I find it somewhat ironic that uncertainty and change are all that I can actually "depend" on these days. While most details of my life continuously dangle up in the air, the one constant that always seems to remain is that nothing ever stays the same.
After spending the last few months in the frigidly cold Midwest for football season, we've recently found ourselves back in our sunny California, off-season routine. And just as we started to feel settled back at home, our rapidly changing reality began to feel somewhat unsettling. 2011 will undoubtedly be a year that will go down in the books.
Per usual, the past few months have been full of highs and lows, ups and downs, wins and losses. We enjoyed the immediate success of my debut novel during the first half of the year and then turned our attention toward the exciting commotion of football season for the latter half. Danny produced a career-high season of catches and yards, while also adding to his resume of "laid back/Cali swag" touchdown celebrations. There is no doubt though, that tangled among all the buzz, we endured our fair share of adversity. 2010 was also a year of overcoming unforeseen hardships, making difficult decisions, leaning on family for emotional support and resolving to have a stronger resolve.
I'm convinced that 2010 decided to end with such an intense amount excitement for the mere purpose of preparing us for the chaos looming ahead. We wrapped the year up by expanding our family by two! We adopted another puppy dog who has fit into our family like a puzzle piece. He's a nine year old yellow lab that looks just like Lily, but he's a calm and mellow cuddler, while Lily is her usual busy-body self. Two weeks after we welcomed the furry little love bug into our home, we found out that our brood would continue to grow. We're expecting a baby boy in June and couldn't be more excited/nervous/impatient.
The first half of my pregnancy went by smoothly and swiftly. Other than feeling a bit like an alien out of a sci-fi movie, I've pretty much felt like my usual self. Danny hit his lowest weight since college during my first trimester because I wasn't doing much cooking and I didn't have an appetite, so now that I've entered, what I like to call, the "bottomless pit stage" at month 5, we're looking forward to making up for lost time together.
The last few months have been interesting, to say the least. Towards the end of season, Danny often came home from work with little bits of pregnancy knowledge that surprised even me. He once explained to me his strategy for buying in bulk when I began to get specific food cravings, and on another day he asked me if I was finding that my equilibrium was off just yet. I soon realized that, as a part of the Rams baby boom 2010, we were in good company. I had a support group of amazing ladies to bounce my "Is it normal that..." questions off of and he clearly benefited from the "new dad" locker room speak going on at work.
I've heard that having a baby during the off-season has many perks, so we're lucky to fall into that category. Apparently the likelihood that dad will be able to get home (back to California in our case) for the birth goes up tremendously in the months of Feb-July. And I've also heard that the possibility of getting help during midnight bottle duty goes WAY up when the boys don't have to be at the facility, sitting in the cold tub, at 6am.
The excitement we have for welcoming a "mini-us" into the world is, quite frankly, the most amazing feeling we've ever felt, so we've been trying to completely ignore the many impending unknowns ahead. During a time when most expecting couples are painting their nurseries and scoping out local "mommy and me" activities, Danny and I are registering for foldable bassinets and strollers fit for travel. The only certainty in the months to come is that at some point we'll need to just pick up and go. Not sure when or where just yet, but we do know that it's inevitable.
So many more questions than usual seem to hover over us this year than they have in years past...Will there be football in 2011 or will a potential NFL lockout or strike keep us in limbo for months to come? Would lockout limbo mean we have no health insurance during the months I'll need it the most? Will Danny's free agent status take us to a new state, new city, new team? Will the potentially new off-season schedule allow him to get home in time for the birth of our son if he's in the middle of OTAs or a mini-camp thousands of miles away? Should we be buying west coast-friendly short sleeved onesies or cold weather baby gear for the Fall ahead?
I suppose there is irony in this post. I sat down at my computer to write a new "what we're up to these days" blog, and I'm slowly realizing that I have absolutely no idea what we're up to. I have no idea what we're up to, or even what we'll be up to in the near future. No idea what-so-ever where we'll be or who we'll be with. No idea how we'll get there, how long we'll be there, or how we'll like it. So I suppose that rather than being a blog of "updates," this has turned into a blog of "I'll keep ya posteds."
So here's to having faith that it will all work out, like it always does, and to being excited for the adventures around the corner. Thanks for all the love and support, the blessing of having amazing family and friends is the one we cherish the most!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Friday, September 24, 2010
Movies and Real Life
Anyone ever thought about how actors and actresses often find themselves in real life situations that reflect roles they've played on the big screen? Sandra Bullock became the adopted mother of a beautiful, burly African American boy in "The Blind Side." Sandra Bullock became the adopted mother of a beautiful, burly African American boy in real life. Liam Neeson mourned the loss of his dear wife in an emotional funeral scene in "Love Actually." Liam Neeson mourned the loss of his dear wife Natasha Richardson after a tragic skiing accident. Katie Holmes often gushed over her dream guy, Tom Cruise, in the T.V. show Dawson's Creek. Katie Holmes Cruise is now a household name. I could go on for days.
I've recently taken note of the countless theories about the law of attraction that swirl around these days. Theories that suggest that if you think it (even if you're being fed your thoughts the way actors and actresses are) it will exist. It will exist and also manifest itself in your life. And I think it's true.
The Bible says that we are all created in God's image and I believe that to be so. I believe with my whole heart that the reflection of Him that exists in us, is our thoughts. It's the little voice that you hear when you read silently and the one that gets loud and frantic when you're lying in bed at night worrying about something. The voice that narrates the dreams you dream when you close your eyes and the one that silently curses the guy that cut you off on the freeway. It's your divine spirit, your "I." It's your subconscious and it's the most powerful thing you possess.
A few months ago I started to create a football scrapbook for Danny. I began organizing all of the newspaper clippings and magazine articles I've saved over the years. I rummaged through shoe boxes of photos and Tupperware of pins and paraphernalia and I attempted to lay them out in chronological order. I was somewhat taken aback when I found that the earliest "football" picture that I had of him was taken at the age of 9. My surprise, of course, stemmed from the fact that he didn't actually start playing football until he was a freshman in high school. In the 1992 photo, Danny is posing behind the wooden cut out of a Los Angeles Rams football player at Magic Mountain in Southern California. The smile that connected his chubby cheeks was bigger than life and I couldn't help but think...one thought, one photo. There are no coincidences.
So if the law of attraction exists and if God really does exist in our thoughts, shouldn't we all do our very best to wipe negative and/or fearful thoughts out of our heads? I know, it's harder than it sounds. Every time I get a phone call after 11pm my heart skips a beat and I immediately become nervous that there has been some sort of tragedy or mishap that couldn't wait until morning. So sad. And it's usually just someone who forgot that there is a two hour time difference between St. Louis and California. Every time there is even a smidgen of turbulence on an airplane, I instantaneously imagine what my last few seconds of life would be like if it began going down in flames. Just plain unhealthy. I let my subconscious take me to places that tie my stomach into knots instead of places that make me feel safe and secure, and I'm tired of wasting my magical subconscious powers.
Can you imagine how different our lives would be if we took all of our negative energy and replaced it with happy thoughts? Hopes and dreams. Faith and confidence. Our entire bodies would unclench and we could open our minds to the endless possibilities that would undoubtedly make up our futures. If we have the ability to take one thought, one photo, and turn it into our reality, how can we not make the best of them.
I've recently taken note of the countless theories about the law of attraction that swirl around these days. Theories that suggest that if you think it (even if you're being fed your thoughts the way actors and actresses are) it will exist. It will exist and also manifest itself in your life. And I think it's true.
The Bible says that we are all created in God's image and I believe that to be so. I believe with my whole heart that the reflection of Him that exists in us, is our thoughts. It's the little voice that you hear when you read silently and the one that gets loud and frantic when you're lying in bed at night worrying about something. The voice that narrates the dreams you dream when you close your eyes and the one that silently curses the guy that cut you off on the freeway. It's your divine spirit, your "I." It's your subconscious and it's the most powerful thing you possess.
A few months ago I started to create a football scrapbook for Danny. I began organizing all of the newspaper clippings and magazine articles I've saved over the years. I rummaged through shoe boxes of photos and Tupperware of pins and paraphernalia and I attempted to lay them out in chronological order. I was somewhat taken aback when I found that the earliest "football" picture that I had of him was taken at the age of 9. My surprise, of course, stemmed from the fact that he didn't actually start playing football until he was a freshman in high school. In the 1992 photo, Danny is posing behind the wooden cut out of a Los Angeles Rams football player at Magic Mountain in Southern California. The smile that connected his chubby cheeks was bigger than life and I couldn't help but think...one thought, one photo. There are no coincidences.
So if the law of attraction exists and if God really does exist in our thoughts, shouldn't we all do our very best to wipe negative and/or fearful thoughts out of our heads? I know, it's harder than it sounds. Every time I get a phone call after 11pm my heart skips a beat and I immediately become nervous that there has been some sort of tragedy or mishap that couldn't wait until morning. So sad. And it's usually just someone who forgot that there is a two hour time difference between St. Louis and California. Every time there is even a smidgen of turbulence on an airplane, I instantaneously imagine what my last few seconds of life would be like if it began going down in flames. Just plain unhealthy. I let my subconscious take me to places that tie my stomach into knots instead of places that make me feel safe and secure, and I'm tired of wasting my magical subconscious powers.
Can you imagine how different our lives would be if we took all of our negative energy and replaced it with happy thoughts? Hopes and dreams. Faith and confidence. Our entire bodies would unclench and we could open our minds to the endless possibilities that would undoubtedly make up our futures. If we have the ability to take one thought, one photo, and turn it into our reality, how can we not make the best of them.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Grateful
They've started serving Pumpkin Spice Lattes at Starbucks. Is it just me, or does it feel a little too early for summer to be throwing in the towel. Every year that passes tends to go by more quickly than the last. A phenomenon that seems to speed up as I get older. Ever catch yourself saying, "Man, I can't believe we're already in (insert current month and a long sigh)." I think I've said that three times this year already and I can't help but wonder why that is. It can't be because of how busy I am, because although there's a lot going on these days, my sched is no comparison to my previous, jam-packed high school and college regimens. I'm convinced that it can't be because time passes more quickly when you're having fun, because, God knows, I've had my ups and downs like anyone else this past year. So I'm beginning to think that maybe the reason that time has been flying by so swiftly lately is because I've been completely and utterly failing to live out one of my life long dreams. Failing to soak life in like a dry sponge, failing to live in the moment.
I've always considered myself to have a type "A" or a somewhat "square" personality. I'm a neat-freak, a control-freak, a planner, a do-gooder. If you flip through my appointment book (which I wouldn't advise, unless you want to see the wrath of a "To Do" list making Scorpio) you'd undoubtedly read through the scribbled, hyphenated/color-coded lines to find that there isn't much spontaneity in my life. I'm always planning my next move, reminding myself of my most recent ones, and unfailingly living for tomorrow. I've even been known to curse my day planner for not extending through to the following year...or two. (Yes, I'm aware that there are certain brands that carry "Multi-Year" appointment books but I've stuck with Gallery Leather Co. for the last seven years and if you took note of any of the above paragraph you know that I'm a creature of habit.) A creature of habit that has come to the point of questioning her zest for living in tomorrow. Living for what comes next rather than what is now. Questioning her need to start writing the book of there-after before reading the ending of today. I'm finding that when your biggest fear is that you're wasting time trying to get to where you're not actually going, you'll never get anywhere at all.
During these last few months I've been reading a lot of soul-searching-esque books and doing a good amount of late-night journaling in efforts to figure out how to just let go, how to loosen the reigns a bit and simply trust in the process of life. And the answers that I've been finding seem to be the same across the board. The answer that's hunted me down and is now staring me right in the face is simply, gratitude. Apparently when you posess it, it's completely impossible to harbor any sort of fear or anxiety. I'm not talking about fake gratitude, the kind that only exists for the things that are going well in your world, I'm referring to the real deal. The real McCoy. The gratitude that radiates through every cell in your body and overwhelms you with a sense a peace, regardless of the chaos that surrounds you. I'm learning that when I'm thankful for every experience I have, thankful for what it'll teach me and the person I'll become in the aftermath, I don't have to be afraid when life throws me a curve ball. I don't have to cover my eyes. And it's only when your eyes are wide open, open to the good, open to the bad, and open to the endless possibilities, that you can actually appreciate today. It's only then that moments will slow down long enough for you to live in them.
With all that being said, I'm grateful for the highs and lows of the past few months. Grateful for the marketing campaign I launched for my novel and grateful for the minor knee injury that's kept Danny sidelined this last week. Grateful for the amazing two weeks that my sister and I spent together, floating down our lazy river and frequenting cafes and grateful for my family's strength and devotion when new paths and new beginnings present themselves. Grateful for our unconditionally loving puppy and grateful for the hilarity of a majestic lightning show that scares the heck out of her when a Midwest storm passes through. Grateful for friends who are more like family and family who are more like soul mates.
If every obstacle is a lesson, then those who have a more difficult path will be the wisest of all. Isn't that something to be grateful for?
I've always considered myself to have a type "A" or a somewhat "square" personality. I'm a neat-freak, a control-freak, a planner, a do-gooder. If you flip through my appointment book (which I wouldn't advise, unless you want to see the wrath of a "To Do" list making Scorpio) you'd undoubtedly read through the scribbled, hyphenated/color-coded lines to find that there isn't much spontaneity in my life. I'm always planning my next move, reminding myself of my most recent ones, and unfailingly living for tomorrow. I've even been known to curse my day planner for not extending through to the following year...or two. (Yes, I'm aware that there are certain brands that carry "Multi-Year" appointment books but I've stuck with Gallery Leather Co. for the last seven years and if you took note of any of the above paragraph you know that I'm a creature of habit.) A creature of habit that has come to the point of questioning her zest for living in tomorrow. Living for what comes next rather than what is now. Questioning her need to start writing the book of there-after before reading the ending of today. I'm finding that when your biggest fear is that you're wasting time trying to get to where you're not actually going, you'll never get anywhere at all.
During these last few months I've been reading a lot of soul-searching-esque books and doing a good amount of late-night journaling in efforts to figure out how to just let go, how to loosen the reigns a bit and simply trust in the process of life. And the answers that I've been finding seem to be the same across the board. The answer that's hunted me down and is now staring me right in the face is simply, gratitude. Apparently when you posess it, it's completely impossible to harbor any sort of fear or anxiety. I'm not talking about fake gratitude, the kind that only exists for the things that are going well in your world, I'm referring to the real deal. The real McCoy. The gratitude that radiates through every cell in your body and overwhelms you with a sense a peace, regardless of the chaos that surrounds you. I'm learning that when I'm thankful for every experience I have, thankful for what it'll teach me and the person I'll become in the aftermath, I don't have to be afraid when life throws me a curve ball. I don't have to cover my eyes. And it's only when your eyes are wide open, open to the good, open to the bad, and open to the endless possibilities, that you can actually appreciate today. It's only then that moments will slow down long enough for you to live in them.
With all that being said, I'm grateful for the highs and lows of the past few months. Grateful for the marketing campaign I launched for my novel and grateful for the minor knee injury that's kept Danny sidelined this last week. Grateful for the amazing two weeks that my sister and I spent together, floating down our lazy river and frequenting cafes and grateful for my family's strength and devotion when new paths and new beginnings present themselves. Grateful for our unconditionally loving puppy and grateful for the hilarity of a majestic lightning show that scares the heck out of her when a Midwest storm passes through. Grateful for friends who are more like family and family who are more like soul mates.
If every obstacle is a lesson, then those who have a more difficult path will be the wisest of all. Isn't that something to be grateful for?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Summer
Per usual, these last couple of months have gone by way too fast. I can't believe it's already summer, I can't believe it's almost time to pack up and move back to St. Louis for the season, and I can't believe that an entire year has gone by since Danny and I got married.
Twelve months of being legally bonded to my partner-in-crime through contractual obligation have pretty much come and gone in the blink of an eye. In some ways this last year felt like a drop in the bucket, just a tiny fraction of the eight years we've spent together and the gajillion more we'll see through, but in other ways, it felt somewhat monumental. I've heard people say that the only thing that changes when you get married is your last name, but I couldn't disagree more.
I'm actually quite certain that the little piece of paper that validates a marriage, the age old vows of "til death do us part" and the long-established titles of "husband" and "wife" (regardless of what language you say them in) all completely change the dynamics of any relationship. In my opinion, sacred promises and the idea that they truly bond two separate people into one unit, evoke a completely new sense of commitment. A sort of chosen obligation that puts everything in your life under a fresh lens. Crooked lines straighten out and blurry reflections become clear. You gain a new perspective on things, a new perspective on life. And when you check "Co-dependent" on your tax documents, you're acknowledging a mouthful. You suddenly depend on each other on levels you never knew existed and you somehow learn how to lose yourself in each other, without actually losing yourself at all. It's modern day magic I suppose.
Other than celebrating our anniversary, we've been spending these last two weeks running around like mad, just trying to maximize the small chunk of off-season that we're allotted around this time of year. We started off in St. Louis and then headed to Seattle to participate in the Foundation festivities of a couple of our dear friends. I was lucky enough to get a day of beautiful Seattle sunshine while we were there and another good friend, and Seattle native, showed me the awesome city. She knew the way to my heart and took me to the first Starbucks ever and the amazing Pike Place market. Then Danny and I headed to Southern California to relax and hang with his fam for a few days. It was a rare occasion, having all four of the Fells brothers home at the same time, so we savored every minute of it. I was beyond bummed when I caught a bad head cold that kept us from seeing some of our So Cal faves this year, but I guess it's just more of an excuse for them to visit us in St. Louis soon. Since I was under the weather, Danny headed to Chicago for a golf tournament without me, but I made him promise not to sample Chicago deep dish until we made a return trip to the Windy City. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised that he actually fared well in the challenge.
So we're temporarily back in San Mateo right now, but not for long. The suitcases are strewn along the hardwood floor and the fridge is solely stocked with Mom's chicken soup and some organic vanilla soy milk.
Sometimes I just wanna sit down and stay put long enough to see the leaves fall...or grow...or even just change a little bit in some way because being on the go for so long, makes it hard not to feel like I'm missing out on things. Missing important moments and even missing the insignificant ones that are just as beautiful. But, in a way, I suppose a beautiful thing blooms from the all of the chaos. When time seems to slip through the cracks of our busy schedules, as it has recently, Danny and I try to remind each other to stop and smell the roses. And the roses of our tumultuous life are simply our relationships. Our roses are our company and our company is the family and friends that remind us to take a deep breath in the form of laughing so hard we hyperventilate. They are the well-loved instigators that constantly spark our age old debate of "Which is better, Nor Cal or So Cal?" They're our allies and accomplices who see us through our ups and downs, who are always there, never-changing, and can always make us smile. This last weekend I was honored to be part of the wedding of my most veteran friend. We first met when she wouldn't share her Sour Lemons with me in Kindergarten. I, of course, told on her for having candy because I was bitter about the whole thing but somewhere in between time-out, hopscotch and playing house we became inseparable. When we graduated eighth grade together she gave me a bag of Sour Lemons with a post-it stuck to it that said, "Friends forver, tattle-tail!" and I wouldn't share even one with her just to get back her playfully.
Standing next to her on her special day was enchanting. Twenty two years of friendship is a blessed thing.
As time continues to fly by, I continue to hold true to the only three rules I try to live by these days. Savor moments and your relationships, always have faith and radiate positive energy. I just don't think anything else matters.
Twelve months of being legally bonded to my partner-in-crime through contractual obligation have pretty much come and gone in the blink of an eye. In some ways this last year felt like a drop in the bucket, just a tiny fraction of the eight years we've spent together and the gajillion more we'll see through, but in other ways, it felt somewhat monumental. I've heard people say that the only thing that changes when you get married is your last name, but I couldn't disagree more.
I'm actually quite certain that the little piece of paper that validates a marriage, the age old vows of "til death do us part" and the long-established titles of "husband" and "wife" (regardless of what language you say them in) all completely change the dynamics of any relationship. In my opinion, sacred promises and the idea that they truly bond two separate people into one unit, evoke a completely new sense of commitment. A sort of chosen obligation that puts everything in your life under a fresh lens. Crooked lines straighten out and blurry reflections become clear. You gain a new perspective on things, a new perspective on life. And when you check "Co-dependent" on your tax documents, you're acknowledging a mouthful. You suddenly depend on each other on levels you never knew existed and you somehow learn how to lose yourself in each other, without actually losing yourself at all. It's modern day magic I suppose.
Other than celebrating our anniversary, we've been spending these last two weeks running around like mad, just trying to maximize the small chunk of off-season that we're allotted around this time of year. We started off in St. Louis and then headed to Seattle to participate in the Foundation festivities of a couple of our dear friends. I was lucky enough to get a day of beautiful Seattle sunshine while we were there and another good friend, and Seattle native, showed me the awesome city. She knew the way to my heart and took me to the first Starbucks ever and the amazing Pike Place market. Then Danny and I headed to Southern California to relax and hang with his fam for a few days. It was a rare occasion, having all four of the Fells brothers home at the same time, so we savored every minute of it. I was beyond bummed when I caught a bad head cold that kept us from seeing some of our So Cal faves this year, but I guess it's just more of an excuse for them to visit us in St. Louis soon. Since I was under the weather, Danny headed to Chicago for a golf tournament without me, but I made him promise not to sample Chicago deep dish until we made a return trip to the Windy City. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised that he actually fared well in the challenge.
So we're temporarily back in San Mateo right now, but not for long. The suitcases are strewn along the hardwood floor and the fridge is solely stocked with Mom's chicken soup and some organic vanilla soy milk.
Sometimes I just wanna sit down and stay put long enough to see the leaves fall...or grow...or even just change a little bit in some way because being on the go for so long, makes it hard not to feel like I'm missing out on things. Missing important moments and even missing the insignificant ones that are just as beautiful. But, in a way, I suppose a beautiful thing blooms from the all of the chaos. When time seems to slip through the cracks of our busy schedules, as it has recently, Danny and I try to remind each other to stop and smell the roses. And the roses of our tumultuous life are simply our relationships. Our roses are our company and our company is the family and friends that remind us to take a deep breath in the form of laughing so hard we hyperventilate. They are the well-loved instigators that constantly spark our age old debate of "Which is better, Nor Cal or So Cal?" They're our allies and accomplices who see us through our ups and downs, who are always there, never-changing, and can always make us smile. This last weekend I was honored to be part of the wedding of my most veteran friend. We first met when she wouldn't share her Sour Lemons with me in Kindergarten. I, of course, told on her for having candy because I was bitter about the whole thing but somewhere in between time-out, hopscotch and playing house we became inseparable. When we graduated eighth grade together she gave me a bag of Sour Lemons with a post-it stuck to it that said, "Friends forver, tattle-tail!" and I wouldn't share even one with her just to get back her playfully.
Standing next to her on her special day was enchanting. Twenty two years of friendship is a blessed thing.
As time continues to fly by, I continue to hold true to the only three rules I try to live by these days. Savor moments and your relationships, always have faith and radiate positive energy. I just don't think anything else matters.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
A Memorial and a Thought
A couple months ago, my family and I attended the funeral of a lifelong friend. He was the father of three beautiful young adults, who my sister and I have known since childhood, and he was also my dad's partner in crime for more years than I can remember. By day he was one of the state's top attorneys and by night he was a family man and one of the most avid soccer fans and gurus who has ever lived.
He and my dad, together, saw all of us kids through countless soccer seasons of sprained ankles, bruised knees, and fractured fingers from our occasional goalie stints. Through both wins and losses, undefeated seasons of glory and 0 and 14 seasons of frustration they supported us all the way. On each and every game day, they diligently wore our team colors proudly, regardless of whether we were the Pink Cadillacs, the Purple People Eaters or the Teal Terrorizing Terminators. They were our biggest fans.
The last time I saw Dan was at my Persian wedding ceremony last July. I remember introducing him to Danny for the first time and giggling, "Dan, finally meet Dan!" They embraced like they had known each other for years. I remember looking up at Dan during the ceremony and thinking about how fitting it was that he was standing next to my dad. I watched them hug it out when the ceremony was over and through the corner of my eye saw them share a "Can you believe our kids are all grown up" moment with only their smiles.
When we recently heard that Dan passed suddenly. When I first heard the terrible news I felt sick. I felt sick and helpless and I remember trying hard to remember.
Dan's memorial service was beautiful beyond words. The Stanford Memorial Church was packed to the brim and my family and I sat, hovered together, on the edge of a pew in the back. Other than feeling the warmth of my dad's hand on mine, I was pretty numb. My eyes fixated on the bobbing heads of Dan's family in the front row and sheer sorrow pumped through my veins like an IV. Countless thoughts flooded my mind and leaked out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I wished that our families had gotten together more often as us kids grew up and started our own lives. We should've never gone a year without a visit or two. I looked over at my Dad. I wondered what he was remembering when I saw him smile in the middle of hearing Elton John's "Daniel" and I longed to know what he was thinking about when he wiped his eyes halfway through The Beach Boys' "Make it Big." "Make it big" was Dan's anthem.
I wanted, more than anything, for Dan to have been there, right then, in that church, in that moment. I wished he could have been there to see the incredible turn out, to hear the touching eulogies, to feel the immense amount of love and respect that radiated like sunlight from each and every seat in every row. The stained glass windows of the church glistened almost majestically, and it didn't seem right that he was missing it all.
I thought back to the first, and only other, memorial service I had attended. A good friend of the children I nannied, a bright young third grader, lost a long battle with cancer on one fateful day and we attended his service with extremely heavy hearts. Regardless of how natural the circle of life is, that sweet little boy's death seemed more unnatural than anything I'd ever experienced. I thought back to how, on that grave day, I had also wished that he could have been there to see the thousands of people who had showed up to bid him goodbye. To see how many hand written letters his friends had addressed to Heaven for him. To hear about how many lives he had touched during his short stay on Earth. I wanted him to know all of it. It, again, just didn't seem right that he was missing it all.
As I sat solemnly, leaning my head on my Dad's shoulder, I couldn't help but aknowledge that the post-mortem funeral only serves those who lose loved ones. What about the loved one himself? How could we commemorate them before they pass so that they know just how much they're loved? Shouldn't celebratory gatherings be held in honor of our loved ones while they're still alive to witness them? Doesn't everyone deserve a day of respect, a day of celebration, on which they can actually hear the personal testimonies of love and friendship from the special people in their lives? Wouldn't it make more sense for friends and family, both near and far, to make the trip to see their loved one rather than make the trip to remember and miss him once he's gone? We'd never again feel the agony of wishing he was there to see it all...wishing that he knew...
As my family and I somberly made our way to the reception area after the funeral, I began thinking more and more about the idea that we should lift up our loved ones while they are still with us rather than after they're gone. It just seemed like such an obvious thought. I sat down at a table with my sister and took a deep breath in preparation for a photo slide show of Dan's life.
As I became somewhat mesmerized by the rotating pictures, rotating moments, that I relived with those around me, I suddenly gained an understanding that resonated in my heart. Beautiful photos, beautiful experiences and beautiful people were captured over and over as each slide faded into another. Snapshots had been taken during every phase and turn of Dan's life, but the biggest smiles and the happiest moments were so perfectly captured in photos of Dan's birthdays. So much laughter, so many smiles, so many hugs and kisses. They were all frozen in time forever. Dan had 58 "I'm so happy that you're alive" parties, 58 "I'm blessed to have you in my life" parties, 58 "I'm celebrating you and the life you've led" parties. Each photo was evidence of the commemorative gatherings thrown for Dan each year and each day was celebrated with joy in the name of love.
As I watched the photos dance on the big screen like shadows, there was no denying that Dan had been surrounded by affection and admiration through out his entire life. His birthday had unfailingly arrived at some point during every year of his full life, and when that day came, he was blessed enough to be celebrated. It was then that I realized that Dan didn't miss a thing. He didn't miss one single thing by not physically being there with us that day. He knew how much he was loved and appreciated. He knew how we all felt about him. After seeing a picture show of his amazing life, there was no denying that.
Birthday presents and Hallmark cards are tokens of appreciation and records of your personal testimonies in love and friendship. Birthday parties and gatherings are celebrations of life and the best excuses you'll ever have to live in each moment together. Birthdays should always be cause for a "You're alive and I love you and I'm celebrating your life" party. Birthdays should always be special. Because when the time comes for us all to move on to the next phase of existence, we all wanna go like Dan did. We all want to know.
He and my dad, together, saw all of us kids through countless soccer seasons of sprained ankles, bruised knees, and fractured fingers from our occasional goalie stints. Through both wins and losses, undefeated seasons of glory and 0 and 14 seasons of frustration they supported us all the way. On each and every game day, they diligently wore our team colors proudly, regardless of whether we were the Pink Cadillacs, the Purple People Eaters or the Teal Terrorizing Terminators. They were our biggest fans.
The last time I saw Dan was at my Persian wedding ceremony last July. I remember introducing him to Danny for the first time and giggling, "Dan, finally meet Dan!" They embraced like they had known each other for years. I remember looking up at Dan during the ceremony and thinking about how fitting it was that he was standing next to my dad. I watched them hug it out when the ceremony was over and through the corner of my eye saw them share a "Can you believe our kids are all grown up" moment with only their smiles.
When we recently heard that Dan passed suddenly. When I first heard the terrible news I felt sick. I felt sick and helpless and I remember trying hard to remember.
Dan's memorial service was beautiful beyond words. The Stanford Memorial Church was packed to the brim and my family and I sat, hovered together, on the edge of a pew in the back. Other than feeling the warmth of my dad's hand on mine, I was pretty numb. My eyes fixated on the bobbing heads of Dan's family in the front row and sheer sorrow pumped through my veins like an IV. Countless thoughts flooded my mind and leaked out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I wished that our families had gotten together more often as us kids grew up and started our own lives. We should've never gone a year without a visit or two. I looked over at my Dad. I wondered what he was remembering when I saw him smile in the middle of hearing Elton John's "Daniel" and I longed to know what he was thinking about when he wiped his eyes halfway through The Beach Boys' "Make it Big." "Make it big" was Dan's anthem.
I wanted, more than anything, for Dan to have been there, right then, in that church, in that moment. I wished he could have been there to see the incredible turn out, to hear the touching eulogies, to feel the immense amount of love and respect that radiated like sunlight from each and every seat in every row. The stained glass windows of the church glistened almost majestically, and it didn't seem right that he was missing it all.
I thought back to the first, and only other, memorial service I had attended. A good friend of the children I nannied, a bright young third grader, lost a long battle with cancer on one fateful day and we attended his service with extremely heavy hearts. Regardless of how natural the circle of life is, that sweet little boy's death seemed more unnatural than anything I'd ever experienced. I thought back to how, on that grave day, I had also wished that he could have been there to see the thousands of people who had showed up to bid him goodbye. To see how many hand written letters his friends had addressed to Heaven for him. To hear about how many lives he had touched during his short stay on Earth. I wanted him to know all of it. It, again, just didn't seem right that he was missing it all.
As I sat solemnly, leaning my head on my Dad's shoulder, I couldn't help but aknowledge that the post-mortem funeral only serves those who lose loved ones. What about the loved one himself? How could we commemorate them before they pass so that they know just how much they're loved? Shouldn't celebratory gatherings be held in honor of our loved ones while they're still alive to witness them? Doesn't everyone deserve a day of respect, a day of celebration, on which they can actually hear the personal testimonies of love and friendship from the special people in their lives? Wouldn't it make more sense for friends and family, both near and far, to make the trip to see their loved one rather than make the trip to remember and miss him once he's gone? We'd never again feel the agony of wishing he was there to see it all...wishing that he knew...
As my family and I somberly made our way to the reception area after the funeral, I began thinking more and more about the idea that we should lift up our loved ones while they are still with us rather than after they're gone. It just seemed like such an obvious thought. I sat down at a table with my sister and took a deep breath in preparation for a photo slide show of Dan's life.
As I became somewhat mesmerized by the rotating pictures, rotating moments, that I relived with those around me, I suddenly gained an understanding that resonated in my heart. Beautiful photos, beautiful experiences and beautiful people were captured over and over as each slide faded into another. Snapshots had been taken during every phase and turn of Dan's life, but the biggest smiles and the happiest moments were so perfectly captured in photos of Dan's birthdays. So much laughter, so many smiles, so many hugs and kisses. They were all frozen in time forever. Dan had 58 "I'm so happy that you're alive" parties, 58 "I'm blessed to have you in my life" parties, 58 "I'm celebrating you and the life you've led" parties. Each photo was evidence of the commemorative gatherings thrown for Dan each year and each day was celebrated with joy in the name of love.
As I watched the photos dance on the big screen like shadows, there was no denying that Dan had been surrounded by affection and admiration through out his entire life. His birthday had unfailingly arrived at some point during every year of his full life, and when that day came, he was blessed enough to be celebrated. It was then that I realized that Dan didn't miss a thing. He didn't miss one single thing by not physically being there with us that day. He knew how much he was loved and appreciated. He knew how we all felt about him. After seeing a picture show of his amazing life, there was no denying that.
Birthday presents and Hallmark cards are tokens of appreciation and records of your personal testimonies in love and friendship. Birthday parties and gatherings are celebrations of life and the best excuses you'll ever have to live in each moment together. Birthdays should always be cause for a "You're alive and I love you and I'm celebrating your life" party. Birthdays should always be special. Because when the time comes for us all to move on to the next phase of existence, we all wanna go like Dan did. We all want to know.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Dreams in My Bookshelves
My favorite English professor at UCD used to always say that the best way to get to know someone is by browsing through her bookshelves. And once I decided to start phase two of my annual Spring Cleaning process (the organization phase that follows the big drop-off at the county dump phase, but precedes the "You threw that away?? How could you?!" debate phase) I deduced that she could not have been more correct.
Books have always been among the more difficult things for me to give away or throw out. Maybe I'm traumatized by the insane dollar amounts that I had to spend on them in college and grad school, or maybe I feel like one day I'll need to reference a line from an old chick lit novel to comfort a friend. Maybe I think that one day I really will try an all vegan diet, or even skim through the "Eat This, Not That" Restaurant Guide before a night on the town. But is there really any excuse for hanging onto approximately two long shelves full of Martha Stewart Wedding and In Style magazines that I've collected over the last decade? And is there any logical reason why I should continue to store academic course material that I absolutely loathed reading in high school and college? I used to use the excuse that I wanted to keep the books and mags for my kids to use one day, but that argument got eternally vetoed once Danny and I saw a lady on the TV show Hoarders say the same thing the next day.
Not surprisingly, the magazines were the easiest to toss. After all, it might have been all those wedding issues that wedding-ed me out before I even got engaged. The fashion magazines weren't too hard to let go of either. Every trend that has ever existed has, at some point, been recycled back into circulation, hence recycled back into a new In Style, so I deduced that there is really no point in keeping old ones. To further the process, I even decided that I was also ready to part with a few of the required lit novels that I still had, like "My Antonia" and "Lolita," but chose to hang on to a couple of classics like "The Sun Also Rises" and "Their Eyes Were Watching God." Let's be honest, Hemingway is pretty much my homeboy.
I got off to a pretty good start and then got side-tracked by reading the books that I had placed in my surmounting salvage pile. It was as if I wanted to give them one last chance to convince me that they were keepers, to plead their case to the Spring cleaning Gods. Most of the books failed to save themselves from the Salvation Army box that welcomed them with open flaps, but a token few were victorious in finding their way back to the bookcase. The process was more draining than I'd thought it would be.
I was somewhat relieved when I got to the cookbook shelves because I have a firm "No Throw Away" policy for those. The task for them would be purely organizational. I was scarred by an incident that involved me volunteering to bake my always a hit, perfect peanut butter cookies for a birthday party, then realizing that my favorite cookbook had gotten accidentally tossed during our most recent move. The word "Discontinued" was not my friend once I tried to re-purchase the book from Barnes and Noble so I swore that I would hang onto all of my favorite recipes forever after. I organized the cookbooks according to height, picked out a Sandra Lee's Semi-homemade recipe for dinner and then moved onto my "How To's" and my inspirational books.
As I skimmed the book spines of four overflowing shelves, stopping to both smile and cringe when I saw certain titles, I began to realize that books have baggage. I plucked out the books "Forty Million Dollar Slaves" and John Gruden's "Do You Love Football" and held them tightly in my hands. I remembered how I felt when I first bought them. Danny had just come home from the NFL scouting combine, and he described the scene as similar to that of a cattle auction. They called out his number in front of a bunch of scouts and coaches, asked him to strip down to his shorts, called out his weight and height measurements and then asked him to turn around slowly. It made me so afraid. I ran out to Barnes to try to find something, anything, that would give me some sort of heads up in terms of what we were about to lunge into. Although the books that I purchased that day did reassure my worries that, at times, he would be treated like a commodity rather than a person, they also prepared me, just a bit, for the highs and lows to come. I put the two books in the save pile and moved on. I began to flip through the books "Your first Novel" and "Idiot's Guide to Getting Published." I took a deep breath and thought back to how excited I was to start a lifelong dream two and a half years before that moment. I tossed the books onto a big cardboard box that my publisher recently sent me, full of about thirty copies of "Drowning in the Mainstream," and I smiled. Those two weren't going anywhere either. I picked up "Everyday Positive Thinking" by Louise Hay, I'd completely forgotten that I even had that book. My mom gave it to me as a college graduation gift and although I discarded it at the time, calling positive affirmations "hippy-dippy" stuff, Ms. Hay had somehow found her way into my day to day life over the years. Not so ironically, I only realized how much power the positive thought had, once I started thinking positively, and it has made a world of a difference. I put the book on my desk so that I could remind myself to pay it forward to someone else.
As I slowly examined the piles of books that were scattered on the hardwood floor by my feet, I paused. I looked back up at the bunch that still sat on the shelves in front of me and I admired the way they leaned on each other for support and intermingled regardless of subject or height. They had clearly become more to me than just bound pieces of paper with shiny covers. More than just black text on off-white backgrounds. They were the dreams that my best friend and I once dreamed of manifesting and they were the unspoken prayers that never hit our lips. They were the positive thoughts and dreams that made up our future before we had even adopted the policy of being forever optimistic and there will always be room for dreams, as far out as they may be, on our bookshelves.
Books have always been among the more difficult things for me to give away or throw out. Maybe I'm traumatized by the insane dollar amounts that I had to spend on them in college and grad school, or maybe I feel like one day I'll need to reference a line from an old chick lit novel to comfort a friend. Maybe I think that one day I really will try an all vegan diet, or even skim through the "Eat This, Not That" Restaurant Guide before a night on the town. But is there really any excuse for hanging onto approximately two long shelves full of Martha Stewart Wedding and In Style magazines that I've collected over the last decade? And is there any logical reason why I should continue to store academic course material that I absolutely loathed reading in high school and college? I used to use the excuse that I wanted to keep the books and mags for my kids to use one day, but that argument got eternally vetoed once Danny and I saw a lady on the TV show Hoarders say the same thing the next day.
Not surprisingly, the magazines were the easiest to toss. After all, it might have been all those wedding issues that wedding-ed me out before I even got engaged. The fashion magazines weren't too hard to let go of either. Every trend that has ever existed has, at some point, been recycled back into circulation, hence recycled back into a new In Style, so I deduced that there is really no point in keeping old ones. To further the process, I even decided that I was also ready to part with a few of the required lit novels that I still had, like "My Antonia" and "Lolita," but chose to hang on to a couple of classics like "The Sun Also Rises" and "Their Eyes Were Watching God." Let's be honest, Hemingway is pretty much my homeboy.
I got off to a pretty good start and then got side-tracked by reading the books that I had placed in my surmounting salvage pile. It was as if I wanted to give them one last chance to convince me that they were keepers, to plead their case to the Spring cleaning Gods. Most of the books failed to save themselves from the Salvation Army box that welcomed them with open flaps, but a token few were victorious in finding their way back to the bookcase. The process was more draining than I'd thought it would be.
I was somewhat relieved when I got to the cookbook shelves because I have a firm "No Throw Away" policy for those. The task for them would be purely organizational. I was scarred by an incident that involved me volunteering to bake my always a hit, perfect peanut butter cookies for a birthday party, then realizing that my favorite cookbook had gotten accidentally tossed during our most recent move. The word "Discontinued" was not my friend once I tried to re-purchase the book from Barnes and Noble so I swore that I would hang onto all of my favorite recipes forever after. I organized the cookbooks according to height, picked out a Sandra Lee's Semi-homemade recipe for dinner and then moved onto my "How To's" and my inspirational books.
As I skimmed the book spines of four overflowing shelves, stopping to both smile and cringe when I saw certain titles, I began to realize that books have baggage. I plucked out the books "Forty Million Dollar Slaves" and John Gruden's "Do You Love Football" and held them tightly in my hands. I remembered how I felt when I first bought them. Danny had just come home from the NFL scouting combine, and he described the scene as similar to that of a cattle auction. They called out his number in front of a bunch of scouts and coaches, asked him to strip down to his shorts, called out his weight and height measurements and then asked him to turn around slowly. It made me so afraid. I ran out to Barnes to try to find something, anything, that would give me some sort of heads up in terms of what we were about to lunge into. Although the books that I purchased that day did reassure my worries that, at times, he would be treated like a commodity rather than a person, they also prepared me, just a bit, for the highs and lows to come. I put the two books in the save pile and moved on. I began to flip through the books "Your first Novel" and "Idiot's Guide to Getting Published." I took a deep breath and thought back to how excited I was to start a lifelong dream two and a half years before that moment. I tossed the books onto a big cardboard box that my publisher recently sent me, full of about thirty copies of "Drowning in the Mainstream," and I smiled. Those two weren't going anywhere either. I picked up "Everyday Positive Thinking" by Louise Hay, I'd completely forgotten that I even had that book. My mom gave it to me as a college graduation gift and although I discarded it at the time, calling positive affirmations "hippy-dippy" stuff, Ms. Hay had somehow found her way into my day to day life over the years. Not so ironically, I only realized how much power the positive thought had, once I started thinking positively, and it has made a world of a difference. I put the book on my desk so that I could remind myself to pay it forward to someone else.
As I slowly examined the piles of books that were scattered on the hardwood floor by my feet, I paused. I looked back up at the bunch that still sat on the shelves in front of me and I admired the way they leaned on each other for support and intermingled regardless of subject or height. They had clearly become more to me than just bound pieces of paper with shiny covers. More than just black text on off-white backgrounds. They were the dreams that my best friend and I once dreamed of manifesting and they were the unspoken prayers that never hit our lips. They were the positive thoughts and dreams that made up our future before we had even adopted the policy of being forever optimistic and there will always be room for dreams, as far out as they may be, on our bookshelves.
Highs, Lows and Weirds
The last few weeks have been a typical, crazy whirlwind of events, one that you may have thought I’d be used to by now…but there's no getting used to chaos. The highs have been high, the lows have been low, and the weirds have been weirder than ever.
Danny and I live a relatively mundane life for the most part. We live in a small, half of a duplex when we’re in California and in an extended stay motel when we’re in St. Louis. We drive the most basic (and I mean ZERO upgrades basic, don’t even have sun-roofs basic) Nissans around, and we, without fail, always end up with middle seats on airplane rides because we solely purchase airfare through cheaptickets.com. But every once in a while I hear or see glimpses of things that remind me that eventhough we live an incredibly normal life, we are blessed to be surrounded by greatness. During a run-of-the-mill phone conversation that I with Danny last week, after telling me what he ate for breakfast he added, “Oh, and I plugged your book to Coach Belichick this morning. We pulled it up on the computer in his office.”
I'm still somewhat shocked that my novel, “Drowning in the Mainstream” is still in the running for Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel of the Year Award and is currently being picked up by independent bookstores all over the U.S. Its unexpected success has been overwhelming and I am so thankful for the support and positive feedback that I’ve been getting from my amazing family and friends. I firmly believe that here is not greater accomplishment than to earn the love and respect of those who you adore and for that I am very grateful.
To the surprise of many, Danny re-signed with the Rams a couple of weeks ago and he, frankly, couldn’t be happier. He had the opportunity to explore some other opportunities once he hit free agency, but at the end of the day he realized that his heart was still in St. Louis. His decision to stick with the Rams for another year was based solely on his desire to, in his words, "be part of something bigger than the game." To be part of a process. And to play for a team and a coaching staff who saw something in him a while back and decided to give him a long shot. If we’ve learned anything over the last few years in the Not For Long league, it’s that undrafted, no-name, Division II college ball players rarely get a second glance and that's exactly why there’s something to be said about being loyal to the people who believed in you when no one else did. He can't wait to get back to work.
On a selfish note, I really couldn’t be more excited about his decision either. The offseason has felt long enough when it comes to being away from the girlfriends I made in the Lou this last year, and to them I say...here’s to making the Midwest seem a little less Midwest-y, training camp lattes, Wednesday book club (minus the books), and mimosa game days mornings!
Ready to see what 2010 has in store for us.
Danny and I live a relatively mundane life for the most part. We live in a small, half of a duplex when we’re in California and in an extended stay motel when we’re in St. Louis. We drive the most basic (and I mean ZERO upgrades basic, don’t even have sun-roofs basic) Nissans around, and we, without fail, always end up with middle seats on airplane rides because we solely purchase airfare through cheaptickets.com. But every once in a while I hear or see glimpses of things that remind me that eventhough we live an incredibly normal life, we are blessed to be surrounded by greatness. During a run-of-the-mill phone conversation that I with Danny last week, after telling me what he ate for breakfast he added, “Oh, and I plugged your book to Coach Belichick this morning. We pulled it up on the computer in his office.”
I'm still somewhat shocked that my novel, “Drowning in the Mainstream” is still in the running for Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel of the Year Award and is currently being picked up by independent bookstores all over the U.S. Its unexpected success has been overwhelming and I am so thankful for the support and positive feedback that I’ve been getting from my amazing family and friends. I firmly believe that here is not greater accomplishment than to earn the love and respect of those who you adore and for that I am very grateful.
To the surprise of many, Danny re-signed with the Rams a couple of weeks ago and he, frankly, couldn’t be happier. He had the opportunity to explore some other opportunities once he hit free agency, but at the end of the day he realized that his heart was still in St. Louis. His decision to stick with the Rams for another year was based solely on his desire to, in his words, "be part of something bigger than the game." To be part of a process. And to play for a team and a coaching staff who saw something in him a while back and decided to give him a long shot. If we’ve learned anything over the last few years in the Not For Long league, it’s that undrafted, no-name, Division II college ball players rarely get a second glance and that's exactly why there’s something to be said about being loyal to the people who believed in you when no one else did. He can't wait to get back to work.
On a selfish note, I really couldn’t be more excited about his decision either. The offseason has felt long enough when it comes to being away from the girlfriends I made in the Lou this last year, and to them I say...here’s to making the Midwest seem a little less Midwest-y, training camp lattes, Wednesday book club (minus the books), and mimosa game days mornings!
Ready to see what 2010 has in store for us.
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