Christmas

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. That sounds a lot like my house this morning. For the first time in many years no one is stirring...making noise...or racing down the stairs to see what Santa left in the stockings. I admit the racing downstairs was usually me - I like the stocking surprise!  Growing up it was the one place you'd never find underwear.  There was always underwear in one of the presents you would open. It's best to find that one first and get it out of the way. Knowing you had one present left and the underwear hadn't cropped it's tidy whitey head yet did take a little joy out of that last package. Don't get me wrong, underwear is a staple for many of us - not all of us, but many of us....

There's something special about Christmas morning.  The world around you becomes peaceful while worries and stress disappear. As a kid I would open each present and make a nice stack out of them. Clothes neatly piled and toys/games arranged according to size. When I was all done opening gifts, I would take each stack to my room and spend time looking at each one, deciding where the clothes would go and what toy to play with first. As an adult I find that I do the same thing. My stuff is always in a neat pile awaiting their turn to go upstairs for a more detailed examination. Most clothes wouldn't be worn right away. Socks for instance would sit until I wore out my existing ones. New simply had to wait their turn to get in the rotation. Sometimes that turn came months later.

This morning I woke up, walked downstairs and it felt different. I knew it would and was ready for it. Still...it wasn't easy. It was empty. I turned on the Christmas lights, fired up a candle, flipped on the fireplace, and found some soft classic holiday tunes on the radio - topped it off with a bowl of Cheerios. Soon I was texting Christmas wishes and feeling better. I decided to run an easy 5 mile loop. It was as much for the exercise as it was to escape the quiet. Minutes later David texted me asking if I was going to run. He ran to my house and at 7:30 we were off.  We ran slow, talked the entire time, and before we knew it, we were in front of his house and I giving him a Christmas hug. I so appreciated his company this morning - more than he knew. I ran home feeling better, refreshed.

Time to slide into the hot tub I thought. The water was warm and my little bird friends were singing in the bushes, flying about, and working their way through the food I had out for them. A little hummingbird was zipping around the backyard having the time of her life. I love my backyard. Not too big, neat and tidy, and comfortable. Some day I will move and the backyard will be the one thing I miss. As the jets massaged my back I thought about this year, tallying my wins and losses. My record is much like the Seahawks...wins were small, losses big. I've played the game films over and over in my head and learned many lessons from them. I've already changed my game and haven't been sacked since. My front line isn't made up of huge 300+ pound sweaty belly fat linemen, but rather great friends and family who each in their own way have kept me on my feet. Without them who knows where I'd be. Me, I don't want to think about it. Instead I will move forward, look ahead, but at the same time be sure to enjoy the moment I am in at that time. Special people make special memories - you know who you are and thank you for that. Until we meet up again, enjoy every day, treat people better than they deserve, worry less about yesterday while you plan for tomorrow, Run...don't jog.

Predictable

Predictable. That's me alright. Or is it?  I often hear that I am. I hear that I am other things too but this is a family blog so I won't go there. Family blog?  Sure, haven't you noticed that I don't swear any longer. Mr Clean, that's me. Not to say that from time to time I won't slide one in - just saying that I don't need to swear in my blog. How did I make that change you wonder. I had an intervention, spent 30 days in the "clinic", and washed my mouth out with soap every time I slipped.  Thank goodness for the Costco soap pack. Those 48 bars not only cured me but occasionally bubbles pop out when I burp.

See, I'm rambling. Predictable, I ramble. Sometimes I don't even know I'm talking. It's clear that I'm probably saying something very important. Why else would I be talking? Am I afraid of silence? A case of quietaphobia? I think not. I say things as they flow into my brain. They're floating around in there and bam, next thing I know I hear myself talking. It's such a short trip from brain to mouth. Is that why men sometimes think with their other er, brain? A little more distance helps right? Nope, that one just spells trouble - seems to be more of a divining rod than a brain. Either way, it's not much of a thinker.

Does being predictable make me boring?  Or safe and comfortable? Truth be told, I like a good routine. I'm not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy. It's best to lay out a plan and follow it. Control it. That's my happy place. I wake every day at 4:00am except for weekends when it's 5:30am. Bedtime is 10:00pm. Granted that's only 6 hours of sleep but it seems to work. I usually eat the same 4-5 meals for dinner and lunch is either a turkey sandwich on whole wheat with mustard (never the deadly mayo) and a slab of cheese or it's a can of tuna. I eat it right from the can. Easier. Faster. Not a dish wasted. I make my lunch, lay out my clothes, and pack my gym bag the night before. The heat turns on at 3:30am and off at 4:30am. Back on at 5:30pm and off at 9:30pm. I buy gas at the same station, have done 90% of my grocery shopping at the same Albertsons for 14 years. Same Dry Cleaner for 12. My latte is 16oz non fat no foam 180 degrees.

I could go on but sh**, I'M starting to find myself boring. Having said all that I believe I am becoming more flexible. Fine - are you done with your little laughing fit yet?  I do step out of my comfort zone. Case in point - swimming. Frickin dislike water more than you know but I am in the pool every week. Sundays at noon, Thursday at 8:00, with a Monday and/or Saturday thrown in for good measure. The secret? Water Angels. Enough said. I'm teaching Taylor how to drive and didn't even flip out when he drove up and curbed a tire. No, he wasn't driving my car but that's not the point....

My friends are helping me stretch myself and I appreciate it even though I might not tell them often enough. They help me more than they know, each in their own way. I bought shoes that I would never have bought on my own. Jeans that cost more than $35 and go down well past my ankles. I don't always tuck in my shirt anymore. If a sock has a hole in it I throw it away instead of turning it over and getting another six months out of it. I have however stepped out a little too far and like the guy pushing his luck at the Blackjack table, finally lost...big. You can never win your money back. The harder you try the more you lose. The best thing to do is to stop, count your losses, and step away from the table. I'm looking for balance and I think I'm closing in on it. There are things I need as much as the air I breathe and I will always embrace them, never take them for granted, and appreciate them daily. I think I'll like that guy. He is safe. Comfortable. Dependable. A person you can count on. Predictable.

Calling

My heart calls out,
ringing out like a gun shot in the night,
reaching around like branches to a tree.
Searching for meaning.
Searching for a place to call home.
A graceful hearth.
A place where it is free, free to express it's emotion.
A sanctuary of love.
My heart rests in the dark, awaiting the light.
The light that carries a smile.
A graceful smile with soft lips.
Lips that kiss away the dark, the lips of an angel.
For now my heart waits, waits for the lips to come it's way.
A hand to hold it, to guide it though the dark.
For now my heart fights by itself,
fighting off dark essences.
Creating a pathway, a pathway of tranquility,
opening the way for the angels lips,
the way for my heart to be discovered.
My heart is strong,
for if the light does not show, my heart will still survive.
Survive to live another day of hope.
Hope for the day its savior will come.
The day that the dark will be defeated,
conquered by the light, the light from Heaven.

My son wrote this and I like it. He's 17 and has gone through much of what the average teenager experiences. Love has found him and love has snuck away in the dark, leaving him questioning everything. He is strong yet quiet, smart with his dad's sense of humor, alone yet surrounded. Last year he scaled a wall that no one of his years should have had to climb. Yet he did it with courage, maturity and grace. I am proud of who he is and the man he's becoming.