Appreciation

ap·pre·ci·at·ed, ap·pre·ci·at·ing.

verb (used with object)

1. to be grateful or thankful for: They appreciated his thoughtfulness.

2. to value or regard highly; place a high estimate on: to appreciate good wine.

3. to be fully conscious of; be aware of; detect: to appreciate the dangers of a situation.

4. to raise in value.

(Source: Dictionary.com)

Ever have one of those days where it seemed like no matter what you did, you felt unappreciated?  Trivial things seemed to prompt my invisibility today.   It started off this morning when I made sure I grabbed all of the umbrellas before leaving for our annual Memorial Day church service in the park - only to have my husband gripe, "you really think we're gonna need these?" (we didn't - the rain held off).   And ended with us climbing into bed and him asking "what's the problem?", in a "what's-YOUR-problem" tone, only to fall asleep - snoring soundly - in the middle of my response.  The time between was filled with similar episodes (hence the end-of-day agitation). 
Sigh.
It happens to us all.  And I'm reminded on this Memorial Day to make sure I try to make all military men and women, that I - we - honestly couldn't live without, feel my appreciation.   

I started by thanking my son yesterday.  A little over a year ago he signed on that dotted line.  The dotted line that says he will fight for our freedom - to the point of death - should it come to that.  He did it for many reasons.  School, training, experience, a job.  But I told him, to those of us who do not serve their country in that manner, we are extremely grateful to those that do.  It doesn't matter the reason - we still know what it means to the rest of us.  

To the thousands like him - Thank you.  From the bottom of my heart.  And know, that when you prepare for the worst day after day... when you see to it that nothing is forgotten, and all the details are taken care of so that we are safe, and we don't even know it... when the close calls are averted, when the daily grind includes mind-numbing repetition for action that may never come, when you are the "firewall" so nothing bad gets through and no one sees... and you feel so unappreciated - there are those of us who know, who care and think about you, who pray for your safety and thank God mightily for your service.   There are those who live blissfully behind your guard who haven't a clue to the diligence, dedication, perseverence and sacrifice it takes to keep the blissfulness intact.  For the blissfully unaware, let this one small solemnly-aware voice fill the gap and say - it matters what you do... everyday. And I am very appreciative for all those things you do that we don't see, everyday.  

Poodle Skirts - and Jazz

Eilis announced last week that she needed a poodle skirt for her "spring sing".  It just happens that I kept the one I made in 8th grade home economics glass.  I know - really? Yes.  Really.  After looking for it in three different places (okay - so I haven't completely unpacked everything) it was discovered unharmed in a rubbermaid box in the garage attic (along with those comfortable black heels I thought I lost - whoop - bonus!  And a plan for the weekend... who knows what other treasures I'll find up there!!).  Fifteen minutes later, and a full two hours before her concert, she is decked out in poodle skirt, pink shirt, pink sneakers, a very high and ribboned ponytail and scarf wrapped jauntily around her neck. Naturally, I remark, "So - you have a 50's theme for your spring sing?".  
She eyed me quizzically. "A theme?  What do you mean?"
I return the quizzical eyeballing.  "A theme - you know like the kind of songs you'll sing and the costuming.  You're doing a 50's theme?  Hence, the poodle skirt?"
She relaxes her scrunched up face.  "OH!  Yeah.  No.", she deadpans, "We're singing jazz. I just wanted to wear a poodle skirt." 
Uh.
Okay.
Sometimes there is no connection.  Some things just make you happy.  That poodle skirt gave her joy.  Me too, as I watched her twirl and skip around - ponytail and skirt swirling like a tilt-a-whirl. 
After the concert we walked out of the school with Eilis charging ahead.  I found myself skipping behind her - literally bounding lightly like a little rubber ball dropped from a pocket.  Matt chuckled, "Are you happy? A little - right now anyway?" 
I spun around to face him with a goofy grin, "I guess so."
Honestly, I couldn't tell anyone why.  It was a crazy day - week... month.  So much so that I had fallen asleep at the end of the workday in the over-sized chair in the living room.
Asleep - at 5 o'clock.  Soundly.  For nearly an hour.
But now I was awake - and quite happy.   As happy as my 9 year old in a twirly poodle skirt.  With vestiges of the snappy little jazz tunes thrumming through my brain, rested and bouncing on the sidewalk in my funky new Adidas - I felt simple, pure, joy.
Can't really explain it.  I don't have to - I'll just accept the gift. 
Thank you God - for poodle skirts, jazz, 9 year olds, and JOY.
  

Being Reclaimed

Hey, I know.  It's been a while.  Quite a while.  I'm stuck in some sort of self-created mind-numbing vacuum... try to fill in the blanks of the last several months - or just pick it up from here?  Decisions - decisions.  As the days tic-tock by, my idealist blog remains empty.  Too many pebbles to the head makes one stupid. 
So - random thoughts, occassional insight and attempts at articulation - we are back on! 

Today was a very cold day for May.  It is Wisconsin, and we had 8 inches of snow fall a few shorts weeks ago (followed a week later by record breaking 92 degrees - seriously brain-warping activity) - I should not be even slightly dispeptic.  But the rain and chill left me feeling nostalgic (and wanting tomato soup for supper).  Hmmm - nostalgia lies in a forgotten blog?  Stranger things have happened.  (For me - we're talking me. You know - strange - me.) So, I read my past posts - stunned at the gadjillion things I've left unsaid - the plethora of events that have visited, settled or recreated out lives to date and I'm heart-broken that I may have forgotten many of the wonders we've encountered on this journey. 

We signed the mortgage!  Whew!  Two years of work, culminated in an appraisal on April 15th that rewarded us with a result that allowed us to close on an excellent rate, with equity to spare, and a small amount of cash-back (promptly redeposited for the guaranteed property tax increase - OH how God loves to do amazing things in providing for us)! We've been in this mode of waking up every morning for two years with one of two burning thoughts in our minds, "What do we need to get done today?"  or, "what am I avoiding getting done today?".  We discover, it's hard to break habits!  The first weekend after April 15th, one we didn't have to do anything to get ready for "the" appraisal, we spent helping friends with THEIR remodel!  (So much more fun to work on someone else's project - and a huge blessing to give to them what they gave to us so often these past two years.) 

The work on the house has been reflective of what God has been doing in our lives.  He has come in and, in ways, taken me down to the studs. There has been re-wiring, repairing of foundations, removing of walls, recovered use of space and newness brought in everywhere.  There are more windows to let light shine in, sanding of floors to get the grime out and the beauty of natural wood shine through, the trim is both new and recovered - specifically selected and placed for the best presentation.  Not everything is perfect - but there is a lot of real character.  Good bones - recovered treasure.  I feel like God has been doing that work in me.  The tearing down - not much fun! At the same time, there is lighteness as burdens are relieved and broken things are thrown out.  It feels like discombobulation sometimes.  But as I see how he's putting me back together, like this house, I am feeling loved - and attended to... and put together with a vision and purpose in mind.   

We saw this house as it could be two years ago - and amaze even ourselves at how it's been reclaimed right before our eyes.  So, too - God sees me as I should be... and I'm just beginning to catch his vision, and in total and complete cooperation (most days) I'm walking into that image.   

Being reclaimed is a beautiful thing.