Autrovert Diaries: MUSTANG MOMENT

     Ka-zing, -zing... -zam! My grandson's pulverizing death ray shoots through the computer screen as we Skype. Inspiration randomly comes, to exit when zinged. The glee in grandson's widened eyes is evident as he energetically giggles and clearly says...DeDe!!

     I pop back to the screen, and JJ joins the entertainment. Our 3-year-old is ready for rounds 2, 3, 4, etc. as both grandparents exit the screen when ka-zinged. His arcade-like, repetitive nature is fed, and we non-verbally communicate interest in his world. What is our ultimate goal? To chat with our daughter.

     That is just one brief and treasured Skype session. It ends as my lips approach the screen's microscopic camera to send a smooch-kiss with: DeDe loves you!



The "One, genuine & tasteful" rule applies to "Mustang Moments" too

     It is more than worth our repetitive zinging play when his garbled
...wove woo... boomerangs back, with a responsive and reciprocated smooch kiss.

    This simple playtime with our treasured little duckling probably won't be remembered by him years from now. He's too young. But, there is another who viewed our grandparental yielding "Mustang Moment."

     ...our dearest daughter might remember, and hopefully she feels our endearing love, for her.

Proverbs 22:6
Train up a child in the way [s]he should go: and when [s]he is old, [s]he will not depart from it.

"Mustang Moment" inception is in a previous blog, a gallop (or easy click) away

Autrovert Diaries: The LAND OF SWAN

     Something awakens me at 3:00 a.m. (probably my husband's trip to the bathroom; not unusual). Sleep refuses to return, even after 30 minutes (not unusual). Off I traipse to the kitchen for laptop therapy. I mistakenly open a can-of-worms email which creates herculean restless and wrestling emotions. This night-owl is awake for 2 more hours (not unusual, but for longer than usual).

     Finally, I return to bed. Ah, sleep returns. Just before re-awakening, a brief but defining first-ever dream-scenario occurs. I am in a room with others, and I catch the eye of elderly Grandma Schoene (my husband’s grandmother). I approach her, and we warmly hug, for lengthy moments. She then whispers SIX. KEY. WORDS:

"It will all work out fine."

     I open my eyes to a most unusual, foreign, nurtured and warm calm. Who cares about that email, anyway? Everything will work out fine! 

     This dream and its therapeutic result may seem trivial to most, but it is my first-ever dream-hug. I awoke feeling warm and peaceful, and I now ask: Is it normal to have disjointed dreams and only rare dream-dialogues? Did I ever bond with my mother?

     My childhood mind was foggy, and I felt incredible tension and emotion. Eye contact and meaningful communication were rare. Two vivid, early childhood, eye-to-eye-like encounters include:

1. Age 6, after a night of loud fighting, my well-meaning Mom and Dad together make an (unfulfilled) promise to one very confused little girl: "I heard you crying last night... Daddy will never get drunk again" (the sole alone-communication with my parents that I recall prior to junior high).
2. Age 7-ish, I sled and re-sled a short mound of snow, when a random, nurturing female teen stoops to my level. She attempts to look this tousled, rumpled soul straight in the eyes and says: "Let me tighten your babushka."  



How do you tie a babushka? With a scarf knot.

     During the developmental ages 1 to 6, a figurative, powerful and crippling weather front hit our home... similar to the Midwest's 2014 polar vortex. The deep-freeze halted my relational development. Our manageable family of five swirled, adding three, stair-step, younger-siblings. The weather front hovered, with the freezing mix of one in-state move, an infant sister's near-death spinal meningitis, and Mom's 1960s invasive gallbladder removal, with 4-week recuperation.

     I was unable to pull myself out of the deep-freeze and have no recollection of older-sibling nor kindred-Grandmother help... maybe due to brain freeze? At age 6, random family dysfunction crashed into our world. Throughout my high school years it intensified, and I didn't know to console my younger three siblings. Desperately-needed training... to enter the Land of Family Connection... was iced.

I'm the dork, sandwiched between Barbie dolls & spears, photographed by older bro.
Mom's gallbladder issues & random family dysfunction were spinning

     Birthed in the mortal-middle of five other energetic siblings, sandwiched tightly between two dare-devil brothers, we enjoyed family ice skating, Mary Poppins "parades," and craft activities. I, unfortunately, felt too old for younger-sister Barbie fashion shows, and I was too young for older-sister Girl Scout meetings. My brothers' ritual ant burnings and savage frog hangings were unsettling. I later learned that the scallywags once hid on either side of our bushes, frightfully ambushing my best friend, viciously waving sticks and scaring her to death. Safety inspectors needed to label our home: Quarantined.

     I was generally the invisible floater; neither noticed nor teased, painfully alone and unable to break through to join age- and gender-cohesive family relationships. I was reactive. Dysconnected parental approaches failed miserably. I assumed a cat-like pose with arched-back scary hisssss. The deep-freeze continued to swirl, containing me. What was my relator-wannabe's essence?

Autistically P.o.l.a.r.i.z.e.d.

(dropping damaging ice balls to survive; with rare, selfless adult-yields to thrive.
Do I fall somewhere on the wide autistic spectrum? It's a jump-ball)

     A tender "yield" moment in the (somewhat cheesy and predictable) movie, The Princess Diaries, hits my vulnerable Achilles heel. It is warmly connecting and can almost be missed by the untrained autrovert eye. The unexpected death of gawky teen Mia's long-distance father (who unbeknownst to her was Prince of Genovia) creates tension for a microwave-speed, ugly-duckling TO graceful-swan, transformation.

      Queen Grandmother's recent, first-ever, face-to-face introduction into Commoner Mia's American life, combined with swan stressors, is ripe for relational deep-freeze. Rather than creating a larger grand-gap, the busy yet endearing Queen senses Mia's discouragement. She intentionally chooses "the important over the urgent" [Covey] combined with the warm, extended-hug, connection-approach:

"Let's have fun together...

will you be my San Francisco tour guide?

Yielding MUSTANG MOMENT: ...alright, Mia, we'll take your

undependable, treasured, vintage MUSTANG."

 

      Queen Grandmother's selfless "yield" to Mia unleashes my blubbery, all-consuming, ugly cry. Did her treasured little duckling successfully navigate: THE LAND OF SWAN?

      Will this autrovert healthfully model "Mustang Moments" and babushka-tyings to her ducklings?

My "Mustang Moment" is just a gallop (or easy click) away


 

30 Days of Thankful Thoughts

     Thankfulness for me is an unnatural state of mind. I must be intentional and reminded to be thankful, especially throughout November 2013. I am grateful to have Facebook's "nudge" as an accountability partner, embracing 30 days of Thankful Thoughts combined with BlogSpot's opportunity to compile all of the days. Day 30's Frozen finale is at the very bottom of this entry.

Day 1: unique thankfulness from FB

Day 2: I'm NOT the acclaimed Grandma with the hand-written treasured recipe, voted as... "The Worst Vintage Recipe Ever Made": Jell-O with Shrimp Frosting. Yuck!

Day 3: "Sisters" + free quality theater entertainment + finale sensory surprise + time-change extra hour = enjoy!



Day 4: pumpkin identification

Day 5: As I lay in bed this morning, deep thankfulness about an extraordinary inanimate object came to mind... chocolate, chocolate, chocolate! (Dark chocolate, of course). I try to limit myself to 21 chocolates a day--chips.

 

Day 6: Ownership of a furry feline has never been possible due to sneezing, wheezing allergies. Oh the joy to finally possess at least the illusion of a purring friend in my home.

Day 7: Memories of my 6th grade teacher Mrs. Piper, championing me, an average student, for one of the coveted crossing guard positions, connecting with this invisible middle-of-6 child with subtle, respectful, intentional, targeted reminders, communicating to me in various ways: "Minus 18 sucks; +2 says 'I ain't all bad' ". Educators Mary, Jeff, and other student champions, you are performing a special, superhuman mission, "to infinity and beyond."

 

Day 8: Because of skilled medical professionals, my life was undeservedly spared [from breast cancer] over 7 years ago. Today, professionals will skillfully remove swollen adenoids from a special little guy's throat and impacted teeth from his wise pop's mouth. Two "nurses" will be very busy this weekend... so glad God AND Nana are there with my daughter.

 

Day 9: I transform sheer panic... to hope with a desperate, single-finger, hunt-&-peck internet search: SUPER GLUE FINGERS!!!!!! Hot water + vinegar + dish soap and a finger soak = fused thumb & index finger freed, with skin intact . The wonders of the information highway.

 

Day 10: Sunrise & sunset, daisies, dancing, a child's laughter & drooled smooches, power walks & hand-holding, scrambled eggs, apple pie, Party Burritos, twinkle lights & stars, crashing waves, fireworks, purring kittens, horses, good hair days, re-watching favorite movies... singing, giving, the Bible & challenging messages & going. These are a few of my favorite things for which I am thankful.

 



Dad is the WWII finger-pointer

Day 11: "Veterans Day is an official United States holiday which honors people who have served in armed service, also known as veterans... It coincides with other holidays such as Armistice Day and Remembrance Day, which a...re celebrated in other parts of the world and also mark the anniversary of the end of World War I. (Major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, when the Armistice with Germany went into effect.)
      Veterans Day is not to be confused with Memorial Day; Veterans Day celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans, while Memorial Day is a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving." (Wikipedia)
      Very thankful for all veterans, and remembering my WWII Dad and other family members & friends who have bravely served, and those who continue to serve, to protect our freedoms. The finger-pointer in the pic is 21-year-young Air Force Lieutenant/Pilot Dad simulating preparing his squadron for a South Pacific reconnaissance mission. He'd reflect: "If I had known what I know now about how dangerous those flights were, I would have been afraid!"  TAKE-AWAY: You are not defeated by the greatness of your problem, but by the smallness of your spirit. Dad had a large spirit.

 

Day 12: As we eagerly prepare for our extended-stay Thanksgiving crew, obsessive-compulsive & amathophobic (fear of dust) tendencies are heightened. On this frigid fall morning, I hesitantly attempt to re-arrange & re-claim... the "man cave"!! So thankful that: 1) Syngenesophobia (fear of family) & frigophobia (fear of the cold) are not my phobias, and 2) my husband is not grumpy Fred Flinstone.

 

Day 13: Thankful for the warmth of our home, a comfortable bed, warm steel-cut oats for breakfast, water to brew green tea, a roof over my head [that's new!], more clothing & coats & footwear than I need [strikingly apparent during an ongoing closet project], health, and enough extra to give to the desperate people in the Philippines. Praying for their dire needs to be met [post-typhoon].

 



Day 14: As the sun rises on another brisk morning and my husband finishes yet another early run, I am grateful for his steady strength. He is a kind, giving, serving, loving, funny, faithful, generous, wise, and godly man. I was keenly reminded of my abundance last night as my very busy husband took time to accompany me to hear an important message, on thankfulness.

Day 15: Thankful for physical capabilities: eyes to see, ears to hear, feet to walk to destinations & dance, teeth & tongue & a sense of smell to enjoy food, vocal chords to talk, hair to curl & style & fiddle with, hands for tools & touch, lips for kissing, arms for hugging, a heart to feel, a mind to think, good memories [& so far a decent memory], a clear conscience, AND restful sleep.

Day 16: For today's entry only, I turn from Dreamy Della to Sober Sally. If all is stolen by fire, hail, flood, famine, tornado, hurricane, tsunami, typhoon, or looters, I might miserably complain, however, I would hopefully dig deep to be thankful for three… FOREVER… indestructible intangibles: 1) my spirit, 2) my Savior's love, and 3) my brilliantly beautiful, eternal, heavenly home.

Day 17: I may not be the fastest horse in the stable, but I'm thankful to get out most days for steady gallops.

Day 18

Day 18: After much negotiation and deliberation, our front door is agreeably spruced up for the holidays, and it pops!

Day 19: Since I attempt to be a person who walks by faith and not by sight, I am thankful that, tomorrow, with the help of more dark chocolate for motivation, my sabbatical's first to-do will finally be crossed off the list: Purge & organize my clothes closet. Check! ♪...I love ya, tomorrow. You're always a day away! ♪

Day 20: Fond memories are rekindled unearthing a crafted Wee Mouse House; mementos, events & meals with friends & chats; neighbor-walks; shopping excursions, calls & festive family times together; small groups; Facebook "community"... all people-connections for which I am thankful.

Day 21: So thankful that my two grown children have their devoted Grandma, who prays for them by name every morning, cheers them on, and loves them very much. Now, THAT is priceless. AND, she makes pumpkin pie, too ♥♥!



Day 22 & MY Olaf (see Day 30)

Day 22: Because I love both holidays, and the Christmas season is shorter this year, I'm thankful for ways to celebrate Thanksgiving AND, tastefully, warm into Christmas, with a Thanksmas theme. Still tweaking the set-up... & creating a Minion-themed birthday cake. Hopefully it all doesn't turn out despicable, oh, me.


Day 23: Reflecting that exactly one year ago today, Thanksgiving 2012 was complete...

Day 23

...The savory turkey, cooked-in-a-crockpot, in-transit to Tulsa, was a success as well as the rest of the meal. A Thanksgiving walk with our son and memories are now cherished, treasured times. This year there are 6 extra days until Thanksgiving, for creating thoughts, for Thought, and for that I am thankful.





Day 24: Just 2.5 more days until the ETA, then 1 day, and then THE day. Thankful that we're almost ready and we are all well.

Day 25: A sheltered garage, dependable transportation, and nearby grocery stores with plentiful ingredients will be beneficial as I stock my cupboards this week. Important grocery list additions for the grandchildren: 1% milk (rather than no-fat), Nutri-grain bars & yogurt. Oh, and looking forward to DWTS tonight for needed evening chill-time.

Day 26: Very grateful for a least one steady income regularly coming into our household. I'm spending it!

Day 27: Our organized walk-in closet is morphed into a temporary pack-'n-play nursery for our little one's quiet, cave-time sleeping... maybe not quiet for DeDe & JJ, but thankful we're still young. (Disclaimer with two, of innumerable, safety precautions: make sure there is no possibility of shelf items falling on baby AND we carefully mounted my daughter's baby monitor for continuous safety and clear viewing...to repeat, use wise caution for your precious bundle)

Day 28: Thanksgiving thanks for many things, including my daughter's growing family.

Day 29:  Thankful that the onset of flu symptoms came early enough to legitimately justify avoiding all Thanksgiving food prep & its luscious but lavish 2,500-calorie meal, and timely enough to perform kitchen clean-up for therapeutic OC distraction from yuck feelings. Sometimes being thankful is about turning lemons into lemonade.

Our kinda/sorta impaled Minion?

Day 30:  It's lemonade time again as I embrace... freedom? listening to Vertical Church band's ♫Found in You♫ and ♫I'm Going Free♫, picking up half-chewed cookies, strewn toys and ribbon used for "tie, tie, tie" fun; pitching Taco Bueno party burrito fixins; emptying water from Nemo's miniature fishbowl; uncovering a left-behind Avent baby bottle; savoring half-eaten Minion birthday cake; removing the dinette table's leaf and a portable pack-'n-play from the master bedroom's helpful walk-in closet; ejecting Megamind from the VCR,
    

We enter Frozen's ☼laf-land

....and fondly seguing to Frozen's homely show-stealer sunny Snowman Olaf contrasted with my CUTE Olaf (see Day 22).
     Oh, how I fight the urge to Mother Hen my grown children! Instead, I painstakingly step back and allow them to embrace their full potential by letting go of my personal fears and insecurities, balanced with measured help-versus-freedom... it all equals love. It is similar to the love the Heavenly Father demonstrates to me daily.
     I am thankful for my Heavenly Father's amazing love, measured help... and freedom. ♫It is found in You♫... ♫He threw my shackles in the sea♫... ♫Jesus is my liberty... I'm going FREE.♫

PAPA : The Grand-Factor

The Grand-Factor

     In last month's blogs, I attempted to tickle taste buds for Larry Crabb's book The PAPA Prayer (the right sidebar contains links to August's PAPA blogs). Now, I cautiously approach The PAPA Prayer's step #1 and search for ways to warm readers into its significance. To some, it may seem like aimlessly talking to walls, learning a foreign language, or an awkward dance.

 

     In Step #1, PRĒSENT, the goal is to become vulnerable and brutally honest with yourself and with God. To help grasp this idea, it is important to take a temporary detour. In a recent Today Show segment, a Boston College study shares intriguing findings that I label, The Grand-Factor. Their research concludes that: "Grandparents and adult grandchildren who are close are both less likely to be depressed." The positive effect is mutual, for the grandparent and the young adult.

     A grandparent helps the young adult to have a link to someone who has "been there & done that; survived; and come out on the other end." Active, surviving grandparent(s) who give back rather than just being cared for benefit from the relationship. Accept grandma's family china set when she offers it; show grandma or grandpa your resume.

     In the movie The Vow (based on a true story), the Grand-Factor is absent, but would have been beneficial. A traumatic head injury leaves young Newlywed Paige with no remembrance of Husband Leo. Her parents, sister, and high school buddies remain distinctly in Paige's memory banks, except for one critical and pivotal piece of family history. Five years previously, her dad's humiliating affair, with Paige's high school buddy, propelled her to sever all ties with family, as well as any law aspirations... and pursue her creative side.

     If anyone needed the Grand-Factor, didn't devastated Paige as an older teen? To have a caring, loving, and close idyllic "Grandparent Walton" with whom to openly PRESENT... her anger, sadness, and tearful humiliation? She needed someone connected, yet balanced... to simply listen and nod his or her head as Paige shares: Doesn't Dad know how humiliated I feel? All of my friends know! How could he do this? I HATE him!! It offends me that Mom stays with him!!!!!!!!

     After a prolonged, brutally honest conversation, an endearingly familiar "game" would begin, for Paige to absorb a special Grand-Factor commitment: Did you know that I love you, Paige?... more than... chocolate-covered strawberries?

     In turn, Paige may have warmly responded with her favorite childhood retort: "You are the best. I love you... more than... apple pie!"

     Hopefully this idea of the Grand-Factor sets the stage for The PAPA Prayer's Step #1: PRĒSENT yourself. In this step, it is critical to openly present ourselves (hurts or questions, happy events or offenses, insecurities or worries... intriguing scarab scars, artistic tattoos, ugly warts, and all) lest Steps #2-4 be sabotaged or short-circuited. Crabb says that any and all prayer requests should be saved for Step #4.

     If it feels uncomfortable to pray like this, or if it takes a huge leap to feel genuine (talking to the four walls), simply say: Lord Jesus, I can't do this. My mind is racing and actually I'm uncomfortable and feel quite bored. Help me to be real with You and God.

      In the New Testament and today, we have a special link to Someone who has "been-there." It is Jesus, God's approachable Son. Our perfect Savior Jesus is the only avenue to the Holy Father (John 3:16).

     For the informative 4-minute Today Show Grand-Factor segment, click this link: http://www.today.com/health/grandparents-grandkids-can-protect-each-others-mental-health-6C10898312

Stretch What's Tight; Strengthen What's Weak

     I continue to reflect on this past sabbatical year and the invaluable stretching and strengthening of my emotions and spirit. I compare it to grueling training, like preparing for a marathon. I have stretched... my meager writing skills, penning a therapeutic, heritage-investigating Memoir and then strengthened that information through blogs. 

     Many tears were shed... some were guilt-ridden, wishing I had been a better mother and daughter; some were joyful gratitude-filled tears, for undeserved mercy extended to this adult child of an alcoholic; others were just plain weary tears.

     Patience and perseverance STRENGTHEN me, and I see this most annoying revelation tied to decision-making: In many situations there is actually more than one "right" option. Grunt! Groan! Oomph! and argh! In other words, I lack omniscient powers. I will try to not sweat... the small stuff anyway. I will carefully choose my sweating battles. Happy day!

    To interact positively with family and others, patience and flexibility s-t-r-e-t-c-h my kindness quotient. I actually aspire to give more than I get, with no expectations in return; but, why are those muscles for "extra-giving" so tight? It feels like I am performing the (muscle-tearing) Chinese splits.

    I reflect on yesterday's heartwarming activity--interacting with my, too tremendous, 2-year-old. We are all anxiously counting the days before the birth of his brother. Last night's treasured opportunity helped to pass time, and for me, did not disappoint. Mom and Dad enjoyed together a rare, dinner-&-movie-out night, and I (DeDe) babysat. This aspiring blogger now forever captures last night's close encounter moment.

     It is a busy and long day for the little guy, with just one 20-minute cat nap in the car. By 6:00 p.m. his eyelids are like lead weights, succumbing to brief, eye-closure kitty naps. He heroically fights committing to the early, sissy bedtime. Mom and Dad can no longer delay their movie-departure and say hesitant "goodbyes," making our little guy's tears flow freely. I gently share, "I know you're sad. It's sad when Mommy and Daddy leave."

    He sucks up his tears and bravely distracts himself, watching TVs Daniel the Tiger. With his back to me, I patiently wait for

the opportune time and avenue to enter his adorable, play-filled world. We end up experiencing the backyard, playing in the sandbox and throwing balls. He then overturns a large, deep-crevice rock to uncover a "holy cow" buried treasure. A zillion frightened roly-polies scatter for their lowly lives.

     How do I convince this over-tired little guy to head upstairs to relax for sleep? Grandma is supposed to be the gullible spoiler rather than the edgy enforcer. I opt for the stretching approach, using patient flexibility. After a short time, no convincing is needed, because shock of all shocks, he initiates the long climb to his bedroom. I turn out the lights, sit in his memory-filled rocker, and talk about the busy day, with his special world of colorful balls, Daniel the Tiger, petting zoo pigs, ducks and horses, and family dog Brodie. 

     Maybe he is bored listening to my quiet chatter, because the next thing I know he climbs up, nestles his back into my welcoming lap, and closes his weary eyelids. Gentle muscle and face twitches begin as, shock of all shocks and faster than the speed of light, he replays an uncharacteristic behavior I have blogged about before; falling asleep in my lap, this time with no delay. 

     This long-distance grandma is strengthened and ready... to seize an eternal opportunity. I wistfully longed for this grandson-stilled, close-encounter moment. I figuratively bow to my knees and pray, for my daughter's oh so special and energetic 2.5-year-old. I pray for Jesus to guide and protect him... and ask for my grandson's mind and heart to grow to love His Savior God, the Creator of roly-polies.

     Tear puddles form in my eye sockets as I rehearse and re-experience yesterday's undeserved, unexpected (stretched, strengthened, and trained-for) grandchild moment. Prayer hasn't always been my natural response in good times. Throughout this past precious year, the Good-Times Prayer Station is one of the varied and grueling regimens for which I have trained.