My Valentine Do Over

Valentines Day was Tim’s favorite holiday. I never understood it. But, on this day, it wasn’t uncommon for me to get fine jewelry, flowers delivered to my work, and a romantic dinner at a fine restaurant. Not once in our 38 years, do I think he missed celebrating this most romantic day.

Then a few months later, he’d completely forget my birthday. Leaving me sobbing for hours.

His response, “I’m sorry honey, I forgot. I thought about it last week, then I just forgot.”

I used to think he remembered Valentine’s because the holiday is so heavily advertised. But then, he seldom gave Christmas or Easter the same respect as this day set-aside for lovers.

casablancaIn retrospect, I have to admit, the man was a hopeless romantic. It wasn’t uncommon for me to come home and find him glued to a Turner Classic movie. (Really – how many guys count Casablanca as their favorite?) When I’d ask what he was watching, he’d shush me and say, “I don’t know the name, but she’s in love with that guy, but he doesn’t love her…” A clear sign he’d seen the film before.

When it came to romance, the tomboy in me came out. Not that I didn’t believe in love, I just didn’t believe in fairy tales. Or happily ever afters. Love to me has always been hard work.

But…if I could have a do over, I’d change a few things.

  • I’d watch those movies with him. Then I’d ask him what it was he liked so much about them. Something about them resonated with him, and I never found out what.
  • I’d put more emphasis on what he did on February 14th, and less on what he failed to do on my birthday, or Christmas, or any other holiday.
  • I would make February 14th the biggest day of our year. In other words, I’d join him in making it a banner celebration of us.
  • A week before my birthday, I’d give him a list of things I’d like him to buy for me. On top, in huge letters, I’d write: “MY BIRTHDAY’S NEXT WEEK!” And I’d accept it graciously if the reminder only generated a card and some cash.Tim and Ellen

Too often, our expectations set us up for failure. And even if what we get is good, it seems small compared to what we had in mind.

So, if your Valentines Day fell short, I encourage you to reevaluate your mate within the scope of his or her entire life. Make a pro and con list if you must. Just don’t hold them to a standard you set that only fits into a small slice, of one day, of this big time frame we call life.

If I had it to do over again, that’s exactly what I would do.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Do You Bootcamp?

Not fully understanding what I’d gotten myself into, I took a baby step and signed up for six weeks of the Lake Nona Bootcamp. A few days later I stood in line with a slew of slim and trim young people to get weighed and measured. Lauren, our fearless leader was upbeat and encouraging. But I already felt I was in over my head.IMG_2997

On the first day, a handsome young man took me aside for an “assessment.” He was kind as I struggled to hold my overweight body in a plank. I felt my shoulders would explode as I attempted to pump out a few push-ups. As his stopwatch ticked off a minute, I attempted to do as many squats as possible. Sweat dripped down my forehead as he wrote my measly accomplishments on a sheet of paper.

Finally, I joined the rest of the group for the remainder of the work out. All the while thinking, I might as well just give up. At 58 years old, my life is over. The best I can do is park myself in a chair and wait to die.

At the end of the workout, the instructor congratulated us on our performance. All the way home, I swallowed hard to keep the vomit for entering my mouth. My face burned.

As soon as I opened my door, I ran for the bathroom and emptied my stomach. As I washed my hands, I stared at my flaming red face and stringy, soaking wet hair.

Then I sat in a chair and cried.

After a few minutes, I dried my tears and filled a couple ziplock bags with ice. Balancing them on my aching knees, I thought, what could it hurt? It’s only an hour twice a week for six weeks. I’ll just do what I can.

Two days later, I unrolled my mat and took my place with the other campers. A young girl, a third my age, turned and said, “We all took bets you wouldn’t come back.”

“Oh honey,” I responded. “I can do anything for an hour.”

But I seriously had my doubts.

Then, I did it all over again. Even the throwing up, crying, and icing part.

IMG_3911For the next year, a lot of ice melted over my knees as I gained strength. Then one day, I ran a whole mile. And when I came across that finish line, it felt like I’d just won the Boston Marathon.

Sometimes, victories are bigger than they appear.

Now when the instructor assigns us 100 squats, I think – piece of cake. And to that first mile run, I’ve added two 5K’s and I’m signed up for two more.

But the biggest win is inside of me. It’s knowing I can still face new challenges that not only test the boundaries of my body, but my soul as well.

Because all determination starts between our ears. Before our feet ever hit the pavement, our minds must decide to go.

So what are your challenges today? What’s the baby step you need to take?

IMG_3987

Bitesize Pieces of Perfection

I’m sure it came inside a card I no longer have, but this little strip of paper made it’s way into a box of keepsakes. When I ran across it several months ago, I took it out and glued it into my art journal.AJM I Wish

Aunt Jeanne Marie has often sent me such treasures. When I was younger I didn’t realize their long term value, and many didn’t get saved. But somehow, I began to see these jewels of wisdom and I started tucking them away.

Today, I read this one over and over. Of all the things listed here, my mind got stuck on the, “…ordinary little bite size pieces of perfection…”

It got me thinking – just what does a bite size piece of perfection look like?

So here’s my short list from the past month:

IMG_3908Work has brought my son Daniel from Philadelphia to Florida for two whole weeks. So for fourteen days, we get to talk, dream, argue, and frustrate each other, just like the old days. It’s so wonderful to have my son in the house.

My granddaughter Juliette, who lives in Atlanta, shut herself in a closet to spend some quality FaceTime with me. For about thirty minutes, I got her all to myself. She told me about the recital I missed, her school work, and her latest writing projects. The memory of that conversation still warms me.

I spent the past couple weekIMG_3905s on the road for work. And in those travels, I got to eat at some amazing restaurants. All at no cost to me.

I met a new friend from Phoenix through my blog. Somehow we connected and began to support each others writing. I feel honored when she comments on my website. It’s an odd type of world we writers live in. One where we are often alone with our words. But when they go out to places unknown, and they latch onto someone else, it’s a real treat. So check out my new friend Tanara McCauley’s website. I think you’ll be glad you did.

Sometimes life just gets really hard. And it’s easy to get bogged down in the tough stuff of just getting by. And all the while, God is reaching down and handing us little bite size pieces of perfection. Moments He’s orchestrated on our behalf. But if we don’t take the time to reflect. If we just stay focused on the difficulties at hand, we’ll miss all the ways He’s wrapped His arms around us, and gently held us through the storm.

We Just Don’t Know

Tim and Ellen Gee 1998Coming up on the third anniversary of Tim’s death, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on our life together. Most of it wondering how in the world we managed to stay married for all those years. And how, in spite of our recklessness, we raised two kids, who from an early age wanted nothing more then to get married, have kids, and grow old. All with the same person.

Several months ago, I had my first relationship post Tim. And the fall out of that experience oddly shed some light on my marriage.

With all the best intentions, I tried to accept this guy for who he was, hoping in turn; he’d see the whole of me. But my intense passion proved too much, and he ran for the hills. And the pain of that loss shattered me. And I instantly began to question my own self worth.

In my despair, I remembered certain images of Tim. How he tried not to laugh as I’d go on a rage. How his eyebrows arched as I ranted about a wound I’d suffered from a friend. How, sometimes for hours, he’d sit silently taking all the blows. Letting me get it all out of my system.Tim1998

Tim was the shield that helped me corral the words spinning in my head. He allowed me to try them out in order to rein them in. And no matter how often I bounced them off him, he never gave up on us. Even when he was the intended target.

But this week I realized, I need a new shield. A buffer between the people I love and my untamed thoughts. That the gift of words God has given me has a wicked side. And most of what I think, should never leave my mouth unedited.

So in one of those quiet times of reflection, I clearly felt the nudge of God. And in that nudging I heard Him say, “That’s why I gave you the gift of writing.”

And for the first time, I saw my writing as a present wrapped up just for me. And not something that always has to be shared. A gift to help me manage this big personality He gave me. And how the empty page must now become the shield Tim once held up for me.

It’s true, we don’t know what we have until it’s gone. And in the thick of my marriage, I never fully understood all the ways Tim and I fit together. But God did. And that mystery is now being revealed to me.

I’m grateful that even when I’m not paying attention, God is orchestrating my life. And in that orchestration He always gives me His very best.

DSC01234

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here's an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,500 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 42 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.