Fearless

I recently posted one of my new favorite songs, Brave, by Sara Barielles. It really plucks a (good) nerve with me and I have to dedicate that to all the younguns out there who are taught to be too cautious with words, actions, etc. I teach my kids to be respectful, but to challenge the thinking they are given. To try new and fun things. To be fearless!

I was fearless as a child. In fact my little sister reminded me this weekend of an event or two that happened when I was little that she had only recently learned. When I was four, Dad bought us a go-kart. I was too short to reach the brake but there was a ‘kill switch’ for me. Do you see where this is going? He took Beth, my older sister and me to the church parking lot so we could cut loose! I did…. Boy, did I! I flew through the parking with the fervor that Dale Earnhardt Jr.  would envy!... straight towards a barbed wire fence. Remember, I had short legs… brake? What brake? Kill switch? What? I was flying! Call it instinct or what, but I thought REALLY fast and I ducked. Instant really cool rush for me, “for sale” on the go-kart the next day. Beth is still mad.

Playing chicken was a popular game when we were kids. Did you ever play that in the pool? You know, you’d be on somebody’s shoulders and try to knock someone else off? Pretty harmless, in the pool, away from the sides, right? Wayne and I played chicken around a dirt track in the neighborhood. Neither of us was chicken. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I was on a bike, Wayne was on a dirt bike. Again, battle scars proudly worn and played down so Mom wouldn’t know everything. It’s hard to hide a softball size knot on your knee for long.

I think one of the dumbest most fearless things I did as a kid was when Mom left the house and let me know that I was not to go “down the road” on my uber cool pink Huffy. Translate to Becky language “Oh just go a little way, you’re pretty good on the ol’ bike, fast and all, Mom’s not THAT sharp, she’ll never know….” One quarter mile, one car, one upset driver and one crinkled up Huffy later and I see our red Buick creeping up with my mom’s look of horror? Anger? What was that look?  Crap! Maybe she won’t notice the tires are sideways and I’m pushing it. How in the world did I survive??

Fearless. I was fearless because no one had taught me to be afraid. I was fearless because I loved the rush of doing what I wanted to do and figuring out for myself if I could or not. I didn’t die. I had some scratches and scars. I never…broke…a…bone. I was fearless because the world was at my fingertips and I didn’t know any better.

I was fearless in a friend’s tree house once. He was trying to tell me to be careful, but (I was four or five at the time, yes!) as he tried to caution me,  I told him that it was rude to interrupt people when they are speaking (shocker!!!). I’m sure he was contemplating the wisdom of my young words as I fell out of the floor door to the concrete below. I should have been ashamed but I remember proudly jumping out of the car later in the day to show Daddy my stitches! Fearless.

I’ve never been afraid of physical things really. I have gone spelunking down big rocks, hung off cliffs with my ankle wrapped around a bar to get that “great shot” with my camera, snorkeled in the ocean off of Mexico, done a few fun things, nothing out of this world, but fun and exciting.

I think fear sets in when we are taught. Fear is needed to some degree for certain and we need to have fear to a healthy level, but as I am learning to give up emotional fear, I am excited to watch my kids grow up fearless; physically and emotionally. I don’t try to vicariously live through them (ok, sometimes, don’t judge me) but I love watching them have FUN! Life is fun! It’s meant to be lived, experienced! Fear cannot reside where love is and I want love, fun, experience! What about you? What do you fear? Do you realize most of what we spend our time fearing never happens? What a waste of time!

I loved my childhood. My mom probably knew we rolled off our garage roof onto the outdoor furniture cushions. She probably knew we had jumping contests off the shed. She probably knew we did things that if we discussed at the time it would have caused her to have a breakdown. Every now and then we all talk about those times and laugh. I asked her once if she knew I was doing something why didn’t she stop me? She responded, “I knew you’d learn.” I did. Or maybe not. It’s never too late to be fearless! And in case you need to know, the kill switch is on the right.

Fearlessly,

Becky

August 11, 2013

On Being Happy

On Being Happy

Recently while walking with a friend of mine we began discussing and questioning why and for what people work so hard. Certainly I want for us to have our basic needs fulfilled, but it seems people are working more hours, to earn more money, to buy more things, that they have no time to enjoy. So again I pose the question: Why are we working so hard?

I am a happy person. I have no idea what I have in my retirement account or when/if I’ll be able to retire. To be honest, I will probably be doing some mission work somewhere or who knows what when I am retirement age, so I never really worry about it. I never really worry about much of anything. Seriously. Well, there was a small tree frog in my house today and I nearly called 9-1-1 but that’s a different story. I just don’t really worry about things. Maybe that’s why when I was flipping through the Netflix selection of documentaries the one entitled “Happy” grabbed me. There has been plenty of research done on depression, but I loved that this documentary was on being HAPPY!

The documentary, Happy directed by Roko Belic, 2011, was quiet scientific and I loved that, being the brain nerd that I am. It had a lot of talk about the reduction of dopamine as we age and the need for the upkeep via exercise, activity, and variety (spice of life, right?). It mentioned the hedonic treadmill (basically we spend what we make, then want more, make more, spend more… money never really makes us happy sans for a very temporary moment). Intrinsic goals (to better ourselves) vs. Extrinsic goals (material things or dolling up to look better) were factors as well. But it really pinpointed things that I think we all know instinctively that we forget somewhere down our winding, twisted, societally messed up road.

At the beginning of the documentary many people were asked what do they want in life and I knew the inevitable was coming… I cringed. “I want to be happy”. WHY AREN’T YOU?? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK WILL *MAKE* YOU HAPPY?  I was mentally screaming at the poor victims, but I figured that’s what this was all about. I digress.

Happy isn’t something you can run down and tackle. Happy isn’t found at the bottom of your cereal box. Happy is. Happy is within each of us.  When we show compassion, kindness, laugh, exercise, practice “flow” (full energized focus for intrinsic reward) our brain reacts, literally, as if it is on cocaine. Happy is our drug.  Research shows that the more we meditate on these loving, compassionate behaviors the more our left prefrontal cortex lights up. We can literally change our brain and train ourselves to be happier. According to the research for the documentary about 50% of our happiness is kindly given to us by our genes. Home, job, and status make up about 10% and the remaining 40% of our Happy comes from intentional behavior, or what we do to ensure our own happiness. Did you catch that? WHAT WE DO TO ENSURE IT…

We have to intend to be happy. How do we do this? By having good relationships, continuing physical activity, being a part of community, serving and having compassion for others, and appreciating what we have.  The best news of this and probably what we already know to be true is that absolutely none of this costs us a thing. Nada. Zip. Nothing.  The phrase “The happiest people aren’t the ones who have the most, they make the most of what they have” kept coming to mind. I love my time. I love my friends and family. I love that when people ask me what plans I have for the summer I can say “Nothing!” and it’s fine! I am not working myself to the bone for… for… anything! I have it all! I’m happy. Are there some things in life I would like altered? Yep, but I’m not working sun up to sun down, neglecting my family, friendships, relationships to get things. Did you know there is a word in Japan for the people who are literally working themselves to death? It’s called Karoshi. There are even songs that the widows and children sing about it. Horrific!

So, what are we working for? I love my job. I do. I love it! I work hard, but I love to play, too. I love to read. I love to sit out with all the neighborhood kids and talk. I don’t know what I’ll leave behind in this life, probably not a lot of money, but maybe a legacy that is greater. “Mom was happy…she loved life!” I’d rather this be said while my ashes are scattered somewhere beautiful than “Mom had a lot of money”. The latter just doesn’t have that whimsical ring to it that I like.

Be Peaceful. Be Happy.

Becky

July 22, 2013

"Love is" and Light bulbs

Over the past year or so I have really had a lot of light bulb moments, or ah-ha moments. This is a direct result of many, MANY meditations, prayers, quiet moments, readings and listening to others...well, and the occasional 'near car wreck'. Just sayin'.  I went to a wedding last night and the gentleman who spoke read 1 Cor. 13 that is often read, "Love is patient, love is kind..." etc. I have always loved that scripture. In some of my readings and quiet moments it has occurred to me that love simply is. It just is.

What do I mean by that? Probably many of you are going "Duh, Beck, you are just now figuring this out?" What I mean by that is that there is an overwhelming sense of peace when you finally figure out that love can't be bought, earned, withheld, or bargained. If it is, it isn't love. Love can't be beaten into someone, forced, begged for, or kept away. Love is. It simply is. I do realize there are different kinds of love, but what I'm talking about is the love that God breathes in us when we are brought to this earth. We have some strange ways of being raised (not me in particular, but I see this in kids a lot) in that if we mess up, we won't be loved. If we say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, can't prove ourselves worthy, don't look right, eat right, speak correctly, we won't be loved. It is really heart-breaking when you think about this horrifically warped sense of thinking because love just is. It IS. We don't have to earn it, it's there. It's here. God surrounds us with it and we don't have to go blindly through the maze of getting it all "right" to get our love sticker at the end. We HAVE it! Unconditionally!

Love is. God breathed love into us. I don't know about you but it is a relief to me to know that I don't have to go around proving myself worthy to be loved. Isn't it nice to know that when we make mistakes we just begin again and try to do better because we have faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these IS love? I don't have to put expectations on myself or anyone else to love them. That only defines me, not them. By the way, the person that drives you totally nuts? The one that cut you off in traffic on your way to church this morning? The one that got the promotion instead of you? God loves them, too.

Allowing yourself to be loved means that you stop judging yourself. You stop judging others. You begin to see others the way that God sees them. You say, "Wait just a damn minute, now! That means I have to forgive him/her for offending me 23 years ago!" Yep, you do. That doesn't mean you become a door mat or put yourself in someone's wrathful path, it means you let go. You let go of anger, pain, the past. You surround yourself with God and His light and love and you realize how many times He has forgiven you. You pray to see others the way He sees them and you realize there is no room for anything but love. A certain peace begins to settle in and you crave it with every fiber of your being. You crave for everyone in your life to feel this peace, this overwhelming love that God brings. It is an experience. It isn't a book or lecture or blog. It's an experience....It's an ah-ha moment, a light bulb moment. Thank you for letting me share mine.

LOVE,
Becky :)
June 23, 2013

June 13, 1976

Years ago, in my 20's, I was in counseling with a wonderful woman who was helping me get through some tough things. I told her that in the spring I get a certain restlessness, an itch. It's not spring fever, I told her, it's hard to explain, it's more like I'm trying to be so crazy, so busy I'm avoiding something. She smiled a slight smile and asked me what, traumatic or life changing event may have happened at some point when I was young, in the springtime, perhaps. I remember tears filling my eyes immediately. A light bulb came on. I could barely whisper out the words. "My dad got sick. He died."

Dad was diagnosed in April of '76 and died about two months later. I have strange memories of those days, some very specific ones. If you ask anyone who knows me well, I have a very detailed, very specific memory. My heart took a lot of pictures.

June 13, 1976 was the day I realized my mom had big blue eyes. Our house was filling with people for some reason. A six year old girl didn't ask a lot of questions of adults during this time, I just knew people were coming and they were bringing food and talking in low voices. I wondered why they were there. Why they were sad and looking at us like that. Mom was coming home. She'd tell me. My older sister and I were in our room. My mom and my uncle came in and my mom's eyes were huge and bright blue with a little red around the blue. I know now when blue/green eyed people cry their eyes get really bright. I remember her eyes more than anything that day. I remember her telling us Dad had died and we jumped off our beds onto her like rhesus monkeys. I don't remember the next couple of days.

In the church we sang "How Great Thou Art" and I still have a hard time singing that song without getting a lump in my throat. I remember turning around and seeing the Gilliam family behind me. I remember my cousin Bobby reading "The Five Chinese Brothers" to me in the back seat of our car on the way to the burial. The burial was strange and I imagine my mom's heart broke especially hard when I tried to tell her I heard Dad try to get out of the casket (the wind was blowing it up against the dirt walls before it was lowered) and she had to explain to me that he was indeed, not alive, it was just the wind.

That was the last memory I have of that day and for a lot of days. But I began new memories of the strength of a woman. I learned that my mom is probably one of the strongest women I will ever know. She had three little girls and went back to school to get her Realtor license. She still went to PTA meetings, church, activities, etc. She surrounded herself with our neighborhood friends. She gave us the memory of Sunday night popcorn, hot chocolate, "Alice" on TV nights in the playroom.

My mom lost her beloved, her best friend. Daddy and she laid a good foundation though. We all went to college and we have all stayed very close. Mom used to say that some strange unforeseen force sewed us together at the hip when Dad died. Maybe. Or maybe Mom showed us how family stays together no matter what trials and hurts we go through or even put each other through. We are family.

Since realizing that I was somehow avoiding thinking about that time in my life, each year now I allow myself to think about it. But I don't dwell on Dad's death. Why? I think about his life and how he, along with his beloved wife had it made for 14 short years. I think about how he would draw pictures for me and make me "cooler coffee" (mostly milk and sugar). I think about me "helping" him in the garage. I think about the positive. I don't go to Dad's grave very often. He isn't there. In fact he told Mom not to go or take flowers because that's not where he would be. Dad knew he would be with God. I allow myself to think about the positive things, the fun things. I allow myself to think about how Dad would be proud of all us, but especially of Mom.

It really stinks losing a parent at any age, but especially a young age. Now when June 13 rolls around I celebrate my best friend's birthday. Funny, it's the same day.

Life and death. It is a circle and we know that. Nothing really prepares us I will never tell anyone else how to handle grief, ever. It's too personal. I will tell you that for me, I have learned to look at a life worth celebrating, at all the lives touched that are stronger, at memories to be smiled at and cherished, even laughed about. Myself? I strive to leave the world better, my children happier, and echoes of laughter while taking lots of heart pictures along the way.

What if?

The Extra Penny

~ What If? ~

When I lived in Virginia I had a t-shirt that read at the top “What if…” and had a long line of really cool what-ifs. Many of the what-ifs could actually happen while some of the what-ifs were impossible, like, “what if dolphins could talk?” I think that’d be really cool myself, but you get the point.

I have thought a lot about what if lately. We all hear “What would you do if you knew you wouldn't fail?”  To lead into this you should know that I am a very peaceful, down-to-earth person.  I do like to think about the what-if’s that could be real. Given that I am really ready to be real with everyone (and you will read that in this blog), I think I’ll throw out some what if’s for your consideration.

I would do a million things, but let’s get real. Here we go with my own What If’s…

What if? If I knew I wouldn't fail? I would write the book I know I want to write. The problem is that I don’t know what kind of book I would write or to what audience. I think I would write to you, about life, about what is good, not so good, trying to make you laugh, think, reflect, etc. The problem is I am afraid of failure. What if? What if I really became a motivational speaker and taught young ladies the crucial importance of respecting themselves and insisting that others respect them. What if I really talked to members of my family who didn't have faith in God, about God and his amazing grace? I would tell them how He isn't the same god we were so afraid of while we were growing up, rather, a God of grace and forgiveness, and love. What if I could tell people that I love, that I really love them with no expectations of reciprocation? Just tell them because I do. What if I did that?  

What If… I couldn't fail… I would try comedy maybe. I would run a half-marathon, or a marathon even. I have discovered that I don’t want to do distance runs though, I love short runs… so maybe I would just keep ‘happy running’. I would decorate! I love decorating! I would find out more about my background…. My father… his family.

What about you? What if? What if you made that phone call today? What if you forgave the unforgivable? What if you visited the person you *think* doesn't want to see you? What if you laughed a little more? What if you laughed out loud in private? What if you looked at yourself in the mirror and told yourself you are beautiful? What if you are walking with your child, no matter how old, and you took their hand to hold? What if you called someone just to say I’m thinking about you? Not text, call? What if you laughed at something you think you should be mad about? What if you hugged a stranger? (be careful!) What if you tipped extra big or left a kind note for a wait person? What if you sent a card to someone you hardly knew just letting them know you had them in your thoughts? What if? What if you go WAY out on a limb? It could turn your life around. It could. You don’t know. Someone may be waiting to hear from you. Someone may love you back. Someone may miss you or may just need to hear a kind word today. Someone may want to hold your hand. Your child may want to hold your hand. What if?

And what if dolphins could talk? I think they know secrets. I think they would tell us to live big, HUGE! Fearless. What do you have to lose?

What if?

Peace and love,

Becky

June 12, 2013

Looking Forward

Before reading this please realize that I can't really take credit for original ideas. I know, I know you WANT to give me full credit, but so much of what I am about to write is a compilation of things I've heard, read, thought, discussed, dreamed, made-up, who knows... but here I go (btw, I've probably written all of this before but  lucky for you I have little memory).

When kids get into arguments, they fight, get nasty, get over it, and forget it pretty quickly. Why? Why not!? They have games to play, Kool-Aid to drink! Cookies to eat! There is daylight and it's a wastin' who has time to be mad?! What do we do as adults? At least many of us? We hold on to pain and anger like it's our best friend, our most comfortable robe, our blankie.

Over the last year I have learned and am still learning the art of looking forward. We use that term a lot don't we? "I'm looking forward to seeing you!" "I'm looking forward to it!" My question is this: How can we look forward if we're constantly looking backwards? How can we possibly be open to what is in store if we refuse to put down what is already done? How can God place something new and wonderful in our hands if our hands are full of what already happened that we can't change, simply because we refuse to let it go? How? He can't. We can't. We absolutely, positively can not. We. Can. Not.

I have been the chief of sinners when it has come to holding on to things in the past. I cherished my pain and hurt because they were familiar, they kept me company when I was alone, and I already knew what feelings they brought on. I knew them. I knew them well. No surprises. A horrible, stupid comfort zone, but a comfort zone no less. But my God, My God, He has so much more in store for me and I had to learn to let go. I HAD to learn to stop looking back. I had to let go. I had to look forward. What did this mean?

I had to forgive. I had to forgive the situations, the people, everything that had caused hurt and pain in my life. I had to forgive myself for believing I deserved to stay stuck there. I had to forgive myself and know, KNOW that God wanted more for me. I want more for my children, isn't God bigger than we are? Isn't God bigger than our past? Yes. YES. The forgiving process sucks. It's hard. I backslid. A LOT. I still do sometimes. But I can tell you this, there is nothing more freeing than when you finally let go. That's all. You let go. You realize that most people do the best they can, when they can, where they are. You give people a break. You give yourself a break. You relax. You live. You laugh more. You forgive. And you look forward. And you pray. A lot!

I had to start praying for more. Not more things. I don't put my value there, but praying to see more. I pray to see God everyday. I pray to represent God and not myself. I look forward to what He is going to show me everyday. When you are excited to see what miracles He may bring today, you don't have time to think about the screw-ups of yesterday. Remember? You've already forgiven them and learned from them. You may even laugh about them, but they are gone. You learn, you look forward. "Good morning, God! What's on the agenda today?"

You, I, we can not change anything that has happened. That sounds so simplistic doesn't it? We. Can. Not. Change. What. Has. Happened. I typed that like that so you would read it slowly (go back and read it slowly). We absolutely positively can not go backwards. But are constantly going forward. So we look forward. We look forward to making someone's day. We look forward to doing better. We look forward to being kinder, making better choices, choosing happiness and excitement about our lives. 

We are human. We are strange and funny creatures. We make mistakes. We make stupid mistakes. But we are lovable. We deserve God's love because God created us. Why would He create something that didn't deserve love? He wouldn't. So stop looking backwards at things that can not be changed and look forward to all the awesomeness that He wants to bring in to your life. He can not put anything in until you get rid of yesterday, that's up to you.

You know looking forward is exciting. I love surprises. God is full of them. This morning I was surprised to hear some serious banging in my house in the chimney. I'm pretty sure my house isn't haunted. I'm pretty sure there's a bird in there. I'm looking forward to it leaving. :)

Peace and blessings,
Becky
June 11, 2013

Where is God?

The Extra Penny

~ Where is God?~

This blog just might pluck your nerve so consider this your fore warning. Wasn't that nice of me?  Kind of like the news telling you to get the kids out of room before they show the all-too-graphic pictures, I give you a warning. I always write from the heart, but I find my most spontaneous writings are the best, for me anyway.

So I've had my first ‘alone’ day in 4 weeks. I have shopped, ran into my sister (who I caught trying to sneak a note on my windshield at a local store. I’ll get you back.), watched some mindless TV, walked a few miles to clear my head (no running, thank you knees), and had some alone time trying to talk to God. And I began to wonder… where is God?

Before you try to answer, I think I have it, for me anyway. Allow me to take you with me through my journey. I’m sure some of you have been through this, it has to do with being frustrated, tired, excited, hopeful, realized, and every other adjective of which you can imagine. Where is God?

If you are reading this, you are probably similar to me in that you rejoice in others’ promotions, look for the positive in what others see as negative, and continuously try to boost those who have to look up to see down! This is a role I have taken on my entire life and I love it no matter how exhausting. I am, however, wondering, where is God for me?

Before you think I am winding crepe paper and blowing up balloons for a pity party, I assure you that is not my style. Ask anyone who knows me. I think we all have those 15 minutes occasionally (and I am certainly not exempt), but I am wondering why, when I have been so excited about the lives of others, I haven’t been nearly as excited about my own… and why I am not seeing God in my own life as much as I am seeing Him in others? And even as I type this, the structure of this blog is changing…

(I just had an Ah-Ha moment… Seriously, stay with me). I am so glad my God is big enough to handle my questions. I am so glad my God is big enough to handle my anger and my doubts. I will tell you this from the bottom of my heart (or the heart of my bottom which is bigger; I tried on clothes today) that I have NEVER doubted there is a God. I HAVE doubted that He has remembered me. I have thought, in the depths of my little blonde brain that He must be too busy with all the important things to bother with my petty questions, requests, hopes, dreams,  doubts, and fears.

I am a mother. If I heard those words come from either of my children, my heart would crack open. I would cry. In fact, just typing this makes my eyes leak a little that one of my children would think for one second that I wouldn't care what troubles them; wouldn't care what they want or what they need. Do they have enough lunch money? Do they want a yearbook? Do they need money for the volleyball team? Raider’s team? Yes, I have students at school who come with bruises and marks, and unexplained and unspeakable crimes against them, but they, Liam and Mary... they are my children!!! Tell me what you want!!!  My God, My God…. My God must want me to tell Him the same thing… I am not petty. I matter. Yes, He has big fish to fry, but *I* am His fish! I matter! While I am taking care of everyone else and trying to make sure God shows up and shows out in their lives, am I making sure He has room in mine? Am I giving Him work space? I’m not.

As I wrap this up, I will tell you this entry took an entirely different turn than I thought. I have wondered if God remembers me and while I typed I realize I have been the one so busy that I didn't leave Him much entry room. I would say I’m embarrassed, but I’m not. I know God works through my hands, my fingers, my mind, my heart.

I have hoped for many things… security and safety for my children, true love, financial peace, but mostly that I can truly touch those who read.

So where is God? He hasn't moved. He hasn't left. Where have I been? I've been busy trying to help everyone. It took a day alone… a day where I was ‘bored’ and ‘restless’ to reconnect. God is here. Where have I been? I can’t share Him if I can’t slow down. I matter to Him. I am important enough to sit quietly and talk to Him and renew myself. It’s funny… it makes sense now. A song played this morning as I walked and I felt so strong… I was even belting out this song a little as a runner passed me (bless his heart)...   (Big Daddy Weave)

They who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength
They will mount up on wings, they will walk and not faint
Seasons of this life change but God's faithfulness remains
They who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength .

He craves me… my time. He craves you. Where is God? He’s right here. Right now. Where are you?

Peace,

Becky