Some Years

Some Years

 

I have felt another blog coming on for a few days. I wasn’t sure how to approach this one since the New Year is nipping at our heels. Should I go with the “What I have learned” angle or the “What I will do differently in the future” angle? What *is* a girl to do? I decided to go with both. This blog is broken up into two parts. You’re smart, you can follow me here.

Of course I should start with what I have learned, but there isn’t enough time, space, or attention span for me to write all of that. A novel in and of itself that would be! Being that 2012 seemed to be a rather ‘stupid year’ I will simply fill you in on the biggies of what I learned this past year. Please keep in mind that this life-education didn’t simply take place in one year, rather the “Ah-Ha” moments took place. In other words, more than one time in my recent past have I been set up to learn these lessons, but the light bulb actually came on during this past year.

So, what did Becky learn? I’m glad you asked! I learned that I cannot fix people. “Really? But you’re a counselor, Becky.” You say. Yes, yes, I am. I even had someone have the unmitigated (or unmedicated) gall to say to me in an argument, “You’re the counselor, you figure this out!” (You may gasp). Counselors aren’t supposed to fix people. Counselors show people that they have the tools to help themselves. They enlighten, encourage, show options for solutions, etc. If necessary one may give advice, but believe it or not, we really aren’t supposed to.

Another life lesson this year has been that there is rarely, if ever, an exception to anyone’s rule. By that I mean that if someone is a perpetual victim or martyr and try to lead you to believe that somehow you are their saving grace; that you are different, well, quite frankly, you aren’t. In fact you should see the BIG RED FLAG and run fast, far, and do NOT look back! You shall surely be blamed for downfalls and shortcomings as well, I assure you. Perpetual victims and martyrs love their role too much to leave it, so finding a savior is not an option.

I have learned that tragedies happen. It doesn’t matter if you have months to prepare for the passing of a sick friend or you wake to find that one has passed from an accident, there is no ‘being ready’ for this.

Swapping roles from counselor to mom and back is a challenge for me. I have always worn my feelings on my sleeve. Being a counselor I have learned to mask that a little and toughen up (Mom always told me I needed a tougher skin… I think I finally got it) but now I have a hard time reminding myself that it’s ok to be sad, or cry, or just to talk to someone. I guess that sounds crazy, but it really is a challenge. Learning to balance….learning to balance J

I learned that I really love to run because it gets a lot of stress out. I won’t run marathons or participate in Iron Man competitions because I want to keep loving it. I won’t run another race on a hurt knee (insert “Duh”) But I will run because I love it. I need it. It suits me. When I run, I pray, or think, or both. Or neither.

I have learned to really, really value friendships. I have the honor of being friends with some of the most beautiful, self-less people that I hardly knew at all a year ago. Instead of listening to what ‘others say about others’ we can all find many wonderful things about each other!

 I learned that I love to write. Someone used to try to get me to take writing courses. Why?!?! I love to write. I understand that my writing could be better. I understand that it could certainly be fine-tuned. I also have seen so many people take exactly what they love and have it turned into something they hate because it becomes a chore. This isn’t a chore. This is something I love. I can really channel some thoughts here.

I truly cling to my children and thank God for them every day. I can’t believe they are mine. I have this Ah-Ha almost every day and I’m glad that I do. I am amazed that I have them. I, and I don’t think I have ever admitted this out loud, am afraid of losing them. I have friends who are amazing wonderful people who have lost their children. No one should lose a child. I don’t understand or pretend to know what to say to this. I can’t speak for God and won’t even try. It’s sad and horrible and it’s scary. So, truly, I cling to my children.  I’ll leave it at that.

Most importantly, my faith has grown in abundance this year. When I look back at this past year, there are so many things I could say that I wish hadn’t happened, but I would also have to say that because of these trials, I have grown tremendously. Getting to a place where you have nowhere to look but to God is most humbling. I have learned that the more I try to grow myself; God decides He’ll grow me up in a different way. His ways are best, honestly, and certainly He knows where I need growth. I also know that He never leaves me; He loves me as I am, no matter my situation. He knows me, He made me. He loves me, accepts me, wants me, no… craves me.

 

So what will I do differently? I’ll talk with God more. I’ll really talk with Him. I built a real relationship with God and it’s so hard to put into words, and so personal that I won’t even try to explain, but I’ll talk with Him more, and of course, listen… a LOT more.

I’ll try (really really hard) to stop judging. I am putting myself out here for attack now b/c you now know that I am judgmental. I don’t mean to be, but I am. I fervently pray that I see myself and others the way God sees us. I want to be more understanding, compassionate, loving. That does not involve becoming a doormat like I have been in the past. There is a huge difference in being a doormat and having boundaries.

Speaking of boundaries… I’ll have them. It’s healthy to have boundaries. You empower yourself when you set boundaries. I recommend the book Boundaries if you aren’t sure where to start with yours, but I know now that I have let too many people walk all over mine, and truth be told, I have overstepped others’ as well. Boundaries: Have your own. Respect others’.

This year I will try to laugh a lot more. I don’t know where my laughter went this past year, but I am determined to get it back! There were many times this year that didn’t warrant laughter, but there were times that did and I had to make myself lighten up. I want to find that again.

And although this isn’t by any means all, it’s all I’ll write about for now, I will remember that although I can’t, God can, and He lives in me. I can’t find the right words right now, but you can, God, and you live in me. I may not have the heart to forgive that person today, but you do, God, and you live in me. I don’t have the motivation to do more today, but you do, God, and you live in me. So while I may feel unable, unmotivated, unworthy… God is able, ready, and worthy and alive in me. I can’t. He can.

So, while I know I have many blessings to count, I am ready to count the end of 2012 as one of them. I welcome 2013 and all the wonderment it will bring. I welcome the growth (oops, I need to be careful), the laughter, the fun, the friendships. I welcome the new memories to make. I welcome God to take care of us and lighten our hearts.

I’d love to take this moment to thank you for reading my writings. Many of you are so encouraging and I thank you for that. Your words to me are taken seriously and dearly.

I welcome you to chime in on what you have learned and what you will do differently as well J

Blessings and love for a wonderful New Year!

Becky

December 30, 2012

Jump

This blog somehow escaped transition from FB to my blogger page... I wrote it this summer, for my loves Liam and Mary.

The Extra Penny

To Liam and Mary – Jump

 

So I am writing my second blog of the day because there is so much stirring inside of me I need to get out; not just to Liam and Mary, but to myself and perhaps to someone else who may need this as well.

 

So I eagerly press ‘accept’ on my cell the other night because it is my son calling from Florida. He is visiting his cousins and having a ball. The excitement in his voice tells as much as his stories of the golf games, his time on the campus at WFU, sailing, etc. Then he says “Oh! Did I tell you about the alligator we saw while canoeing?” As I stammer with words, he manages to get his out more articulately. Apparently while the boys were canoeing they encounter an alligator “as long as our canoe” (about 9’) and “we could reach out and touch it if we’d wanted to”. My heart raced with words of warning, but I realized the encounter was over, he was excited, he had seen something I probably never will, and he was safe. I was almost, well, envious! Wow! Liam is smart and I trust he didn’t try to pet the thing, but he saw nature, in nature. He was taken away with it and appreciated the beauty of it.

 

Earlier this same day I had taken Mary Abbott and a couple of her friends to Pt. Mallard. She runs up to me and with giddiness exclaims “I jumped off the 2^nd platform!” I was so excited for her, because I remember taking that same plunge as a young girl. It is terrifying when you look down and realize how high up you really are. She said she kept her feet flat and they stung, but it was worth it. I was glad she didn’t ask first for some strange reason.  She was proud. So was I.

 

When my sisters and I were kids we did stupid things. The fact that we are all alive and healthy is still absolutely beyond me. Being raised in the sleepy town of Trinity we had to invent things to occupy our time. One of our favorite summer activities was to prop up the cushions from the outdoor furniture on the ground and roll, yes, do the dead-man’s roll off of the garage roof onto the cushions. Granted, the drop was only about 6 feet where we would roll, but still. We also had a designated ‘watcher’ who would watch for cars in the street while we would skateboard down Resse’s hill with immense momentum and no ability to stop. You had to really trust the ‘watcher’ and hope they weren’t mad at you for some reason. These are just a couple of things we have only recently shared with our mom.

 

My point is I love that my kids have no fear. I used to have no fear. When I had my car packed to leave for Auburn I told Mom, “I don’t really remember how to get there”. She said “Just follow everyone else with an Auburn decal.” I did! Seriously! I got there.  I don’t know when I learned fear, but I know that I am learning from my kids to get back to that and I am so grateful. I know that the things I regret the most are things I didn’t do. I don’t want you, Liam and Mary, doing stupid things like drinking and driving or doing drugs, but I want you to live and love with reckless abandon. I want you to risk you heart and laugh out loud as much as you can. Don’t worry about things that probably won’t happen. Just Jump.

 

I can promise you a few things: I promise you will get hurt; it may be your heart it may be some bumps, bruises or scrapes, it may be your feet if you forget to point them going into the water. But it’s worth what you learn from it. I promise some people will take you for granted and not understand your good nature. I promise things won’t always work out the way you plan. But I also promise you this; the giddiness from the jump is worth living in your heart over and over. I promise your heart will take more pictures than a camera ever will. I promise that for every person who may not understand or appreciate you, you will meet dozens and dozens who you will love and who will love you back. I promise God’s plan is bigger and better than yours anyway.

 

So please, be careful, look at the alligator but keep your hands inside the canoe. And point your toes when you jump. But jump!

I love you both,

Mom

P.S. On the days that I’m afraid, remind me to jump, too.

A birth, a wedding, a death, and a tragedy

A birth, a marriage, a death, and a tragedy

 

My best friend Susan told me to write tonight. So I am. I can’t even begin to tell you what the last 5 days of emotion have been like for me and those around me. They have been, well, emotional.  A week ago I sat in church and looked at my precious, very pregnant friend Amanda discussing when her little Chloe would arrive. She was due on December 12, 2012; 12/12/12. And she came that day.

Another beautiful event on December 12, 2012 was the marriage of two friends from church. The wedding was beautiful and the union, the songs, the atmosphere had me and those around me full to over-flowing with love and excitement about what our God can do when we open our hearts.

In this beautiful circle of life comes the inevitable saying goodbye to those we love and care for as well. On Thursday evening my sweet neighbor, who is very much like another mom called to tell me that I needed to come say goodbye to her husband. You see, Mr. Ray had cancer for over four years. He fought and won the many different cancers that attacked his body time and again. This time was different. The days were very short and cruel. Within 3-4 days of knowing the cancer was in his liver and brain Mr. Ray went from being alert, walking, talking, etc. to being in and out of consciousness and having labored breathing. I walked into his room and touched his shoulder. He looked up at me. It was my chance to talk to him.

Rewind 36 years to a little girl whose father had cancer and she had no idea what that meant, how long he had, or that he would die; and to the young woman five months pregnant with her second child whose step-father, also diagnosed with cancer died, within three weeks of his diagnosis, when he sat down in the chair for his first chemotherapy. This girl wasn’t going to let another father go without letting him know how much she loved him, how much he meant to her and the kids.

With words muttered and tears dropping I said what I needed to say and heard a very meek “love you, too” back. It was all either of us needed from each other, but somehow, I wish there’d been more. Don’t we always?

I received the phone call the next morning and prepared all day for how I would tell my children. Following one of my lessons in a 5^th grade class a precious teacher called me over and showed me her computer. The shootings. The children. My mind went numb. I couldn’t cry. I went into counselor mode and began to prepare for how I would talk to my own kids about this. On my way back to my office I passed some first graders and without realizing it, I reached out squeezed one’s little shoulders and said “Hey, Sweetie… you have a great weekend… love you!” Or maybe I did realize it. I wanted to stop and hug every one of them. They looked smaller, sweeter. I suspect they will for a long time.

I left school a little early that day and picked up my daughter. When I called my son on his way home from school and told him about Mr. Ray I could have heard a pin drop. I think it was then that I finally gave myself permission to stop being a counselor and be a mom, be a neighbor, be a normal person.

Throughout the weekend I have struggled with this so much that I emailed my pastor about it. I think people who have a career out of making sure others are emotionally taken care of, have a difficult time allowing themselves to just let go and, well, grieve. In church this morning our pastor said it’s ok to be mad about things, God can handle that. I need to be. I am mad. I am mad that people that I love die. I am mad that sweet precious children are senselessly gunned down. I am mad that I have lost so much of my naivety and will never get it back. I’m mad that evil won’t give up. But please understand that I am not an angry person. I am hurt. If you are a counselor or have ever been to counseling, you know that hurt and anger go hand in hand. When you see one, look for the other.

But I’m also grateful. Yes. I said grateful. I am grateful that my friend had a beautiful little girl this week and can experience falling in love every day for the rest of her life. I am grateful that two friends from church got married this week and shared their joy with us and I have hope for that kind of love because of them! I am grateful that Mr. Ray watched over me while he was here and I have a feeling I now have 3 dads in heaven watching over me now (and it just may take all three!) It’s ok to laugh… We need to laugh. I’m grateful that I am awakened to what is important in my life. No, God doesn’t love evil and He didn’t will it, but I am watching at how our nation is pulling together to show evil that it can go back to hell. We are strong enough to love each other through this.

I am not Pollyanna. I am no longer very idealistic. I am real, but I am hopeful, and I am faithful. I refuse to give in even though I feel weak right now.

I told Susan tonight that I had to get all of this out somehow. Susan said “Write, Becky… God will fill up what you get out.” I hope she’s right.

Peace to all,

Becky

December 16, 2012

 

The 40+ Singles Club

The 40+ Singles Club

 

Disclaimer: I am not a couple’s counselor. I am an elementary school guidance counselor. The blog that you are about to read is my, and only my opinion based on observations, experiences, and other…well…personal unpleasantries.

Now, to the blog stuff. I have many single friends who fall into the 40+ singles category. It’s not an easy category to fall into, so if you want into this club, I need to let you know about the qualifications.

I write that jokingly, well, sort of jokingly. It seems that people who are not in the 40+ Single Club seem to think that it is uber cool to be single at this age. Allow me to enlighten you.

When you are middle aged and single you do meet a lot of people. You meet a lot of great people, no doubt. I have met some amazing friends with whom I have a lot in common and some people with whom I have absolutely nothing in common.  When I first divorced about 7 years ago I dove into graduate school so I didn’t have time to even think about “getting out there”. It was actually nice working full time, raising two kids and going to school at night; at least I think it was, I don’t remember much of it. Over time I did date a little bit and met some really nice people, but time was definitely an issue. Later I did find time for a relationship and although I had graduated by then and there was more time, I began to realize, there were more issues in life than time.  I am beginning to see that is true for most people in this situation.

A friend of mine used to say we don’t bring baggage; we bring trunks at this point. I think that’s true. I recently met and went out with a beautiful gentleman and again, things didn’t work. No blame at all, it just didn’t. That’s ok, but what makes me laugh a little is people who are married, semi-happily or unhappily, who think single people ‘have it made’.  Do you know what we do on weekends? Seriously? Our laundry. Or we clean our house.  Maybe we work from home or we go to the gym like everyone else. If it’s pretty we do yard work. We visit our parents and help them around their house. We help our kids with schoolwork, bathe dogs, cook, iron, run errands, blog about why things do or don’t work, pray, cry, and if we’re the slightest bit lucky we get together with our friends for a glass of wine to have a discussion that doesn’t include what detergent we use to get spaghetti stains out of shirts.

My point is that it isn’t easy. At ALL. It’s hard. It’s not always lonely, but it sometimes is. When you’ve been on your own for a long time, I think it gets harder. In fact, I’ve been known to say that once you’re out of the womb, life just isn’t easy. Period. But here’s the thing, it is what we make of it. I do have my groove going with my kids because I have no other choice. I am happy, very busy, and I get tired. I realize I don’t always handle it well, but as my mom said “Honey, you handle it; and that’s well!” I love that. Marriage…not easy. Singleness… not easy.  Life is beautiful and wonderful and sweet, but it’s not easy. It is what we make of our circumstance.

So, for those who think the 40+ Single Club looks like such a blast, I assure you, you may want to interview the members well before you think you want to become a member yourself. If you already are, you may be able to relate and I hope you have amazing friends and family like I have.

Now, it’s a beautiful Saturday…. So… I better go fold my laundry J

Becky

October 13, 2012

Birthdays and other Mishaps

So my birthday weekend was last weekend. It was definitely one to remember! Does anyone else, nearing a birthday, begin to say that you already are the age you are nearing? Then, do you have a hard time remembering if you already *are* that age and going up another year and actually have to ask someone how old you are? No? Just me? I doubt that!

My weekend was building with anticipatory greatness as I knew my precious friends Dave and Evelyn were getting engaged. Ev didn’t know, but many of us did which made the engagement party all the more exciting! Also, I had a tiny bit invested as I introduced them a couple of years ago. J When the special night arrived, I went straight to the party from a baby shower for a friend who is pregnant with twins; a boy and a girl! So lots of special things were happening that day.

With all of the excitement, and a cat that I encountered, I headed home with a migraine that came on faster than I drive. My precious neighbor had a few birthday goodies for me, but if you’ve ever had a migraine you know that dark and quiet is all you crave, so I slithered into my warm and muggy bed because my air decided to go out (again!!!) earlier in the day. Checking my mail one last time before going off to sleep, I read that a friend of mine had been diagnosed with a serious illness… the birthday fun just doesn’t end. I ended up crying myself to sleep. The year of the Leo? I think not!

The following morning my phone rang and it was Mom checking on our dinner plans for that evening. I told her about the air, my friend, and other things. I said “I’m not handling things well this time, Mom”. She said “What do you mean ‘well’?” I said, “I usually handle things really well. I’m not. I’m upset!” Mom said, “Becky, the worst thing I did after your dad died was try to be so strong that I didn’t need anyone or talk about it; I almost broke down. It’s okay for you to cry.”  And I did… I told her I was mad that my air was out. I was mad that cancer takes people I care about. I was mad that after 7 years, I’m still doing this alone and it’s hard. I cried and I cried hard… and it felt really, really good… and no one came to take me away!!! (yet)

Later that day at the ballpark my car battery died. You can laugh now, it’s okay. I did. At my sister’s house I was greeted with a very large glass of wine and when I started telling my mom about the car battery I began to laugh so hard I almost cried! She gave me a card that said something to the effect of “Any mom would be proud to have a daughter like you” and then she followed it up by saying “Until this weekend, that is!” We laughed… and laughed…

You see, life just happens. I didn’t do anything wrong or bad. Things just happened. It just so happened that many little things happened in a row; nothing huge. It’s like my friend used to say it’s like being gnawed to death by ducks. And it’s okay to be upset and frustrated and to talk about it, or even cry. I do handle things well. I am strong. Strong means asking for help if you need it. Strong means being there if someone else needs it.

So the week has been really great since. I really do think we have to put things in perspective.  I am so blessed in ways that I still can’t believe God sees fit to bless me! But sometimes, life happens, and if we just handle it, well, that is ‘handling it well’.

Becky W.

"I'm lost. I could use a little help"

“I’m lost. I could use a little help”. I half-smiled as I heard these words from an older gentleman the other day. As I was out perfectly manicuring (ok mowing) our yard I noticed a slow moving car on our street. The gentleman was obviously unsure of where he was and pulled up close to the curb. He motioned for me to cut the engine and because I was always a very good and smart young girl and listened to my mother, I didn’t go UP TO the car, lest I be carried away for good. Anyway, the gentleman had his window down and was looking at a piece of paper. He yelled out to me, “I’m lost. I could use a little help!” He was an older gentleman with a proper southern drawl, driving a dealership car as he was going to pick someone up. He didn’t want to be late.

What struck me about his approach was that he didn’t come to me saying “I’m so sorry to bother you…” or “Could you please help me….,” Or “If it isn’t too much trouble”. He stated two facts: “I’m lost” and “I could use a little help”. He didn’t apologize for interrupting (There was NO need for him to) and he didn’t apologize for being lost. He didn’t excuse himself and he wasn’t embarrassed that he needed help. He simply stated the two facts, that he was lost and he needed help. Why did this strike me as beautifully odd? Because how many of us can do that, honestly? Without beginning with excuses, explanations, apologies, or embarrassment, how many of us can simply say that we are lost and we could use some help? With anything? I loved how this gentleman simply expected that I would give him the direction to get where he needed to be (and I DID, thank you very much).

I’m lost. I think there comes a time when we all feel lost and we don’t really want to use our GPS’s or maybe the road we’re on isn’t even anywhere in the GPS’s system (my own street isn’t on mine! Glad I know where I live!) We hesitate to ask for help. We hem and haw when we need a little guidance, assurance, or even just someone to talk to. Why can’t we be more bold and simply state the facts, “I’m lost. I could use a little help”.

Last spring I thought I was having little mini-seizures because of something I had been through before. I saw my neurologist and he told me I was having anxiety attacks. WHAT?!?! ME?!?!? ANXIETY?!?!? He was amazing and told me that I do what so many other single moms do; but asked who takes care of me? Who do I talk to? I left with my head swirling. Me? Need someone? I knew something had to change because I have two young people who come first in my life and I have to be my best for them. I remember getting home that afternoon and calling a dear, close friend and saying “I need to talk. Can you come over?” She simply replied “I wondered when you were going to ask”.

 See, we really aren’t fooling anyone when we are lost anyway. I know I get that look on my face even when I’m in Wal-Mart; the “Where in the world am I?!” look because of the stimulation overload. When we are going through something in our lives and we do feel lost, those around us aren’t fooled. They know. Most people who really love us may ask once or twice, but if some of you are like me and used to doing so much on your own, you don’t want to appear weak and let others know you have it all under control. I assure you it takes strength to admit you need help. I have learned that the hard way. I would never have told this gentleman he was weak for asking for directions. Why do we tell ourselves that? 

So here is a challenge, when you are truly feeling lost and lonely, or afraid; or when you simply need help with something, keep it very simple. Call someone you know will listen and simply say, “I’m lost. I could use a little help”. I sincerely feel we’ll all be better off if we take the time to do this; lessening our burdens, shortening our pain, and, like this gentleman, getting back on the right road just in time to pick someone else up.

Becky W.

July 28, 2012

Mothers and Sons

So I recently wrote about mothers and daughters promising to write about relationships between mothers and sons soon. Here I go! Truthfully, I can only write about my own relationship, as you know, because I am the mother and I have a son.  I was raised in a house full of girls. I had two sisters and after our father passed away, it was just our mom and us three girls. Lots of “girl”. Then, mom remarried and I got…another sister.

When I was expecting my first child, I just knew it was going to be a girl. When Liam arrived I remember thinking “What do I do with a boy?” It wasn’t long before he taught me things, lots of things.  Once when Liam was about four years old, he and his dad were wrestling around on the floor. His dad said, “You’re my little buddy!” and Liam said “You’re MY buddy!” I piped up and asked “Am I your buddy, too, Liam?” to which he sat up, looked at me and said “No”. My heart sank. Then he followed up with, “You’re my sweetie”.  I melted. He already saw me differently.

My kids have a great dad who does amazing things with them. But there is something different about moms and sons, really. Sons will push the envelope with their mothers, knowing exactly where that line is between being goofy and having fun without being disrespectful. Sons, at least mine, will continually measure their height against their mom’s and let everyone know the day they are taller. They will go for a 3-mile run and come in the door drenched with sweat saying things like, “Mom, we really don’t hug enough!” throwing those sweaty arms around us, at least trying to as we try to get away.  They will share things with moms that I’m not so sure they share with anyone else. Sons feel a need to be protective. I haven’t really understood this unless it’s that “manly instinct” in them. After my kids’ father and I divorced, my son seemed to take on this protective role. I have let him know in many ways that his job is to be a kid, I can take care of myself, but there is truly an instinct to make sure his sister and I are ok. I get that, but I do have to remind him that I’m still the mom J.  Challenge this protective, all-knowing , tough-guy instinct in a son and you may be met with a tad of a passive-aggressive attitude, at least for a few minutes because, at least here, things pass rather quickly. We all need each other too much to let anything fester long. Sons can pick on their sisters, but woe be unto anyone else who does! It’s fun to see that bond between them, too.

I have learned that when keeping an open forum for discussion, sons (and daughters) will talk to us about most anything. Recently Liam came home from a mission trip and was bubbling over with excitement as he told me of events from the week. This spilled over into the evening and other events going on in his life, most of which we had talked about already, but you never, ever interrupt a child when they are telling you about things in their life! Still in deep conversation in the kitchen, close to midnight I looked at Liam and said “Son, it’s really late and we all need sleep. I Love you! See you in the morning!”” And he said “Mom, please, this is fun, let’s keep talking”. What’s a mom to do? Well, she is to prop up on the kitchen counter and listen. These days won’t last forever, for I realize there will be others he will choose to talk to someday. For now, I relish the chats, the laughs, the practical jokes (did I mention he once taped all of my white board markers at school closed with clear tape and I didn’t catch it until I was teaching that day? And he “sticky-tacked” everything down to my desk?? Including my coffee cup?!?)  I’ll appreciate his machismo and him learning where he fits into this world. I’ll feel my heart swell with pride as I watch him, without thinking twice, give his testimony about his life in Christ. And I will thank God for this chance to raise a good man. And… I will be ever watchful for the next practical joke which I’m sure is already set up…somewhere.

Becky Wilkenson

July 17, 2012

Picks, a Pig, and a Thousand Fireflies

                                                                                                     

I am always amazed at what brings people together, but even more in awe of what keeps them together. It’s easy to begin a tradition with the promise of fun, but attending my 3^rd Hay Holler Pick this year really touched my soul and opened my eyes to what keeps things going for those who truly hold dear what is important in our short stay on this earth.

When you first arrive at Mr. Kerry and Ms. Sula’s beautiful country homestead I swear your blood pressure drops 20 pts. at, not just the beauty of their home, yard, flowers and garden, but also at the majestic mountains that seem to have been placed there just for their own personal viewing and protection from the rest of the world. You won’t hear any noise really, except the occasional car winding down the road or the gravel from another car pulling up. But as you draw near the house the distinct sounds of laughter, porch swing chains, pots and pans from the kitchen, and oh yeah, MUSIC livens up the sleepy mountains.

As I mentioned this was my 3rd pick to attend (for the record, it was the 34^th annual for them!) and unfortunately my kids didn’t come this time; they were having their own fun in FL watching Blue Angels fly around. I never felt alone, however, it’s impossible. Everyone who attends Hay Holler knows everyone and if they don’t when they get there, there’s a really good chance they will when they leave. I remembered a lot of faces and I was remembered as “Becky, Susan’s friend from Alabama”. I wear that title with great pride! There were times I would walk around and just absorb all the “goings on” around the place; all the “remember whens” I heard, how many times I heard all the younger cousins say how much they missed Brice (it was his first miss in 17 years). I asked Harper Grace, my new 8 yr. old friend to take my camera and just go around taking pictures. The world needs more fresh eyes I think and more kids need cameras (Her mom says she has one J). She really captured the personality of the pick (see my Facebook page if you haven’t already). Walking around I soaked in the incredible music; the mandolin, fiddle, bass, guitars, banjos and everything else you can imagine.  I listened to the guys harmonize the most beautiful (and funny) songs and have the time of their lives with it! Even as the thunder and lightning rolled in, they played…. As night fell, they played. And the kids caught a thousand fireflies.

I watched as my soul was truly at peace being surrounded by the kindest souls I have met. I wish everyone could stop and realize this is what life is really about. It’s about amazingly great bar-b-q, sweet music, friends who offer a place for you to lay your head at night the next time you’re in town. Life is about taking random pictures with your camera and your heart. It’s about making new friends and reacquainting yourself with old ones. It’s about sitting in a porch swing with someone you don’t know and a couple of hours later, knowing you could trust them with your secrets. Life is about learning a new tail-gating game (in the rain) and being really bad at it but laughing your way through it. It’s about “Let me freshen your beverage”, “Can I get you anything?”, “What can I do to help?”, “How’s your crew doing?” and “Look! I caught a thousand fireflies!” 

So to Susan, my soul sister and her entire family, sisters, brother, nieces, Mr. Kerry and Ms. Sula… thank you for sharing the weekend with me and with sooo many others. I don’t think you realize how much it means. To all of those there, it was an honor to spend time with you… I have pictures with which to blackmail you now, ha! My love to all of you. To those of you who read this, my prayer for you is that you truly take time to slow down with folks you know and don’t know but want to, sit on the swing, talk a bit, listen to some music, look around you… and maybe catch some fireflies.

Becky Wilkenson
**If you aren't on FB and want to see the pix, here is the link

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.4329874844300.2186773.1210105355&type=1&l=6d2738073a

 

July 16, 2012

Mothers and Daughters

The Extra Penny

Mothers and Daughters

 

Let me apologize in advance for any offense I may cause here. No, I take that back. I’m not apologizing, I do that too much and I’m tired of that. Let me say instead that I hope you’ll see some humor in what I’m about to say and perhaps begin your own letters of apology to your mom, that is, if you are a daughter.

I am a cool person. At least I always thought I was. Not cool with my peers as much as with the kids I teach and work with. That was until my own kids began to realize that I am, well, not. My son still thinks I’m semi-cool. He’ll hang out with me, joke with me, we have a banter that is fun and respectful. My daughter, while I have a great relationship with her, looks at me like she’s sniffing onions. Why is that??

While I was loading up the kids and dogs and other goodies to leave my mom’s the other day, I turned to my mom and said “She doesn’t like me”. Mom replied “What?” I said, “My own daughter, she doesn’t like me.” My mom in her infinite wisdom said, “Honey, she’s eleven, she’s not supposed to like you, but she loves you. That’s more important.” I fought back tears because I know that’s absolutely true. I hugged my precious momma and said “I’m going home to start my apology letters to you right now!” and we laughed.

There is something strange and beautiful about a mother/daughter relationship. No one can love you and build you up and yet no one can hurt your heart like your daughter.  I don’t know why there is such a difference raising girls and boys, at least for me there is. I didn’t try to make it this way and I don’t read books that make it this way, it just is.  And I realize that it’s ok. Because I look back at how wise my mother became and I know that one day I’ll become very wise to my daughter. I know that one day I’ll actually know what I’m talking about. I’ll be funny and silly and it’ll be ok again. For now, when I goof off and sing karaoke into the wooden kitchen spoon or dance in my uncoordinated white woman way, my daughter gives me the eye roll; my son laughs and will sometimes join in.  I know one day she will see what all has been done for her best interest. Right now, she can’t and that’s ok, she is discovering herself and it’s beautiful to see, she needs to do that. It’s funny, I admire her more than she realizes and wish I had been as confident when I was her age. She totally rocks!

My own mom stands about 5’3” and weighs less than a mailbox and is one of the strongest, most beautiful women that ever walked the earth. I tower over her and yet, I strive to be half of what she is. My heart breaks when I think of how much I broke her heart. But my mom had a mom, so I think she knows. And one day, I hope my daughter knows how much I love her and this strange relationship we have has been stronger than the eye roll and onion sniff. Please don’t get me wrong, my daughter has never given me a minute of trouble, she wouldn’t! She is a true joy to all who know her! Seriously!  I just know that there is something about mothers and daughters that make the relationship rocky, strange, hard, but irreplaceable. There is something about “I’ll never be like you!” to “I wish I was more like you!” to “How will I ever make it a minute without you?!” There is something about the bond there. We want them to be better, more, stronger… maybe that’s it.

To my mother, my hero,  I want to be you when I grow up. To my daughter, like it or not, you will be like me when you grow up. To God, thank you for both of them… from the bottom of my heart, my kids, my family… they sustain me.

I will definitely write on the mother/son bond because it is definitely amazing and a different story entirely.

Blessings to all, and to my kids… you have my heart entirely.

Becky

July 1, 2012

I'd be More Comfortable if...

"I'd be more comfortable if..."

How many times have we used this phrase preceding something we turned down or something we felt needed to be modified to our own relief?

Comfort. We like it, don't we? Of course we do! We like our little comfort zone as much as we like getting our way and having things turn out at our easiest convenience. Comfort.

I'm writing on this because those are the exact words I was typing yesterday when I was hit with the realization that I have recently been thrown out of my comfort zone so often that the word "comfort" no longer really fits into my vocabulary. I literally cracked a smile as I typed the phrase, stopped typing, and picked the phone up to call the person to whom I was responding. More on that in a minute.

My prayer for myself lately has been that God uses me for His will, to do what He needs me to do to get the word out on how gracious He is. My prayers have been more like discussions with God; letting Him know that I'm ready, all in, for whatever He has prepared for me. Boy, I didn't realize how out of my comfort zone He was going to push me! But you know what? It's kind of like riding a roller coaster. It's an electric awakening! I'm thrilled because I have no idea what to anticipate, but I know I'm fastened in by His promises. I always loved a good roller coaster ride, but they surely aren't comfortable.

About a year ago I was asked to do the announcements and lead a prayer for a couple of weeks in my church. Being raised much more conservatively, this was way out of my comfort zone, but I took the challenge. I stammered my way through the first time or two (do you have any idea how bright the lights are on the stage?!?!), but had more fun as the following times approached. It was awesome! I felt sorrier for the people in the congregation who saw me with a microphone and no agenda written down!

Being a first year school counselor this past year after many years of teaching elementary school, I found that there is no such thing as a comfort zone there anymore. I have to deal with DHR, confused, angry and scared students as well as parents and teachers. Staying within my comfort zone would surely mean short-changing some child or family who needed help and really, that makes my zone look pretty negligent and minute. People are hurting. There is no room for my zone.

Recently I have been asked to speak at a place that our church regularly speaks one night a month on Wednesday. That really isn't a big deal for a lot of people, but I felt the blood drain out of my face. I was fine when I thought my night would be later in the year but when it quickly was moved to much earlier I began to respond, "I would be more comfortable with..." That was when it hit me. There will never be a good time to be comfortable with these changes God is making in me. Change just isn't comfortable. Period. But it's so good to look back and see the growth.

You know, God never asks anything of us without equipping us with what we need. Never. So really, it's kind of exciting to get out of that old comfort zone. In fact I told my pastor yesterday that the old comfort zone is sort of like oatmeal to me now. I taste new things and it's deliciously exciting! I have no idea what God has in store for me. I have no idea what this roller coaster ride is going to be like. I do know that God has me. Comfortable? Not always! Equipped? You bet! Hands up! Here we go!

Becky W.

June 29, 2012

 

Letting Go

The Extra Penny

~Letting Go~



You can’t move forward until you let go of the past. We know this, right? So why is it so hard for some of us? I can rant on this because this is something that haunted me for a long, long time. If you have been anywhere near me in the last year or so, you know I have taken many amazingly large leaps of growth in this area, but this isn’t about that. This is about what we all have in common, the past, the present, and our future. If you are reading this, you have a present and hope for a future. Surely, you have a past.


We all have baggage, well, most of us do. I relate well to people who have been through stuff. I feel that we somehow connect. But not so long ago I realized that I was really, really tired of lugging all of that incredibly heavy baggage around. I don’t mean ‘lessons learned’, I keep those. They’re valuable. I mean the baggage. You know what I’m talking about. Letting the past be *who I am*. I am not what I have been through. It’s been said in many different ways, but our past is not who we are.

Recently I was asked “What did you learn from that relationship?” and it really made me realize that I like where I am. I LOVE where I am! I love that everything that I have been through in the past has brought me to so many new understandings. It’s easy to have pity parties and roll around in the muck of all the crap that has happened to us, but do we really want to live in muck? Would you want your child to live like that? Do you think God wants us to live like that? What’s really wonderful is when we can genuinely relate to others going through similar things we’ve been through. When we can show them hope that things really will be okay. Haven’t you had someone do that for you? I have, and even though I was sorry for the pain they had experienced, I was glad for their true empathy. Now, sometimes, I’m that person. You are too for someone, I bet. We all have some cruddy skeletons that fall out of our closet, or the demons of bad decisions but this doesn’t mean we give up, or lay down with them and die! I don’t believe in dishonoring my Father by giving up on His plan for me because of mistakes. He made me. He knew I would make mistakes. I’m forgiven. Done. Moving forward.



My point is this: God had something in mind for each of us to fulfill, therefore he created us uniquely and individually for these tasks. We weren’t born and then God said “Yeah, I think I can fit him in here some place.” We were created for a reason… and if you are still here, if you are still reading this you have a purpose. You have a future and God is not through with you. You have not yet lived up to your full potential yet. You aren’t done.



Holding on to the past gets really heavy, doesn’t it? Why do we think we have to ask God time and time again for forgiveness when after the first time He has no idea what we’re talking about? Why do we love to submerge ourselves in pity and regret when forgiveness and newness are already available? The chains can be off immediately, with the turn of the key that has already been purchased with the blood of our Savior! Is it easier to give up and live a life of ho-hum? I think for some it is, but that, to me is a sad, sad life and good enough is by no means good enough. If my child messes up, I expect him or her to keep right on going with life! I expect my kids to live each day to the fullest and not ‘quit life’ because a mistake was made. So why do we do that? For heaven’s sake that’s what we do when we lug our baggage around. We’re giving up on a fully loaded future. You can’t extend your hand to all that God has for you if you are holding tightly to the past.



I know, I did it for a while, but I’m not doing it anymore. Bring it God! Bless me and mine! The past is not who I am… God took it and made me better, stronger, wiser, and I thank Him for that. I’ll use those tools for what He has in store for me next. No room for heavy stuff on this journey. Just faith, hope, and lessons learned… and an extended hand, of course! Ok, two extended hands…God, bless me BIG so that I can bless others.



Becky Wilkenson

June 26, 2012

Let Me Explain

The Extra Penny

Let me explain....

You’re so vain; you probably think this blog is about you. I open with that because sooo many people have told me that I “explain too much”. I try to throw out too many explanations for why I feel the way I feel or say what I say. Keep reading, I ‘m not through. And by the way, this isn’t about you; I assure you, I have been told this by many, many people.



Talking to a friend of mine recently about why women feel a need to explain something they just said, or why they feel the way feel, or why they did something they just did, I realized I wasn’t alone at all. My friend blurted out “I do that all the time, too!” I was relieved. I do that. I have always done that. Now, it’s time to let you know why I do that and why other people don’t seem to have an appreciation for why.



Educators: If you are an educator you know the years of painstaking training you put forth for minimum pay and minimum respect. Me, too. I taught for many years before going back for my MSED in Counseling. When you are fluttering through the glittery colorful world of educational ….well, education, you have it gloriously beaten into your idealistic skull that everyone is auditory, visual, and/or kinesthetic in their learning and every combination thereof. You also learn to explain things in at least 1 way per student; for example 18 students, you explain things in 18 different ways. Here’s an example: Backtrack 22 years to student teaching; young eager teacher telling even younger more eager kindergarteners to write their ABC’s on a sheet of paper without looking (at the chart b/c they can’t cheat) but you fail to say the parenthetical part. Sooooo, one little boy continues to write terribly off line and horribly crooked. You give him 2 or 3 chances, and THEN you realize that he is writing *without looking* AT ALL!! His eyes are closed. He didn’t understand that the young eager teacher meant “Don’t look at the chart”, he thought she meant “Don’t look AT ALL”. And THAT my friends, was just the beginning of the “Let me explain myself” moments in her life.



So, a counselor friend of mine assures me, as we are discussing this, “But, Becky, this is what we do all day long”. We do. We counsel children. We have to explain things to them all day long. Right or wrong, good or bad, it’s what we have to do. God forbid you allow a kindergartener or even a fourth or fifth grader walk out of your office without understanding the discussion you just had. You explain things. You ask them to explain things. If you counsel people, talk things out, explain things, and make things clear, it’s part of your job. It’s part of who you are every day of every year. It isn’t intended to be demeaning and we don’t want to be demeaned for what we do. In fact, a friend of mine tonight told me he appreciated the candidness of being bold and forthright. Thank you!!!

So, to those friends (and there are many) who think we (and there are many of us) explain too much of ourselves… consider this: We spend our school days with a lot of kids who need things explained in detail, in many different ways. We have to ask THEM to explain things in many different ways. And we really are trying to make a difference by digging deep into people that matter to us. If we matter to you, let us explain ourselves to you and don’t assume, and don’t brush us off. And *you* explain to us, if we matter. I assure you, we have the training to read between the lines. No assumptions... you know what they say when you “assume”…



Ok, I’m finished explaining…. :)



Becky

June 12, 2012

Dining Alone on the Patio

The Extra Penny

Dining Alone on the Patio



As I’m writing this, I have only been home a few moments, but I took the long way home to write this in my mind. I have no problem dining alone, and actually cherish it at times. There are some local authentic restaurants that allow wonderful patio seating, people watching, great wine, and awesome service whether you are catching up with a friend, or nose deep in a tranquil read. This afternoon, I was nose deep.



So, as I walk in and ask for the patio, the hostess informs me that “Ok, but there are storms coming”. I replied with an “Okay.” She then impressed on me “I mean a downpour… in about an hour”. To which I again replied, “Okay”. So I sat outside. It was beautiful; the weather, the breeze, the clouds, my server (more on her in a minute).



Ordering my Angeline (Russian River, a friend would be so proud), I told my server that I was planning on having a glass of wine and reading for a while, she perked up mentioning how nice it would be on an afternoon like this to just chill like I am (I even kicked my flops off). I said “Well, I fear that people are letting the threat of the weather keep them from appreciating the patio and how beautiful it is out here”. I was right. I was the only one on the patio all evening. I read, had my wine, read some more, had an appetizer, watched people come and go and wondered why do our fears of what might happen keep us from enjoying what already is?? I am the chief of all sinners when it comes to this, but really, why do we let our fears keep us from doing what we want to? So what if the downpour came? I could have gone inside at that point, AND had a good story to tell and maybe an inner hearty chuckle… OR maybe I would have sat under the tiny awning and let it downpour all around me watching others make a run for their cars. Why are we so afraid? For two good hours no one sat outside in the breezy overcast evening for “fear of the weather”.



My server, with whom I am now on a first name basis, and who is magnificently coming into her own (I see me 22 years ago before I got terribly sidetracked) said “Becky, you missed the drama inside, be glad you were out here!” It seems a guy had three Mai Thais and threw up on his table. Glad I listened to my authentic self and sat outside to people watch, read, listen and just be.



BTW, the rains have still not started, but it’s getting ominous. Yea! We need rain. I’m glad the weather held off because I had the most awesome date with myself just being out and enjoying great food, wine, reading, and meeting someone new. I enjoyed reminding myself that we don’t have to be afraid of things that may and probably will never happen. I may have a new mantra.



What about you? What do you fear that may never happen? And what if it did? We usually handle things pretty well. I had a friend tell me once that I’m like a cat, always landing on my feet. But aren't we all? And while I don’t like cats, I like that analogy...AND I like dining on patios when the weather is ‘iffy’…

Just now, I hear the thunder… :) Bring it!



Becky W.

June 11, 2012

Blue Jays and Redbirds

The Extra Penny

Blue Jays and Redbirds


I have been rather contemplative over the last few months, okay, my life. Not a bad thing, but this morning I was watching the news for a few moments and realized that I didn’t like what was on. I didn’t want to hear anything on it, I didn’t want the noise. Period. I went out back as I often do early in the morning to have my quiet time, but I wasn’t really in my prayer/meditative state either. I just didn’t want to think, so I simply had my coffee and watched the birds. Quiet. Nature. Beautiful. For a moment…


The birds are fun to watch because they seem to know what they are doing. It amazes me because no one has to tell them what to do, they just know. As I watched a couple of redbirds and a Blue Jay in one of my willows I thought “How precious, they‘re going to play together”. Being an elementary educator and now counselor you just have that kind of simplistic hope, right? Not. Apparently birds are very territorial. Apparently, even though the Blue Jay had been in that tree morning after morning (I can vouch for it, I have seen it), the redbirds decided to become bullies. They were flying from one tree to the other fighting… pecking on the Blue Jays head! Yelling at it! At least I think they were yelling, I don’t speak bird, but they were loud! I wanted to yell at all of them and tell them to stop fighting. I wanted to scream “Why can’t you just play nice and all get along and share the willow tree?!?! It’s plenty big for all of you!?” But I realized, first of all, they are birds and would have no idea what I’m talking about. Secondly, they might peck my head. And thirdly, this is what God created them to do. They are acting how they are created to act in nature.


It made me think of how many times we want to yell at others “Why can’t you act the way I think you should act?” “Why can’t you do what I think you should be doing or what I would do if I were in that tree?” I don’t mean making allowances for evils or unkind ways; I mean simply letting others be who they were created to be. Were we not created differently on purpose? Were we not all hand –crafted by God for a reason because he loved us and saw a need that we all would fulfill? Why then do we want everyone to fit into our mold? I don’t mean we shouldn’t have certain expectancies on each other as far as kindness and of our friends and family; support, love, etc. I hope my close friends and family expect certain things from me because it lets me know that they believe in me. I am talking about putting rules and expectations on each other that are unreasonable simply because we think it will work in our tree.


So, with that, I let the birds duke it out. I don’t know who won because I needed to freshen my coffee and frankly, I figure the birds know what they are doing. Do we?


So, how did my morning of ‘not thinking’ go? I guess not well. You know, I have continually been told I think too much. Guess what, that’s how I am created. I love it. There’s a reason for it and if you try to change that about me, I’ll sic the redbirds on you.


Becky W.

June 7, 2012

Idealistic

The Extra Penny

I’m Idealistic

I’m idealistic. I have heard my whole life that I am idealistic. On the other hand, I have also been told “You think too much.” So maybe I’m grounded as well. I’m not really sure how one person can go from extreme to the other unless I am thinking a lot about being idealistic.

Anyway, I used to apologize for the trait of being idealistic. Now, I think I’ll say ‘thank-you’. It takes all types to make the world turn. I was always the kid that liked the rainbows, glitter, and unicorns. I believed in the unbelievable. I still do. On the other hand I can think a situation so deep that it almost ceases to exist anymore… like unicorns. I guess it’s not that different. Anyway, I’m idealistic and I’m glad that I am because I equate that with being positive. I have always seen the positive side of things, as long as I don’t dwell on them too terribly. I think that we do create our own fortune. I can choose to ‘idealize’ what I want or go with what everyone else seems to think should happen. I choose my own path.

If much has been learned over the years, it has been that I regret what I haven’t done. I regret what I have thought into oblivion and not acted upon. I wish I had just done more; acted more, and not cared about what anyone else thought (“You’re so idealistic”). I wanted to teach in Alaska for a while. I didn’t. I wanted to go overseas and do mission work with children. I haven’t (yet). I want to live on the water before I die (I’m not dead yet). My step-dad used to say I was part gypsy. That’s ok. I know I’m different. I want to live everywhere I visit… Lexington, KY, or Scotland here I come. Lol Seriously, Sometimes I wonder why we work so hard. I know, I know, ideals don’t pay bills, but really, why are we working so hard? I love what I do. I will continue to love what I do because I will never again do what I don’t love.

My point is, in the end, and I can ONLY speak for myself, I know that I won’t be thinking ‘Gee, I wish I had spent more time in school’ or ‘I wish I had gotten that third or fourth degree’…. FOR ME I will be thinking ‘Wow, it was worth those few months living on the water’, or ‘Those years teaching the children in _________’ were amazing!’ I get excited to see what God can do next. I am working at getting away from ‘thinking too much’ although as a single mom and counselor, that sort of comes with this territory. It takes all types and I’m grateful for those more ‘grounded’. We shouldn’t judge. Maybe we could even learn from each other. A little idealism might add a little color? And a little ‘thinking too much’ might ground us… hmmmmm Just some thoughts for the evening… I think I’ll get out my glitter pens and color J

Becky W.

May 22, 2012

First Impressions ~ Not so Much

The Extra Penny

First Impressions…Not so much

I am sitting on my back porch. Those of you who know me know what solitude it brings me. Those of you who have been there, know the conversations that have taken place… the laughter, the tears, the trust. I look around and it hits me that it is looking pretty pitiful now… my backyard. My kids’ play area is rather dilapidated. I have a back porch swing that is made of wood (now) that has seen better days. Then there is the dead weeping willow.

I was thinking that if you were a first time guest you would wonder why I have a dilapidated play area in my back yard. At first glance it is sad… paint chipping, railing and swings down, etc. But allow me a moment to tell you about its heart. It was built by my kids’ father’s own hand, from oak from my parents’ land. He carefully crafted each section, painted it, and hung each swing, climbing rope, etc. Before finally deciding to tear it down a couple of years ago, after every child in the neighborhood had played on it for YEARS, we gave it one more go… each child grabbed a paint brush and we freshened it up. But now, it’s tired and ready to retire. We have one slab the kids have begun to carve their name into. That’s for me to keep. On the surface, first impression, pitiful; at heart… memories beyond any mom’s wildest dream of kool-aid days and lightening bug nights.

Then there is the swing; given to me by my son for my 3rd Mother’s Day. I was VERY pregnant with my daughter and we all used it lovingly. The cushions wore and tore but the frame was fine, so the kids’ dad made slats from oak (from my parents’ land) and rebuilt the swing. It looks sad at this point but is very sturdy and we all still sit in it, on the porch and swing. On the surface, first impression, a little worn; at heart…memories of talks, naps, kids, tears and laughter.

The willows. I have two. We planted them soon after we moved here. They both thrived for years when a year or two ago I noticed one began to look a little spindly, for lack of better word. My mom is so precious and always giving me things to plant. Were it not for her, this would be a brick plantation. So one finally met its creator last year but stands stick tall very close to its lush green partner. I haven’t cut it down yet. It has been there for so long, it has seen dozens of mowings, hundreds of golf balls, softballs, baseballs, kids, footballs, and my dogs….heavens the dogs! On the surface, an eyesore; at heart…memories of branches in the face while mowing, marking off where our ‘pool will be one day’, bases while playing ball, and ‘thank goodness the tree caught the ball before it landed in Mr. Dan’s yard’.

So, come on over and sit on the swing and enjoy the solitude on my prized back porch. Just know what to expect. :)On the surface, we’re rough, pitiful, run down, and sad looking. If we all just look a little closer and get to know each other a little better, it’s pretty intriguing the stories that come with all the paint chips, warped wood and dead trees. In fact, I worry about anyone who has the picture perfect yard. First impressions… if you judge by them, you get what you see…for a short time. But get to know someone… it is SO worth the experience and lightening bug nights.

Becky Wilkenson
May 21, 2012

Gifts

The Extra Penny

Gifts



With May being like December in our home with kid’s birthdays, graduations, Mother’s Day and this year, baptisms, I have been thinking a lot about gifts. I keep asking my kids what they want for their birthday. My oldest is a little laid back about his while my youngest goes online and sends me links to specific things. Gifts are a funny thing. We search and search for the *perfect* thing for our children. Something we know they will love and cherish; something that speaks to them from us, something they not only need but want, but will really surprise them. We thoughtfully pick the gift and keep it hidden until just the right moment. Then, as they are opening their hand-picked treasure we are probably giddier than they, anticipating their joy and surprise. We don’t love the ‘thank-you’s as much as we love for them to cherish and use our gift.

A friend of mine recently came into a beautiful, long awaited relationship. Over the last few months she has seen more and more that this is truly a gift from God. We were discussing how we feel in the newness of relationships; excited, and scared all at once. I thought about gift-giving. God gave her this relationship, I really believe that. So how does He want to be thanked? He wants to see the joy on her face as she is opening this treasure. He picked this for her and He wants her to love this gift because He knew what she needed and wanted and found just the right one. This is what He wants for all of us in our relationships, our gifts; our children, our spouses, our parents, our families. They are such incredible gifts that we continue to open and enjoy with time and when we trust our parent, our God, to pick exactly what we need with the desires of our heart; He continually gives us amazing things to open as life journeys onward. How do we thank Him? We use our gifts. We treasure them. We love them. We don’t put them on the shelf to collect dust until a better day, we say “Way to go, God! It’s more than I ever dreamed!” and to my friend who doesn’t even have a fb page (I’ll send this to you), keep enjoying this beautiful gift, I think this may be the most amazing one yet!

Becky Wilkenson

May 15, 2012

Not a Number

More than a number.
I have realized so many times that I am so much more than a number. So are you. I guess I felt compelled to write about it tonight when I walked passed my bathroom scale and said to myself “You forgot to weigh yourself”, and then in the same breath I replied to myself “You are not that number.”

How often are we asked to give a number for identification? How often are we associated with a number? I am not a number. I am not the number on the scale or a BMI. I am not a Social Security number. I am not an account number, an invoice number, a check number, a routing number or a checking account number. I am not a checking account balance or a savings balance or a retirement amount. I am not a PIN number, Rep number, order number, or number in line. I am not 8/04/69. I am not 2 divorces. I am not single. I am not 2 kids. I am not ‘middle’ or second. I am not 42. I am not employee number, patient number, mortgage number or house number. I am not a badge number, birth certificate number, driver’s license number. I am not SAT, OLSAT, Dibel, ARMT, ACT, SAT, GPA, NTE, GRE or Praxis. I am not a student number, visitor number, or member number, or room number. I am Becky.

I *am* created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27) there is no number here. It isn’t written that I was created child #1,344,355 in God’s image. We were created in His image. Period. No number. God is infinite. We are infinite. Recently I was on the back porch, staring at the stars. It had been a hard day. I heard my son walk up behind me. I said “The Bible says he knows the names of each star (Psalms 147:4) and sometimes I wonder if He really remembers mine” and my son in his wonderful wisdom said “Of course He knows your name, Mom; he even knows how many hairs are on your head at this very minute”. I realized, to God, there are no numbers. We are His and we are Him. I also realized I have one amazing son (and daughter).

I am not a number. I am God’s. I am love. I am infinite. You are not a number. You are. We are. We are. We are.

Becky W.
April 13, 2012

Grace

Grace

My new favorite word for the last many months has been “Grace”. I picture grace to be a beautiful antique pottery jar full of cool clear water filling a dry empty cup; or a cloud of heavy raindrops falling on dusty, dry earth to make it rich and viable again. I think in pictures a lot.

Anyway, grace is something that I have had to pray for, a lot. I think of all the people who have shown me what grace is, and there are so many. They don’t even realize it because it is a part of their being. That is what I strive for. I have prayed for that so much lately, to show grace to others, like I have been shown. I was struggling with this on a particular day recently and called my little sister. She did her sisterly duty and listened without condemnation. She is much wiser than she gives herself credit. During a pause in conversation, she said “You know it’s like the movie Evan Almighty, Becky, ‘when someone prays for patience, does God give him patience or the opportunity to be patient? When someone prays for courage does God give him courage or the opportunity be courageous?...’ You’re praying for grace; is God giving you grace, or the opportunity to show it?” Wow. She was so right on many levels.

I began thinking about what the Bible says about being created in His image. We have what we need already. I have grace. I needed to find it within. I am being given the opportunity to show it, and that is what building my character is. It’s not like praying and something magical happening and ‘ZAP’ I have a trait that I want. I already had it, I need to exercise it. Isn’t that how we make our muscles stronger? By exercise? How then do we make our faith, love, honesty, sincerity, selflessness, grace stronger? I’m sure, by exercising them. And if we look carefully, God gives us the opportunities to do this daily.

This may be all old news to you, or maybe you’ll kindly roll your eyes and move on. It was a wonderful, gentle reminder to me that we really have what we need. We just need to ask for God to show it to us again…. Maybe, if you’re like me, you forgot where you put it.

For those who have shown me grace when I least deserved it, I am humbled and eternally grateful.

Grace, such a beautiful word… such a beautiful verb.

Becky W.
January 21, 2012

Pride and Prejudice and What I See

The Extra Penny ~ Pride and Prejudice and what I see…

Ok, so I have a confession to make; if Pride and Prejudice is on TV, I’m a total slave to it. I can’t turn away. It is so incredibly well written, so well-acted… I just become engrossed. My loving mother might say that it is the idealist in me that can’t turn the channel. It might be the historian in me. I’m not sure. But here’s my take on it… It is how incredibly sensual and loving it can be without being, well, tacky.

Here’s what I mean… So many of the movies today seem to really reveal (REALLY reveal) to us more and more to get us to “feel” because we have become so overly stimulated with media (games, computers, beeps, buzzers, the lack of clothes and the show of skin on TV). It seems to take more and more to really make people aware of feelings. To me, that’s pretty sad. When I watch Pride and Prejudice, I see humor, sadness, frustration, anger, passion, faith, hope, passion (did I say passion twice??)… all fully dressed and with witty tactful humor. I see heated sensual sarcasm. I see respect, tremendous respect. I see gentlemen who may lose their cool, but never, ever their composure; women who may be of lower “class” but not “classless”.

My point is this, throughout the movie Mr. Darcy is rather awkward, terse sometimes, meaning well, but rather pointed. He knows Elizabeth is from a class “below” his (sorry, but let’s face it, in this time, it was), he knows she is spirited, smart, independent, funny, wise, and loving. After much, much mulling, even his own awkwardness cannot keep him from her and (spoiler alert) when he is walking through the morning mist, there is nothing, NOTHING that will keep him from her… the adoration, love and confidence he exudes at that point is beyond anything I have seen on the screen in …. Well… forever. He knows what he’s in for with her. He knows what he wants. He is sure. He is a gentleman. She is there also…. And that is better than anything I have ever seen on a screen. There isn’t even a kiss at that point. There isn’t a need for one. The commitment is there. The certainty is there. The love, the passion, the drive to make sure this works out. THAT is what makes me plant myself in front of Pride and Prejudice when I see it. I am sorry for the flittering things of today that base themselves on less substantial things. Idealistic? Maybe… But I’ll risk that.

Becky W.
Nov. 19, 2011