The Everythingers

Envy or gratitude, which one will you choose? I think envy is etched into our hearts through the illusion that there are people out there who have it all. I call them the “everythingers.” In high school they had good looks, good grades and good luck. They were the cheerleaders, jocks and homecoming court. Everybody liked them. We all wanted to be like them. If we were lacking some key ingredient, we felt defective. The marketers know this. They sell us weight loss pills, plastic surgery, overpriced make-up, steroids, and expensive online degree programs. They whisper “you can still make it” and “you may not have been born with the goods, but you can buy them.”

First of all, the everythinger perception is a myth. Someone may appear to have it all, but no one has it all for their whole life. Just like us mere mortals, they gain weight, get divorced, lose money on investments, struggle with their jobs, get frustrated with their children, lose loved ones and eventually die. Does it make any sense to envy them, or to try to become like them, or try to be like anyone else for that matter? Really? Ya think? What a recipe for misery.

I woke up a little grumpy this morning (as usual) and the unseasonably gray skies didn’t help. So I just started saying “thank you.” Thank you for my job, thank you for this breakfast, thank you for this car that still runs and gets me to work. Thank you for my husband, he’s a peach. I have my imperfections, just like the everythingers. I’d like to be in Hawaii snorkeling. My hair won’t do anything in damp weather. Oh well, I’ll hit the pool instead. My hair will look the same. I can eat a little healthier today, work out and firm up. I can choose less coffee and less alcohol and feel better. I like my eyelashes. And I like who I am today. Not every day, but today I can start over.

How often do we ask God “why?” when something bad happens? But do we ask “why?” when something good happens? No, that’s just expected. It’s a mixed bag. We can’t choose everything. But we can choose gratitude. That’ll do.

Superficiality Snob

I'm losing my patience for small talk. Not that I ever had much. I don't want to hear about how much you saved on your car purchase. I'm not that interested in most television shows, especially the "ego on parade" reality shows, and I don't think consuming 2,000 calories in one sitting at a restaurant is all that worthy of note. I guess I would call it "consumer talk." I feel it just consumes precious minutes that could be spent connecting about something more personal or sharing an activity. I love water volleyball. I like bowling. Swimming is life affirming. Every time I lose a loved one I am reminded how valuable, and short, our time on earth is. And how relationships are what matter. I am energized to truly live my life with less talk and more action. And more meaningful interaction. This is the desire of my heart and the deepest whine from my soul.

He was just here

Here are Bob's parents, Angie and Pete Lopez, sitting on our couch on Father's Day. Just a few weeks ago. Bob's sister had written a nice tribute to her dad and was reading it aloud. Her boyfriend had written a song called "You don't have to say good-bye" and had it recorded with family members singing and giving tributes to dad. We played it for dad that day and he just loved it. I was thinking, "this is kind of maudlin, because even though he's been sick for a year, he still seems so strong." I'm so glad we played it for him. Two weeks later, he was gone. Now we are planning his memorial service. It was much more fun paying tribute to him while he was here. A friend of mine wrote a poem for his mother after she passed away called "she was just here." That's how it feels when the loss is so new. I like Beth Nielsen Chapman's "Say Good Night not Good bye." This is surreal. I feel like Pete is on vacation. It seems like he will walk in any minute and say "hi Sue." His voice is still fresh upon my ear. It's almost like he's here.

Our loved ones are always with us. Thanks Pete for accepting me into your family and treating my like your own daughter. Thanks for raising such a wonderful son. He received his gifts of music and art from you. And you showed him how to treat a lady right. He is the man he is because you were the man you were. Your legacy lives on through him. I love you. I miss you. And I'll see you again. You're not getting rid of me.

What was my mission?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFRxDmet-Lo

Here's a little video walk down memory lane. I was temping for a healthcare company and looking for a full-time gig, when my fingers did the walking through monster.com and landed on a listing for a copywriter at Pleasant Holidays. In seconds I was typing, "Dear dream job..." and before I knew it, there I was in the travel buz learning about Hawaii, Mexico, Tahiti, Asia, Australia, Fiji and New Zealand.

The company had just embraced a new mission statement and there was a contest for how to exemplify the new mission. The words "we're on a mission" popped into my head. I heard the sound of a jet in my mind, which reminded me of the Beatles' "Back in the USSR." Then I started playing with words that rhymed with "mission." Wow -- so many -- vision, expedition, competition...and the lyrics just fell out. Bob got the groove going and produced one heck of a song -- I'm never sure where my part ends and his part begins, which is a larger analogy for another time. He played all those instruments. Love the guitar solo -- go Bob! And yes that's me singing. I wanted the song to be a department project, not a solo entry, so my coworkers jumped in, took photos and created a slide show. The big "earth ball" was ours -- a gift to Bob from Donnelle -- and it was a fun photo prop since the company was known mainly for Hawaii travel, and was expanding to "take on the world."

Our little department won the contest and two air tickets to Hawaii. A lot of the folks in the video are not with the company anymore. It wasn't long after the video that the travel industry suffered the economic effects of 2008 and 2009. A new CEO came, layoffs ensued, and the magic was gone. This little memory of the "calm before the storm" will always be special to me, as I hope it is to all who were a part of it.

Redirecting

Yes I've been angry at someone. And you know it must be work related as I have been vague about details. Not my work. My job is good. The point is -- what's the point? Here come all the anger cliches. Hating someone is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat. Anger is a a poison that damages the container. You can't keep a bird from landing on your head, but you can keep it from building a nest in your hair. My anger is justified. Someone is being an inhumane jerk. When an employee tried to negotiate a win-win solution, he is told "maybe this job isn't right for you."

Now to my point -- the anger doesn't serve me. It's futile. REDIRECT it somewhere that matters, toward a battle worth fighting. This isn't even my battle, although it affects me. Another reminder not to fight in my own strength. I want justice! Justice for this mean person. But do I want justice for myself? Have I ever hurt anyone? Um, yeah. How did I feel toward those who judged me? I was very quick to say "God doesn't need your help, He can deal with me all by Himself, thank you very much."

I used to go river tubing, and one of my worst experiences was getting caught in the whirlpool around the trees on the bank. I fell off my tube and almost drowned. Anger is like those trees. It distracts you from the flow and just drags you down. My job is to focus on the river and steer toward the goal of who I want to be. And that is a loving person, not an angry person. Get back on your tube Mama Bear. God's got this.

Change

When the pain of not changing becomes greater than the pain of changing, you'll make that change. And yet it's still so hard to leave the decidedly uncomfortable comfort zone for the great unknown. Why do we cling to our chains? Why do I feel so strongly when someone I love accepts the unnacceptable? I can handle an act of God much better than an act of inhumanity. I'm not angry if my loved one gets cancer. Upset, yes. But I am FURIOUS when someone mistreats my family. I am loaded for BEAR. My mother was like that. She even said she became a mama bear protecting her cub. I called her mama bear. Now that's my moniker. Sandra Bullock said "If you threaten my family, you threatan me" in "The Blind Side." And she was packing.

There is no proven formula for life. There are no risk-free options. I know when I've felt abused or oppressed I've taken action. I can't "just take it." Call me kamikaze. Call me mad dog. Call me mama bear. I don't care. Don't mess with the S.

A little local color

Art is all about contrast. So is my life. This painting by artist Carolyn Counnas spoke to me today. It said, "Remember how much you used to like art Sue?" I liked horses too, but that's another story. Art was my favorite subject in school. I'd sit at the desk, start my assignment and in the blink of an eye Miss Anderson would say "clean up!" I loved when East Junior High implemented block scheduling, giving me two hours in art class. Like most artists, reality and practicalities distracted me from my first love. Life has become a tad structured and square, with less contrast and more gray than I'd like. A lady from my aerobics class invited me to go to the Thousand Oaks Art Walk today. I loved it. It felt divinely appointed. I love that a random connection that I did not "work" for resulted in my attending. And I saw this painting, among others. My artist's heart is feeling decidedly red. My hand is craving the feel of a paint brush. My world feels a little rounder. I think even my eyes are brighter. I think it was a wake-up call from God.