Fun with the Fam

The last few weeks have been crammed with lots of nothing and everything all at the same time. I have bits of paper and post-it notes, the backs of church bulletins and folded index cards full of notes and quotes and words and thoughts from those weeks but I haven't taken the time to fully flesh them out for a blog post.

As I walked this morning though and found myself smiling to myself, I knew a post was in order that reflects the pure joy in my life, in the midst of the nothing and everything.

Mom had ankle surgery almost two weeks ago. The week before that Carly and the boyfriend came to Louisville for Spring Break. Carly complained that Brandon (the boyfriend) loved Grace (the dog) more than her (the daughter). We ate spaghetti and watched TV. They (C., B., and Will) went to see their grandparents and try out my mom's recovery equipment, i.e. wheel chair and scooter. Turns out Will plays wheelchair basketball better than regular b-ball, and Carly finally got the scooter she always wanted. They came home with treasures from their great-grandparents' smokehouse and re-enacted an episode from American Pickers on the History channel.  

My mom's surgery went well, but in the waiting room, this creepy guy kept pacing back and forth in front of me with a huge belly, covered by a medium size tee shirt, desperately in need of suspenders. It wasn't pretty. He completed the look with a plumbers crack. When he turned around I discovered that the front side to a plumbers crack is more scary than the crack itself! I prayed he would make a best friend who would tell him to pull his britches up.

Two days later, I met my parents at their farm as my mom was returning home from the hospital. I thought I told my dad that I was coming, but apparently I didn't say that out loud. Mom cried and whispered "Thank you, Jesus" when I responded to her question that yes, I could most definitely spend the night. It may have been the first time my mom needed me, and it felt really good. Through the pretty sleepless night, we learned a lot about each other. Mostly that she pees much faster than I do. I would help her get situated on one toilet then run use the other toilet myself. She consistently beat me. It was worth a laugh or two in the middle of the night.

Will and I visited the following weekend. While there, we watched the U of L basketball game, then shot the pellet gun during half time, as we pretended we had just finished cross-country skiing and were preparing to shoot for the Olympic team. Of course, our targets were empy Domino's boxes from the pizza we had just eaten.

During the miserable second half of the game, Mom discovered a virus on her e-reader that took the form of some pretty nasty porn. She was appalled and outraged and disappointed and disgusted and every other one of those kind of words. In fact, she was pretty close to tears. Naturally, it froze and she was left with some pics she wasn't enjoying. When I reached to take it and try to fix it, she jerked it away, yelling that there was no way I was going to look at that "filth." (This is probably a good time to remind readers that my twins that were playing with rehab equipment are 23 years old and my own eyes that were too young to see porn will soon see 50.) Anyway. . . during the ensuing argument between Mom and me the losing Cards began a comeback. Soooo, Mom and I had to continue arguing (loudly) until the Cards had won and were on their way to the final four. Not that Will is superstitious or anything but CLEARLY it was our argument that pushed them forward. After that win, my mom is now sporting a Cardinal Red cast in honor of our victory.

Oh and I forgot to mention that somewhere in there I took a fake swing at my dad, who in turn lifted me off my feet and turned me upside down -- again, I'm 49. He's 71. Needless to say, we both felt that the next day. You know, I've never quite figured it out, but he's always had a thing about picking people up. . . oh, well.

So now, my mom is on the road to recovery, the twins, the boyfriend, oh, and the Cardinals are on their way to New Orleans for the final four. Dad is hanging out clothes on the line for my mom and mowing grass. I'm helping some eight year olds make paper maiche planets.

My lenten journey has not been the one I imagined. Instead of silent prayers and quiet meditation, it has been full of unplanned tears and laughter, wheelchair basketball, potty races and porn on my mom's Nook.  Thanks be to God!

A Lesson Learned

Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be.

Love and Money

This last Tuesday I ended up needing to help out my girl a bit on a school assignment. Long story short, I had to read a couple of articles from professional journals for her and write 75 word summaries for each article. I've been accused (by her) of bailing her brothers out too much in their academic endeavors, so I was happy to have the chance to "spread the love."

Anyway, one of the articles I had to read described a research project comparing the way individuals view money to where they find themselves on Maslow's heirarchy of needs. I thought the results were a little surprising. It turns out that the higher you are on Maslow's list, the less importance you place on money. In other words, folks that are at the self-actualization level (or in spiritual terms, folks who have decided to be what God has created them to be) have little need for money. And it's not because they know that God will provide a great car, big house, perfect health and a happy marriage; it's because they know that ultimately, God is enough.

This was a fairly radical concept for me. I guess, like most people, I thought that money could bring you access to those other rungs on Maslow's ladder -- like food and shelter, safety and security, respect from others, friends and family. I also thought maybe money could help you hang on to those things as well.

Turns out that all of the needs we use money to meet are not really needs once your walk with God goes beyond walking and you just "are" with God.

I know I like money as well as the next person. It buys my jeans, puts gas in my van, pays the vet bills, gets my movie tickets and picks up my restaurant tabs. I have health insurance and a retirement account. Things that reinforce the crazy notion that I am in control of my destiny. Because, since I have a retirement fund, of course, I'll live a healthy life and just drop dead from working in my garden at the age of 99. . . because only folks with no retirement end up in nursing homes, right?

Seriously, I've visited enough nursing homes to know that's hogwash.

I have also lived long enough and experienced just a bit to realize that people driving really nice cars and living in really big houses often have really shitty lives to match.

 I've learned that sometimes losing it all lets you know that you really have everything. Because security from money isn't really security and friends that respect you because of your status really aren't the kind of friends that come calling when you find yourself in trouble.

I wish I could say I was so "self-actualized" that money did not even play into my thinking, but that would be a lie. I still have a "need" for really great jeans and gas in my van that only money can bring. But I'm starting to realize that it's not the jeans but the person wearing those great jeans that brings me contentment, and its the people I'm headed to be with and the dog riding shot gun that gives me joy, not the full tank of gas.

I think the Beatles may be right, Love is all you need and the real thing can't be bought with money. My prayer is to someday live that way.