Near Death

There is nothing like headlights flying at 75mph toward your own closed eyelids in the middle of the night to make you question the counsel of "Go toward the light," but I'm getting ahead of myself...

Last night - date night - my husband and I found ourselves trapped behind a slightly swirving SUV. When my husband (who was driving) saw an opening in the fast lane, he decided to take it and get around the possibly inebriated driver already at a dangerous distance to the front end of our car. Slow down, you might suggest? Well, that is easier said than done at those speeds when you are completely boxed in by cars going too fast for the driving distances that are being kept... but, there was an opening. Until there wasn't.

The car in the fast lane turned out to be in James' blind spot. I have a habit of checking myself every time a lane change is made, saw this vehicle at the last possible second, and called out, "There's a car!" James saw it then and pulled our car back into our lane, but the shock of the unexpected car and the 75mph was too much for our Tangerine Dream to keep its balance. We began to rock, then skid - James with both hands on the wheel doing all he could to keep us safe - then we were spinning.

When our car was in a perpendicular position to the rest of traffic and the freeway lanes, I knew it was the end. Of course, you're reading this today... so, I was obviously wrong. But, my head - with that brilliant brain that thinks with unimaginable speed - went through every possibility... totaling the car, causing a pile up of other people, being paralyzed, dying, or both dying and leaving our five little ones without parents. I cussed then.

And immediately, let go. When the idea that these would be my last few moments on earth - the final page in my story - hit me, I said, "Okay" and completely relaxed. What else could I do but let my brain spin through thought? To see the faces of all of my children bathed in the light of oncoming traffic as we spun completely around... Remembering that it was a good idea to relax because drunk people come out of accidents better off for all of their "relaxed"... wondering for a moment why nothing had hit us.

And then, we were safe. We had come to a complete halt in the safe zone, having crossed three lanes of traffic on one of the busiest nights I've ever seen, unscathed. We didn't even bump the concrete barrier. It was as if James had just performed the most dangerous parallel parking job ever attempted. A task that was almost perfect. We were still facing the oncoming traffic though.

I don't know what to say... the prayers of thanks have been full and nonstop. I am here, in my home - woken up by a little boy at 5:30am just because he needed to twirl my hair... Let's not waste it.

Miracles

My husband said something to me the other night that has had me pondering the definition of the word "miracle" and what it means in my life. He basically said that he felt it was a miracle that I married him in the first place, but even moreso that I'm still here.

"Miracle" is defined as "an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs"... the first thing that occurred to me in reading this definition is that it's a bit sad that the affairs of the flora and fauna of the Earth are without the divine (yes, read with sarcasm) and secondly, that it is absolutely a miracle that I met, married, and remain with this very human man.

Tonight, my life was graced with another moment of divine intervention... though some may note it as ordinary... and it came in the form of Ursa Major - the Great Bear. Today was not a good day. It isn't that anything extraordinarily awful took place, but, my responses to all of the little things were petty and prideful and I knew it. Tonight, I ran away from home long enough to wear myself out and begin to pray... "Father I don't know what to do about today, except begin again tomorrow." Looking up at that moment, I saw an unfamiliar constellation. It was the second time I'd seen it this week and I felt a sudden urgency to return home and find out what I was looking at. It has turned out that in that constellation, I found my answers.

Miracles happen. There is a divine, active Parent loving me through this life. This fact doesn't mean that everything will come easy or with immediate understanding, only that it will lead to something better.

The End of the World as We Know it

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, right? Well, maybe in our day, after being made to study centuries of World History ... the rise and fall of nearly every nation ever born being repeated played out before our eyes ... maybe we do. An interesting change in plot lines has been occuring since the archeological evidence of the belief in the end of the world. Instead of alien invasion and radioactive fallout leading to the demise of humanity, the Earth itself is a ticking time bomb. We have only to wake up one morning to the alarm going off.

Now, the CGI techs in Hollywood couldn't have as much fun if someone didn't live to tell the tale or witness the destruction of all that our modern civilization has built with their mechanized dreams - far from bare hands. These movies, such as The Day After Tomorrow (2004), can be difficult to sit through, however, especially when based on a faulty scientific foundation that goes way beyond the theory of global warming. Others, though, like 2012 (2009) may present the viewer with a believable scientific and archeological base coupled by a realism in character response that keeps the viewer watching through the silliest of speeding limosine through city falling apart under an earthquake wreckage you've ever seen. (Really. I laughed out loud!)

Whatever the movie or the wildness in the telling, thinking about everything ending in a moment, is never a bad idea. Living the life we have in the best way we know how doesn't always have to be prompted by a realistic near death experience. I wonder if the Mayan calendar ended on the Winter Solstice of 2012 because someone ran out room. Or if, there was imagination enough to predict the future just that far. Or maybe, Someone whispered some secrets so that we -- who would actually see the year 2012 -- would realized our end was near and live accordingly.

My favorite scene in 2012 was the monk at the top of the Tibetan Plateau looking into the face of the wave that would take him to his death and ringing the bell. Not all of us will have time or the opportunity to say goodbye before we go (however we go), but I hope that we live our best day, everyday, so that when it is time... we go in peace.

La Misma Luna (Under the Same Moon - 2007)

The movie should probably begin with a disclaimer, "Do not watch without a full box of tissues." When young mother, Rosario, decides to cross the border illegally to provide a better opportunity for her young son, Carlitos, she has no idea of the price she will pay for their separation. Four years, several jobs and lawyers later, Rosario isn't any closer to being reunited with her boy and he is now old enough to say, "demasiado"... enough ... Ridden with guilt, Rosario can't bring herself to marrying for a green card and doesn't know what else to do. When Carlitos abuela (grandmother) passes away, he takes matters into his own hands, paying to be smuggles across the U.S.A / Mexico border with cash his abuela had been saving.

Under the Same Moon is billed as a movie showing the "plight of American immagrants"... as an American, this may be the portion that irritates you a little. As a proponent for legal immigration, it did me. By telling the story through the eyes of a nine year old boy trying to get to his mother, the viewer's heart is instantly taken into the story because love knows no political boundaries. Botched smuggles, misplaced trust, the possibility of being sold into slavery, working for pennies, and in fear of the police at every turn not to mention the things the mother is facing - lawyer's fees, dishonest employers, and the cost of living in America while trying to support the family back home, are all played out on the screen effectively tugging at the heartstrings.

For me though, the question always remained in the back of my mind, "Why illegally?" Had the mother chosen to work in her own country or sought sponsorship she would not have unintentionally isolated her son for so long or put him in danger of trying to find her. The town they were from was not portrayed as a place where people were starving or naked. How can anything in Mexico be improved if the people who hunger most for something better do not stay and get LOUD? Someone will probably read this post and comment on how self-righteous and innocent one can be when born in "the land of the free and the home of the brave". Never having traveled outside of the USA, I could easily agree with that. But, living here, I know that we do not have the International corner on love or honor or culture or education. We just have Hollywood. Living here, I know that "all that glitters is NOT gold."

Brown M&M's

Have you ever purchase the full pound of M&M's just to run your fingers through the candy? The smooth sugar-coating rolling across your fingertips and falling into the bag like a percussion instrument smelling of cocoa... mmm... Yesterday, I shared some M&M's with my little ones. They're a great way to learn colors and counting (although a great grandmother would probably point out the mini's as an even better option for a teaching tool!) My three year old son spontaneously began an alteration to our game - matching. He would pick up an M&M piece, say the color and ask where the match was on the bag. He wouldn't eat it until he found the match. Can you guess which color he got stuck on? That's right! Brown.

There is no brown M&M character to be found in the commercials or on the bag. I remember hearing a bit of a controversy about it... something along the lines of the candy company being racist or something. Of course, there is only one female M&M and she's so "hawt" teens at my high school either ate her on purpose or avoided her like the plague for fear of any additional spur to the already raging hormones. So, what about the brown?

I think it should be pointed out that a brown M&M character would get lost in the chocolate. He (or she) would have to be masked and wear a cape (i.e., Zorro) to stand out from the chocolatey background of the bag. When looking for a picture to post with this blog, I came across an image of the green M&M undressed and it occured to me that all of the M&M's are brown underneath that colorful candy shell. Must be why the Doc and the Wedding Planner tossed the others for artificial health reasons. One way or the other, I think the brown ones keep tune to my cravings for sugar-coated-cocoa percussions just as well as the others in the bag. I can't wait for a purple one to join the crew. Taste that rainbow.

Cake

Chocolate Mud Cake
Carrot Walnut Cake

Yesterday was a cake day. No, it was anybody's birthday, anniversary, wedding, funeral, holiday or any other excuse-to-eat-cake day. It was just a day for talking about cake and eating it. My brother is thinking on getting married, so, of course cake came up. You see, neither of them have a sweet tooth. Sampling cake in a hundred different flavors is the last thing on earth you'd find either of them doing. So, the thought of being required to by some sort of matrimonial expectation makes them both cringe.

I did them both a favor and yanked them off the hook by saying, "Don't serve cake then. Serve fruit and dress it up with a chocolate fountain." I find it interesting that some of us work so hard to fit into the expectations of others and some of us work so hard not to. Weddings can be a tough business. There are whole series of television shows based on choosing the dress for crying out loud! When you look at the heart of the American wedding (in all of its variety), you find people who have been dreaming up the "perfect day" for a long time suddenly pulled to and fro by every declared "must" and "should" spoken by parents, relatives, and caterers. Remember, your wedding and reception are to allow the people in your life to witness an event to remember. It's just to let them know that you want to be married to this one person and nobody had to drug you to get you there!

Cake choices, or a lack thereof, can be very symbolic (or not at all). My husband and I chose a cake in three flavors. Vanilla for those guests with sensitive taste buds, Double Chocolate Chip for my husband, and Carrot Walnut for me. In many ways, our cake represented ourselves and our future. Neither of us is identical to the other. We just don't look at many things the same way. We have our own individual flavors and neither of us has wasted any time attempting to make the other fit ourselves. I'm a lark - he's an owl. I devour books - he devours video games. But we both love to laugh. I guess that's our common cream cheese frosting. We're also both aware of others and do what we can to help where we can. We are always aware of our children and talk about their needs and our responses as parents regularly so we can allow them to each grow into their own flavor of human being.

Last night, my husband brought home two slices of cake from the bakery -- Chocolate Fudge for himself and Carrot Walnut for me. I like that about us.

The State of the Linen Closet

Once upon a time, I watched an Oprah show where she gave young, hot designer, Nate Berkus a brand new set of towels for his linen closet saying, "The state of a person's linen closet reveals a lot about that person's life." I distinctly remember folding towels the next morning - mismatched in color, style, and sizes and threadbare in different degrees - knowing that Oprah was right.

Now, it being Independence Day and all, I could be posting something about the Founding Fathers or the fireworks popping outside my bedroom window, but tonight I went into the laundry room to check the dryer (my oldest child will be marching in her first parade in the morning) and found the entire shelf full of linens scattered on the floor. I'm not exactly sure of the who? why? and how? of this catastrophe. I just know that Oprah's statement resounded in my brain. My linens are, right now, scattered, unfolded, mismatched, and worn out ... what does that say about me?

a) I am the mother of many.

b) I am frugal and will use something until it is worn out completely. (Yes, that means my towels have a future in the rag business.)

c) I accept gifts as they come to me. (The bath towels I received as a family wedding gift are embroidered with everyone's name, mostly too small to wrap around our bodies, and wildly different colors.)

d) I am flexible. (I don't have to have everything folded exactly the same and starched to perfection.)

e) I value relationships more than things.

Perhaps Oprah would disagree with this assessment. I'm sure Nate Berkus' fluffy, white cotton towels are still fluffy and white this many years later. They both may say there is a lack of self-respect in keeping such a haphazard closet and a personal devaluation in not replacing something that is so sorely in need of it. I disagree, and I wonder...

What is the State of Your Linen Closet?