"non-essential"--it is not even two full words. These twelve letters, a mere word with a prefix, kept me up thinking all night. It is not the synonym of this word (not necessary) keeping my mind turning but the antonyms which nag: luxury, extra, supplementary, additional, dispensable, unnecessary, unneeded, essential.
I suppose the term "non-essential" when referring to an object is not as hurtful as it is when referring to a person. "That brown table is non-essential to the room decor." The table has no feelings.
However, when one looks at their work over the past nine years as being "non-essential" it causes one to pause and reconsider the time invested. Time is the gift of life; I believe the things we do should be essential to ourselves and those around us.
I'm particularly troubled by the antonyms, "dispensable, unnecessary, and unneeded." Is there anyone who wants to feel dispensable?
Analyzing these twelve letters caused me to rethink something I've been telling young women. I've told them a mate should be a "luxury," or fringe benefit. I believe women should know who they are, where they are going, and then add a man that will complement their journey. Rather than referring to the man of their dreams as a "luxury" I should have told them to find some one "essential" to that journey. Love is essential. It's been proven to be synonymous with life itself. Knowing who you are and finding that one person to share the journey is necessary indeed. How hurtful it would be to consider your life-long mate as non-essential, a luxury to be discarded when times get tough. Words! What was I thinking?
My role as caregiver to my 89 year old mother- in- law is essential. She has lost the ability to care for her health needs, finances, and daily activities. Caring for her is literally a matter of life and death. Making her feel she still has purpose, although quite challenging, needs to be rooted in love. My husband and I tease her calling her "high maintenance." Even though the statement may sound comedic and is true, I imagine it makes her feel not only "non-essential" but burdensome.
I analyze. It's what I do that makes me crazy and it's what I do that keeps me open and objective. I can take twelve letters and dwell on them for days, weeks, months eventually coming to peace because I glum on to an optimistic stance pulling me forward to the next idea needing my attention.
Learning is essential. Life enriches learning even if it comes in the form of twelve letters. Following your passion may have an expiration date. Find a new passion. Everything in life has an era. Be careful about the way you word things. Hurt makes us stronger. Know your needs. Love. Look forward.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Stitches
Yesterday, I found my cross-stitch Monopoly board carefully packed in a cardboard box from our last move. After so many moves, all the boxes look the same. One learns to immediately shove the less-important ones out of sight to limit the "change trauma" resulting from moving one's life in boxes. This box was tucked away with some others still to be opened. Some will never be revealed before the next move.
I've been working on this labor of love since 1984 when I became pregnant with the twins; However, I haven't touched the stitching in years and have been looking for the card- table- size board since we moved here to Tillamook.
I know, you're probably wondering why a person would ever take on such a feat, a card-sized cross-stitching. Several reasons come to mind. Matt loves to play Monopoly. We played it when we were dating. We had most of our dates at home as AW was five, babysitters were expensive, and I didn't want to leave him after I'd worked all day with him in day care. So, Matt and I would start dates at 8 and 9 at night after I put AW to bed and play games until the wee hours of the morning sometimes. He beat me at Monopoly so badly I didn't want to play anymore. It conjured up memories of the Christmas my brother Mike got his first Monopoly game and gleefully raked in money and property leaving me wondering what happened. Mike has a head for business, numbers, and such just as Matt does. I have a head for language. Mike loved beating me maybe because it was a great escape from our rocky childhood. I might give myself credit for building my brother's confidence to be the successful businessman he is today from these humble beginnings. He had lots of practice building empires and little competition.
Matt took a different tack when we played Monopoly. Of course, he was trying to win my hardened heart; but he taught me ways to win at Monopoly. He explained how it was about taking risks and I think he may have let me win at least once. He might never admit that... but I did win... at least once.
When Matt and I had the twins, we went from two incomes with one child to one income with three children. Talk about blasting into poverty! What a change of lifestyle when most of your funds are going to diapers and formula! AW still talks about losing his great Sunday morning brunches at the Officer's Club after his "needy" little brothers were born. The three of us made a lot sacrifices from that year forward. Even though I was able to work through the school year, VERY pregnant-ly, I knew I couldn't return to the classroom in September when the babies were due. Alas, 1985 would be the year I would stay home to be a full time mom. I might have slept once or twice that year but mostly I just tried to keep up with things.
That brings us to the reason one might take on a life size Monopoly project. I figured this hand-stitched treasure would be a great gift for Matt, something memorable, homemade, special, and commemorative. Not having money to buy gifts at the time; it would fill the bill perfectly. (It's funny how that usually shakes out though. Let's see, the fabric, pattern, embroidery thread, needles, moving it across the country...several times...maybe it is a more expensive item than I'd thought.) Nevertheless, I wrapped the partially finished project and put it under the tree that Christmas of 1985 when the twins were two months old, AW was 8, and I was half awake. Matt loved it and graciously told me how beautiful it was. I talked about how we'd frame it and mat it and maybe turn it into a game table. It was a hit then and on his February birthday, and on our August anniversary, and the Christmas of '86, and his next birthday...for I kept giving it with a little more stitched each time. It got to be like a bad habit...wrap it up, give it again. Finally, between my teaching, student council advisory, yearbook chair, AW's karate, basketball, boys t-ball, piano lessons, scouting, football, rugby... and shall I go on? The beloved gift with thousands of stitches got pushed to the back of a closet and left for a rainy day.
Rainy days indeed here in Tillamook Oregon with 90 inches of rainfall each year. Yesterday was a time to revisit the stitching. My sons are stitching their own lives together now. AW, 33, has his own 5 year old daughter. The twins, now 25, are grown men. Myles graduated from college and works as a financial analyst and Michael will soon been leaving the army after 8 years of serving his country. He is married with a son of his own and a lovely wife who now lives the military journey. Matt and I are empty nesters with long rainy winters. We've gone back to playing games until the wee hours of the morning and he's still waiting for his completed gift.
I've done the board game perimeter and every rectangle box except for the square corner, Go to Jail, which I started yesterday and the high rent properties of Pacific, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania...oh, and Community Chest. Once I round this corner I'll dive into the middle to do the Chance and Community Chest card boxes and the big logo.
As I stitch it is impossible not to look backwards. I picture crawling babies with toys in their mouths, Myles in a deep sleep hanging half off his bed and Michael twiddling his toes to fight his nap. I hear AW's footsteps on the front stoop and hear his "MOM, guess what happened today," as he bounds through the front door and grabs one of his brothers to hug.
In '85 I stitched with earnest and vigor, the project was part of my to-do list, the rhythm one of the few things I could control in the hectic life of a young mother of three. The cross stitch rhythm is the same, up and down and up and down again to cross, over and over again. Now I stitch with patience. My fingers struggle to find the tiny holes and my eyes strain to focus. I stop every few strokes to enjoy the view out my many picture windows that look across the valley. The room is quiet with the exception of Matt's football game, no voices, no children, no interruptions. And, I know it won't matter if I ever finish as 27 years has taught me this man loves me stitching beside him more than he cares about playing a game on this work of art.
Monopoly celebrated its 50th anniversary in 1985 when I bought this pattern so this stitched replica will have the original 1935 logo, that is, should I ever get to that little top hatted man with his cane in the big middle. I pray to have it finished before 2035 when Monopoly will celebrate the 100th anniversary. Parker Brothers will be so proud and Matt and I might actually live long enough to play a game on the stitches of our lives.
I've been working on this labor of love since 1984 when I became pregnant with the twins; However, I haven't touched the stitching in years and have been looking for the card- table- size board since we moved here to Tillamook.
I know, you're probably wondering why a person would ever take on such a feat, a card-sized cross-stitching. Several reasons come to mind. Matt loves to play Monopoly. We played it when we were dating. We had most of our dates at home as AW was five, babysitters were expensive, and I didn't want to leave him after I'd worked all day with him in day care. So, Matt and I would start dates at 8 and 9 at night after I put AW to bed and play games until the wee hours of the morning sometimes. He beat me at Monopoly so badly I didn't want to play anymore. It conjured up memories of the Christmas my brother Mike got his first Monopoly game and gleefully raked in money and property leaving me wondering what happened. Mike has a head for business, numbers, and such just as Matt does. I have a head for language. Mike loved beating me maybe because it was a great escape from our rocky childhood. I might give myself credit for building my brother's confidence to be the successful businessman he is today from these humble beginnings. He had lots of practice building empires and little competition.
Matt took a different tack when we played Monopoly. Of course, he was trying to win my hardened heart; but he taught me ways to win at Monopoly. He explained how it was about taking risks and I think he may have let me win at least once. He might never admit that... but I did win... at least once.
When Matt and I had the twins, we went from two incomes with one child to one income with three children. Talk about blasting into poverty! What a change of lifestyle when most of your funds are going to diapers and formula! AW still talks about losing his great Sunday morning brunches at the Officer's Club after his "needy" little brothers were born. The three of us made a lot sacrifices from that year forward. Even though I was able to work through the school year, VERY pregnant-ly, I knew I couldn't return to the classroom in September when the babies were due. Alas, 1985 would be the year I would stay home to be a full time mom. I might have slept once or twice that year but mostly I just tried to keep up with things.
That brings us to the reason one might take on a life size Monopoly project. I figured this hand-stitched treasure would be a great gift for Matt, something memorable, homemade, special, and commemorative. Not having money to buy gifts at the time; it would fill the bill perfectly. (It's funny how that usually shakes out though. Let's see, the fabric, pattern, embroidery thread, needles, moving it across the country...several times...maybe it is a more expensive item than I'd thought.) Nevertheless, I wrapped the partially finished project and put it under the tree that Christmas of 1985 when the twins were two months old, AW was 8, and I was half awake. Matt loved it and graciously told me how beautiful it was. I talked about how we'd frame it and mat it and maybe turn it into a game table. It was a hit then and on his February birthday, and on our August anniversary, and the Christmas of '86, and his next birthday...for I kept giving it with a little more stitched each time. It got to be like a bad habit...wrap it up, give it again. Finally, between my teaching, student council advisory, yearbook chair, AW's karate, basketball, boys t-ball, piano lessons, scouting, football, rugby... and shall I go on? The beloved gift with thousands of stitches got pushed to the back of a closet and left for a rainy day.
Rainy days indeed here in Tillamook Oregon with 90 inches of rainfall each year. Yesterday was a time to revisit the stitching. My sons are stitching their own lives together now. AW, 33, has his own 5 year old daughter. The twins, now 25, are grown men. Myles graduated from college and works as a financial analyst and Michael will soon been leaving the army after 8 years of serving his country. He is married with a son of his own and a lovely wife who now lives the military journey. Matt and I are empty nesters with long rainy winters. We've gone back to playing games until the wee hours of the morning and he's still waiting for his completed gift.
As I stitch it is impossible not to look backwards. I picture crawling babies with toys in their mouths, Myles in a deep sleep hanging half off his bed and Michael twiddling his toes to fight his nap. I hear AW's footsteps on the front stoop and hear his "MOM, guess what happened today," as he bounds through the front door and grabs one of his brothers to hug.
In '85 I stitched with earnest and vigor, the project was part of my to-do list, the rhythm one of the few things I could control in the hectic life of a young mother of three. The cross stitch rhythm is the same, up and down and up and down again to cross, over and over again. Now I stitch with patience. My fingers struggle to find the tiny holes and my eyes strain to focus. I stop every few strokes to enjoy the view out my many picture windows that look across the valley. The room is quiet with the exception of Matt's football game, no voices, no children, no interruptions. And, I know it won't matter if I ever finish as 27 years has taught me this man loves me stitching beside him more than he cares about playing a game on this work of art.
Monopoly celebrated its 50th anniversary in 1985 when I bought this pattern so this stitched replica will have the original 1935 logo, that is, should I ever get to that little top hatted man with his cane in the big middle. I pray to have it finished before 2035 when Monopoly will celebrate the 100th anniversary. Parker Brothers will be so proud and Matt and I might actually live long enough to play a game on the stitches of our lives.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Middle-ish
My life and middle are synonymous. I was the middle child of five, I'm a Libra, and I love to be neutral. I like to spend my time listening to both sides of things and tend not to side with any one idea until I'm completely passionate about the idea or have had a convincing experience with the subject.
I was thinking this morning about my political status on Face Book, which I listed as "hopeful." I get so upset with the decisions of both parties; I'm convinced neither are interested in our country any more...just their own political motives. I can't see how people with enough money to run for congress can have an objective view of American people, typical American people. So, I simply remain hopeful, prayerful, and faithful.
Being a middle-ish person has it's disadvantages. Making decisions is not the easiest task; but once made, I seldom have regrets. Sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees; but, I love to reside among the trees. Taking time to explore the crevices of bark, breathing in the fresh smells of the forest, and being lost from a man-made world engages me to re-enter life.
As I move from my middle-ish stance, passion takes over. I'll always be OSU orange, not that other team's red. Don't even think about dissing my family or friends. I become the protective lioness. If you know me, you know not to say anything negative about teaching; I'll come at you for hours with examples of passionate teachers who give their all.
When I was younger, I valued my passionate side more. As I grow in wisdom, I cling to the middle. I cling to fairness and justice. I cling to love and peace. I cling to hopeful and faithful. I cling to the possibilities a new year brings.
I was thinking this morning about my political status on Face Book, which I listed as "hopeful." I get so upset with the decisions of both parties; I'm convinced neither are interested in our country any more...just their own political motives. I can't see how people with enough money to run for congress can have an objective view of American people, typical American people. So, I simply remain hopeful, prayerful, and faithful.
Being a middle-ish person has it's disadvantages. Making decisions is not the easiest task; but once made, I seldom have regrets. Sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees; but, I love to reside among the trees. Taking time to explore the crevices of bark, breathing in the fresh smells of the forest, and being lost from a man-made world engages me to re-enter life.
As I move from my middle-ish stance, passion takes over. I'll always be OSU orange, not that other team's red. Don't even think about dissing my family or friends. I become the protective lioness. If you know me, you know not to say anything negative about teaching; I'll come at you for hours with examples of passionate teachers who give their all.
When I was younger, I valued my passionate side more. As I grow in wisdom, I cling to the middle. I cling to fairness and justice. I cling to love and peace. I cling to hopeful and faithful. I cling to the possibilities a new year brings.
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