Crazy is Good

Going to the beach in December. That’s crazy! And this comes from someone who grew up in a town where people build snowmen out of tumbleweeds and who then spent her college years in a place where people shop for Christmas trees wearing tank tops and flip flops. Even so, while I was packing a bag full of beach towels, buckets, and shovels yesterday morning it just felt a little unnatural. We aren’t supposed to go to the beach in December. But I’d seen the weather forecast for temperatures in the upper 70s and I got this crazy idea in my head.

That’s the funny thing about ideas- sometimes the craziest ones are the best ones.

Our December beach trip was one of the best afternoons the boys and I have spent together since Josie started school and left us to fend for ourselves. Typically we spend that time running errands or catching up on housework. Occasionally we’ll play in the back yard or bring out the play dough, but in general we are just biding our time until Josie gets home. That’s what made our crazy beach trip so much fun. It was a special, spur-of-the-moment adventure for just me and my boys.

The beach was practically empty when we got there a little before noon, with the exception of some committed surfers and a few boardwalk strollers. We dropped our bag, stripped off our shoes, rolled up our cuffs, and ran out into the surf.

Jamie was the first one to reach the water and Johnny followed quickly after. Jamie was a good sport about the cold around his ankles but Johnny let us know immediately how un-pleased he was.

We retreated back to where the sand was warm and played with some buckets and shovels.

It took a while for the excitement of being at the beach to wear off enough for everyone to notice their growling tummies, but once they did we had no choice but to break out the peanut butter sandwiches. We were joined quickly by a huge flock of seagulls eye-balling our lunch and Jamie loved chasing them away again and again.

Then it was back into the sand we went and while Johnny dug, Jamie searched for shells.

I, of course, enjoyed every precious moment and photographed as many of them as I could. It was a fantastic care-free afternoon!

So if a beach trip in December is crazy then crazy is definitely good. I hope that we have many more crazy, good trips in our future. Especially since I recently decided (or rather, gave myself permission to) embrace this new chapter of my life. There are likely to be crazy new adventures waiting for us behind every corner, if we only have the will to search. Sometimes we have to ignore that something inside that is telling us we “shouldn’t.”  It’s living proof that many times the only thing standing between us and a great new adventure is our own stubborn selves.

A New Chapter

There are books that are so spectacular to read that you never want them to end. With every turn of the page you fall deeper and deeper in love with the characters and as the story progresses you find yourself more and more engrossed in their world. You cry when they cry, you smile when they smile, your blood races when theirs does. You reach that point when you feel so much a part of their lives that it also feels like they are a part of yours. Jane Eyre is gracing your breakfast table with her presence, Tom Sawyer’s antics are livening up your monotonous afternoon, and Harry Potter is hiding under the covers with you before bed. Eventually, as you near the last chapter of the book, you begin to mourn the loss of those fictional people to whom you had become so attached. And then once you’ve closed the cover- if you’re anything like me- you reluctantly force yourself to pick up a new book in hopes of filling the empty space in your heart where those old characters once resided with a cast of all new characters.

.      .      .

Hello again. Remember me? I know that it’s been a while. I am sorry for my absence but I do have some reasonable explanations. Most obviously, I am a mother of three children and am therefore very busy (I actually feel that “busy” is a demeaning understatement but I use it for lack of a better word). I am also the wife of a sailor who is rarely home and so when he is home I choose to enjoy our time together rather than sit hunched over the computer desk. Basically, all else suffers when I blog and I’m not always willing to make that trade. These explanations are both true and adequate. But to leave the explanation at that would be unfair, both to me and to my readers. The underlying reason for my two month hiatus is more personal and more complex.

You see, blogging is not as easy as it may seem. It is an intense and laborious undertaking. Each of my blog entries takes me two hours or more to write, edit, and post. But it’s more than that. The process dictates that almost immediately after any given turn of events I must be able to evaluate them- summarize, contextualize, analyze, etc. The side effect of blogging is that I go through my life feeling like both a participant and an observer, all at the same time. Come to find out, playing host to dual personalities is quite taxing on one’s emotional health. A few months ago I realized that the ‘observer’ in me was taking control and rather than actively attempting to find a solution to my problems I was simply sitting down and writing about them. Everything that spewed from my mind was rank with anger, bitterness, and negativity. It was clear to me that I needed to stop blogging and start searching.

So for the past two months I have been on a soul-searching mission; on the hunt for a new perspective. The good news is… I found it!

[I would like to have inserted the details of my quest for clarity here. But in the interest of efficiency, I will save those stories for another time and place.]

.      .      .

Life is a really good book. Just one book. See, I had been looking at everything the wrong way. The problem I was having was that I saw life as a collection of unrelated books. I had come to the end of what I thought was one book and grievously read those final words… “THE END.” Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to all those characters who had filled my story with so much happiness. Our lives had become intertwined. I also struggled to accept that all the work I’d done to build up a back-story for myself was suddenly going to be bound and shelved. I was attached to my book and I clenched tightly to its cover, hoping that I could prevent the tale from ending.

But life is not a collection of separate books. It is one book. One really good book. The epic kind. Life is the kind of book that contains countless characters and numerous landscapes and multiple time frames. The characters in this book weave themselves in and out of the story, disappearing for a few chapters only to reemerge in a dramatic scene at the plot’s climax. And all that back-story? It follows the main character throughout the tale, from chapter to chapter to chapter, and it builds and builds and builds. Eventually all the past deeds come together in an amazing turn of events that ultimately define the heroes and give them the strength they needs to conquer all.

But there’s more. Just like the best books in all of literature, life will keep you on the edge of your seat. Right when you think that the plot couldn’t thicken any more the author throws in an added twist. But there is comfort to be found in the fact that there is always a resolution. Even when all hope seems lost and we can’t imagine how the heroes could possibly triumph over such immensely overwhelming odds, they amazingly do. There is always hope. The author, the creator, the all-knowing force behind the pen saw the story in full-  from start to finish- and carefully arranged every word so that the book would have a comprehensive conclusion that encompasses elements from every chapter. The writer wrote everything with reason. Therefore, I have found peace in the knowledge that life is one good book.

The fact of the matter is that God is the author writing the book and He recently wrote me a new chapter. I know that some of the characters and scenes in my story are gone for good and that others are only out of the picture for now and bound to reemerge again. I know that my toils and troubles from earlier chapters were not in vain because I can take them with me to the conclusion. I know that there are sure to be more plot twists and cliffhangers in the pages to come. But only God knows how this book will end. The only way for me to find out what's in store for me is just to keep on reading…

The Good Stuff

Every now and then I take a bite of something- a gourmet chocolate truffle or a rich raspberry cheesecake, for example- that tastes so perfectly exquisite that I instinctively let a sigh escape from my lips. “Ahhh,” I say with gratification, “That’s the good stuff.” Desserts, like most everything, come in different degrees of excellence and they are easy to compare. I can have a Hershey’s bar any day I want but it doesn’t taste nearly as good as the giant chocolate dipped strawberries that my husband surprised me with for our wedding anniversary. Naturally, we take special satisfaction in the really good stuff.

Experiences in life are similar. There’s the ordinary stuff that you get to enjoy on a regular basis and then there’s the good stuff that only comes along once in a great while. That’s the stuff, those are the experiences, that cause you to release a deep, long sigh of fulfillment. Ahhhh!

I was letting out one of those deep, long sighs on our drive home from Chesterfield Berry Farm on Saturday afternoon. Our day was one of life’s desserts, and not just any dessert but the finest quality kind.

From the start, everything was perfect. (I shouldn’t say that actually. Jamie got car sick and vomited as soon as he got out of the car and then Josie fell and skinned her knee a little later. But the fun from the rest of the day masked those few less-than-perfect instances.) Everyone was in a great mood and, of course, everyone was looking great.

Smiles were plenty as we bounced from the pony rides to the farm animals to the tractor train to the hay pile.

We ventured into the corn maze with James leading the way, map in hand.

Like a ‘J’ train we all chugged along after him- Josie

then Jamie,

then me and Johnny.

Jamie took a few breaks to admire some fallen corn and broken stalks. Josie pretended to be scared as we turned left and right deeper into the maze and James, playing with her, expounded that we might be lost forever and have to make a house out of the corn stalks. Josie’s biggest worry at this point, of course, was that Pudge and Beast were really going to miss us! But we did find our way out of the maze (and made really good time, I might add, especially considering we did it with three small kids) and a nice couple stopped to take our picture as we exited.

 We gobbled down some BBQ for lunch and then caught a ride on a covered wagon to the pumpkin patch. The sun was shining bright, making the moment even brighter. The kids rushed into a field full of brilliant orange and green. Everyone picked a pumpkin.

James makes it a point every year to find the most unusual pumpkin to call his own and this year he picked a real winner.

Just for fun we tried to make the kids carry their own pumpkins back to the wagon. It made for some adorable pictures.

But, of course, James and I ended up hauling the load ourselves and the kids clambered back up into the wagon.

We made another stop at the pony rides and at the barrel train and then picked up a bag of cotton candy before calling it a day.

Josie, Jamie, and Johnny all fell fast asleep in the car. As I sat behind the wheel driving us back home, enjoying the quiet of a sleeping car and reminiscing about the wonderful day we’d all shared, I just couldn’t help myself. I sighed. “Ahhh”, I thought, “This is the good stuff.”

Memories like these are life’s chocolate mousses and tiramisus. They are an exquisite treat. And just like when I got a box of hand-picked crème filled truffles from James for my birthday last year, I savor each and every one. I must conclude, however, that this delicious, dessert rich life is making me a little fat. Maybe I’ve had too much of the good stuff….?

Nah. Impossible.