Field of Dreams

Last Saturday I accompanied Raleigh and his buddy Mike up to Greeley. The men are building a hot rod and decided that it's time they pick up some more parts for the car, so they can weld the rusty piece of metal in the garage into something that can roll on wheels by later this summer. So . . . to the junkyard we went.

Now, I've never been to a junkyard before, however I must say that the entire place looked exactly as I imagined it in my head: barren land covered with cars and car parts as far as the eyes can see. There were crushed vehicles standing one on top of the other at least 6-8 in height, towers of miscellaneous metal from tractor wheels to water heaters to trailer sides to lawnmower shells to seat springs, chair backs and more. There were wild grasses growing up between rusty metal doors and trunk hatches well settled into the soft ground after years of sitting silently in the rain-soaked field, and muddy trails that meandered in and out of semi-organized sections of engine parts and gear boxes. There were shiny, chrome-colored bumpers stacked on rusty steel stands, pickup beds filled to the brim with dirty hubcaps, old buses chuck full of dusty seats with torn and tattered upholstery, miles of bent door frames and popped headlights, severed brake lines, and rough, hardened rubber tires cracked from years of exposure to the elements. To me, it was all just a bunch of . . . well, junk.

Still, through all the mud and metal, the men saw something much, much more. They were giddy as school boys walking into the yard, Raleigh so excited he was half skipping, half running into the hot rod graveyard, suppressing giggles under his breath. He and Mike both held a twinkle in their eyes I haven't seen before and both displayed bright toothy smiles no matter which direction they turned. They jumped from one rusty pile to another, so excited to see what treasures might be buried in the next that they were barely able to focus their attention for more than a minute or two in any given spot. Even the cold weather that came in couldn't dampen their spirits; the icy wind that numbed my fingers seemed to pass them by without even brushing their cheeks. Their passion for what they saw—and for the potential in what they saw—was undeniable. It definitely was fun watching them enjoy themselves so much.


As I watched the boys dig through corroded trunks and wade through tarnished piles of who knows what with such enthusiasm and excitement, I asked myself what, if anything, can compare in my life? Where/what is my field of dreams? What gets me so excited that I look past all the obstacles without even thinking and focus on my final goal as if all the dirty steps needed to get there were already behind me?

Perhaps getting married might be similar? I don't think I'll need to buy my wedding dress from a bridal store, however at minimum I'm sure I'll visit a few to look at and try on different styles to see what I like. I know the wedding day is only a very small part of the big picture of marriage, but it is the big event that is shared with family and friends, and kicks off the rest of married life. Somehow when I picture myself at that time—surrounded with my closest girlfriends and family, excitingly looking through racks of white and ivory gowns ("Ooh, look at this one!" "Kim, try this one on!" "Oh my, that one is gorgeous; Kim you are absolutely glowing in that one . . .")—I see myself looking in the mirror only to flash forward to the day that I'll be walking down the aisle towards the man of my dreams who is waiting at the front, with the sweetest smile on his face, and tears in his eyes . . . Yeah; the idea of getting married definitely excites me beyond words.

Another big goal I have is to one day, become a mother. I know there will be many moments of being uncomfortable, many of them downright painful, but I have no doubt that holding my child in my arms will make all of the work before then very much worth it. I imagine the nursery in the hospital, all filled with itty bitty, brand new babies wrapped tightly in blue and pink and yellow blankets. I scan them all but rest my eyes on one very special one—mine. Much like the flash forward I experience when thinking about getting married, I can see myself holding my sweet child, cradling him/her in my arms, as my husband kisses the baby on the forehead and me on the lips, and then stands behind me to hold us both tightly as we admire the little life that's changed ours forever. Yes, the thought of creating a child with the man I love and bringing that child into this world also makes me smile and feel happier than I can describe.

I suppose whether it's a hospital with crying newborn babies, a store filled with dresses, or a junkyard full of rusty metal parts, to someone, it is a field of dreams. Now, to make those dreams reality . . . I'm sure that's an even sweeter feeling.

Whoever said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?!

On Saturday our dear friend Paula became another year older. In celebration of this wondrous event, we (Raleigh and I) decided to give Paula an evening unlike any other she's ever had. And not to toot my own horn (*honk, honk!*), but I think we did pretty darn good! Here's why: we took Paula to a place she'd never been before--the Mercury Cafe downtown--and got her on the floor to dance a type of dance--swing dancing--she's never danced before. She stayed alcohol-free all evening, and had no set partner at the beginning of the evening, yet ended the night looking like a pro! Man, was I impressed! She picked up many dance moves within the first couple dances, and ended up gliding across the floor with at least 4 different men throughout the night! I'm not certain, but she may have walked away with a phone number or two before we left as well! Way to go, Paula!

And on the same token (of doing something different), Raleigh and I each learned new "tricks" too; Raleigh learned to lead with two fingers on each hand (as opposed to all of them), and I learned to loosen up a bit more in the arms so that leading me wouldn't require so much effort. (Ok, so I'm still a work in progress, however I am making positive improvements!)

So, us three "old dogs" did pretty well last night. And regardless of the lesson(s), we all had tons of fun!! I am so proud of us.

Woof, woof!

Just to settle the rumors . . . yes, I did

*eat a half gallon of ice cream in one sitting. Within 10 minutes. After my triathlon nonetheless. And yes, it was cookies & cream.

*travel across India with 3 great girl friends. Unaccompanied by mandated University personnel and without parental knowledge. We stayed in a resort on a CLEAN beach, with plenty of sunshine, white sand, and drinks to spare. Oh, and no creepy Indian men to fight off. :)

*write a novel that was accepted by a publisher. I just never gave official permission to print the book . . .

*get up on the air chair on my first try. I went for a good half-mile on that first run!

*buy my condo at 22 years old. 'Nuff said.

*jello wrestle my way to be Jello Wrestling Champion of the World (slight exaggeration) 2006. Any one want to challenge me for the title next year?

*graduate Valedictorian of my high school class of 531 and Summa Cum Laude of my college class of 423. If it wasn't obvious, I am a nerd.

*drop chewed bubblegum in my uncle's armpit at the tender age of 4, causing him to use ice, peanut butter, nail polish remover, scissors, and eventually gasoline (yes, ouch!) to get it out. Sorry, Uncle Ed! ;)

*start speaking Spanish at 5 years old.

*overcome my fear of spiders and as a result, held a tarantula . . . twice.

*eat yellow snow. On multiple occasions. Don't worry, it was snow ice cream made with sugar, vanilla, eggs, and what else? . . . Snow! (You knew it had to be some form of wacky ice cream, right?!)

*purposely step on my brother's back mere weeks after he was born. I'm not cruel, I promise--I just had to get used to the little guy. :) No worries, he forgives me and no physical damage was done. Well, at least I think so . . .

*take photographs when no one was looking. (Don't you wish you knew?!)

*sing solos in three different songs in an elementary school presentation.

*hot tub with strangers . . . without a suit. You know if you were there . . .

*walk Tianenmann Square, the Forbidden City, and the Great Wall of China. It was fascinating!

*break my elbow by falling off a bike. And what was more of a bummer, was that I was on vacation too! Did I mention the bike wasn't moving?

*babysit for the kids who live across the street from Colorado Rockies First Baseman Todd Helton. His house is as huge and as beautiful as you might expect it to be . . .

*learn to snow ski for the first time this year. An embarrassing fact for a Colorado native, I know, yet I got 'er dun! ;)

*faint in church in front of close to 1000 people. I was kneeling at the altar when it happened, so you can't convince me that nobody noticed.

*hula hoop my way to first place at a talent show in third grade. I 'hooped' to Amy Grant's "Baby, Baby." Oh yeah, the sweet sound of the early 90s . . .

*hula dance on stage and belly dance in private. What a workout!

I think that's enough of a disclosure for now, don't you think?

To be the recipient of an apology

Lately I've been working hard to become even more conscious of my thoughts and actions. Although I'm usually very tuned into myself in what I say and do and think throughout the day, I've come to realize that I am still often on autopilot, saying and doing things without even thinking twice about it. Sometimes, after I say or do something, I reflect on the moment and am astonished at how uncharacteristic my words and actions can be. And moreso, how contrary they sometimes are to how I actually feel about a particular event, person, or situation.

In thinking some of these instances through, I've discovered that I'm struggling with one situation in particular. I've realized that when someone approaches me with an apology, my first reaction usually is to say, "It's ok." However, sometimes, it's NOT ok! Sometimes, I have been hurt and an apology is definitely warranted! Sometimes, the actions towards me are inexcusable and at minimum, an apology is the first step in resolving the matter and restoring the relationship. Despite knowing all this, my default response is "It's ok?!" What's up with that?! I might as well say:
It's ok that you hurt me.
It's no big deal.
You don't need to take responsibility for your actions.
I am not worthy of receiving your acknowledgement for what happened.
It is acceptable to do/say what you did/said again.
It's ok that you hurt me.

Although I might have been a bit dramatic in the progression above, no matter how you look at it, the simple, "It's ok" is literally telling the other person that it's tolerable to hurt me, tolerable to break their agreement with me, tolerable to be less than their best with me, etc. Why do I, a self-assured, strong, responsible, aware woman of integrity and great worth automatically grant such permission?! Why do I find it so difficult to accept the apology verbally and then move on?

I once had difficulty accepting compliments and at one point in my journey of personal growth, I participated in a coaching program. My coach learned about my struggle and saw that it was contributing to my view of self and my confidence level in all areas of life. In order to support me in changing that view, he encouraged me to say "Thank you, it's true" after each compliment that was given to me. Not to be arrogant, however to genuinely accept the gift of the compliment (who am I to deny that from the person who wants to share it?) and to acknowledge the truth behind their words. (I am great at what I do. I am beautiful. This shirt does look good on me. I really am wonderfully thoughtful. I do have a great smile. I am brilliant and loveable and sexy . . .) After awhile, accepting compliments was not as difficult as it used to be and more importantly, I began to believe, really believe, the positive things others were telling me. I still occasionally do catch myself rejecting compliments from others, however I usually catch myself in those moments and am able to make a different choice in how I respond to the compliment and by doing so, I am able to make a different choice in telling myself who and how I am.

Ok, so as I reflect upon that experience, I am still attempting to figure out the "why" behind some of my actions, and I am still stuck on what the truly appropriate response is to "I'm sorry," or "I apologize." I mean, in the past I've said "Thank you for your apology," or "I appreciate that," or the no-longer-adequate "it's ok." But truly, honestly, what is a good response? How can I accept the apology without diminishing it or dismissing the circumstance(s) which called it forth? Please know I am not speaking of forgiveness (I don't find that very difficult at all in most cases), however I'm speaking of my verbal acknowledgment of the apology and what that reiterates to my being in regards to what happened and how I feel in a particular situation. Therefore, what can I say that more appropriately expresses how I am feeling in that moment in time?

Do It Anyway

I've always loved the message in this, and no matter where I'm at or what I'm doing, I find something meaningful to me at that moment in time every time I read the words . . .

Mother Teresa's "Do It Anyway"

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.

Unwritten

Ok, so here's the deal:

I've had a very strong urge to write for maybe the past 4 weeks or so. You may ask, "write what?" however my answer is, "I don't know!" This urge is so strange . . . it came and it has stayed, despite my thinking it was just a passing thought that would slowly fade over time. I've had dreams about it, spontaneous thoughts during my day, and countless minutes of pondering my thoughts which I suppose, could be slapped onto paper as roughly as they were generated from my brain.

Here I am, though, nearly 4 weeks after I first felt I should be putting pen to paper on some topic, and I still have the feeling that I should be writing something. What's even stranger, is that I don't even know what I'm supposed to write about! I've thought about lots of things--children's books, some of my life stories of travel and personal triumphs, intellectual pieces, fiction, non-fiction, articles, jokes, anything and everything I could ever conceive, etc.--and still, I don't have a single inner nudge one way or another. Crazy, maybe not, however how am I supossed to curb this urge to write if I don't feel compelled to write about any one thing?!

I've always been good at writing, but don't ever remember really enjoying it. So now what am I to do?!

Oh, and just in case you were wondering . . .
I've thought about finding the novel I wrote several years ago (the one that was accepted by a publisher), resubmitting it to the publisher, and finally giving them permission to print the book. However, it has disappeared. The publisher's acceptance letters and contract is safely tucked away, yet I have been unable to find a copy--hard or electronic--of my original work. So that's out.

Unless I can find some satisfaction in leaving the page blank, I guess I'll have to actually write to cure this one, huh?! *sigh*

Just a hare of trouble . . .

In many ways, Raleigh's house has become my home. I have my own key, a pile of shoes by the front door, clothes in the closet, a toothbrush near the sink, books in the living and bedroom. I know in which cupboards the dishes belong, how to operate the X-Box as a dvd player, where Raleigh hides his dirty work clothes, which kitchen tools are Ral's favorite (and which ones he uses to improvise when he doesn't have exactly what he needs), and how to hold open the windows that don't stay open on their own. I clean the kitchen after meals, often water and trim the flowers out front, and say hi to the neighbors when they pass by.

Two of my most favorite neighbors come to visit often yet don't say much. Jake and Jennie are new to the neighborhood (by about 3 months) and often like to hang out in our front yard. Jake is the bigger of the two and usually seems to be the one in charge, yet lately Jennie seems to be hanging around with a bit more frequency on her own. (I think Jake is up to regular teenager mischeivious antics . . . ) Anyways, it's always a pleasure to see them and I enjoy greeting them in the mornings or evenings as I exit and enter the house and chatting (usually with Jennie) while I play in the garden or sit out front to enjoy the view.

Now, speed up to today, and this morning started out like any other. I got out of bed after hitting snooze 3+ times, brushed my teeth, curled my hair, threw on some clothes, slid into my shoes, and began gathering my things to take to the car. I opened the front door to see Jennie quickly run away from the front gate, presumably to hide behind the flower bed on the side of the house as she usually does. It was so refreshingly cool outside compared to the inside of the house (Ral doesn't have A/C yet), I decided to leave the front door open as I loaded my things into the trunk of my car. (That's not unusual, since Raleigh and I often leave the front door open just to get some fresh air.)

As I was placing my stuff in the trunk, I thought to myself, I wonder if our friends would ever try to go inside? "Nah," I said, "They're too smart for that." And without a second thought, I walked back up the steps and into the house for load number two. As if on cue, there, sitting right in front of the television, ears perked straight up, nose quivering with excitement, eyes aglow with that "I'm-in-trouble-now" look . . . was Jennie. I could almost see her smiling.

One step toward her, and she jumped towards the couch and positioned herself behind the ottoman. Then, as if she thought it were a fun game, we played hide-and-seek and catch-me-if-you-can in the living room. Jennie is a smart bunny (I knew she was), as she seemed to know exactly which direction I was going to go; I'd move one way, and she would intuitively hop the other. And quick! Man, I knew that girl had spunk, I just didn't know how fiestly she could be! Thankfully, our time together this morning only lasted for a minute or so before she headed towards the kitchen, spotted the open door, and darted back outside.

I could only shut the door with a big sigh of relief and a little giggle (how might I have told Raleigh there was a bunny rabbit loose in the house?!), and quietly climbed the stairs to say goodbye to a sleeping Raleigh. I awoke him with a kiss, and then told him I had an exciting morning as Jennie came in the house to pay us a visit. His eyes got big, however I quickly reassured him it was only a short stay, as she was safely back outside where she belongs. We both then started giggling hysterically on the bed, and Raleigh so aptly pointed out that Jennie now had a great story to tell Jake and all her friends. And now, so do I.