Count Your Blessings

On Monday, I went to my mom’s like I usually do after my stint at radio station True Country 93.5.  I arrived just after nine. It was very cold and had snowed a couple inches overnight so I thought I would shovel the driveway. You never know what might happen and I wanted to make sure the path was clear for any emergencies.

I left my home at four-thirty to travel the icy highway south and, with my mind centered on the conditions of the roads, I had forgotten my mittens. When I arrived I asked my mom if I could borrow hers. She said I could and rolled her wheelchair into her bedroom to fetch them. After donning her heavy sweatshirt over my already warm jacket for extra protection from the bitter wind, she came back and handed me her mittens.

I thought they were going to be the big black mittens with the white fur inside. Apparently, that pair is long gone because she handed me a pair of blue knitted mittens. I was confused and said “These aren’t your black mittens.” She replied “No, these are my mama’s mittens.”

My deceased grandmother, even though blind, had knitted mittens for all of us for many years. Those blue mittens might very well be the last pair in existence. I took them from her and was proud to put them on.

When I did, there was a big hole in one of the thumbs. She said “I’m sorry about the hole.” I told it was no problem and that I didn’t care because they will keep my hands warm while I shovel.

I went outside and it took, maybe, fifteen to twenty minutes to shovel her small and, thankfully, level driveway. I came back in and handed her back the mittens. I held out my hands and showed her “Look, Ma, nice and warm.” She took my hands in hers to confirm I was indeed warm to the touch. She noticed my bracelet and grabbed that hand.

“See that?” she asked me. “Look at mine.” Her hand with her bracelet around her wrist was holding my hand with my bracelet around mine. She had bought hers after watching a Hallmark movie entitled “The Blessing Bracelet”. She pointed to hers which has 4 beads on it and said “I have had a few blessings in my life but you” pointing to mine “have had so many.” She was referring to the number of beads on mine which was an entire bracelet full.

I disagreed. I told her she had had many blessings in her life including her many children that love her…and a mom that made mittens. That made her smile.

I started thinking about what she had said. This week has been a very trying week for me and my family. Lots of things have been going on and they have been difficult to get through. I wouldn’t be getting through them without people in my life that care about me and my family.

And God put them there.

He has put people in my life in so many situations and most of the time I didn’t even know I was going to need them. Family, friends, coworkers, spouses of friends, children of friends, and friends of my child…they have all come forward this week to offer support. I am so thankful for them all.

The 1954 film “White Christmas” has a scene between Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney where she explains she is having trouble sleeping. He sings to her the lyrics of the song 'Count Your Blessings' written by Irving Berlin:

“When I’m worried and I can’t sleep.

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

When my bankroll is gettin’ small

I think of when I had none at all

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.”

Throughout all that’s gone on in the last seven days, one thing that hasn’t changed is saying my prayers before I go to sleep. And I do fall asleep counting my blessings. And I do feel better. And I do feel peace. And I have been blessed. And I am thankful for all God has blessed me with.

So whether it takes a movie, a bracelet or a trial that nudges you to not forget you ARE blessed, remember you blessings. One of my favorite hymns is “Count Your Blessings” written by Johnson Oatman Jr in 1897 and set to music by Edwin O. Excell:

                        "When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed,

                        When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,

                        Count your many blessings, name them one by one

                        And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

                        Count you blessings, name them one by one;

                        Count your blessings, see what God hath done;

                        Count your blessings, name them one by one,

                        And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done."

Count them. Every day. Give thanks for them. Make a habit of it. You WILL feel better. You WILL feel peace. I can testify that it is true. 

Honor Thy Father

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you SWEAR you could reach out and touch everything about it? Then you wake up the next day with a song that plays over and over again in your head?

That was me last night and, boy, was it a doozy. It involved baseball, Sidney Poitier and Heaven.

And it was wonderful.

To explain it, I would have to tell you more about my dad.

America’s Favorite Pastime - Baseball

My dad loved baseball. He played it growing up. He used to go to the ballfield with his friends or just play stickball in the street. And, from what he told me, he was pretty good at it. My dad took my brother to the original Shea Stadium in New York for a Mets game (something I am still envious of). He used to love the California Angels because Gene Autry, his favorite singing cowboy, was an owner. And, of course, living in Maine, he was a Red Sox fan. You would find my mom and dad glued to the tv when they played. They also watched the Little League World Series every year.

Sidney Poitier

Growing up, Saturday and Sunday afternoons were filled with my parents watching old movies. One of their favorites starred Sidney Poitier. ‘Lilies of the Field’ won him an Oscar for his portrayal of a handyman whose car breaks down at a small church somewhere in a western desert of the United States. The sisters who run the church hire him as a handyman and have him build a chapel: A chapel they had been praying for and he was the answer to their prayers…in more ways than one.

While giving them an English lesson (the sisters spoke broken English as they had been sent from Germany, Austria and Hungary), they sing a call and response hymn “Amen”. I used to sing that song around the house not knowing that, at that time, my parents gave me my first lesson in the Gospel.

The only thing I knew about God and Jesus was that Jesus was God’s son. The birth of Jesus with Mary and Joseph always came up around Christmastime. My parents had a small crèche they would set up. When we would watch ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ Linus would recite Luke 2: 8-14 from the Bible. It always made me cry yet I didn’t understand why. I never asked and no one ever told me.

Just a few short years before my dad’s passing, I asked him questions about his childhood. He told me how they went to church every Sunday, he sang in the choir and how the choirmaster took him under his wing and taught him to sing. He would then bring my dad around to area businesses and he would make a little money singing songs. The money helped his family. I had found a picture of his choirmaster and when I showed it to him, he couldn’t stop talking. So many memories flooded back to him. I wish I could have wrote them all down. I can only scribble so fast. But the time spent with him telling them was the best part.

Heaven

Although he never preached to us or spoke much about it, the Gospel was a part of his life. My parents had a huge gold-framed picture of Jesus on the wall and a statue of Mother Mary in the yard for their garden. One of the last things he said to me before he passed was “God bless that boy.”  He was referring to a photograph I showed him of my son, Anderson, wearing the tie he had specially made for him for Christmas and dad side by side in matching photos. Even though he could barely see at the end, he saw that picture when he held it up close and he teared up at the sight of it. In a shaky voice on shaky legs he said “God bless that boy.” That is something I’ll never forget.  And I am blessed to have that memory.

People, recently, have asked me personally “Why does God let things happen?” One person was referring to the murders of innocent people going on right now in Israel with their war. Another, why God would take their loved one from them and leave them so alone? Another, why would He let them die from Cancer?

I personally, believe that God doesn’t take people from us. He doesn’t strike people down with sickness. He doesn’t take their life. He is a loving and nurturing God. We were sent here to find our way back to Him. Terrible things happen in life. Heartbreaking, horrible and horrendous things. Some cannot be explained why. When a person dies, I truly believe Jesus and our Heaven Father are there to receive them. My nephew was gone from this Earth too soon but I know Heavenly Father was there to receive him when he arrived in Heaven. He also received my father with open arms. We are left here on Earth to deal with the aftermath. There is no time limit on grieving. Everyone grieves in their own way. While it may not look like I’m grieving, I am. The difference is I know they are together again and watching over us. They are happy. They are healthy. And they are perfect.

So with all this information you may wonder what “The Dream” was all about.

The Dream

It was so vivid. And it all makes so much sense when I think about.

I was walking up the steps through Fenway Park, something I have done many times, to seats along the 3^rd baseline. I could hear music coming from the tunnel. As I came closer the music got louder. When I finally reached the entrance the loudspeakers were blasting “Amen” from the movie. As I stepped closer to the front row I could see players in glowing white uniforms playing ball in the outfield. I watched and saw them throwing baseballs back and forth. One player broke from the team and trotted over to where I was standing. As he came closer it was hard to focus on him because he was so bright. He stopped just a few feet from me and after a few seconds I was able to see him clearly.

It was my dad.

Young, healthy, handsome. Just the way I thought he would be in Heaven.

In the ‘Field of Dreams’ movie, Kevin Costner said Heaven was Iowa. I think it’s Boston, now.

He was wearing a white Boston Red Sox hat but on his uniform above his left breast was a California Angels logo embroidered all in white.  He was tossing the ball in his glove over and over. I asked him “Dad, what’s going on?”

And he got this huge smile on his face. He turned and pointed his glove to the big screen. I looked up at it and there I was. I laughed and waved (Because who doesn’t do that when they see themselves on the big screen?) and said “Okay. What is happening?”

He gestured to me to look again and I did. The screen changed from my face to the words “Thank You” with God and Jesus on each side each giving me a thumbs up. The music got louder and he started to sing along with the song. He started backing away singing all the while and eventually turned and went back to his team.

I woke up to ‘Amen” in my head and it was so loud I googled the video of it and smiled. What a powerful and happy song that it.

What does it all mean?

After pondering all the things it COULD mean, all I can think of is this: I was honoring him. Not only him but my Heavenly Father as well. He was thanking me for believing in our Heavenly Father and his only begotten son, Jesus Christ. He was thanking for helping instill this knowledge in my son. He was thanking me for understanding why he is in Heaven. He was thanking me for not blaming him. He was thanking me for sharing the love my heavenly brother and father have for me.

There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my dad or get on my knees and pray for guidance and comfort in my life. A day I don’t ask my Heavenly Father to open the eyes of the ones that can’t see or refuse to see His love that is right there in front of them. A day I don’t thank Him for the wonderful life I have. It is because of His belief in me and my belief in Him that I can do the things I do, have the things I have, dream the dreams I dream. (Kind of like 1 Corinthians 13:7)

And that dream was the most precious one I could ever have.

 

Seminary and the New School Year

Anderson and I had a good talk the other day about serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It isn't required. It is by a person's choice to do so. He has made up his mind to go. It will happen in 4 or 5 years depending on when he turns 18. September 1st is a tough day for a birthday when you're LDS. College will have started that August so he will probably have to wait until the next year.

With it brings a list of things to do. This list becomes HIS list that includes 6am Seminary scripture study every morning before school throughout his entire high school years, saving the $10,000 to go on the mission and keeping his heart open to the possibility of wherever Heavenly Father might send him. He really wants to serve in another country which may require the learning of a new language.

I have shared with him the videos of his friends from church receiving their mission calls: some serving right here in New England, some to the western United States, one to Peru and, now, another to Copenhagen, Denmark. He jokes how he would like to be sent to Chad...because, well, he thinks it would be funny to be where his stepdad's name is. Other times he chooses Poland. Why? I have no idea. And then other times he thinks about Australia or maybe somewhere he could speak French. He loves learning the French language and can't wait for school to start to do so. He knows he can't choose WHERE but he is excited for the day when he gets that email to finally tell him where he will be spending 2 years of his young adult life preaching the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

Just hearing that he wants to serve Heavenly Father in this way makes my heart happy and sad and scared. Happy that he will grow and learn things, meet new people and have experiences he would otherwise not have. Sad that he won't be here to hug at anytime or be just a few minutes away. Scared that he may be in another country where things aren't so pleasant.

Wherever he goes, he will have my heart with him. 💙

I came across this video of a stellar athlete Tyler Haws from Long Peak High School in Utah called A Work In Progress. It made me think of his friend, Jackson Dudley. It takes a good look into the hard work and dedication kids put into, not only sports, but their lives and trying to be the best they can be on and off the court. While Anderson isn't involved in any sports at the moment he will be looking for ways to support his high school teams and become a teammate in some way. Being part of a team helps kids learn to work with others and focus on achieving a goal. It also teaches it takes a team to do it and not just a single person. Every person has something individual to offer...being part of a team and having a good leader take those parts and intertwine them to make that whole is what makes a team great! It is my hope he can be part of a team to have that happen if not in sports then in some other way.

So in September when the 5AM alarm rings for study, the getting out of bed will eventually become routine. It will be the beginning of another chapter in his life. Not just high school but the school of life and responsibility and commitment to God, himself and who he will become. It's going to be quite the journey but I promise I will be there every step of the way.

Christmas and The Little Red-Haired Girl

Looking through my parent’s photo albums is one of my favorite things to do when I visit them. I always go back to the one album that has a very specific Christmas. I believe it was in 1980 when I was 6 years old and my little sister, Jenny was almost 5.

On the eve of Christmas, Santa happened to make a surprise visit to our home in the middle of dinner. You can probably tell how excited we were just by thinking about two little girls hearing sleigh bells and a loud "HO! HO! HO!" coming from the next room. We tried to dash to the living room but our mom told us we couldn't until we finished our dinner. That night's dinner, however, was not very appealing to the two of us. When I think about it now I am thankful we even had a dinner but at the time fish sticks were not very appetizing. We weren't to leave the table until our plates were clean. Jenny and I held out...so long that my mother (who in her heart really didn't want us to miss a visit with Santa) finally released us.

Rushing into the living room and seeing Santa sitting in my dad's recliner and his elf standing over his shoulder, I thought they looked an awful lot like our Uncle Charlie and his son. I asked mom is she saw the resemblance and she said no. Santa was asking Jenny what she wanted for Christmas and after talking with her he handed her a candy cane and set her off his lap. He motioned for me to come forward and I jumped up. With the bellowing "Ho, Ho, Ho" he asked me what I wanted as well. I can't remember what I said but I do remember getting the candy cane, too.

That night we were all sound asleep. At least some of us were. Around two o'clock in the morning, our brother, Ray, sisters Jane and Wendy came into our room and tried waking us both up quietly. Telling us to shush and not to wake up mom and dad, they had us leave our warm beds to go and spy on what Santa had left us!

With flashlights in their hands we followed them down the hall to the tree. It was like going into a bank vault to see the many bars of gold. Our eyes were huge as the lights gazed upon the filled everyday socks we used as stockings hanging on the window stool and then to the presents that piled beneath the tree. We must have been really good that year. With nine kids, seven of which still lived at home, there were so many. Jenny and I didn't know where to look first. We saw Jane shake one of the gifts and then we heard Ray make a noise. It was then were heard the ominous voice of my mother:

"GET IN THOSE BEDS!"

We were back to our beds faster than you can say "Dash away all!" Jenny and I were under our blankets thinking we were in so much trouble! After about fifteen minutes, our siblings ventured up from their basement bedrooms again and told us to come with them. I told them I didn't want to go because if we got caught again we might get the wooden spoon! They convinced me otherwise and again we all ventured stealthily into the living room.

They started to shine their lights on other parts of the room where there set four GIANT boxes! We all looked around them for name tags and could only see one: Wendy. I guess we would have to wait until Christmas morning. Just then, one of them made another noise and there was my mother's voice again:

"I SAID GET IN THOSE BEDS!"

That was it. The tone in her voice said she meant business. After that we all never left our beds for the rest of the night.

Hours later, morning arrived and all of us one by one ventured into the living room. The ONLY thing we were allowed to touch was our stockings. Inside the usual fare of candy, toothbrushes and doodads filled them almost to the top. We all wore knee socks so there was a lot to fill. It wasn't until mom had her two cups of coffee and put on her Santa hat that it was time for presents. She would sit near the tree, take a present and call out the name of whose it was. She would either hand it off to the person, the person would go and get it or she would toss it over to them. That year there were a lot to get through. 

We all had fun and used a giant black trash bag for all of the wrapping paper. The four huge boxes still remained. And for those boxes Dad wanted to be the one to hand those out. Dad called out Wendy's name first and she opened it up and it was a brand new state of the art stereo from Sears. It had a record player, AM/FM radio and cassette deck. She was so excited! Ray was called next and he revealed the same thing. Jane opened her box and, of course, the same exact stereo system was inside. But who was the last box for? There was no name on it.

Many years before, our sister Audrey had made a best friend of a young redheaded girl who lived a few streets away. Ever since, Trish has been a part of our family as well as her siblings. She came by for dinner usually on Mondays. Every Monday was spaghetti night and my mother made a huge metal bowl of it. I remember her taking a massive knife and cutting through the pile of it so it was cut into quarters. It was easier to serve and eat that way. Every now and then Trish would be wearing a white blouse and, inevitably, spaghetti would find its way onto it. They teased her about it but it was done with love. They would tell her “Don’t wear white on Mondays!” Trish was sweet and fun and we all loved her. Still do.

That Christmas morning, our mother called her house and asked her to come over. Trish came by and, being the very polite person she was, said “Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Everlith!” She still greets them the same way. I think my parents thought it was always good to have another kid in the house especially when they were as nice as Trish.

When we were all gathered in the living room my father explained to her that Santa had left one of her presents at our house. It was the last big box. She was so surprised she didn’t know what to say. We all knew what was in it and I remember Jenny and myself giggling because we knew she would love it. Santa had thought of everything!

She ripped the paper and opened the top of the box to reveal the brand new stereo. She had no words. It may have been thirty-nine years ago but I still remember her happy tears. She gave a big hug to our mom and dad and kept saying “thank you”. Audrey says she thinks they carried the stereo all the way back to her house on foot. 

I remember us many times not having a lot but I never remember a time when I ever wanted for anything. My parents taught me at a young age three very important lessons: to be thankful for what I had, never be too proud to ask for help when needed and to give back when I could. Those are lessons that I have never forgotten and all of us have never forgotten that Christmas day.

I'm Actually Doing Okay

 

I’m actually doing okay.

When I walked into work this morning I received a text from my husband saying that one of his coworkers wanted some of my lasagna. A few months ago I had shared a meatloaf with him and he enjoyed it. It brought a huge smile to my face and I texted back I would make some on Sunday. It would be a nice warm meal with the temperatures slowly dropping in the evenings this September. I haven’t made it in a while and it would be nice to share because no family can go through an entire pan in one night…at least MY lasagna.

As I entered my office area I said hello to the women I work with and one of them asked me “How are you doing?” I stopped and thought about it for a second and responded “You know what? I am actually doing okay. The kids are good. Chad is good. I’m good. I’m doing okay.”

I was surprised by my answer.

Usually when the question is asked people say an automatic answer of “I’m doing fine.”

But are they REALLY?

Have you ever stopped for a second and thought about what your answer might be? Today I was able to. In the span of a instant I was able to think and realize that life IS good. So many things happen in our lives every day. Some are needed by the way of our job and family life. Kids have after school activities and you feel more like a chauffer than a parent.  Those things can keep us very busy! Some situations we create ourselves. Those things we create can diminish time we could otherwise be spending with our family. Finding a balance is not easy but can be done.

In a split second I was able to think that our bills were paid, there was food in the house, the kids were showered and clean, school was going well for them, they were happy, our jobs have been steady and secure and our relationships between the two of us and with the children were going smooth.

Things are GOOD.

It’s a scary thing!

When did it all happen? Has it been this way for a while and I just didn’t see it? The answer is YES.

If we take the time to stop and have moments in the day where we can reflect on our lives and relationships it can help us determine what we're doing right, what might need a little work or even see signs of a struggle of a loved one we’ve never noticed before.  It’s all about taking the time to slow down and breathe. I, personally, take the time to breathe by saying my daily prayers once in the morning and once before bed. For me it helps me face the day and give thanks for the one that I had. You never know when we may never get another one.

Take time to stop and breathe and realize all YOU have. It is more than you think. And you’re blessed to have it.

 

 

 

Why I Believe, Love and Do

“As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and

helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you.”

― Dieter F. Uchtdorf

For the last few months at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Skowhegan,

Maine, many of the talks given have had to do with ministering. Ministering is helping

out fellow Saints in our ward by visiting, calling, helping or writing to them to see how

they are doing and if they need any help physically or spiritually. For me, it’s a little

different.

I am a member of the Newport ward. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I attend Skowhegan

because that’s where my son goes. When we moved to our new location I didn’t know the

rules had changed and that it takes more than transferring records from one ward to another.

Now it takes meetings, letters and approval of the Big Three of the General Authority to

have them changed.  I am in the process of trying to get my records moved to the Skowhegan

ward so I can continue there, hold a calling, get my temple recommend and take my son to

the temple. Nothing means more to me than being able to attend with him and watching him

grow in the church.

Listening to the talks, the same advice is given each week to minister to the members of the

church. Not being a member of the ward, I have been trying other methods to help people in

our neighborhood. This past weekend was General Conference. I had listened to the two hour

session on Saturday and felt moved to share my message of faith and my love of our Heavenly

Father and his Son. On Sunday morning, I posted a picture of the Boston temple on my

Facebook page and wrote “Happy Sunday everyone! Have a blessed day and know God and I

love you! Time to recharge my spirit!” I prayed that morning to have missionary work come

to me in some form that I might include my son.

On Sunday afternoon, my prayer was answered.

It was the first warm day of Spring and my husband wanted to be outside, as did we all. He,

my son and I went across the road to an abandoned lot and decided to metal detect. It is one

of our favorite things to do together. While we were digging, an elderly woman pulled up

and watched us from her driver’s seat.

I approached her and asked if there was something I could do for her. She asked if the young

man, pointing at my son, would be willing to help her out by doing a few odd jobs around

her yard. I called my son over and he introduced himself. When asked he emitted an enthusiastic

yes! She lived only three houses away. We told her we would meet her with our rakes in hand.

A few minutes later we arrived in her driveway and she was explaining that this was the first

time in her life she was unable to prepare her flower garden for the season. My son and I went

to work immediately raking out the long grass that surrounded the rose bushes. He was careful

to not pull out any of the new growth that was sprouting through the wet ground. There were

many returning flowers pushing through.

While we worked I asked her about the flowers and about her life. It so happened her birthday

is the day after my father’s and they will both be eighty-three this year. She said she had asked

another young man to come by last week to help but he never came. She is very unsteady on

her feet and has trouble using the stairs in her home. With Spring she has much to do but hasn’t

the strength to do it.

We finished with that flowerbed and she asked us to move on the the front yard. We filled

garbage bags full of leaves, grass and sticks. The yard was finished and we put all of her tools

away in her garage. It was then time for payment. When she asked my son how much he would

like to be compensated he told her that there was no need to pay him. He had fun working in the

sunshine.

Still, she insisted on giving him something in return. He walked up to her and held out his arms

and went in for a giant hug. “This is my payment,” he stated.

Smiling and patting his back, she still insisted on a form of payment. Without payment, she said,

there would be no reason he would want to come back. Listening to her she reminded me of my

father. When helping my parents with their laundry and odd jobs, dad is always slipping a little

something in my hand before I leave even though I say it’s not necessary. She moved to her car,

retrieved a ten dollar bill and informed us it was for both of us. She enjoyed our company and

hoped we would come back. When I thanked her for letting us do God’s work that day she started

to cry. I gave her a big hug and said we would be back.

Much like the flowers of Spring it is time for us to come out of the darkness and see the sun. It

is time for us to renew ourselves and our covenants with our Heavenly Father and brush away

the tangled mess of events in our past that we hang onto that try and hold us from our true happiness.

Let us untangle ourselves from the weeds and thorns of our worries and doubts and bring new life

to, not only ourselves, but to others around us. That they may feel the love we have for our fellow

man. That they may see the good works that can be done by helping those around them. Simple

acts of kindness is all it takes.

Had we not been outside that glorious day, the answer to my prayer may have never been noticed.

Had I ignored her and not inquired as to why she was watching us, I would have missed the chance

to befriend her. I would have missed the chance to teach my son the power of doing God’s work. I

would have also missed his chance to show me he is living the gospel by doing the work for another

for the simple payment of a hug.

Brothers and Sisters, since the first time I heard Elder Uchtdorf empower his wisdom on us all with

his “Believe. Love. Do” mentality, I have been trying to put his words into action. I think it was

meant for me because he spoke to us on my birthday, October sixth, with this message. These three

simple words have changed my life for the better.

I BELIEVE in Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit and the Book of Mormon.

I LOVE them all, my fellow Saints and non-Saints.

I DO the work that is asked of me by God.

By Believing, Loving and Doing we were able to serve not only the woman who loved her flowers

but serve our Heavenly Father. And that is all that is ever asked of us.

Stepmom: Life on the Outside

I knew coming into the relationship it would be a struggle. No new relationship with children from previous ones is easy. If you were thinking it could be...you're wrong.

I was right.

The struggle is real.

But it didn't hit me until I attended her parent/teacher conference.

One of her writing assignments in her portfolio was titled "The People In My House". There she listed the names:

"Dad
Mom
Me
Brother
Memeré"

Nowhere was I or my son on the list.

I looked at her and jokingly asked where we were and she shrugged her shoulders and turned the page over as if I had never even asked the question.

A part of me died a little. Right there.

I have been in their lives for over 7 years. I have helped feed them, clothe them, take care of them when they were sick, been to every school function, baseball and basketball game, concert, parent/teacher conference and tryout. I have listened to their worries and their fears, helped them with school work or relationships, played games and took them to different places. I've taught them how to wash and fold laundry, do dishes and cook simple meals for themselves.

And still wasn't thought of as part of their family.

Her older brother has told me to my face the standard "you're not my mother" and I have said "I AM a mother. A stepmother counts." "Not in my eyes" was the response.

Being a blended family has its trials. There are days where we all get along. There are days when arguments ensue. You try and keep the peace between the "real" parents and keep the kids from feeling like they're stuck in the middle.

You do everything you can.

And it's never enough.

And it never will be.

You are on the outside looking in as the two of them whisper things to each and laugh at their inside jokes. You are downstairs not forcing them to watch a movie with you or do anything with you for that matter...even though you ask. They scramble upstairs as fast as they can to be alone...and you are left forgotten.

Again.

So you sit. By yourself. Remembering that list in her portfolio. Hoping one day she or he will realize the love you have in your heart for them.

And knowing with almost absolute certainty...

It will never happen.

One Mom’s Dream Passed to Her Son

I didn’t plan it. I didn’t push it on him. It was something he started to take interest in at school. When he started telling me about what he was doing, I thought “He’s just like me.”

At the age of twelve, my quest in life was to become an astronaut. It was just before the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster that took the life of school teacher Christa McAuliffe that my interests began to sway toward Astronomy. The stars were all I could think about. I studied the constellations, the phases of the moon and anything else I could get my hands on within books. I stayed outside at night just to look at them.

When I was in sixth grade, there was no internet and no readily handy ways to get information quickly. To do that I would have had to walk to the library for encyclopedias or books however my parents wouldn’t let me venture out alone. Fairfield, Maine was much different from where I started to grow up. Milford, Connecticut was a busy city while Fairfield was a small town. We had moved a few years earlier and mom and dad were still adjusting. My parents held onto the fear of their children being abducted in the streets. Going any where alone was forbidden. My knowledge was limited on space but I still thirsted for it.

Fast forward to today, my son, Anderson, has a uncanny interest in space just like I had. In fourth grade, he wrote small books on almost every planet and the moon for his fellow students to read. He wanted them to learn about them as much as he had. They were complete with title and pictures.

It hasn’t stopped there. We now watch the rocket launches on our television, movies that involve space (Star Wars, October Sky) and watch the meteor showers at night. The Perseid Meteor Shower is coming up this weekend. We won’t be able to watch it together on Saturday but we will on Sunday night. That will involve laying in the back of the car under blankets to stare into the night sky together and talk…about everything.

These are special moments with him I’ll never forget. Yesterday, I remembered getting in the mail when I was twelve a copy of a book that had to do with Dr. Robert Goddard, the engineer and physicist that built the first liquid-fueled rocket. Someone in my family, and I can’t remember who, sent me the book of the Goddard Rocket and Space Museum in Roswell, New Mexico. I recall reading it over and over. I found it this morning and sat down with Anderson.

I went on to tell him that my dream was to become an astronaut like him. Right away he told me I couldn’t do that because I get motion sickness. He is right. I can’t.

But he CAN.

I gave him the book I cherished so much and, with tears in my eyes, I told him “I want you to always be what you want to be. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t. Because you CAN.”

On the back of the book something caught his eye. “Mama, look!”  I followed his finger to the back cover.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The back cover had a red stamp on it that read:

COMPLIMENTS OF THE U.S. SENATE

COMMITTEE ON AERONAUTICAL AND SPACE SCIENCES

CHAIRMAN: SENATOR CLINTON P. ANDERSON, NEW MEXICO

Clinton is the town where we live and, of course, his name is Anderson. He became so excited and said “I think this is what I’m supposed to do.”

I think it is, too, and I’ll do everything I can to help him fulfill his dream.

Developing Your Gift from God

Yesterday, a man spoke in church about how when we are born God gives each of us a talent. That talent is left for us to discover because, sometimes, it’s not an immediate revelation. While some find it when they are children others may encounter theirs when they are adults. That talent is for us to do what we may with it. We can develop it. We can hide it. We can share it with others. We can teach others about it so they can increase theirs. Some are truly blessed and have multiple talents.

While I’m not the best vocalist, I do try and share what I think is my talent. It is such a joy for me to watch people dance to our music whether it’s the cover of a song or an original that was penned from my own hand. When the clubs are filled with patrons having a good time it makes my heart smile and I know God is happy with me.

The most wonderful part of my job is the children. When they are at the campgrounds and family functions I love to include them. When you think about it, little children are not the usual audience to attend a national concert on the stages of Bangor or Portland. When we, as a band, perform at these functions, we are the first “concert” they actually see. The children will come up to the stage and stare at the instruments. Others will stand right in front of me and watch my sparkling microphone. These are things they’ve never seen in real life. The music doesn’t come out of a tiny box or cell phone. They aren’t watching it as it is Chrome-casted on a television screen in a YouTube video.

It’s live. And to them, it’s amazing!

We have the kids come up on stage and dance or sing or, if we have it, play the tambourine. From that moment on, that’s all they can think about. I wish I had saved each message from a parent saying “Ever since we saw you play that‘s all my child thinks about. He/she wants a guitar/drums/microphone for their birthday/Christmas!”

We planted a seed.

A seed of music in a young child is a powerful thing. Studies have been shown that music helps a child learn and study better. They are better students because they can focus on a task because they focus on learning a song or a riff or a drumbeat. It helps them overcome shyness because they start to perform in front of others or join a group that makes them work with others. They can nourish that seed and, if they want, have it grow into one of the most wonderful talents a person can have and one of the easiest things to share.

I see the seeds in my own children growing. Jayden has taken to the drums like a natural. Brad has been playing guitar for years and has started talking about starting his own band with his friends. Anderson is now singing loud and proud at church. They see me and Chad and how hard we work at our music and it is rubbing off on them. We would never force them to play but we will encourage them when they are practicing. It’s our jobs as parents to help them nourish their talent.

It’s also my responsibility as an entertainer to give 150% each time I perform. In every crowd there is always someone that has never heard us. We may do the same 60 songs at every gig but there is no excuse for not giving it your all every time. You only have one chance to make a good first impression. I refuse to let that chance slip by because you never know who that one person is. It could be someone looking to hire your band for an event. It could be the next Jimi Hendrix or Carrie Underwood watching you play or sing. You will never know the affect you have on others.

Take your gift from God and make it grow. Whether it is music, teaching, sports…it doesn’t matter. Discover your gift and develop it. It will not only fill your heart but it will fill others. And you can be sure God will be smiling.

 

 

To My Stepdaughter...From Your Stepmom

I have known you since the day I met your father. I fell in love with him that very minute. I think it’s safe to say I have loved you since that day as well.

You see, I never had a daughter of my own. I was blessed to have a son who is the same age as you. God’s plan for me was to have only one biological child but I believe He meant for me to love many children.

You are one of those.

It isn’t hard to do. You are a smart, funny, charming, beautiful 10 year old young lady and the apple of your daddy’s eye. You say the funniest things out of the blue, you forget things easily and you’re a very good student and artist. The look on your father’s face when he gets to see you is like no other. His face literally lights up. The sun rises and sets with you according to him. As his princess, you can do no wrong.

But you do.

When it happens he has to discipline you. He hates that. He feels terrible when it’s happening and like total crap when he sees your sad, puppy dog eyes.

For me, I see the love he has for you and I see the same you have for your daddy. You hug him out of the blue. You draw him silly pictures. You step on his feet and have him walk around with you as you smile up to his face. You know your daddy loves you.

I wonder if you see the love I have for you, too.

I know I’m always telling you to brush your teeth, brush your hair and pick up after yourself. I know it seems like I’m nagging but, if you notice, I tell the same thing to my son. I try to treat you equally. I’m not always successful.

I ask you to help set the table, load and unload the dishwasher and load and unload the dryer. I tell the same thing to my son, too. You’re both 10 and are able to help around the house. That includes feeding the pets, vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. You are always willing to help. There are even times when you ask to help.

How did I get so lucky?

One of the fun things I get to do with you is bake. I know you love to bake cupcakes and pies. I ask you to help and you put on your special apron and we do it together. I actually think you are better than me.

You also like to sew. Santa brought you the sewing machine at Christmas and we have spent quality time together making a stuffed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, pillows and a bunch of little things. Soon I hope to teach you how to quilt. Maybe the one you make you’ll take to college with you one day to keep you warm.

Another thing is cooking. When I say “You’re cooking tomorrow” your eyes light up and you automatically plan a menu and what we will need to make it. We head to the store the next day and buy our ingredients and I teach you as much as I know about your choice of dish. To tell you a secret, you always pick things I have never cooked before so I google it during the day so we can make it that night.

See? You are helping me learn things I never knew before.

The hardest part for me is how girly you can be. Growing up, I never learned anything about makeup, ribbons, French braids and the colors pink and purple. I grew up as a tomboy and I still am for the most part. You match your outfits much better than I can. When we go school shopping, your taste in clothes blows me away.  At least we share a love of shoes!

Soon, you’ll be at the age where boys will start to be “interesting” and they will be interested in you. Your father will be on edge with ANY boy that is mentioned, written in a heart on your notebook or calls to talk to you. You’ll be asking me questions. I didn’t date until I was sixteen so I wonder what kind of help I can be to you when you start to ask for advice. I hope you feel comfortable enough to come to me when you do have questions and I hope I will be able to answer them for you. And I won’t tell dad about our conversations unless I’m worried about you. There is such a thing as Girl Code.

I know you have a mom. I know you love her very much and it’s obvious she loves you, too. You are always excited to see her when she picks you up for the weekend. I always try to make sure to send her pics of you when you are with me if you’re doing something silly or if you drew a cool picture. I also send her texts of things coming up in your life that, if she can make it, she is always invited to. I hope she enjoys them. It’s know hard for me when my son spends time with his dad and I don’t get the communication of pictures or texts. I try to make it a little easier on your mom. I hope I’m showing you that, even though divorce happens, if it ever happens to you, you can be the bigger person. It may not always feel good but God will reward you for the good things you do.

Speaking of God, I hope you hear me talk about Him. He is a huge part of my life. I would never push my religion on you. That is for you to decide. But I am glad you have an open heart. You see me and my son say prayers before every meal and before bedtime. You see us at church and when you ask to come along you voluntarily participate with the other kids. I know the young ladies enjoy spending time with you and the ladies of the church think you are bright and talented. You also see us doing God’s work. When we do things like clean up our road in the spring, hold open doors people and use our manners we feel good. When you see your dad helping our neighbors with their yard work or catching their pets that have runaway, that’s also God’s work. I always say that God’s work is doing for others and not expecting anything in return. You’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart. And there is a lot of goodness inside YOU.

You are officially my stepdaughter. That’s what the world gives you as a title. No matter what they call you, I will treat you like you are my own daughter. I will love you like you are my own daughter. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. When you’re happy, I’m happy. There will be times when you’re older that you’ll be mad at me for disciplining you or having you pick up your room and you’ll scream “You’re not my mother!” and slam your door. I’ll expect that and it will hurt me. I’ll let it go because that’s all I can do.  I know that won’t be the reason you’re mad at me. Just know that I will be there for you in every way possible as long as you’ll have me. 

I love your father. You are a part of him. I love you, too. I am so glad he brought you into my life. I have enjoyed watching you grow into the wonderful young woman you are and I can’t wait to see what your life brings you. We will always be there for you and will always try to do our best to do what’s right for you.