1. A warm, semi-clean house.
2. The unprovoked, innocent hugs of my five year old boy.
3. My comfy, overstuffed chair and ottoman. I could live on this, 24-7.
4. Only 3 weeks until the East Coast!
5. A lazy morning….and I do mean lllaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzyyyyyyyy.
1. Grateful I have eyes to see and hears to hear.
2. Sweet sleep.
3. New adventures that help me see the beauty in my own life.
4. Random happenstances that aren’t so random.
5. The love of friends.
Dear Nikki,
It was only two months ago that you and I sat in the lab chatting and doing our thing. Suddenly you said “Jen, I want you to sing at my funeral.” I remember chuckling and saying “Well sure, but that won’t be any time soon. Right?”
You died on a Monday. On the following Saturday, I sang at your funeral.
I am now realizing that ANY TIME would have been too soon, let alone the short month between that casual conversation and your funeral. But, I did what I said I would do and I almost made it through the entire song without shedding a tear, until I looked at your mom and dad. My heart broke for them. As my voice broke with my heart, I realized that I was sorrowing no longer just for me, but for those who lost their daughter, their sister, their aunt and their fiancée.
The Sunday night before your death, I thought that I should text you and say hello. Text you and tell you how much I love you. Just text you. Who knows why? I talked myself out of it because I knew I would see you on Wednesday. I should have done it. I should have told you what I wanted to say and since I didn’t, I am going to take a few minutes right now. I am hoping you will be watching over my shoulder as I type this–so that you’ll know just how much you mean to me. Truth be told, I have sent you a text message a few times since you left me and foolishly I sit there holding my phone, waiting for a response. But they don’t come. Somehow it makes me feel better knowing that still have your number in my phone. Like you’re not so far away.
A story is told of a man walking along a beach. As he is walking he comes upon starfish along the coastline–thousands and thousands of starfish. Down the beach he sees a young boy throwing the starfish back into the ocean, one at a time. He approaches the boy and asks him what he is doing. The boy says “I am throwing these starfish back into the ocean. I want to save them. I want to help” Hoping to show the young boy his wisdom, the man replies “You’ll never do it. There are too many of them. It doesn’t matter–don’t waste your time.” The young boy stops, poised to throw another starfish into the ocean. He turns and looks at the man as he says “It matters to this one,” and he throws the starfish out to the surf.
Every day I would come to work, do my thing and look forward to 4:00. The time when my Nikki would dance into the lab and giggle. That precise moment is the time that I felt like I was one of the starfish on the coast that was being rescued and cast out to sea…by someone who knew that it did matter.
It’s been almost three weeks of lonely and every day I come here and see the chair you used to work in and think of you.
You made me feel like I was important and lovely and worthwhile. You laughed at my jokes with your contagious laugh and would spontaneously throw your arms around me as you told me that you loved me. Your sense of humor and your compassionate heart made working in a place of illness and sorrow so much easier. You reminded me that silly is good and that when you feel something, you say it! Right then! Don’t wait! Even if it causes embarrassment and giggles! Go for it man! And yes, you cried with me too. When some things seemed just too much to bear.
Since your death, the ties that bound some of us who knew and loved you have been binding, indeed. We have forged better friendships and have leaned on one another through the moments when we internalize that you are gone. Sometimes thoughts of you pass between us like a charge of electricity and, more often than not, they go unspoken except for the knowing glance we share with one another. You have made us stronger, individually–much like the starfish–and as a band of individuals who knew you and loved you and learned from you. You have truly made a difference.
Finally, Nikki, I want you to know that the way you passed doesn’t matter to me. The fact is that you are gone. It has been a blessing for me to be able to contemplate the plan that I believe God has for each of us and to reflect on the comfort and security it affords us. I know you live, still, and not just inside those of us who were your fans and friends, but that your spirit lives on and that one day I will see you again! You will continue to be my friend and I will continue to be blessed because of it.
Love your face, Nikki!
Jen XOXO
The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:
The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.
A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 3,300 times in 2010. That’s about 8 full 747s.
In 2010, there were 61 new posts, not bad for the first year! There were 22 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 23mb. That’s about 2 pictures per month.
The busiest day of the year was July 31st with 126 views. The most popular post that day was The Ugly Name.
The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, segullah.org, kristengregson.blogspot.com, ourdaisypatch.blogspot.com, and libbyfry.blogspot.com.
Some visitors came searching, mostly for peculiarandco.com, mission shoes, sunglasses with writing on them, segullah retreat poetry, and peculiarandco.
These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.
The Ugly Name July 2010
14 comments
About Mrs. Peculiar… May 2010
3 comments
Women’s Pull August 2010
10 comments
Mission Shoes July 2010
2 comments
A Letter For Hope June 2010
Snazzy! Thanks, everyone, for stopping by in 2010!
1. Christmas break is over. Sanity has been restored! (…and I mean that in an “I love my kids” kind of way.)
2. Finding things in my home to donate to the local thrift shop. I love watching that donation pile grow.
3. Favorite books sitting prettily on my bookshelf.
4. Laughing at campy 80′s movies that I haven’t seen in years. ”Strange Brew” to be exact. Bob and Doug are such hosers.
5. The phrase “deeds of derring-do”. Maybe performing my own deeds of derring-do should be on my daily to-do list. Then it could be called my “Daily Deeds of Derring-Do To-Do” list. Mouthful.
I was going to be all cool and do some “2010 Countdown” and share tidbits of my year with you. Only there’s one problem: I don’t remember much about 2010.
Really. Upon careful consideration, I have decided that I have a terrible memory. I don’t remember much from my childhood, I don’t remember much growing up. I don’t remember much from this year. I DO remember some of the emotional ups and downs, but it’s hard for me to pinpoint if it was an actual event that caused them or just the feelings of everyday life.
As the days run together and mundane tasks are completed, the canvas of my memory is washed by the blah white of them. They seem to swallow up and fade the vivid colors of the “special” events of the year…leaving me with one of those monochromatic pictures that’s supposed to be funny: ”Snowman in Snowstorm”, “1,000,000 Snowflakes Among Marshmallows”, ”White Chocolate in Santa’s Beard”. Not that I really care what my canvas looks like. I do mind, however, not having any real memories that stand out.
So I am going to scrape the bottom of the barrel and re-cap my year with things I DO remember. Ugly or not.
I love the feeling of a new year, fresh with anticipation and wonder. I also love the feeling of the old year, melancholy as it may be. With the coming of a new year comes the expectation of change, hope and improvement. A new canvas to be painted on. A new masterpiece, maybe, or the glimmer of one yet to come.
I think Tennyson summed it up best with his poem, “Ring Out Wild Bells”:
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night–
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.Ring out the old, ring in the new–,
Ring happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land–
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
A peaceful, happy and warm New Year to you all. Wherever you may be.
It always strikes me, and it is very peculiar, that when we see the image of indescribable and unutterable desolation – of loneliness, of poverty and misery, the end of all things, or their extreme – then rises in our mind the thought of God.
Vincent van Gogh
1. I am thankful for my job…yes I am.
2. My home is warm, my kids are fed.
3. Pedi tomorrow! Woot!!!
4. Thankful for my friends, far and near.
5. Ryan Reynolds. Single. Again. (Now before you think I’m a heartless bimbo let me just remind you that I am a great gal with a fun personality who likes to watch Ryan in my family room with my good husband and four kids surrounding me. At least give me this much.)
I’m here if you need me, my friend.
Yes, it has been so long since I have written.
I could yammer on about how busy I have been or how I’ve been trying to keep up with the children or other some such nonsense when the truth is, I haven’t known what to say. I would have fleeting thoughts about things that I COULD write about but when it came right down to it, I could have pumped out about three sentences….four, tops. So I didn’t write. Anything. Public or not.
I’ve missed it.
I’ve needed it.
The past few days I have felt the beginnings of something stewing in me and as I’ve rolled it around in my head, I have also wondered about what kind of reaction I might get. Then I remembered I write for myself. How others react is residual. Though my intent is not to offend, my intent is also to be true to what I am feeling.
Sunday was a bad day for me, spiritually. My track record for church attendance has been poor in the past 3 months. When you consider the fact that I work every other Sunday and have had no real desire to go on the other Sundays, it doesn’t leave much for me to work with. Finally, FINALLY, this past Sunday I was looking forward to my meetings. It was a refreshing and welcome feeling after such a long absence. As I anticipated attending Relief Society (a women’s meeting, for those of you who don’t know) I became happy. I have felt for a while that I need to be there…to nourish me spiritually. I imagined sitting there, being able to think and ponder and listen and just SIT. Not having to do anything. I received a phone call shortly before church, asking me to play the piano in Primary (the children’s meeting). This meant that I wouldn’t be able to attend the meeting that I was looking forward to. Though I am generally happy to do what is asked of me for anyone, this particular Sunday I agreed to play and then felt like I could cry. In fact, I did cry. I tried not to but I couldn’t help it. To make matters worse, I didn’t cry when I was at home in private, I cried while I was playing the piano. Then this kicker: the piano faces everyone in the entire Primary. I was hoping it just looked like allergies. ”Maybe,” I thought, “it doesn’t look like I am sour and not wanting to be here.” When someone approached me and asked me if I needed a Tylenol because I looked like I was in pain I realized that I didn’t look well as I was trying to hold it all in. Unsuccessfully, evidently. And so, I felt as if I had failed. Again. What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I happy to serve? Why was I so disappointed? Why could I only think of myself? I felt deflated and beaten. I left church early because I just wanted to forget it all. I was embarrassed by my aloofness.
I have thought about this some since Sunday and haven’t come up with a satisfactory answer. Nothing that would look good in a crowd of church-going folks, anyway. I can come up with all kinds of pat “sunday school” answers; the kinds of answers that sound good and are completely ideal in theory. What I can’t do is justify my Sunday foible in any way that would fit the “sunday school” answer category and sound beautiful and edifying. The only explanation I can give is that sometimes, you have to be selfish. Especially when you’re floundering. Sometimes it’s more important for a person to take care of their needs first–no matter how sorry a soul it makes them look to others–in order to keep on the right track. While I know that service to others is important, like lifeblood, it certainly doesn’t do me any good if I’m not able to provide a needed service to myself. I may be way off base here. Well, off base for others, anyway. But for me? This is where I stand right now. Perhaps down the road I will be able to see things with different eyes and step out of myself enough to truly be an asset. Right now, this is the best I can do.
Time was, not too long ago, that my religion defined me. It defined who I was and what I said, how I acted and what I chose to do. Stepping away from that idea has been scary and isolating at the same time. Unfortunately, I feel that stepping back religiously has also alienated me (in some degree) from those that I associated with in my neighborhood and during meetings on Sunday. I have never felt abandoned or mistreated by anyone around me. In fact, I was given the space that I (at times) requested from those involved in my life at a religious and a casual level. That has been a tremendous blessing in and of itself. Now, as I look back, I hope that none of my actions during such a personal turbulent time caused any sort of hurt or anger in others. I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about what I was dealing with during my depression and inactivity. It was simply easier for me not to have to deal with others because I was having a hell of a time dealing with myself already. I was falling apart and didn’t want anyone else to watch it with me. And now? Now I am afraid that the space I created isn’t easy to close. What’s worse, I’m not sure that I want to close the gap. It’s far to easy to be disjointed from a congregation than have to worry that what I am doing is right or wrong or not being done at all. For me, for now, my religion is a personal thing. In my case, maybe that’s the best way.
It’s been such a long time since I have been grateful for anything…gotta get it rolling!
1. I LOVE Thanksgiving. More than for the turkey, it’s a holiday we all need but it gets skipped by so many every year.
2. Thankful for family. My own, but the siblings and in-laws and outlaws and such…
3. A new, cute, sassy do!
4. Eyes to see more than just the tangible.
5. A warm house. I love my little house.
