ago, she hustled right away to get treatment. Her cancer is gone. But her activism is not. She teaches a laughter class at the senior center in her town. My siblings and I kind of laugh at this, which is not the point of her teaching laughter classes. It's a serious thing, if that kind of thing is allowed in laughter class.
If you Google 'Laughter Class' you'll soon discover that this form of education is not a joke. Laughter classes is downright serious!
My mom must be pretty good at teaching this class. She's got the weirdest laugh. Admittedly I was rather embarrassed by it when I was in Junior High, okay, in grade school. Two incidents stick out in my mind: The San Diego Zoo field trip when she saw the Kookaburra. Not only did she SING the song about the Kookaburra, but then she laughed that loud, embarrassing laugh.
Then fast forward, with many other forgotten examples in between, to 10th grade. I was in the showmanship ring with my sheep. During the quiet judging of my ability I could hear that laugh wafting down towards the ring. Somewhere, up in the stands my mother was laughing her head off about something.
Apparently there is a lot of research about how laughter does promote healing. David in the Bible said that laughter (or a merry heart) was like medicine. If anyone knows that, I am sure David would.
When people I love suffer I want to fix it. Yet I have a long list of failing when it comes to performing miracles. Yet I still offer prayers to God and offer love and a shoulder to my friends.
I am not laughing right now as I think about the pain and suffering that may await my friends. Praying for healing and planning to walk through this journey WITH them.....but when your heart is heavy it doesn't seem like laughter is the best line of defense.
Or is it? I think it's time I learned more about my mom's laughter class.
Monday, December 6, 2010
A dream is a wish your heart makes
A year ago this week (December 12 to be exact) my heart was made full with the arrival of Roxy.
I don't remember a time when I didn't want to be the owner of a Jack Russell Terrier. Not a Parson Russell, although they are the diluted brand of the same dog.
Wanting and owning one were two different things as Jacks need space to run and play - something I was not able to offer.
Then Ruth bought Jessica a little ball of Jack Russell fluff and Lulu became the lust of my desire. Dreams that I'd long ago set free came back to taunt and tempt me.
Mid-November I met "Rachel." She was a breeding female (bitch to you dog people) at a very nice kennel in Woodinville, Washington. Deals done and transfer complete Rachel is renamed Roxy and with my sweet husband's permission we added a female dog to our duo of boys.
Now a year later I walk 2 miles a day and look for places to go play ball. Fetch is Roxy's favorite pastime. I discovered a nice dog park in McMinnville - 20 minutes away. What a great place for us all to play!!! New training opportunities, new friendships...TONS of fun. And fetch.
A few months ago I heard that our local recreation organization was opening a dog park. Since Wade has connections (he's on the city council) I soon was the keeper of all the details.
Admittedly I did harass the Chehalem Park and Recreation staff.
On Thursday afternoon I saw the notice on CPRD's facebook page. Friday morning Jim McMaster phoned me with the good news.
Saturday at 9 am we (Fonzy, Murphy and Roxy and I) made our first visit. We went back later that afternoon. We arrived again on Sunday. Have already made friends with 'Tuckers' parents and little girls - Hazel and Violet. I love the dog park! <3
When my children were young I loved playing with them Of course fatigue kept me from giving them my all - and all the housework that lay before me.
In the time I wait to have grandchildren I am enjoying this dream come true.
Happy Anniversary Roxy!
Wind and the new dog park
'Leaves racing down the road with reckless abandon.'
'Frolicking like children without adult supervision the leaves swirled and tumbled in the wind.'
I love wind. Wind makes me happy. Growing up in Southern California is the culprit for this affinity. As I child I remember the warm Santa Ana winds that invaded our yard, but rather than leaves it was tumbleweeds that danced out in the barn yard. I loved the warm air that captured your breath and added strength to it's force. Nothing bad really happened during the Santa Ana winds: except the year our Avocado tree fell.
So this past Saturday was especially wonderful as the winds in Newberg kicked up to blow away the remaining leaves from the trees and dry up the wet ground. It was a perfect day to inaugurate the new dog park in Newberg. The wind was colder than the Santa Ana winds but my breath left me several times, the lagging leaves danced and the dogs had fun.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Life is funny....admit it
I had dinner with my friend Julie Saturday night. Good friends are like a pair of old jeans that you haven't worn for a while. They feel so good to have around you and remind you of good times. (Especially if they still fit!)
We spent the first hour catching up with life since we hadn't seen each other for a while: family, work, friends, etc....
Julie took me to a delicious Middle Eastern restaurant called "Cypress" in Oregon City. Great atmosphere, great prices and memorable food.
After our meal we shalayed on back to Julie's house for coffee and more conversation. For the next two or so hours we talked about what we have learned now that we think we have grown up. Dealing with family members, moms and plans for the future. We spent some time reminiscing about the past, parties, the ways things change over time, how things stay the same.
As I drove home, following the path of a spectacular full moon, I too reflected on the conversation with Julie. We are both dealing with aged moms who at times drive us crazy. Likewise we are both trying to adopt an attitude of patience as we navigate through this time. It's good to know that others are in the same space as I am.
As the moon followed me home I couldn't help but chuckle at how nice it was to spend time with her: no one else, just Julie and I. No Wade (although he was invited). I thought about all the other things I wanted to talk about but time ran away, and we are getting too old for those late nights.
Wade was already in bed with I arrived home around 11 pm. The coffee I had consumed earlier in the evening was still coursing through my veins so I stayed up a while, watching Saturday Night Live - which is still not very funny any more.
By 1 pm I was still awake but thought maybe I could fall asleep. I crept into bed, Roxy and Wade breathing heavily, a peaceful rhythm conducive for sleep. As my mind began to drift and think about all the things that happened in that day: A wedding for a co-worker was earlier that day - I could feel my body begin to relax.
And then I got a cramp on the top of my foot.
We spent the first hour catching up with life since we hadn't seen each other for a while: family, work, friends, etc....
Julie took me to a delicious Middle Eastern restaurant called "Cypress" in Oregon City. Great atmosphere, great prices and memorable food.
After our meal we shalayed on back to Julie's house for coffee and more conversation. For the next two or so hours we talked about what we have learned now that we think we have grown up. Dealing with family members, moms and plans for the future. We spent some time reminiscing about the past, parties, the ways things change over time, how things stay the same.
As I drove home, following the path of a spectacular full moon, I too reflected on the conversation with Julie. We are both dealing with aged moms who at times drive us crazy. Likewise we are both trying to adopt an attitude of patience as we navigate through this time. It's good to know that others are in the same space as I am.
As the moon followed me home I couldn't help but chuckle at how nice it was to spend time with her: no one else, just Julie and I. No Wade (although he was invited). I thought about all the other things I wanted to talk about but time ran away, and we are getting too old for those late nights.
Wade was already in bed with I arrived home around 11 pm. The coffee I had consumed earlier in the evening was still coursing through my veins so I stayed up a while, watching Saturday Night Live - which is still not very funny any more.
By 1 pm I was still awake but thought maybe I could fall asleep. I crept into bed, Roxy and Wade breathing heavily, a peaceful rhythm conducive for sleep. As my mind began to drift and think about all the things that happened in that day: A wedding for a co-worker was earlier that day - I could feel my body begin to relax.
And then I got a cramp on the top of my foot.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Crutch vs Church
I’ve had a couple of interesting thoughts this week that came to conclusions after reading pages 86 through 91 in Don Miller’s book ‘A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.’
Earlier this week while typing the word church, I actually wrote ‘crutch.’
I’ve done this before.
Listening to a radio program a guest suggested that modern day, organized religion has been the source of oppression and depression as church leaders fail to empower people to become and overcome. Interesting.
Sharing and talking with a student friend this week we discussed televangelists and their silly ways; I thought out loud that it seemed to me that some pastors in churches have to find a way to keep their congregation weak so as to keep the revenue stream coming in. If people realized that they had the power of Christ on their own, then maybe they wouldn’t be so dependent upon the religious institutions.
Then I read Don’s book on how God is the writer of his life. You’ll need to read this excellent book to get the whole picture, but basically he is saying that God is writing our story and if we listen to him the ending will be far greater than anything we can imagine.
Don makes this statement: “As a kid, the only sense I got from God was guilt, something I dismissed as a hypersensitive conscience I got from being raised in a church with a controlling pastor.”
The point that Don makes is that the Voice we need to listen to isn’t slathered with guilt and condemnation, making us think we are worthless but rather a Voice that speaks softly (so we will listen) IE the Browns) a Voice that encourages us to do the right thing.
I like this description of God.
Earlier this week while typing the word church, I actually wrote ‘crutch.’
I’ve done this before.
Listening to a radio program a guest suggested that modern day, organized religion has been the source of oppression and depression as church leaders fail to empower people to become and overcome. Interesting.
Sharing and talking with a student friend this week we discussed televangelists and their silly ways; I thought out loud that it seemed to me that some pastors in churches have to find a way to keep their congregation weak so as to keep the revenue stream coming in. If people realized that they had the power of Christ on their own, then maybe they wouldn’t be so dependent upon the religious institutions.
Then I read Don’s book on how God is the writer of his life. You’ll need to read this excellent book to get the whole picture, but basically he is saying that God is writing our story and if we listen to him the ending will be far greater than anything we can imagine.
Don makes this statement: “As a kid, the only sense I got from God was guilt, something I dismissed as a hypersensitive conscience I got from being raised in a church with a controlling pastor.”
The point that Don makes is that the Voice we need to listen to isn’t slathered with guilt and condemnation, making us think we are worthless but rather a Voice that speaks softly (so we will listen) IE the Browns) a Voice that encourages us to do the right thing.
I like this description of God.
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