Speedbumps Wanted

Our pastor yesterday preached about temptation and not being led into it - ala last lines of The Lord's Prayer. He told a story of another pastor's dog getting sick after they accidentally left the pantry open and the dog got into a bag of chocolate. Pastor Long equated the goodies behind the pantry door to the things that tempt us. He said, "God will shut the pantry door, but he won't put a lock on it."
He pointed out we can, and should, pray for roadblocks between us and the pantry door. I've often used the same thought with the youth, but I called them "speedbumps." Our oldest, who honestly worked to not get in trouble, found himself involved in three infractions in a short timespan his freshman year of high school. I pointed out to him that he needed to see those problems as speedbumps. Speedbumps say, "Slow down. Pay Attention. Look where you're going."
I'm back to full-time writing again today. Kids are all packed off to school and vacation is over. However, before I get into working on my next book I am praying for speedbumps. Speedbumps to warn me when I'm getting off the path God wants me on. Speedbumps for when I'm tempted to not put my behind in the chair and write. Speedbumps for those temptations of writing something else because it might actually sell or it's something I can do fast.
And then my second prayer is, "God let me notice the speedbumps." Guess that means I'll have to turn down the radio, not go so fast and Pay Attention.
Here we go!

Over, I Guess.

I’m ready. Ready for the last day of vacation. It’s funny to me that on the first day of vacation I think I could stay forever. This is SO much better than home. But then this morning the humid smell of salt water and wet sand when I opened the balcony door, wasn’t refreshing. Having to walk over to the club house to check email and facebook is tiresome. Nothing on the schedule means making a schedule for each day. That was freeing at first, now it feels kinda loosey goosey. Like the vultures in Jungle Book. “Whadda you wanna do?” “I don’t know. Whadda you wanna do?”
However, something about knowing there is an end to this holiday makes it more special, more precious. Like a special thing sat up out of the reach of children’s hands, maybe even behind glass or in a protective frame. I’ve often been sorry when something beautiful got soiled or broken because I failed to take care of it. With age, I’ve learned to try and value special things before they are gone.
And this first empty-nest vacation, has been special and beautiful. I want to take time today to frame it, protect its memory, and value this week in such a way that it serves its purpose long after it’s gone. This week marks an ending and a beginning. Memories have flooded us when we’ve seen kids in the surf and hope surged as we watched couples a few years ahead of us, walking on the beach holding hands. There has been joy and even champagne toasts at our freedom and then tears when Jimmy Buffet starts singing “Little Miss Magic”.
I’ll never forget this week and, I guess that’s the point.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I am 48 years old today! How awesome to get another birthday. As you can probably already tell, I’m not one of those who laments the passage of time or the adding of another candle to the cake. It’s a privilege to get older.
Right this very minute there are people in the hospital who would give anything – anything to be told they could live to be my age. There are parents who would lay down their own life if it meant their child could be given the chance to one day blow out 48 birthday candles. Thousands are waking up this morning hoping and praying that the drugs or surgeries or treatments they endure will give them enough days to make it to their 48th birthday.
Blessed beyond all comprehension is what I am, just to be breathing. The blessings on top of that are too many to even mention. So it is a very, very happy birthday. I can honestly say – there is no one on earth happier than me.
Let’s all have cake!

Just say "No"

It’s so much easier to tell my kids “no”, when “yes” isn’t a possibility. Being responsible and not giving them too much is being a good parent. It’s just easier if there’s no way I can give them too much. When we lived in Illinois, we lived out in the country because we didn’t expect the huge difference in cost of housing between central Florida and Chicagoland. It was a wonderful setting, a couple acres in a hundred-year-old farm house. But even that cost a lot and being so far out in the country meant you didn’t go shopping until you had to. And eating out? We just didn’t do it. Mike and I were raised in modest households so we really didn’t think much about it.
When we moved to Georgia we found another wonderful place to live – but it was a culture shock. Little House on the Prairie to Beverly Hills 90210. Kids working on family farms and doing chores versus kids having computers in their rooms and getting new cars for their birthday. Learning that eating out isn’t a treat, but a way of life.
It’s easy for me to say those wealthy folks on TV - or around the corner - shouldn’t give their kids so much, but it’s harder for me to do. If I have it, or can get it, I want my children to have it. But when is too much, literally, too much? It takes backbone and clear thinking to deny my kids.
But wait, parenting isn’t about raising kids. I’m in the business of raising adults.
Okay – got it.

Wowed yet?

I got up early today and watched the sun break through the low clouds and make the palm fronds and grass shine. Early sunbeams, hitting the dunes turned the top fringe of sea oats golden. Then a mist rolled in and veiled everything in dampness and I could smell brine, seaweed and wet sand.
I find the ocean mesmerizing, but then I find a mountain stream mesmerizing, ditto for a lake; fall leaves moving in a breeze; a pasture buzzing with insects and summer sun; black bark in stark relief against winter snow; or my own backyard. I’m just one of those folks that likes to sit and stare. It’s a gift.
Recently I joked with a friend that I have a great ability to do nothing. She, a very busy and accomplished person, said, “Yes, you do and I want to be able to do that.” I laughed, but she didn’t.
Could it really be a gift to be able to sit and enjoy my surroundings? It feels like a gift very often. Like God creates tableaus, sets scenes in place purely for my enjoyment. But what about the days I don’t appreciate the flowers lining the sidewalk or the clouds formations above or the way the rain refreshes our tired lawn? Does God lament all the trouble he went to that no one noticed? Does God look for folks that will sit and stare at his creations?
God wanting us to notice his handiwork – doesn’t that just wow you?

Forecast from the Coast . . .

Jimmy Buffet calls it “When the Coast is Clear.” The rental websites call it “Off Season.” We keep using the word, “different.”
St. Augustine, Florida this last week of August is just different. Different from the many times we’ve been here in July. Rarely on those July vacations did we have our usual assortment of three kids. Working at summer camps kept Robert and Ryan away different times. Sometimes Robert’s been able to join us for a day or two. Ryan was just too far away in Tennessee the last three summers. Lizzy has always been here, sometimes with an assortment friends. There was the week with the four girls crammed into one small room. They pushed the twin beds together and slept wherever.
Whoever was here, for whenever – there were always kids.
But not this time and not for just us. St. John’s County, where St. Augustine is located, started school today. So even the locals are filling backpacks with books and paper instead of sunscreen and beach towels. Parking spaces are abundant, open tables mean no waiting to dine, and the beach is empty of childish squeals, parents yelling, and arguments – at least where the Shostaks’ are sitting.
Who would’ve imagined? I find myself wondering what Disney World is like at this time of year? What other things and places do I think I know, but when I really examine it my knowledge is rather limited. Limited to my experiences, my perception.
Maybe that’s something to come out of all these changes in my life – a challenging of my perceptions. What other things am I only seeing one facet of?

Until further notice . . .

Okay, there's Christmas Eve when all the gifts are wrapped, tree lights and candles glowing in an otherwise dark house.
I'm partial to St. Patrick's Day because it's our anniversary and means Spring is here.
The first hot day in the pool with a Jimmy Buffet cd playing, is a favorite.
That day I hear Big & Rich sing "We are coming to your city" on ESPN each fall, which means it's time for college football.
All are favorite days for me. And then there is today - the Friday before vacation. Yep, next week there will be blogs from the ocean side.
The to-do list is winnowing down and the goal is in sight.
I just painted my fingernails bright raspberry pink - def beach color.
Mike bought new tennis shoes this week - think Chevy Chase in "Vacation". (Seriously, until I saw that movie I thought we were the only ones that got new tennis shoes for vacation, which then became our new shoes for school.)
Speaking of the movie "Vacation", Mike dug out our old VHS tape of it which we have watched for years on vacation-eve.
What a joy - one of my favorite days of the year is here and calls for one of my favorite quotes. It's from that prolific fellow Anonymous:
"Until further notice - Celebrate EVERYTHING!"