Bucket List

What I want to do before I die, in no particular order:

- Visit Antarctica, Ireland, Machu Picchu, Greece, and Turkey

- Go hang-gliding

- Win one of those restaurant hamburger challenges

- Have a legitimate reason to see an old friend and say, "I thought you were dead!"
- Have an old friend see ME and have a legitimate reason to say, "I thought you were dead!"

- Run with the bulls in Spain

- Go on a cross-country bicycle trip

- Sit in an SNL audience...or be ON the show

- Go to a ball in a fancy gown

- Teach a creative writing class

- Catch a fish

- Do the ghost pepper challenge

- Celebrate a 75th wedding anniversary with Ryan
- Hear Isaac call me "my ladyship" without prompting
- Go snow skiing
- Parasail with grandkids

Ridding Myself of THIS

The love Ryan and I have for each other is completely unlike what I expected when I was younger. Up until the end of college, I had some pretty ridiculous expectations for love...basically, I expected love to be a never-ending thrill ride of daring adventures and emotional thrills. I wanted passion and drama. I wanted mummies and pirates and whatever other obstacles that would end in some climactic kiss at the end. Basically, never-ending excitement.

Now, I'm so glad I don't have that Hollywood version of love. How exhausting would it be to constantly be thrown into near-death experiences? We would be racking up so much debt in therapy bills. Real life has turned out to be much better.

For example, this past year I confessed something to Ryan I had hid from him for our entire relationship. For the sake of this blog (and my pride, honestly), it's not important what this thing was. We'll just call it "THIS." THIS was yet another way in which I sabotaged myself to try and pacify my ever-present anxieties. Basically, I'm an anxious person and have a history of relieving that anxiety in less than great ways.

THIS was something that I struggled with on and off for a long time. Each time I did THIS, I would think, "Ok, that was stupid, but now I'm done with THIS. That's the last time. I'm done and no one has to know about it." I've done that before, convinced myself that I don't need to tell anyone about self-destructive behavior because "this was the last time."

Well, when THIS happened again, I knew it wasn't going away without accountability. I think I've always known that, but finally decided THIS needed to die. And, as I've learned from admitting previous dumb things I've done, I knew the only way for THIS to die was to tell Ryan. I reached this conviction during a church meeting, of all cliche places. Throughout the meeting, I slowly felt the terrorizing peace that only God's convictions can bring. During a break, I told Ryan I needed to talk with him. He clearly wanted to stay for the rest of the meeting, but I said it was important. Because he's better than any Hollywood man, he immediately grabbed his stuff and we picked up Isaac and left. In the car, with Isaac making adorable cooing noises in the backseat, I told Ryan about THIS. Guh, it sucked, but even as I was saying it all, I knew I was shattering the last remaining division between us. Ok, maybe not the last, because no marriage is perfect, but it was definitely the last LARGE remaining division.

And, without questioning why I did THIS or why I hadn't told him sooner, Ryan kissed me on the forehead and said he was proud of me for being so brave.

While we were still dating, I had confessed another big mistake I had consistently made. My counselor at the time said that by bringing this secret out into the light, I had robbed it of its power. And now I've robbed THIS of its power. The frustrating thing, though, is there's always something I have to keep bringing into the light, something I keep having to force from my secret, evil dungeons. I know that's just part of the importance of God's grace, that we're never "good enough" on our own, but it seems like at a certain point I should be able to get rid of all the "really bad" stuff.

But God's healed me in so many ways that I have hope there's a place where this junk will finally be refused entrance into my mind and body. I can't say I have pure, unshakable faith that this place actually exists or that it's always a comfort to think of such a place, but the hope is there and that's something.

Mother's Day: Travel Edition

Mother's Day is a great holiday, but I think there needs to be a bonus day for Mothers Who Were Mothers During Trauma Day...or something a little more Hallmark-sounding. For real, though, my mom raised my sister and me better that most do in good situations.

A large part of The Big Red Boat is a tribute to my mom's parenting. Each year  I like to compile a list of ways that my mom is exceptionally-deserving of Mother's Day appreciation and this year, I'm making a special travel edition. Along with being a great mother at home, Mom was hilarious on vacations:

5. Mom is not afraid of strangers. For example, in 1999 we went to Frutigen, Switzerland. We were trying to navigate the town with a cab driver who didn't speak English. We were trying to find a cemetery because, you know, who doesn't look up dead ancestors on vacation? The driver had no idea what "cemetery" meant, so my mom tried "graveyard" and "tomb" and "death," but nothing was ringing a bell. I think Kristin even pretended to shoot someone. Laughing, mom mimed wrapping a noose around her neck, then dropped her head with a croaking sound. That worked.

4. Along with not being afraid of strangers, Mom isn't that afraid of being embarrassed by them. In high school she took my sister and me to Europe again, this time to Paris and Austria. We were traveling from Paris by train to Vienna. Now, I mentioned in my book how my mom had this demon suitcase she insisted on taking even though the wheels were broken and it weighed 500 pounds. So, we had gotten on the wrong bus and were barely on time for the train. There was an escalator up to our train platform, but of course it was broken and my mom couldn't carry the demon suitcase. Kristin and I dragged it up the stairs, somehow still at the top before my mom, screaming at her to hurry. Turns out we still had another 10 minutes, so we didn't need to create that whole scene after all. On the train, though, we couldn't find our cabin and were so grumpy that we just commandeered an empty one, hoping no one would care. Well, halfway into the train ride, we learned from an attendant that the train was splitting at the next stop, half was going to Germany, the other half to Austria. Awesome. So we started getting our bags to get to the other side of the train, but just then the train started slowing down. Losing our minds, we tore through the aisles, which was slow going because of mom's demon suitcase. We weren't going to make it. So we hopped off the train and RAAAANNNN down the platform to the other end. The doors were closed on the other end and we were banging on them and screaming. Now, it takes a while for trains to separate so we still had plenty of time. The doors opened with a press of a button, so again we were glad to create another unnecessary scene. On the train, gasping and on edge, we finally find our cabin. A few others were in there, calmly reading, when my mom (who was still nervous from all the freaking out we had just accomplished), SCREAMS at one guy, "I will give you a million dollars if you PICK UP MY BAG!" I wish I could express how mortified I was, and how funny I now find it.

3. One of my favorite trip-planning memories was after a Hawaiian cruise. We were in San Francisco on a trolley, bummed that the trip was almost over. "Where are we going next summer?" Kristin asked. "Egypt!" I said, not actually thinking we'd go because mom had been saying for years it was too dangerous. To our surprise, Mom said, "Um...yeah. Let's do it. But only if we do a Holy Lands tour, too, in Israel." Yeah. We were okay with that.

2. On The Big Red Boat, our first big trip, Mom and Kristin sang karaoke to "These Boots Were Made For Walking." I hadn't seen Kristin laugh that hard before.

1. Never having driven on the left side of the road, Mom rented a car in England and just "figured it out." Granted, we got a flat tire after hitting a curb too hard, but still, once it was fixed she did really well! This was also the first time any of us had used (or even knew of) a GPS. We named the voice "Margo."

Basically, my mom is awesome. Not just for taking us on ridiculously awesome trips, but for being adventurous in the first place. That adventurousness allowed me to have the confidence to travel on my own and explore opportunities in my regular life. Thank you, Mom, for helping me be who I am.

Transgender Thoughts

My goal for this blog was to be transparent, to the point where people might *gasp* not like what I say. It has been awhile since I've felt the need to update this blog, but yesterday I read an article that made me think a whole lot. Most have heard about the public school protest over a boy wanting to use the girls' locker room because he identifies as a girl. The first thing I read was this New York Times article.

When I read it I was angered at the close-mindedness of the protesters, but then the composition teacher in me came out. I realized that, while the article was not biased and presented the protest by simply stating facts, there were no quotes from any of the protesters. As the reader, I didn't get any of the students' reasons for protesting.

So I read some more articles and this Washington Post article gave more balanced quotes, although was much more biased towards Lila Perry, the transgender student. I realized that while I hate that Perry is bullied and shamed, I completely side with the protesters. “The way I was raised, I have no problem with a transgender, but he shouldn’t be in the women’s locker room until he has the surgery,” one parent said. If you are still a male in terms of anatomy, it makes sense that you would use the mens' locker room.

This made me wonder how many other people think it's wrong to let a biological male use a woman's locker room, but are so swayed by media and "politically correct guilt" that they convince themselves otherwise. We're told that if we disagree with the mainstream, then we're "on the wrong side of history." Well, many times history is wrong. History is written by the winners, so isn't it possible that people are wrong even when they are considered right by the majority?

I'm glad the female students protested. At the very least, it will hopefully put a policy in place for bathroom use. I just hope that the policy is "on the wrong side of history." Personally, I don't care much who sees me in a locker room, but women (and men) have the right to feel uncomfortable about changes to their privacy.

Sure, there's the argument that a person like Perry is, at heart, a woman so other women should simply see him as a fellow woman. Really, it's sad that this is even an argument. It's sad that any person has to change their body to "be who they are." This raises the question, "If Perry or Jenner or any transgender person was raised in a less wealthy country without access to cosmetic surgery, are they then forever doomed not to be 'who they are'?"

That's a sad thought. There are potential future medical advances that may allow for uterus transplants (Sauk Valley), but that is currently just for women with a damaged uterus. Currently, men can't have children and aren't biologically women with transgender operations. I don't think men can become women or vice versa. I say "I don't think" because here I am confused. There ARE babies born with both genitalia and it's the parents' decision which gender they choose the baby to have. However, even if a man or a woman can become a different gender, that doesn't make it a good thing.

So, I'll say it: I don't think people should try to change their genders. Now, the unfortunate thing is that many people reading this will label me as a hater, a judge, a close-minded jerk...and they would be right about the judge part. I'm making a judgment, but when did that automatically become a bad thing? So, it's a compliment to have good judgment, but an insult to make judgments? Some of this is just semantics, but I think I'm making a good point that we're too afraid of having genuine convictions.

Does that make me hate transgenders? Frickin' NO. It's almost impossible for me to hate anyone. I'm simply sad for anyone who thinks they have to change their bodies to become "who they are."

All that said, stop bullying people, whether they want to be a different gender or are gay or whatever. Disagree if you want, protest if you want, but do these things in loving ways. Hate never changes things for the better.

Out of Control

If anyone hurts Isaac, I'll buy a gun and shoot them. If a random act of nature hurts Isaac, I'll buy a gun and shoot it...tornado, tsunami, whatever.

I like saying and thinking these things because it makes me feel more in control. But, really, the more years I tack onto my life, the less control I have. I can't protect Isaac from everything, just like I can't protect Ryan or my sister or my mom or anyone else from everything.

Focusing on these fears is the exact opposite of freedom and joy, which are the two things I crave the most in life. And what if I do protect Isaac from every psychopath and killer whale, but fail to show him how to enjoy life? His little baby face expresses so much potential joy.

Fear sucks. Or, much more poetically spoken...

"Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much."

That quote is from one of my favorite books, "Cry, the Beloved Country" by Alan Paton. The narrator is speaking of the pain and suffering of South Africa, but it translates beautifully for any situation ruled by fear. I don't want Isaac to inherit my fears, the main ones being that the people I love will be hurt in some way (What if Isaac gets hit in the head really hard with a baseball and is brain injured?) and that there is no life after this one.

Then, of course, there is the endless stream of "what if?" fears. This stream is so ever-flowing that it's impossible to know where one fear ends and one begins.

But when I see Isaac's face brighten when he sees me pick him up in his crib, I don't want to rob him of his natural joy. Yes, I have to teach him that the world can be dangerous and how he can be safe in it, but I also want him to see mountains and think, "Yeah, I can climb that." I want him to know that while there is pain and loss, there is no reason not to love or be loved.

To The "Frothers" in My Life

* By "frother," I mean "friend mother." There are some women that I'm acknowledging in this post and I see them all as friends, but they have also had a nurturing and loving impact on my life. *

I've always felt for the women who either couldn't have children or have lost a mother when we all celebrate Mother's Day. Today, I heard a message at church...you don't have to have a child to be a mother. Anyone can be a "mother," if you define "mothering" as "nurturing."

I like this inclusive perspective because there are many women who are unable to be biological mothers, but still impact others' lives in similar ways. Although, too many women who can't have or adopt children are told, "Oh, you're still like a mother...look at all the young people you've influenced."

While there's some truth in that, it's not the same. Once, I was at Starbucks and overheard a conversation between two strangers: a woman, who had three young daughters, was trying to convince another woman that she was a mother even though she physically couldn't conceive.

The first woman said, "You babysit those children five days a week. You are a mom! You're shaping them and teaching them life lessons."

The second woman said, "It's not the same. I know what you're trying to say and I appreciate it, but it's not the same. None of those kids will take care of me or visit me in a nursing home when I'm old."

This is like when I hear how God is our "father" and if you don't have an earthly father, you have a heavenly one. Hearing that always irks me because, like those women who can't have or adoption children, it's not the same. I don't think a lot of people really believe it's the same, but say that because it's easier than saying, "Hey, you got screwed out of a lot of love and security simply because a semi driver swerved into oncoming traffic and your dad ran into the side of the truck. That sucks."

And, really, I'd much rather hear someone say, "That sucks," than try to explain away the pain and loss. While I didn't lose my dad physically, I lost him through the brain injury that resulted in his accident.

Here's where I slightly contradict myself because I do believe there are strong similarities between literal mothers and nurturing women. Some people have abusive mothers and another person has taken on the "role" of mother in their life. Sometimes this love is as strong a bond as one between a mother and her biological or adopted child.

However, I like "friend mother" instead. While the bond between me and my mother can't be replaced (and I don't want it to be!), there are a lot of women who have helped shape me.

~ Brenda:
     When I first visited my mother-in-law while dating Ryan, I knew I wanted to be part of his family. Well, by that point, I knew Ryan and I were getting married (Ryan didn't know it yet...), so it was great to have an instant good relationship with his mother. Brenda's positivity knew no bounds, which I learned the first time I came for Thanksgiving. I had brought a "Gingerbread-Making Kit" and Brenda said, "Oh, that's so fun! You're so creative and thoughtful. I can't wait to put it together."
     She continues to be a source of encouragement in every area of life. And I mean every. She remembers every big or small event in Ryan's and my life, including times when I had a big test for grad school or started my first day teaching for the semester. Often, I'll get a text or voicemail from her on days like these, simply to say that she's thinking of me and knows how well I'll do. Whenever she visits or we visit her, I feel uplifted and energized, as well as reminded of my good qualities (because she keeps reminding me of them!). I get down on myself too often and she's always willing to remind me how I'm creative, loving, and intelligent.
     The hardest part of moving to South Carolina is being so far away from family, but Brenda is a mother despite any distance. She truly lives to serve others. When she came for my baby shower last February, she immediately jumped in wherever we needed help. Seeing her filling up water pitchers for the tables and clearing off a table to make room for extra guests, I knew I had a uniquely amazing mother-in-law.
     She also motivates me physically. We walked a half-marathon together two years ago and even though the race was hard for her (and me!), she didn't once complain. Instead, we motivated each other. Recently, Brenda motivated me to make more stirfry by buying me a rice cooker. It wasn't for any particular reason...she just thought I'd like it. The cooker is awesome and reminds me of how Brenda loves me, even in something as small as making rice.

~ Orianna:
     I started taking weekly walks with Orianna in the summer of 2010. I remember this date because it was the summer I lost my mind and addressed a ton of unresolved wounds from growing up with a brain-injured father. For all of June, I could barely eat or drink, and could only sleep about 1-2 hours a night. It. Was. Awful. Ryan suggested I meet up with Orianna and when I called her, she asked me to join her on her daily walk through Shoaff Park.
    And a "mentorship" was born. I don't like to call Orianna my mentor, though, because that sounds too rigid. She's a friend and inspiration. For several years, we took weekly walks together and caught up on our weeks. We often just talked through regular life, but it was helpful to have those walks and connect through books or travel stories or whatever else we happened to discuss. Her dog, Eiffel, always came on the walks and I'll always cherish the times we walked the same trail, with Eiffel running just ahead or beside us.
     I've known Orianna since I was in junior high, I think. She's seen me through a lot of stages in my life, including what I call my "super bitter, mean phase." This was mostly late high school, early college when my humor was especially dark and my comments were really biting. I'm glad that she's known me through that and can see how I've changed, softening and strengthening at the same time. She has "mothered" me through her continued support, advice, and encouragement. I love getting letters from her in the mail, including a packet of Downton Abbey tea. It's the small things in life that make for a great "mother," and one of them is taking the time for a simple, yet thoughtful gift.

~ Ruthanne:
    I was so excited to start college because that meant I got to join Ruthanne's "college group." My sister had been a part of it and I loved the people who went. The more I got to know Ruthanne, the more I enjoyed her. She was honest and super friendly, AND made amazing desserts! (plug: check out her crazy-awesome baking blog at easybaked.net).
    Her "mothering" extends far beyond the delicious treats she made every week (yes, even beyond her famous chocolate chip cookies). We've also trained for a mini-marathon together and I still treasure those times when we met up with a few others to walk the 11 miles from Johnny Appleseed to Swinney and back. She is consistently loving and encouraging through hard times and bad. I've been able to come to her with so many things and she's always willing to take time to listen. To really listen.
    Before Ryan asked me out, I often turned to Ruthanne for encouragement because I didn't know if he would ever like me. Like a mother, Ruthanne not only listened, but felt for me. I remember sitting in her car one night, talking about the "Ryan problem" and analyzing conversations I'd had with him. As many women do, we were dissecting every possible moment when Ryan might have shown some interest in me. This was different than talking with just a regular friend, though, because Ruthanne was someone who dedicated a huge part of her life to the college-age people at our church and modeled her life in a way that I wanted to follow.

~ Renee:
     In junior high, I started going to another group, which was Renee's "D Group" - a collection of girls my age from church. My best friend, Jacqueline, was going and so I came, too. I didn't know until years later how much Renee dedicated to this group, but appreciated the group so much at the time. I was used to going to a large church where it was easy to fall between the cracks. After a month of coming to this group, we all took a trip to Higher Grounds, a coffee shop near the church. In the snowy parking lot, someone made a comment about me being in the group.
     Again, used to a large church, I didn't realize I WAS a part of the group. I didn't realize that these people were already my friends.
     "Oh, I thought I had to come for a longer time before I was actually in the group," I said. "Don't I have to sign something?"
     Renee knelt and drew in the snow: "HEATHER IS A PART OF D GROUP."
     I didn't sign the snow, but felt a happiness in my chest. This was the first time I felt connected to a church group and in a way that was natural, without effort.
     As the years went by, Renee was a "mother" to me by encouraging my creativity and just loving me. I saw a creativity in her, too, that I wanted to emulate. She led many small groups that I was in, including one in high school. It was a REALLY small group, usually about four or five girls, but I enjoyed the closeness. Me and most of the other girls went to the same school and Renee often listened to our frustrations with the school, offering advice at the same time. Unfortunately, me and these girls often didn't think how we excluded one or two others who didn't go to our school. Renee tried hard to get this to sink in, but it was several years later when I realized how this "school talk" excluded the others.
     Anyway, Renee is a gifted teacher in every way.


Through these relationships, I've learned more how to be a good mother myself. I want to be a good mother by:
1. LISTENING - it is so important to actually hear what someone is saying and to acknowledge that what they have to say matters.
2. Encouraging creativity
3. Knowing when to offer advice or when to just nod and say, "Yeah, that sucks. I'm sorry."
4. Just living life together and enjoying each moment

So, a giant THANK YOU to all the "frothers" in my life. There are many others. I have become the person I am through so many relationships and am blessed with supportive, loving women in my life.

The Small Things

I want to enjoy the small things in life. Well, the small and the big things. Too often I look forward to the next thing that has to get done or worry about possible problems in the future. Then I miss out on what actually matters. Because, really, my life is great and I waste too much of it with worrying about something happening to make it not great. What's the point in that?

There are so many small victories in everyone's life. It's impossible to cherish and remember them all...like finding the perfect words to describe how you feel, writing and mailing a real letter to someone, or finding that Lowe's coupon.

So here is my list of small victories from this week:

- Finding that Lowe's coupon
- Getting back to the gym and doing 20 minutes on the elliptical
- Taking my car in to have the AC fixed...again
- Working more on my book, which I've procrastinated on for 18 MONTHS now
- Figuring out how to work my rice cooker (thanks, Brenda!)
- Finding more friends to meet up with during the weekdays
- Keeping a baby clean, fed, and alive
- Managing to sleep and complete basic chores despite the constant demands for keeping a baby clean, fed, and alive (soooo many diapers)
- Spending time with Ryan who doesn't have to work this week. Yay, paternity leave!
- Making stir-fry
- Finishing a 2,000-piece puzzle
- Hooking up the baby monitor
- Finally finishing two sketches for Alchemy
- Eating an apple instead of another pound of Honey Bunches of Oats
- Making a smoothie

What are some of your small victories?