I was so amazed by this that I nearly forgot to add it to my posts. So many people said that was such a great testimony I thought I had best include it. I often forget God’s miracles because they are so much a part of my daily life, it sometimes takes another person noticing for me to realize just how significant sometimes they are.

The day after Christmas was the day my son and I were to return to Florida from our holiday in Vermont. On Christmas Day, we never turned on the TV, only the music. We were gratefully spared all the pre-storm fear that evidently was rampant around the country at that point. We awoke at normal time the day we were to leave, as our flight was not until 5pm and we were two hours or less from the airport. It was at that point the news started seeping in. A concerned call from returning relatives followed by turning on the news to see that all major airports on the east coast were bracing for a huge snowstorm. I woke my son and we tried to get the airline on the phone (useless) and find out online what was happening and what our choices were (also unproductive, though scary). It appeared there were no more available seats to our destination for three days!

I put in a quick call to a friend who works at the Jacksonville airport and she went by the USAir counter and called me back. She said while it didn’t look good, our best bet was probably to go to the airport and hope for the best. That is what we decided to do. My son and I packed up our things, took off in the rental car at about 11am and headed to the airport in New Hampshire.

When we arrived to return our rental car we were met with a totally empty lot. One employee met us, and he was going off duty soon. He advised us to keep the car and go back where we came from. There had been no flights leaving that day, and while our 5 o’clock was still posted ‘on time’ he knew it would be canceled shortly. We thanked him for sharing and proceeded to the check-in counter where there was no one in line (day after Christmas…has that ever happened?) The nice lady at the counter advised that our flight was the only one not canceled, but as the weather was not improving anywhere it was only a matter of time…an we were still five hours from departure.

I looked at my son and said, what do you think? and he said, lets check the bags to Jacksonville and go wait it out. So we proceeded to the gate, through security check where we were the only passengers in the area. The security head offered that we should probably be looking for a hotel room and to be sure to hit the restaurant because they would all probably close by 3pm and that would be the end of the food. Though we had grabbed a quick lunch before we left home, we heeded her advice as far as ordering a sandwich to keep just in case, we went to the gate without checking hotel availability. There was one other person at the gate, and we all sat there reading books in a dead airport for the next three hours. Our flight changed from ‘on time ‘ to ‘ delayed, but it was still not joining the list of all the others that said canceled.

A very strange thing happened about 45 minutes before the original scheduled departure time. People started flowing into the gate area. A very nice agent took his position at the counter and started informing us what was happening. Our flight was delayed and had not departed from DC but was to leave momentarily. Some of our connections had been canceled, ours had merely been delayed inbound as well. The fight came in, left with a full load and hour and a half late and arrived quietly in DC where we deplaned and awaited our next flight. Again, in a very quiet airport, we ate our soggy sandwiches and listened to the roll of canceled fights as they were announced. I looked at my son over our meal and said do you have any fear that we will not get out and he said No. I didn’t either.

Two hours after the scheduled departure, we were boarding our full flight, being told that we needed to board and be in the air in twenty minutes or our flight would be canceled because Jacksonville’s airport shuts down at midnight. The pilot was determined to get us there, and everyone hustled to get their bags tucked away, and off we went. In all this time we had not seen more that a flutter of snow, very few airplanes anywhere, and less people than I ever remember in an airport. They were probably told what we were: stay home, don’t come, turn around, etc.

As we arrived home only two hours late and stood claiming our bags , it began to sink in how fortunate we had been. The traveling mercies I had asked God for on our drive to the airport had been very visible the entire day. What was totally missing was any confusion or fear. We felt like we were in a protective bubble of some sort. We caught the bus for the parking lot and thanked God for His amazing guidance and provision through the storm. Sometimes you can be in the eye of a storm and not even feel it around you, if you trust God to take care of you. It was a very smooth ride.

This has always been my favorite week of every year. It is the one most people take off if they can, but rarely has it ever been vacation time for me. It was just a week that no one thought about buying a home, or selling one. Since most people were dismantling their Christmas decorations, no one thought about painting their home either…until the first week of January when they noticed how empty and colorless it looked after the decorations were removed. Anyway, no one ever really needs me for anything during this week, so I am left to deal with myself and the things I never get to do for myself (read, I welcome those excuses and there are none to be found).

It always gave me a week with no income, to think creatively about how to start out the coming year adding sufficiently to my next year’s income. To do this correctly involved a review of the past year as well. I spend most of the ‘lost’ week trying to sort out last years financial information. I have found that if I get it to the point where I can hand it over to my accountant in January, it is a very good start to the year. If I don’t get it to that point, and instead start the year with one foot in the previous year, I will be dragging it all the way through April 15th, and possibly through an extension into July as well. Instead of flying into the new year with great ideas and hopes, I will feel like I am trying to run with cement Ugg boots! This is one of the most debilitating ways for an entrepreneur to start their new year that I can think of, and yet it is already weds of that week and I have yet to start my financial adventure.

I will spend today trying to neaten up the room in which I will begin the process. This is a distraction, of course, and I think I would do better to grab what I can of receipts and bills and go to the dining room table. However that table holds memories of my Dad working on taxes for months at a time, and I will have to overcome that mental block first. It will remain a contest between old mental images and the new one I am trying to visualize showing a competent me overcoming the temptation to procrastinate into the New Year. If I could actually get this done in the year we are about to leave, I truly would not need a single resolution on January 1st. I would have already accomplished the most important one! Time to take out my post-it notes and plaster them all over the house where I will go to avoid the obvious. Look out refrigerator, bathroom, TV, books, here I come!

I will let you know who wins out 🙂

I sing in the key of G. I didn’t know this until I was in my late 40’s.

My Dad was an amazing singer/piano player. He taught himself to play by ear. He never learned to read music. He accompanied himself, found lots of warm and wonderful songs in the key of C, and musical friends who either played, sang, or just enjoyed listening in the key of C.

As I listen now to the radio station playing the songs he sang and loved, I realize I know all the words and music to over a hundred songs by heart. I can’t read music either. I learned them by listening to a father I adored. I was fairly musical as a kid, singing alto in my schools A Capella choir, and being the lead singer in a guitar folk band of three. I loved finding unique harmonies to complement the melodies. It seems I sang by ear also. I sang with my father only when he invited me to, often in front of his friends at parties given frequently at our home. I was only asked to sing Scotch and Soda; a funny choice I often thought for a preteen daughter, but I guess its notes were neither to high nor too low for my range so I didn’t disappoint him and upon finishing I was always greeted with a round of applause, after which I went back to serving horsd’oeuvres.

I later had a son, who not only bore his name, but seemed to inherit his genius for music. I thanked God that I had been a ‘carrier’ of the music gene. When he was in his teens, my son asked me to accompany him on a CD of songs he was making for a fiftieth anniversary gift for his grandparents. I said I would without hesitation, because I trusted my son would not put me, or himself, at risk.

He transcribed some songs for me that I knew by heart but couldn’t sing without stretching my voice. He said merely “Here Mom, you’ll be more comfortable in the key of G”. It was a slight modification, and one that seemed easy for him, but it was a revelation for me. The notes flowed easily and I never feared that my voice would crack somewhere, embarrassing me or anyone else who was listening.

In the key of G, I am a singer. But please don’t ask me to sing in the key of C. There is such a difference in trying with all your heart, but just missing the mark, and easily and competently using a God-given talent. One slight correction and you can have a completely different outcome; for a song, for a life. How much I value those who can hear the solution and offer a simpler, easier path. They are teachers, coaches, parents, children, and open-hearted people everywhere. Keep your ears open, you might just hear that note for someone. Imagine the harmony in a world where everyone could sing the notes they were born to sing.

I am visiting my Mom for the holidays in Vermont, close to its border with New Hampshire. Needlestosay the signs of New England colleges are all around us, but never so present as on the backs of the vehicles. I did notice that most of the vehicles were nearly identical, a Subaru all terrain four wheel drive version being most noticeable, due in part to the frequency of snow here I am sure. One begins to wonder if after graduation all students run out to purchase the same cars,whereby a terrible kind of group think mentality comes to mind. Certainly not what we hope for our best and our brightest.

Does one drive more carefully behind a car that says Dartmouth College than one that says New Hampshire State (If there even is such a campus, I am not sure). Is there a respect afforded the driver of a vehicle with Harvard on its rear window? Do we stay further behind, realizing the occupant may well be a lawyer who could sue the pants off us should we get too close?

I wonder. Some of those cars will be traded in one day, and will  the stickers be removed by the owner prior to the changing of title? We wouldn’t want those signs of our accomplishments driving off with some n’er do well, now would we?

I have to say, I am not that impressed. One could easily stop by any college campus and pick up a sticker that represents nothing but the fact that I know my way to the bookstore on that campus. The one I really admired was one that boldly displayed the colorful letters DD. We all instantly recognized the signature icon for Dunkin Donuts!

As we drove off at the next exit to get a warm cup of hot chocolate and a honey glazed treat, I really believe that guy had more impact on our immediate happiness and comfort than anyone in all the other cars with their impressive college affiliations. Hard to tell what all that expensive education produced in many of the vehicles, except a predisposition to purchase an identical car, but we were certainly grateful the donut guy wore his insignia so proudly!

I had someone email me, complete with a picture of  faux wine and roses, then later one of a box of faux candy, an epistle filled with things that sounded as though he already knew me. I was flattered at first, but later began to be suspicious of a cut-n-paste scenario possibly going on at his desk, complete with files of material printed out from  letters to other women to whom he might be sending similar notes.

After he failed to follow up on a proposed phone call, I went to the site and was able to discern he had been on it recently. Stupid information they make available, but you never know when it might come in handy. Since he had said he would call as soon as he got home, that was the first flag. The second was when he said he would use my regular email next time. When he didn’t I also thought that might render him powerless, should he truly have a control center where he tried to keep everyone straight, venturing off the site with all the pictures and profiles lined up could be a disaster! I also noted that when he called it was from a land line, not a cell phone. Not really important, unless you wanted again to make sure you only took and received calls when all your information was handy in front of you.

OK, Sherlock Holmes I am not. I guess I bring all this up because I am a romantic. The dictionary says: “characterized by freedom of form and spirit, emphasis on feeling and originality, not practical, a visionary” (I think I am a somewhat ‘practical visionary’, but that could just be where my circumstances have brought me over the years).

I, personally, could not possibly feel romantic about five to ten men at a time, but this one protested that he was on a quest after a woman’s heart and was not going to stop till he found one. I wondered, is that the point where he decides to be the romantic? Because there was nothing I could see romantic about trying to woo ten to twenty women at one time. I wish him luck, but I would call him a clever and resourceful salesman, not a romantic (a faux romantic, definitely!).

I have chosen to focus on one person at a time, as they present themselves, and either go forward or stop the relationship based on its merits and chemistry alone. I cannot imagine pitting one man against the other as though we were in high school. Perhaps it is my own attention problem creeping up again, because certainly this is not the way we are told to play ‘the game’.

At this stage of my life, I am going to defer to the wise words of my online mentor, Seth Godin, who says ” If the game is designed for you to lose, don’t play that game. Play a different one”. Hide and Seek, anyone?

I was thinking today about my dog, Gypsy. I know many people prefer to get a dog from a breeder, someone they know who can assure them their new little fur ball will soon exhibit all the fine traits characteristic of the lineage from which he descends. There is almost a guarantee of that, by the AKC registration of his name and his birth certificate.

I wonder how many of those dogs turn out to be the black sheep (a little out of control or feisty perhaps, or a little more laid back than expected?). Do they get returned if they are somewhat of a disappointment to the breed?

Personally, perhaps partly due to cost, I have always gone to the Humane Society for my dogs, unless perchance they showed up on my doorstep (think Gus, a wonderful Shepherd/Doberman mix, as best we could tell) with a kind of “you’re meant to be my family” look in their big brown eyes.This has always brought a kind of fascinating mix into the life of my family, or just now, into my midst.

Those of us willing to take a chance on the unknown often reap the rewards of the best of several breeds, randomly combined by nature and the crossing of eight feet during heat. Gypsy’s background certainly had some very interesting characters. There must have been a hound, perhaps a greyhound, with the long and very swift legs he uses to reach the base of the tree where Mr. Squirrel is counting his days at this juncture.

A shepherd may have stopped in briefly along the way, because his markings and black/caramel coloring are certainly obvious. The scrunched up wrinkly forehead could have been a Basengi,  his curled tail and somewhat different speech patterns are also leading me in that direction.

A lab of some sort may have been a party to this transaction some where way back, because he retrieves beautifully, much unlike Jet, our black Lab mix who could never be taught to come back with the ball. There is a softness to his fur which might match the beagle mentioned in his veterinary paperwork, but besides his wistful expression, I don’t see so much of that.

He has the deep bark of a large breed, the weight of a medium breed and the lightness of a small breed, all wrapped up in one completely undefinable package that suits me…I can spend hours just observing him and watching him reveal who he is, and who he is not. I guess that makes him a kind of muse, and so much more interesting because I do not expect him to live up to any expectations of his breed. I got what I wanted, a dog delighted to be rescued and determined to find a way to become a permanent part of my heart.

Makes me question, do I really want a man who comes with papers? How about one who is just grateful to be appreciated for the mix he already is? I think that is all I want, too. After all, if you love a dog, you learn to deal with the dog hair.

It wasn’t until I was explaining this to a newly pre-qualified woman looking for a home, that I was able to see a parallel in my own life. We had put in the criteria for her new home into a search to see how many homes fit that description. While we thought we had tightened it up a lot, there were 976 homes that fit her description and price range currently on the market in Jacksonville!

Wow. We made the square footage larger and took off town homes, and that brought the figure down…..to 748! She looked at me with an overwhelmed expression and I have to admit, I had to overcome a bit of that myself. I told her that many of these homes had been on the market one year, many more even two years, and they had been looked over many times and hadn’t found a buyer. Perhaps she would easily discard them as well. If she was willing to go through and give a thumbs up or down to the long list of homes that had been on the shelf so long, we would be confident she had not missed the one that was perfect for her.

I was certain, once she chose maybe five to ten of those that we could make an appointment to look at, after we did that there would only be one or two new additions per week and those we could easily keep up with. She got right into it and started narrowing the field immediately, as there were only a few that caught her eye. Once we check those out we may find one that she loves, but if we don’t we will be up to date with everything available and can wait for the new ones to be listed from which to make her final choice.

It never occurred to me before that I was approaching the singles sites the wrong way. When I go back on, with fresh optimism about once every year, I get so overwhelmed in the first week that I almost always check out within a week, at best a month. Partly it is because I see many of the same pictures I saw a year or two ago, the same exactly written profiles, still there. It implies absolutely no growth or change to me, and I have allowed that frustration to stop me dead in my tracks. Aren’t I then only repeating my behavior that hasn’t worked very well for me? Hmmmm.

A house that hasn’t been cared for in a year or two looks none the better for neglect when you see it today. A person who has not even thought to update a picture that obviously isn’t working for them probably isn’t interested in marketing himself very well. He is thinking Ms Right is just going to come along and fall for that old picture and be delighted when they show up in person and look nothing like their old self. Good Luck with that.

It discourages me when I see that and get unsubstantial emails from so many men that I cannot even process them. They hit the button on every attractive new woman, just hoping for the best. This makes the first week or two particularly challenging for a woman. It takes a lot of patience to go through those early responses to get caught up on the backlog. There is probably a point where only the new people come in, and you cease processing the ones who have been there too long and have no interest in changing their tactics.

I personally have never lasted through the backlog. In light of what I was saying to my excited new buyer, anticipating the home of her dreams, I can see that I failed to apply that principal to my own life experience in this area. As difficult as it is, and I am not about to make it my new job, as some apparently are doing, I still would like to believe that I will stand out to Mr. Right For Me Now, and not be just a number on his list of fifty possibilities.

However, Mr. Right For Me Now can’t find me if I have left the building (or the website, as it were). Here’s to perseverance and a new degree of  patience!

I have a bookmark that I keep in my Bible (I update my Bible about every five years, because I make notes in them and I always love a newer version that gives me new perspective and insights). It says on December 9th, 1983, I asked Christ into my life, and my life has never been dull for a moment since then! Now it probably wasn’t boring before that, as I am a person of high energy and life seems to move fast and pick up speed,  but previously I had no framework in which to resolve the recurring drama and disappointment.

So today is my birthday in Christ, and for some reason it is more special to me than the other one that comes every year…possibly because it doesn’t add any lines to my face? I won’t be offended if no one remembers, because I know Someone who will never forget. Nor will I. I was home with a newborn son, wondering why his father had failed to do all he said he was going do when the child was born, among them being accountable and participating in the costs of his care. The fact that this had been a long term relationship and formerly good friendship made the abandonment seem even more crushing; I had a business to run (a gift store at Christmastime….yikes!), another young son to care for, and my world seemed to be crashing around me.

At that moment a single mom from my newly found church came by to offer her time and assistance. In the process of her visit she shared with me the difference her relationship with God through Christ had made in her own life. She made her living as a Mary Kay salesperson, and yet not once did she try to sell me anything (that made a huge impression on me that lingers today….don’t try to “sell” Christ with anything else…..why I was always leery of pyramid schemes that suggested using Christ as a door opener!) Anyway, she tithed her time instead of money she didn’t have, and I am ever so grateful for her obedience.

Twenty seven years later, I no longer remember her name, but I am sure God has it in His Book, and I have the bookmark, to remind me that all my struggles have made sense since that time, and have opened the door to my heart to share His love with any others He sends across my path. May I never cease to be obedient to His voice for the lost and hurting. Not once in all these years have I felt a sense of abandonment from Him, even when something threatened to stir that memory within me.

I believe God has used this year to clear out whatever debris was left of my past, cleaning out closets and garages and attics with me to make way for a beautiful, bright and loving future. Having been willing to go to the mat with Him to clear the foundation and seal the fissures, I am seeing that I am open to all kinds of possibilities that seemed to escape my grasp in the years behind me. I feel as though we have done the hard work together, and the deep cleaning is over. Time to celebrate, throw open the doors and have that Birthday Party! I have asked Him for a special gift this year, and I will let you know when it arrives.

We live in a world where we are either overloaded with too much or teased with too little. How does one make a good decision without enough? Now I am an intuitive person by nature, and my gut is my strong suit (often possibly the nudge of the Holy Spirit) , but once again I am faced with a dilemma I cannot seem to process.

They have evidently changed the format of the singles site I was on about a year ago. Presently the men just hit a button that gives me a message “JoeFish232 wants to meet you”! What happens when you first go on is that every guy watching his screen who sees a decent looking picture come across it hits that button. The whole point to me of writing out a profile and talking about yourself and the kind of person with whom you might be comfortable, was to eliminate it being totally based on looks.

But, alas, it is even more so now than it was a yr ago. This not only annoys me, as I have to go and read all their profiles and look at all their pictures before penning some sort of response, it eliminated the one thing I wanted to know: Are they a good communicator and do they like to communicate and if so, about what? That tells me if I would even want to spend an hour over lunch with them or be bored out of my mind trying to make conversation. I guess this goes back to my previous blog about talk based on what where and with whom you ate. (By the way I did have a wonderful meal with a friend from my Bible study and her son after church last Sunday!)

I am turned off by all the attention paid to the outside of a person. I must admit I give men a wide berth when it comes to that, based more on what they share and if they seem to be an interesting or compassionate person than I initially pay to their picture. Men notoriously take pictures of themselves at their computer, the lens often giving a kind of fishbowl effect to their face. Always one in front of their motorcycle or sports car, which is usually very shiny and clean but they forgot to tuck in their own shirt. And one in their living room, often with a can of beer next to their lazyboy in front of the TV. I look past all of these things initially. I do wish they would hit spell check though, as I have such a difficult time looking past spelling errors. I am working on it, but that would be so easy for them to do. Often a year or two later, their picture is the same and the spell check errors are still there. If they don’t find even that worth changing, so much for character flaws or behavior modifications!

It is difficult. They keep wanting more pictures. I begin to wonder, are you making a scrapbook or are you looking for a real live woman? Do you not trust me when I say I am thin, or do you really think I only offered a face shot because I am hiding four hundred pounds beneath it? I do get discouraged. They are looking for a “classy lady” but do they really think class is something you can buy at Talbot’s? I admit I am perplexed by the way their minds seem to work. Everything they have written in their profile is usually betrayed by their first communication.

Oh for the days when we met at parties and were introduced by mutual friends. When someone could tell by the way you lit up the room or the way your eyes sparkled, that you were a lady of value and passion. It does not compute into a dating website. My dog Gypsy came with more references than any of these potential candidates for relationships will ever have. I think there should be testimonials from former wives, friends, children….someone! I have ten of these to respond to. My ADD has just kicked in and I am pulling my profile off now. God will just have to find another way to do this, because I am exhausted!

I heard from a good friend as a response to my last blog, that her group is her family. I thought about that, and thought how God really did put all the elements into our families that we need to grow emotionally. Unfortunately there is also always the potential to do harm as well. If we really could get a grip on the fact that this group is as committed a group as we may ever find in our lifetimes, even though for the first eighteen years or more of our lives, we may not be there by choice. However, what if we could choose to be there instead of fighting it?

Even though we can never see behind the curtains into what really goes on in a household, there are some families that come to mind when I think of how this might be true for a number of people I know. If we always hold the others in a safe and respectful place, there isn’t much that couldn’t be approached in that atmosphere. Living with others sometimes brings out the best and the worst in us.

As I read this I am watching a documentary on ADD (ADD and Loving It!…on PBS) and I think it is so well done that if it had been around when I was growing up, my family would have had a reference point for my behaviors and struggles, and we could have laughed more with me not always feeling like the brunt of the joke. I would also have been able to get started figuring out how to work with it rather than against it about forty years earlier. Might have saved me stepping into two marriages without much thought as to how that might go for me (and them!)

Wow, see even as I am writing this and totally absorbed, I am also not missing a word of the television program, proving one of the points they have just made! My poor family, they didn’t have a clue how to help me with something they really didn’t understand. No wonder I see ‘problems’ where other people don’t.  I am always trying to sort things that don’t seem out of place to many others. Now if I was only as concerned with the piles of magazines, books and assorted clutter in my home….:-)

This documentary has all the benefits of having ADD also, many of which you may notice in my blog! I hope so anyway. I know that all the people in my life help me appreciate my differences now and the long road it has taken me to get here. Thanks for being there and appreciating the differences!

As for my family, of origin and the one I created, I am going to get this DVD and we are all going to have some ah-ha moments over Christmas! Let the healing begin!