This wonderful post was written by Amy Byrnes (who I believe is a kindred spirit due to her past love of Forenza sweaters and Busch light). She has a wonderful blog in which she details her life as a “Mom. Sandwich maker. Counter wiper. Dream killer. Blogger,” in ‘A’ My Name is Amy. Her stories will make you laugh, cry and yearn for the days when life’s biggest decision was what you were going to wear out that night. Because, let’s face it, life is hard and messy and, as the years go by, gets harder.
How to Stay Friends for 30 Years will take you back to when you met your best girl friends and the roads that you traveled together (and separately). And makes your re-realize what you already know…that you couldn’t live without them.
You can’t forgive without loving. And I don’t mean sentimentality. I don’t mean mush. I mean having enough courage to stand up and say, ‘I forgive. I’m finished with it.’
God Bless you Maya Angelou. Thank you for making us laugh and cry and think…and for teaching us that we really are all in this together.
At forty I still feel young, especially when I’m with my college girlfriends. Age and time seem to fade and it’s just like when we were back under the oaks, listening to the Indigo Girls and drinking cold beer under a Carolina blue sky. I long for those days again, when life was simple and major decisions had nothing to do with houses and children and 401K’s. When the biggest crisis was who you were asking to the grab-a-date or finding where you left your bike the night before. It was a time when it was ok and almost expected to be a bit foggy at 11am and when everyone who depended on you was always a bit foggy too.
But time passes and life throws curves and rocks at you, you fall in and out of love and you find what matters most, all while amassing an adult life that you thought that you were supposed to have and aren’t sure that you really want. And with that brings problems and crisis and you find that your family and friends are real people with real problems, not the fairytale figures you created them to be in your youth.
People disappoint you and surprise you and horrify you and you realize that you are grown up and have to be strong because being weak is not an option. Yes, you may have moments of weakness but they can’t last because you have others who depend on your strength so that they may live their own lives and figure out this cycle for themselves. You see people who cannot be strong so you try to give them your strength to get them through and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Continue reading
I was in my late twenties, sitting in a church pew, clutching my (then) new husband’s hand, tears streaming down my face, I listened to my Mother and Uncles eulogize my Grandfather.
A story was told of a time when they had asked my Grandfather if he wished he was taller. This was a question that caught me off guard as I never thought of my Grandfather as short; he always seemed larger than life to me. When they asked him how tall he wished he was, his response, “As tall as Jesus.”
Gasps were audible throughout the church. The magnitude of the statement just uttered caused spontaneous inhalations of incensed church air. We Catholic’s are good at acting astonished.
My uncles, being the inquisitive bunch that they were (and still are), tried to determine the true height of Jesus through research and general “asking around” but never found a definitive answer. Finally, they went back, feeling discouraged and explained that they weren’t able to figure it out and looked to my Grandfather to solve the puzzle. He laughed a little and said that he didn’t know either but that was the point. Jesus was as tall as he needed to be. Continue reading
Let’s face it, Mom’s just know how to get things done. It’s because they have to, they have no choice. In many cases they are the ones making the lunches, waking the children, getting them breakfast, playing referee between those same children who are eating breakfast, making sure they put on some sort of clean clothing, tie their shoes, get their teeth brushed (on a good day) and scooting them out the door all within a forty minute time frame. Continue reading
“Winning is great, sure, but if you are really going to do something in life, the secret is learning how to lose. Nobody goes undefeated all the time. If you can pick up after a crushing defeat, and go on to win again, you are going to be a champion someday.” – Wilma Rudolph
Children are learning, at a very early age, that winning is everything. That if you don’t win the game, the match, the meet, that somehow you are less of a person than you were before. Those ninety minutes of their lives (by some people’s standards) define who they are and what they will become.
There is always a winner and a loser, that’s just a fact. But I think how you act when you are defeated more so defines who you are than when you are celebrating your victories. Anyone can jump on that winning train. When you’re feeling good and at the top of your game, when you are getting high fives and pats on the back and your head is held high and your smile is bright, that’s the easy part.
But when the numbers aren’t in your favor and the self- pity and guilt begin to settle in, that’s the defining moment, where you choose between hanging your head or holding it high. That’s where your true character shows through. Continue reading
Think and Integrity were two words ingrained into my mind all through my Freshman year in High School. They were written neatly in thick, black marker on two oversized note cards and posted in the upper right and left corners of the chalk board. Yes, I said it, chalk board. My kids say that is what the teachers used in the “olden days”. When I think of the olden days I think of Little House on the Prairie, and so it goes.
It was my Freshman English teacher, Mrs. Nekola, who first introduced me to the true meaning of think and integrity. She said if we never remembered anything else from her class we were to always remember these words. Mrs. Nekola was the type of teacher that you listened to, so I wrote “think” and “integrity” at the top of the first page of my spiral notebook. It would come to be filled with notes on Beowulf and grammar exercises, but these words were the two most important things I would ever write that year. Continue reading
It all started with an email asking for prayers for a sick little girl. Never did I expect the impact this sweet child would make on my life and the life of my family.
Isabella was four when I received an email from a friend asking me to pray for a little girl who had been living with Neuroblastoma for two years. She had beaten many an odd and now was battling another relapse. The email directed me to a CaringBridge website that told the story of a child who was diagnosed with this wretched disease at age two and had been fighting it with all of the strength that a two year old possessed.
The pictures showed a spirited child with short, auburn hair and clear blue eyes that told you she was well beyond her years. Happiness flowed from her very being; you felt it looking at her. Though Isabella was so very sick you could see she would not let it get her down. This amazed me, with the odds stacked against her she was determined to win this uphill battle and do it with the grace and perseverance that most adults don’t possess. I was in, right away she got to me and I was going to be part of the army that was fighting for this little girl’s life. Continue reading
I am scared a lot. I never let people think that I am because that would mean that I am weak and vulnerable and, well, that’s hard to admit. It’s hard to lament about your own situation when, one, you know so many whose problems are worse than your own and two, no one wants to hear you complain anyway. Being asked “how was your day” is not an open invite to dump about how all the kids do is fight and how work is crazy nuts and your are exhausted and just barely hanging on because chances are they are too. Continue reading
A friend reminded me of this today… Forgiveness is a gift we may give to others as well as ourselves.