Friday, June 21, 2013
Worth Dying For
I got up with Don this morning at 5. Since summer vacation started for the kids, and with me working nights, I've been making it a habit to let him get up with the alarm at 5am (5:18 by the time the snooze button is done) and I have been staying in bed in the morning until sometime between 7:30 and 8:30...depending on how late the kids want to let me sleep. One thing though that I've lost by doing things that way is my quiet peaceful time to think in the morning. Before the sun rises, before the kids wake up...when it's just my coffee and me. This morning was nice. Paige slept until 6:15.
*It was nice to be able to choose when to get out of bed and what to do with my morning.*
Speaking of summer vacation, I really am enjoying it for the most part. There's some bickering amongst the kiddos, which one would expect of course with siblings. It's nice though to have them both out of school together at the same time, I look forward to sending them to school at the same time in the fall, to the SAME school! :)
*It's nice to be able to choose to send them to school on the military base, and it's a blessing that both of my children can go to school - not just my son because he's male.*
I'm not entirely sure what we'll do today. I have to get the house straightened up and I do work tonight, so probably nothing too strenuous. Maybe we'll go for a walk or ride our bikes to the park.
*It's nice to be able to walk down the street in the neighborhood. Freely and peacefully.*
Are you sensing a theme yet? Maybe something to do with freedom? The little everyday freedoms that we take for granted - the ones that we might not even realize are there. Those little ones that are so easy to forget about.
So back to the beginning...I got up with Don this morning. I sat down at my computer to catch up with some headlines, since I have somehow not watched the news for the greater part of a week. The first headline that jumped out at me was about 4 bodies found in the Arizona desert. "Great." I thought to myself - "...more murder.". I clicked on the article to see if perhaps it was some mob hit or interesting mystery find, out in the middle of nowhere. While it *was* out in the middle of nowhere - it was no mystery. The article stated: "It is probable that they are immigrants attempting to cross into the U.S." - and initial indications pointed to exposure as cause of death. They were 70 miles north of the Arizona border. These people trekked 70 miles through the desert - to their deaths no less - just vying for freedom. They just wanted to get to America.
How many people spend their lives just wanting to get to America? How many people die trying?
As an American I know I take SO much for granted. I don't know how it feels to be told that I can't worship God. My God or ANY God. I don't know what it's like to live under the thumb of communist leadership. I don't know what it's like to grow up in the trenches of child labor and sex trade. I don't know how it feels to be told I can't go to school. I don't know what it feels like to work in a cramped sweat shop 18 hours a day. I don't know what it feels like to go hungry.
I've never been told that I can't follow my dreams. I've never been told that I can't have them.
I sit here in my 3 bedroom house, with my two dogs and a cat, two kids and a guinea pig. I sit here this morning drinking my coffee, blogging on my computer (with my non government censored internet), planning my day as I see fit, to do whatever I want to do with it. Because I can. Because I have the freedom to do so.
There's an answer to the immigration issue, and I will be the first to tell you I have no idea what it is. But one thing I do believe - everyone should have the right to try to make it here. Everyone should have a right to freedom. I know it's complicated, I know the answers aren't easy. I know for a fact that there are many people out there that literally hate immigrants just because of the way they look or the way they smell or the fact that they don't speak very good english - or no English at all. But who are we to judge? What right do WE have to say "You are worthless, you don't belong here, get off my street and get out of MY country." MY country.
The following verse is inscribed on our Statue of Liberty - the symbol of our country:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door..."
As far as I see it, everyone deserves a chance at freedom.
Freedom worth dying for.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
The Good Stuff
What a day!
So they say, the bad things you do will always come back to haunt you, and never truly go away. As if there's some big conspiracy in the stars to make sure you (I) never forget your (my) mistakes. I can speak to this and say it is true. I have done things in my life that I am still paying for. Mistakes that never go away, choices that resonate through the years. Don't get me wrong, I've made some AMAZINGLY wonderful choices, and for those choices my life is astonishing...but there have been a handful of truly rotten choices I've made too. The kind of choices that never disappear. Skeletons in the proverbial closet. Sometimes when I try to reflect on my life, when people tell me I'm such a good person, when they say I've impacted them in an infinitely positive way, there is always something in the back of my mind that remembers the things I've done wrong and the people I've hurt along the way. There's always that little voice in the back of my mind that says "I'm a good person...ha that's what YOU think! If you only knew how horribly I treated person XYZ 15 years ago...". And it's funny, these things never go away. The thoughts are always there and nagging when someone tries to give me a reminder of why I should love myself. It's almost as if I'm in this paradoxical struggle to define my own worth and impact to this world and the people in it.
Well let me tell you something. Tonight I learned that it truly does go both ways. God loves me, and for that reason He makes sure that every now and then there is a surprising reminder of something good. I love when He does that.
There's a family on our street with twin boys. Don has known their Dad for years and years and years. And years. They've been in the navy together and known each other since nearly the beginning of time. Or something like that.
Their boys are 8, James is 5. The boys and James became fast friends. I was honestly shocked the first time the twins came over to play. They were so polite, and kind, and respectful. Quite different from some of the other children in the neighborhood that have come to play. Don't get me wrong, there are quite a few great kids in our neighborhood, but there are also some that don't seem to have the guidance at home that would teach them what manners and goodness from the start are all about. It's not the kids' fault that they don't have the leadership they deserve, but it's sad and difficult for me as a Mom to bring these wayward ones into my home and try to start them from scratch, while at the same time expecting more from my own than I expect from their new found friends. It's not impossible, but definitely difficult. So back to the twins. Great kids. James has been playing with them for a few weeks now, and they're a great influence. So when they came over tonight and invited James to a sleepover in their tent...I was a hot mess. This would be James' first official sleepover. Me under our roof and him under another. Scary much? Well duh, Mom. I said "I don't know, James doesn't really like to go to sleep" (we still battle). The reply from this sweet boy was "That's ok, we stay up late! We don't have to go to bed until niiiiine FITTY.". Seriously cuter than you can even imagine. So I took the only out that I had and said "I have to talk to his Dad before I can say yes to anything.". So then they mentioned it to James and I knew I was done for. Don came home from work and before I knew it, we were committed. James was going to a sleepover. I wasn't ready and I said as much...but I didn't really protest, because James was SOOOO excited, and hey they do live on the same street. The same SIDE of the street even. So I called their Mom, who I'd actually not met face to face (or so I thought) and made plans to bring my boy and his sleeping bag over at 7pm. Next thing I knew...it was 7pm. James and I went down to their house, sleeping bag and flashlight, pillows and snacks in hand. He was so excited. The boys' mom opened the door and was so very welcoming. James and the boys took off outside to the tent, and I stood in the kitchen and watched, while I chatted things up with their mom for a bit. We brought up how our husbands had known each other for years. She said (here's where it gets good) - "I've met you before...". I was clueless. She said "At Mrs...what was her name...". In the military world, a "Mrs." is an officers wife, in our case (the nuke world) I knew it would have to be either the Captain or the RO (Reactor Officer). To make it a little easier, I giggled and said "Which command?" and she said "The Lincoln!". To which I replied - "I was ombudsman for the Lincoln for 3 years, that's probably where you know me from!". This amazingly warm and gracious woman then proceeded to tell me about when her husband made the rank of Chief. That's kind of a big deal in the navy. Things have a tendency to change once they hit Chief (E-7). Each year, when the new Chief results come out (at least, back when tradition meant something), all the current Chief, Sr. Chief and Master Chief wives would generally create an opportunity for the "new" Chiefs' wives to get together for a pow-wow and what-the-hell-is-next kind of meeting. She remembered me from that meeting. Don was already a Chief, her husband had just made it, and she was new and a little bewildered, maybe even overwhelmed. She said to me "I remember you - you spoke to me. You invited me over but we had so much going on with the adoptions..." They were in the process of adopting two of their 4. They're great people. What struck me the hardest was the way she said "You spoke to me." She remembered that moment - it couldn't have been much more than maybe 10 minutes of our lives. Years ago. See, it's hard sometimes for people to understand the bond Chiefs share, the unspoken changes that traditionally come about from a "simple advancement". The fact that she remembered me, during that tumultuous time of "initiation" into the Goat Locker (a Chief thing), and the new found and again, unspoken expectations of a Chiefs wife...well it can be a bit overwhelming. But she remembered me, from years ago, as someone that had reached out to her, to help, to assist, to guide and to just be a shoulder. That was huge. That IS huge. And that's something that I will always remember as some of "the good stuff". The good karma coming back to haunt me. Maybe it'll be one of those things that I can use in the future to combat the "If you only knew how I treated so and so 15 years ago" moments. I made a difference for someone. I made a difference for someone who is amazing and beautiful and real. I made a difference. Maybe there's some good in me after all.
And with that being said, I've finally renamed my blog. Caffeine and Chaos is now officially A Lighthouse in the Storm - because really that's what writing is to me. But I guess I'll save that explanation for another blog, another day.
Now THAT, my friends...is the good stuff. Sorry if I rambled a bit - but I suppose even the good stuff deserves some rambling every now and again.
So they say, the bad things you do will always come back to haunt you, and never truly go away. As if there's some big conspiracy in the stars to make sure you (I) never forget your (my) mistakes. I can speak to this and say it is true. I have done things in my life that I am still paying for. Mistakes that never go away, choices that resonate through the years. Don't get me wrong, I've made some AMAZINGLY wonderful choices, and for those choices my life is astonishing...but there have been a handful of truly rotten choices I've made too. The kind of choices that never disappear. Skeletons in the proverbial closet. Sometimes when I try to reflect on my life, when people tell me I'm such a good person, when they say I've impacted them in an infinitely positive way, there is always something in the back of my mind that remembers the things I've done wrong and the people I've hurt along the way. There's always that little voice in the back of my mind that says "I'm a good person...ha that's what YOU think! If you only knew how horribly I treated person XYZ 15 years ago...". And it's funny, these things never go away. The thoughts are always there and nagging when someone tries to give me a reminder of why I should love myself. It's almost as if I'm in this paradoxical struggle to define my own worth and impact to this world and the people in it.
Well let me tell you something. Tonight I learned that it truly does go both ways. God loves me, and for that reason He makes sure that every now and then there is a surprising reminder of something good. I love when He does that.
There's a family on our street with twin boys. Don has known their Dad for years and years and years. And years. They've been in the navy together and known each other since nearly the beginning of time. Or something like that.
Their boys are 8, James is 5. The boys and James became fast friends. I was honestly shocked the first time the twins came over to play. They were so polite, and kind, and respectful. Quite different from some of the other children in the neighborhood that have come to play. Don't get me wrong, there are quite a few great kids in our neighborhood, but there are also some that don't seem to have the guidance at home that would teach them what manners and goodness from the start are all about. It's not the kids' fault that they don't have the leadership they deserve, but it's sad and difficult for me as a Mom to bring these wayward ones into my home and try to start them from scratch, while at the same time expecting more from my own than I expect from their new found friends. It's not impossible, but definitely difficult. So back to the twins. Great kids. James has been playing with them for a few weeks now, and they're a great influence. So when they came over tonight and invited James to a sleepover in their tent...I was a hot mess. This would be James' first official sleepover. Me under our roof and him under another. Scary much? Well duh, Mom. I said "I don't know, James doesn't really like to go to sleep" (we still battle). The reply from this sweet boy was "That's ok, we stay up late! We don't have to go to bed until niiiiine FITTY.". Seriously cuter than you can even imagine. So I took the only out that I had and said "I have to talk to his Dad before I can say yes to anything.". So then they mentioned it to James and I knew I was done for. Don came home from work and before I knew it, we were committed. James was going to a sleepover. I wasn't ready and I said as much...but I didn't really protest, because James was SOOOO excited, and hey they do live on the same street. The same SIDE of the street even. So I called their Mom, who I'd actually not met face to face (or so I thought) and made plans to bring my boy and his sleeping bag over at 7pm. Next thing I knew...it was 7pm. James and I went down to their house, sleeping bag and flashlight, pillows and snacks in hand. He was so excited. The boys' mom opened the door and was so very welcoming. James and the boys took off outside to the tent, and I stood in the kitchen and watched, while I chatted things up with their mom for a bit. We brought up how our husbands had known each other for years. She said (here's where it gets good) - "I've met you before...". I was clueless. She said "At Mrs...what was her name...". In the military world, a "Mrs." is an officers wife, in our case (the nuke world) I knew it would have to be either the Captain or the RO (Reactor Officer). To make it a little easier, I giggled and said "Which command?" and she said "The Lincoln!". To which I replied - "I was ombudsman for the Lincoln for 3 years, that's probably where you know me from!". This amazingly warm and gracious woman then proceeded to tell me about when her husband made the rank of Chief. That's kind of a big deal in the navy. Things have a tendency to change once they hit Chief (E-7). Each year, when the new Chief results come out (at least, back when tradition meant something), all the current Chief, Sr. Chief and Master Chief wives would generally create an opportunity for the "new" Chiefs' wives to get together for a pow-wow and what-the-hell-is-next kind of meeting. She remembered me from that meeting. Don was already a Chief, her husband had just made it, and she was new and a little bewildered, maybe even overwhelmed. She said to me "I remember you - you spoke to me. You invited me over but we had so much going on with the adoptions..." They were in the process of adopting two of their 4. They're great people. What struck me the hardest was the way she said "You spoke to me." She remembered that moment - it couldn't have been much more than maybe 10 minutes of our lives. Years ago. See, it's hard sometimes for people to understand the bond Chiefs share, the unspoken changes that traditionally come about from a "simple advancement". The fact that she remembered me, during that tumultuous time of "initiation" into the Goat Locker (a Chief thing), and the new found and again, unspoken expectations of a Chiefs wife...well it can be a bit overwhelming. But she remembered me, from years ago, as someone that had reached out to her, to help, to assist, to guide and to just be a shoulder. That was huge. That IS huge. And that's something that I will always remember as some of "the good stuff". The good karma coming back to haunt me. Maybe it'll be one of those things that I can use in the future to combat the "If you only knew how I treated so and so 15 years ago" moments. I made a difference for someone. I made a difference for someone who is amazing and beautiful and real. I made a difference. Maybe there's some good in me after all.
And with that being said, I've finally renamed my blog. Caffeine and Chaos is now officially A Lighthouse in the Storm - because really that's what writing is to me. But I guess I'll save that explanation for another blog, another day.
Now THAT, my friends...is the good stuff. Sorry if I rambled a bit - but I suppose even the good stuff deserves some rambling every now and again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
