The Kid's Got Try

As part of my duties at work, I ended up at one of the student basketball games last week.  The girls played first, by half, they were 30 points ahead, and handily won their game.  (Go, Pumas!)

The boy's team followed.  I'll have to admit I was surprised when I saw, among the starters, a freshman.  The kid was at least a foot shorter than anyone else on the court.  I figured the coaches must have a reason for starting him, and I was right.

The kid's got try.

He knows how to catch, throw, shoot, dribble.   He uses his lack of height to get under the other players.  He grabbed one pass, started dribbling down the court, and just ducked down and ran beneath the opposing team's guard when they converged on him.  You could see the surprise on the opposing team's faces.  "Where'd he go???"

A short while later, he was in the cluster of players under the basket.  You could hardly see his purple uniform hidden behind the sea of white worn by the players on the opposing team.  They made a shot.  It rebounded.  And from the midst of the white, I saw his brown hands come up from nowhere to grab the ball.  A moment later, he hunkered down once again and emerged victorious from the huddle to dribble down the court to where he could pass the ball to one of his taller teammates.

Unless he comes up with an amazing growth spurt in the next few years, he'll never be the top scorer on a team.  But he'll be the kind of guy you want on your side.  The kind with hustle and grit; a great team player.

Gotta love it.  (Yes, the guy's team also won...)

Impossible

"There is no use trying," said Alice; "one can't believe impossible things."

"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queeen.  "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day.  Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

-- Lewis Carroll

My sister-in-law gave me a coffee cup with the above quote inscribed on it as a gift several years ago, when things were a bit stalled in my life.  It's one of my favorite cups.

For the past few weeks, when I've had the luxury of drinking my coffee at home (on work days, I grab it in a to-go cup), I've found myself digging this cup out of the cupboard, and even out of the dishwasher and washing it by hand (if you know me, you'll know this is a rare thing - I quite dislike washing dishes...), so I can use it instead of the other five perfectly good cups I have in the cabinet.

While it's not been near as cold here as it has for my dear ones in Minnesota, it's been dark.  My project is stalled, work is frustrating, I am tired - and part of me is convinced it will stay this way FOREVER!  The email migration at work will never be finished, it will never be light when I have to get up in the morning, the weather will never warm up long enough for my foundation work to be completed.

The cup has provided much-needed balance to my litany of woe.  I wake up when it is light (I don't get up in the dark for much on the weekends any more - I don't have to), I stretch, I make my cereal and coffee.  I sit enjoying the light (this house has wonderful windows), cup my hands around the welcome warmth of the mug, and practice believing impossible things.

I've never made it up to six, but sometimes I get myself to believe in one or two, which is pretty good for me...

A Small Thing

Last fall, the weather turned abruptly.  My tomato plants were still full of green tomatoes, so I went out before the freeze to gather them all in.  I ended up with a cookie sheet full of the little guys.  I knew if I left them in the sun they would ripen despite being off the vine, and so they did.  Since that mid-October day, I've been able to enjoy a few home-grown tomatoes once a week or so.  The first few weeks, I took it for granted, but as October turned to November to December, and they still kept ripening, I have appreciated them more and more.  They're tart when they ripen now, but still hold the essence of summer's sweetness. 

In the last few weeks, I've been down to the last four little tomatoes.  Still stubbornly green, they are a little dried, but look fine.  But the batch before this last ripened before Christmas, and I was beginning to think these would just dry up on my counter top.  Then this morning, when I went down to the kitchen, I thought I saw a blush of yellow on one of them.

Sure enough, by this afternoon, two of the four were definitely on the yellow side of green and leaning towards orange.  If they follow the path of the others, they'll be ready to eat by mid-week, and I'll be able to enjoy two small tastes of the summer past. 

A small thing, to be sure.  But often it's the small things that bring hope to my heart and a smile to my face.

Home-grown tomatoes in January.  Who'd'a thunk it?

Puzzle Time

no, I don't know why the pic loads upside-down

On the cold and dark weekends of winter, when I don't have a whole lot else to do, it's time to bring out the puzzles.  I always feel a bit old-fashioned these days when I sit down with a jigsaw puzzle; it's such a low-tech option for entertainment.  But, it's one I've loved since I was a kid.

These days, I don't start to put one together until I've finished everything else I needed to get done for the weekend, because once I've started the project, it becomes an addiction.  I stay up too late.  I procrastinate on cooking - and eating.  I tell me to get up from the table.  I promise I'll do it after I find one more piece.  OK, one more.  Just one more.  You see how it goes.

It's a great way to get in touch with my inner two year-old:

All the pieces are mine.
No, thank you, I wouldn't like your help.
I don't care if you can see a bunch of pieces I'm missing.  Don't even think about touching my puzzle.
DON'T TOUCH MY PUZZLE!

I first started to put them together in second grade.  My genius of a teacher always had one on the table in the back of the room, and if you finished your work, you were allowed to go back there and work on the puzzle.  I tried very hard to finish my work early.

We also put them together as a family when I was a kid.  It started out as good fun, but then, as our abilities grew, the fights started.  I was often the transgressor.  If someone had a puzzle out on the table, I'd wander by and find a piece, and then another, and before I knew it, I'd finished a whole section.  At which point, the person who started the puzzle would cry foul, and I'd be in trouble.  (deservedly so; if you weren't the one who started the puzzle, you weren't supposed to work on it without them.  I knew the rule - and vigorously enforced it if it was MY puzzle...)  So much for family togetherness.

It was the perfect activity for this cold after-holiday weekend...

Doldrums

'Tis the time of the after-Christmas doldrums.  The tree is still up, but the baby who delighted in its lights has gone home.  The gifts are unwrapped; the cookies are eaten.  The mail no longer comes with packages and cards bearing news of friends and family.  The days are still short; winter has just started.  The holiday has come and gone and I blinked and missed much of it.

It's easy for me, during this time of short days, to fall into a listless state.  I dislike getting up before the sun, but my work schedule just doesn't seem to allow for my starting at 9:30.  I also don't care to work past sunset, but they don't seem to want me to leave at 4:15.  (what's with these people?)

I feel ungainly; those cookies didn't go far when I ate them - they seem to have firmly attached themselves to my hips.  I'm not exercising as much - the cold, snow and wind conspire to keep me inside.

All of which makes me extra grateful for days like these past two - the sun has been out, we've had a temporary respite from the cold.  I was able to get out and exercise and breathe deeply of the warm air.  (it doesn't take a lot of days spent below freezing for a temp in the mid-40's to seem heavenly warm...)

As I was out walking today, I was caught anew in the beauty of the leafless trees.  Without their cover of green, I can better see the lines of the branches as they reach for the light.  I can see the scars marking limbs sacrificed to passing storms. 

And if I look closely, I can see tight buds on branch-tips waiting for the sure arrival of spring.  For though it seems far away now in the midst of winter's dark, these doldrums, too, shall pass.

Silent Night

There are a few things in this world that transport me immediately back to a when and where that have long existed only in my dreams.  One of the transport vehicles is the carol, 'Silent Night'.

As soon as the song starts, I am a child again, just into my teen years.

It is Christmas Eve, and we are on our way home from church.  The car is icy cold with the chill of the Minnesota winter's night.  Outside, the snow is brightly lit by the moon.  I am tired, yet happy.  It's been a good Christmas.

We sang the old familiar carols in church, and on the way home, we start singing them again.  Mom is singing soprano; her voice soars.  My oldest brother has learned to sing tenor, my sisters and I sing the alto part, the little kids join in for the parts they know.  To my ears, the music is as heavenly as the chorus that first welcomed the Christ child.

Though the car is cold, I am warm. 
I am warmed by my coat and hat and mittens. 
I am warmed by the bodies of my sisters and brothers; we are tightly packed into the back of the car. 
I am warmed by my full stomach. 
I am warmed by the thoughts of presents waiting to be opened when we get home.

The trip to the past always leaves me with a glint of tears in my eyes; it's been long and too long since I last heard my mother sing.  Yet beneath the tears, I smile - grateful still and again for the gift of music she passed on to me.

Sleep in heavenly peace...

Darkness

I always find this time of year, with its cold and dark days to be a trial.  It's been a bit worse since my camper van trip - before that I harbored the illusion that I could run from the darkness, now I know I can't; not and stay in the main part of the U.S.

The news is full of horrible things happening in other people's lives.  From Nature and her storms to the pain people inflict on each other.  Senseless deaths and beatings.  Hungry children and drunken fights.

Somehow, in the midst of this, the death of Nelson Mandela brought a bit of perspective to it all.  Among the many quotes of his in the news this week, this one struck home:

"It always seems impossible until it's done."

He was living proof of the power of light.  He forgave his enemies and worked for reconciliation for all races.  He spent twenty-seven years in prison, and made a good friend of one of his jailors.  He stood for what he believed.

Darkness is incapable of extinguishing light

I needed the reminder.   So often these days it seems that darkness is winning.  Then I hear stories of Malala surviving the shot meant to silence her, of a lady here in town who has begun a mission to pay it forward - to work to spread a message of good.  You hear of people who go out of their way to rescue lost children and pets.  Of those who work for the light anyways, even when it seems like the dark must be winning.

It doesn't seem possible that fighting the darkness can do any good - yet Mr. Mandela accomplished the impossible.  If he could keep spreading light from the confines of his prison, perhaps darkness is not as powerful as it seems.  There is hope.

In a few days time, the season will turn, the days will begin to grow longer and the year's cycle will begin anew.  There is hope.

There is hope.

Can You Hear It?

Can you hear it?
it whispers to me as I lay down in my bed to sleep
I open my eyes for a moment, and am surprised for just an instant to see the walls of my bedroom instead of the confines of the camper van.

Can you hear it?
it beckons, just beyond reach
I tell it of my daily cares, of bills to be paid, work to be done
not today, I tell it.  nor tomorrow, but I will follow you for a while again this summer
it sighs

Can you hear it?
it tempts me with memories of days filled with being and not doing
visions of sunsets, where so clearly, God Is
the memories are bittersweet

Can you hear it?
there are so many beautiful places you haven't yet seen...
so many roads not traveled
come.  follow me. 
come.  follow me.

Can you hear it?
Can you hear the call of the road?

Thanksgiving

I'm working on the Thanksgiving thing.

It hasn't reached all the way inside just yet.  I've been doing the daily-thanks-on-FaceBook thing and it's been helping; since I know I have to come up with at least one thing each day, and I try not to repeat, it helps me to keep my eyes, mind and heart open to the good things in my life.

But.  I must admit I'm stuck in the doldrums.

I thought the foundation guy was going to come today to start on my remodeling project, but he didn't show.  I called him twice, but still haven't heard a word.  (Why do contractors do this????)  I didn't think I'd let myself get my hopes up that it was actually going to start, but given the way my attitude slumped once I realized he wasn't going to show, I think my hopes had gotten up despite my negativity.

It doesn't help that I have a stiff neck this weekend.  No looking up or to either side. With exercise and stretching, I've gotten it loosened up enough that is doesn't hurt constantly, but it's still pretty darn sore.  I think I'm going to have to break down and get a chiropractor's appointment tomorrow.  I haven't seen anyone since my practitioner-cum-therapist died last spring.  I still have her number in my phone; can't quite believe she's not going to come back to straighten me out.  I think this pain-in-the-neck is an acute reminder that it's time to get out of denial mode and find someone else I can see, at least on occasion.  **sigh**

This will be a short work-week, and I have fun plans for Thanksgiving, so perhaps the combination will help jolt me into a better space.  I hope so.  I don't have a lot of tolerance for me when I stay whiny for long.

Waiting...

I'm not so good at this waiting thing, and this past week, negativity has been winning.

I can always tell when I'm letting it get the upper hand.  I find lots of 'nevers' and disastrous situations in my thinking.

For example:  They're NEVER going to come do the foundation and the plumbing leak is getting worse which means the pipe is going to break and water is going to get everywhere and RUIN my newly refinished floors before I can get this STUPID remodeling project started!

It's been hard to watch these last few nice days pass by with no progress on the project.  I was so happy when I finally had my permit in hand.  I NEVER thought it would take so long to get someone out to do the work.

My more rational mind tells me I've got someone lined up who I think will do a good job for me.  He's just got other commitments ahead of my little project.  And do I really want someone to work for me who breaks their commitments?  When we were talking about the work, he asked all the right questions.  Someone like that is worth waiting for, says my rational mind.

I've been trying to focus on what I CAN do.  I can get the basement shower ready to go, so that if that faucet does give up the ghost, I'll be ready to go.  If the faucet goes, it's not beyond my skill set to install a temporary faucet in the bathroom if I don't want to make the trek to the basement before I absolutely have to.  I know I'd have to tear up the kitchen to make the repair, but that wouldn't break my heart.

Stop.  Breathe.  Trust.  I'm working on it.