Month: December 2019

Happy New Year’s Eve! I’m not a big fan of this holiday because it’s anticipation overload (even for me), but who am I to snub a day off from work. If you’ve read my blog for the past year (and thank you if you have), then you know I don’t set New Year’s resolutions (see Finding the Light – January 28, 2019 for more on that). Instead, I choose a word and work toward that word throughout the year. My friend, Rosie Molinary, introduced this idea to me years ago, and it stuck. 

            I have high hopes for 2020, as I’m tackling new work projects (including this blog) and charting my first full year without my mom. Although the light is beginning to seep in, I chose the word “light” last year, so I can’t use it again. That’s my rule, but it seems like a good one.

            That said, for the past few days I’ve been searching for a new word, and I have to say that the soundtrack from Frozen II was quite helpful. (If you haven’t seen this movie, you must go. I loved the first Frozen, but the second one is all that and a bag of chips. Though I love Elsa and Anna, I have to admit that I’m an Anna — like it’s not obvious. Anyway, go see it.)

            Elsa, aka the incredible Idina Menzel, sings a song titled Into the Unknown, and I can’t get enough of it. I love the orchestration of the song, and I love the lyrics. The more I listened to it with my daughter, the more I decided that this would be my song for 2020. (That’s a new thing, but I’m making the rules here, and again, this seems like a good one. Everyone needs a theme song.) Check out this verse:

What do you want? ‘Cause you’ve been keeping me awake.
Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?
Or are you someone out there who’s a little bit like me?
Who knows deep down I’m not where I’m meant to be?
Every day’s a little harder as I feel my power grow.
Don’t you know there’s part of me that longs to go — into the unknown.

            Bingo! This is where I’ve been living for way too long, and it’s finally time to go into the unknown and see what’s out there — succeed, stumble or fail, it’s time. So (drumroll please), my word for 2020 is “forward” because that’s the only way to go.     

Choosing this word doesn’t mean that I’m going to forget what I learned in 2019 and all the years that came before it. And it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to reminisce about my mom and all of the good (and bad) times we had. It means that I’m packing up all of that knowledge and taking it with me in a fresh direction. It also means that I’m leaving behind the emotional junk that does nothing but poison space in my brain, space that could be used for goodness. 

            So forward I go into the unknown. None of us knows what lies ahead in the next 12 months, but instead of vowing to lose weight (what is this noom thing that’s everywhere?), save money or not binge-watch Netflix, I challenge you to find a word to shape your new year. It can be whatever word you want. That’s my rule, and I promise a word will stick around longer than any diet.

            Happy New Year! 

            Well, we made it through Christmas. Maybe you survived the stress of hosting family or buying presents or singing a solo at church on Christmas Eve. Maybe you endured waiting hours in line for Christmas lights while having to use the bathroom. Depending on your situation, making it through Christmas can mean lots of different things. 

            For me this year it meant experiencing the holiday without my mom. Though we missed her terribly, we managed to have a good Christmas filled with love, laughter, memories and grits at the Waffle House. She was there as we served red velvet cake (her specialty) on her red dessert plates, and she was there as The Tots dipped cranberry juice and ginger ale from her punch bowl. She was there for all of it. So as we wrap up 2019, here’s the latest Weekly Winks. 

            Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday— We took The Tots ice-skating at the Whitewater Center (if you haven’t done this, go — so fun). A sweet lady walked up to them as soon as we got there and gave them glow stick bracelets and wished them a Merry Christmas. She didn’t ask for any money; she was just being kind. 

Sunday— I enjoyed an amazing sermon at church that left me so inspired and hopeful for the New Year.  

Monday— Our neighbors brought over a bouquet of mistletoe, complete with a red bow. You can’t beat good neighbors!

Tuesday— Dad was so sad when he came over for Christmas Eve, but after going to church and the Waffle House with us, he was smiling. That was a wonderful Christmas gift. 

Wednesday— So many Winks on Christmas Day. Loved seeing The Tots discover what Santa brought them. (Santa brought me Michael Bublé tickets, which was a complete surprise. Thanks, Santa!) But most of all, I was glad to just be in the moment and not feel as sad as I was expecting to feel. I’m sure a grief wave will surface soon, but I’m glad it held off on Christmas Day.  

Thursday— Did you see the sunset Thursday night? Talk about a beautiful last-minute Christmas gift. 

Friday— The Tots and I slept in, so I didn’t make it to my exercise class. I texted my friends to let them know that I wasn’t coming, and instead of shaming me, they told me to enjoy resting. Good friends are the best gift. Love my tribe so much! 

Happy holiday week — part II!

            Today’s the day — Christmas Eve. For me, Christmas Eve has always been a much bigger deal than Christmas Day. I’m sure it goes back to my obsession with anticipation, but I also think my fondness for the day before Christmas can be linked to my parents.

            Growing up, Christmas Eve took on various configurations, but you could always count on opening presents. That’s right, my parents and I opened our presents on Christmas Eve night after church. We’d sit in the living room in our assigned seats — mom on the couch, me on the love seat and dad in the comfy chair. I’d play Santa, with or without a hat, and hand out gifts. We went in a circle, opening one present at a time so we could admire whatever treasure we’d just received. 

            At the end of the gift giving, dad would walk to the tree and pull out envelopes of Christmas money for my mother and I. Mom and I would immediately begin plotting where we were going to go shopping. 

            I’ve thought about those Christmas Eves a lot this week as I near the first Christmas without my mom. What I would do to go back to one of those Christmas Eve nights for a few minutes, just to see my mom’s smile and hear her laugh. You know those times are special when you experience them, but you don’t know how special and you certainly don’t realize how one day you’ll play them over and over in your head. 

            One of the Christmas Eves I think about the most took place in the late 1990s. Mom was cooking some kind of meat in the oven when the power went out. We eventually left for church knowing that we would have to figure out alternate dinner plans. After the service, we ventured to town to find a restaurant. Nothing was open except the Waffle House just off of the interstate, so we, clad in our Christmas church attire, proceeded to have our Christmas Eve dinner there. 

            The three of us sat in a cozy booth eating greasy breakfast entrees for dinner, and it turned out to be one of our best Christmas Eves ever, simply because of the story value (mom loved a good story). 

             So as my dad and I, as well as my husband, tried to figure out what to do for our first Christmas Eve without mom, the answer became clear. We’re going to church together, and then we’re going to the Waffle House. Mom would love it, and I have a feeling that her presence will be felt there more than ever as we order pancakes, eggs and sausage for dinner.

            You never know what pieces of life you’ll cling to, but it’s so nice to have a large inventory from which to choose. As I mourn my mom and try to comfort my dad this Christmas, I’m grateful for all of the beautiful Christmases they gave me. I don’t remember the gifts so much as I remember the time they took to be with me and share the spirit of the season with me. Now it’s my turn to do the same for my children — Waffle House and all. 

            Merry Christmas!

Happy Winter Solstice Eve! I love celebrating the shortest day of the year. There’s something about it that gives me energy. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s so little daylight to get things done. Whatever, here’s the latest Weekly Winks. 

            Every Friday I share the Winks of GoodnessI experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday — I saw two cardinals during my morning run. (Again, this is North Carolina’s state bird for all of you NC newbies.) After my mother passed away this summer, family friend and phenomenal artist Lin Barnhardt sent me a ceramic cardinal and dove. The story goes that when you see a cardinal, it’s a visitor from heaven. I hope that’s the case. 

Sunday— We went to see Christmas lights, and it was exactly what I needed to get me in the direction of the mood for Christmas. 

Monday — I got a manicure with two of my best friends. (I haven’t had a manicure in years.) After getting our fancy nails, we just sat in the salon and talked. What a gift!

Tuesday— Instead of getting presents for each student, Graydon’s teacher decided to give a donation to charity. She let the class decide which charity. Graydon nominated Hospice because of how much the organization helped Mama K. and our family. 

Wednesday— We went Christmas caroling with a group of friends from church. It was so fun surprising people with holiday cheer (and iffy high notes). 

Thursday — I took the 5:30 class at the Y so I could spend the day with John. (He took the day off for a date day as a Christmas present.) When I got in my car at 5:10, a beautiful arrangement of Adeste Fideles was on the radio. I just sat in the dark listening to it and admiring our Christmas lights. Magic. 

Friday— Mrs. Easter, a regular at the Y who happens to be 87 and skydived last year, was wearing a red Nutcracker sweater dress this morning. She is awesome sauce with two cherries on top!

Happy holiday week!

Ann Patchett is one of my favorite writers. I love how she strings words together, but I love how she throws random people together in her stories even more (check out Bel Canto to see what I mean). 

            This kind of randomness is what makes life rich, and it makes me sad when people aren’t open to it. We’re naturally friends with folks who have obvious common interests, but we should also get to know those with whom we have commonalities that aren’t so apparent. Don’t assume there isn’t a common thread, but I can assure you that there is. 

            When I’m interviewing someone for a story, it’s important that they feel comfortable and trust me. Over the years, I’ve found that the easiest way to get to that point is to find shared ground from the get go. It might be a sports team or a hometown. It might be something from a picture I recognize on their desk, or it might be the way that they say something. For example, if someone refers to a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup as a Reesie Cup, I know that they’ve been raised right and that we’ll probably become fast friends.

            In today’s world, we simply don’t take the time to discover the threads anymore. We’re too busy curating online personas instead of creating meaningful connections. The smartphone has killed the art of chit chat, which is ironic because it was designed to promote communication. 

            It’s a shame that conversation has become lost in a sea of emojis because I’ve met some interesting people in waiting rooms, rest rooms and standing in line at the movies. Now I’m afraid if I strike up a conversation, I might be interrupting a person validating something important on social media — like what their friend from 10^th grade geometry class had for dinner.             

            My husband is amazed by how well I know people in my life — not best friends or even acquaintances — but people who make my everyday life better. There’s the checkout lady at Harris Teeter with the pretty silver bracelets. She’s from Massachusetts and knows what good clam chowder tastes like. There’s Megan at the consignment store I shop at way too often. Her little girl is about to turn two and is talking up a storm. Then there’s Kenny who makes our sandwiches at McAlister’s. He recently lost a lot of weight and hopes to go to community college to study business. 

            I didn’t learn this stuff by looking at a screen. I learned it by talking — and more importantly listening. Everyone has a story, and you’d be surprised at how their story aligns to parts of your own. You’re cheating yourself when you miss out on these powerful connections. 

            Last week I went to a workshop about grief and sadness during the holidays. I really wanted to go, and then I almost chickened out because I was scared and, let’s face it, no one gets jazzed about going to a grief group. The reason I did go is because my friend, Marcy, texted me a reminder about it. I met Marcy years ago when she worked the front desk at the Lake Norman YMCA. She always helped me register The Tots for their activities, and now she’s a close friend. 

            When I walked into the room, I found a circle of women all ages, shapes and colors. Brought together by the common thread of grief, we had a strong bond from the beginning. As we shared our stories of loss, we found commonalities at almost every turn. A senior citizen who recently lost her husband wanted to go to the beach for Christmas. “So do I,” I told her. Another lady was an only child like me who lost her mother this year. In minutes we became a solid tribe, and I was grateful to be part of it. (Thanks, Marcy.)

            Life teaches its best lessons when we least expect it. Perhaps it works that way in order to get our attention. Whatever the reason, I’m thankful for the moments that take me by surprise to show me something I didn’t know, something I need to know. I’m thankful for common threads that can be woven into beautiful tapestries of friendship. And I’m thankful that I’ve learned to look — and listen. 

Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday— The Tots played their first basketball game, and their team won! Our awesome friend, Ray, surprised us and showed up at the game. Great morning!

Sunday— The Tots and I ventured outside of the bubble to The Ballantyne Hotel to take a stroll down Gingerbread Lane. We were so inspired we came home and built a small gingerbread village. 

Monday— One my trainers and friends (Andrew) returned to the Y exactly two months after having a massive stroke. I’m so happy he’s back. 

Tuesday— The Tots and I watched A Christmas Prince: The Royal Wedding (again) on Netflix. (Love, love this movie series. Don’t judge me.) It was rainy and cold, so Graydon snuggled with me. The best!

Wednesday— I went to a Hope & Healing workshop at Balanced Body Solutions in Cornelius (this place is a Wink of Goodness). It was so comforting to be with other people dealing with grief during the holidays. Community is everything. 

Thursday— As I was running in Davidson, a lady (stranger) walking toward me warned me that the bridge was already icing over. I appreciate her efforts in helping me not bust my toosh. 

Friday— I forgot that I changed my alarm clock to music instead of news yesterday. This morning when it started blaring, it was so nice to hear Christmas tunes instead of headlines.

Happy week!

            As I hugged one of my best friends at her father’s funeral last week, she said, “2019 needs to get the hell out of here.” I couldn’t agree with her more. I don’t have to tell you that I’m glad this year is almost over, but before I kick it out of the door, I am determined to make merry of what’s left. 

            I’m only 47, but I can say with certainty that this year has been the hardest of my life. I know worse challenges lie ahead, but right now I’m trying to find a comfortable spot in the denouement of 2019. 

            Luckily (or unluckily) there’s Christmas. I don’t recommend diving into the holiday season three months after losing a loved one, but here we are. I’ve always adored Christmas — music, friends, festivals, decorations, parties, church, the list goes on. 

            When I was five, my mother bought me a tiny tree for my room from Mack’s on Union Street. Oh, how I loved that tree. It made me feel like my room was my own apartment. When I got my driver’s license, I made sure that there were cassettes of Christmas music at the ready in my car throughout December. And during final exams in college, I blew off studying on a Saturday morning (let’s be honest, I never studied on Saturdays) and went to a local Christmas festival, where I purchased Snoopy wrapping paper and a matching Snoopy Christmas button. (I still have the button.) I think I was the only student there, but I didn’t care. Nothing was going to get in the way of Christmas.

            And now there’s this year. Thanksgiving proved to be mostly bizarre and sad without mom, so I can’t expect that Christmas will be better, but maybe that’s where the wink is. Yes, this Christmas will be different, and there are landmines of memories lining Santa Claus Lane, but if I look deeply to my children and all of the beauty surrounding us, I think I might be able to scrounge up some joy. 

            When I was pregnant during the holidays, I remember standing in my bedroom at my parents’ house with my mom. We were looking for something for the babies, and she smiled and told me, “You have no idea what an adventure you’re about to go on.” She was so happy I was going to be a mother because she remembered how happy she was when she became a mother. We both understood that motherhood is a gift to be cherished. 

            Part of that gift is celebrating Christmas. There’s nothing like seeing the season through your children’s eyes. My daughter has a collection of Santa hats and Christmas headbands that rivals Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection. I never know what kind of outfit she’ll come downstairs in, but I look forward to it every day, and I know my mom would get a kick out of it. I also know that she’d be mad at me if I didn’t because this is the adventure she was talking about. 

            Christmas is filled with miracles and mishaps. (My parents and I ate Christmas Eve dinner at a Waffle House one year — more on that later.) That’s what makes it so beautiful. It’s not going to be perfect, but it will most likely be good and sometimes that’s all the perfect you need. 

            Every year when we trim our tree, we have White Christmas playing on the television. I suppose now we should say that we stream White Christmas, but whatever, Bob and Betty still get together at the end, and I still want a Christmas dress like Betty’s. This year the movie finished before we were finished with the tree because we ran into, shall we say, “technical difficulty” with the lights. I became frustrated because I love decorating our home for Christmas, and this unexpected snag was delaying my plan. 

            In my recent habit of negatively thinking, I chalked this up to 2019. Of course, this would be the year that our tree would give us problems. But after a few hours of cutting lights off of a 12-year-old pre-lit tree and then running to Target for new ones, all of our ornaments found their places on the branches and our star took center stage on top just like it always does.

I looked at our tree and smiled because although it took it a while to get there, it was finally ready for us to enjoy. Somehow I think the same will be true for me this Christmas.

            Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday— Our first Thanksgiving was rough without mom so decorating our home for Christmas lifted my spirits. We always watch White Christmas while we trim our tree, and I love hearing The Tots sing Sisters. We added a butterfly tree to our holiday décor this year in memory of mom. I just love looking at it. 

Sunday— At church, a father held his newborn baby while sitting on the row in front of us. I just watched her. 

Monday— Graydon was sick, so Margot went to basketball practice solo. Again, she’s the only girl on the team, and she’s so fine with it. There’s no stopping this girl. 

Tuesday— The Tots put their arms around each other as they walked to the car after the Hospice memorial service for my mother. They have no idea how much that helped me. 

Wednesday— An awful cold kept me home for the day, but it also allowed me to watch another Netflix Christmas movie. Check out Christmas with a View, and yes, that is Patrick Duffy (aka Bobby Ewing) with a ponytail.

Thursday— This morning I walked through the Rotary Club’s Giving Tree Village before the rush of Christmas in Davidson. I love how people use their creativity for good causes. We need to do more of that. 

Friday— Graydon and I dawdled (aka slept late) this morning, so The Tots were tardy. However, because we were late we got to see Graydon’s kindergarten teacher’s one-month-old baby all snug in his bear hoodie. Tardiness has its privileges. 

Happy week!

It’s Cookie Week! Yes, my daughter just joined Girl Scouts, but I’m not talking about Girl Scout Cookies. I’m talking about cookies that work miracles — magic cookies. 

            A friend of mine told me about Cookies For Kids’ Cancer a few years ago, and although I had heard the name of the organization in passing, I didn’t know much about it. Unfortunately, by the time I had a better grasp of this nonprofit, I also had a better grasp of kids’ cancer, as one of my best friends, Liz Mills, lost her beautiful two-year-old to this ruthless disease — unexpectedly. 

            Little Easton Mills was the ultimate Wink of Goodness with her electric smile, beautiful bows, playful curiosity and endless energy. She’s the inspiration for this blog (read the Where the Winks Come From — February 20, 2019 entry), and she and her mother continue to inspire me every single day. 

            When Liz first moved here, I suggested fun things for her to do with her family. (She referred to me as her personal Yelp.) One of the events I told her she had to go to was Christmas in Davidson, a three-evening holiday celebration in downtown Davidson that could easily be mistaken for a Norman Rockwell painting. She took me up on it and brought Easton and Easton’s big brother, Grant, to the event. 

            When I saw her the next day she said that they had fun but that she ended up carrying Easton the whole night because she left her stroller in the car. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do. I remember all of my Easton moments because there were way too few of them. 

            The next Christmas in Davidson, I worked the Cookies For Kids’ Cancer booth with Liz in memory of Easton, as she passed away seven months prior. All of our friends baked cookies and volunteered at the booth to honor this little girls’ spirit, support her mother and raise money for pediatric cancer research so other families would have a better chance of beating this disease. 

Thursday night marks our third bake sale. We’ve raised thousands of dollars for Cookies For Kids’ Cancer, and this year Liz has expanded the cookie sale to A Huntersville Christmas, so we’re sure to do better than ever. (I can’t help thinking about Dolly Parton’s character Truvy in Steel Magnolias when she opens up her second beauty shop and says, “Look, I’m a chain.” Easton’s bake sale is now a chain!) 

            There are so many things to love about this bake sale, but the thing I love the most is that it’s a beautiful (and delicious) way to remember Easton — out loud. So many times when someone loses a loved one, people are scared to talk to about it. Silence might work for some folks, but it doesn’t work for Liz, as we talk about Easton all the time, and we also look at pictures and videos of her. On Thanksgiving Day a video of Easton playing with a hula-hoop popped up in my Facebook memories. I thought about how perfect that was because I am so thankful she and her family are in my life. 

            A day doesn’t go by that I don’t wish that Easton could be with us physically, but I have no doubt that her spirit is with us constantly, sending us Winks right when we need them most. This past summer when my mother was so sick, I found strength in Easton’s memory. Liz’s bravery kept me going when my mother couldn’t squeeze my hand. Why would anyone ever want to hide that kind of power? It’s important to remember and talk about those who’ve left us. That’s the trick in keeping them close.          

 If you happen to be at Christmas in Davidson or A Huntersville Christmas this weekend, stop by the Cookies For Kids’ Cancer booth, make a donation and eat a delicious cookie (or five). While this is the season that brings out the best in everyone, Easton Mills’ spirit manages to do that all year long. 

NOTE: If you’d like to make an online donation to Easton’s Christmas in Davidson Bake Sale, visit  https://www.cookiesforkidscancer.org/Fundraiser/ChristmasInDavidson2019