Happy Birthday, Sammy!

Today our boy turns 13. As I write I have cinnamon rolls baking in the oven for him while he is out hunting with his daddy. Later we'll have a party at the bowling alley, complete with the double-layer rainbow confetti cake he requested and several of his friends.

Thirteen is a big one, isn't it? Sam is becoming a young man right before our eyes. Where we once had a teeny five-pound baby there is now an adult-size being living among us. It sure does give me pause.

There is so much I could say about Sam. We have had our share of struggles, he and I. But for as much as he resisted anyone's attempts to soften him up with hugs and kisses and love beyond measure over the years, he has transformed into one of the most amazing, compassionate and loving children I know.

I am particularly touched by Sam's gift with younger children. He has this comfortable way of engaging kids that makes me believe teaching or a similar occupation may be his calling.

I am proud of this young man and who he is becoming. Even if I still call him my baby boy, I know day by day he is gaining independence and establishing his own place in this world. It will be a while yet before he faces it on his own, but I know after one more year of middle school, once he hits high school it will be over in the blink of an eye. That's why I'm taking time to enjoy it - and him - while I can.

Happy birthday, sweet boy. Today is your day. We love you.

Shitcanned.

I've had just over a day to process all this, so here it is.

Steve was fired. Let go. Cut loose.

Was it related to the economy? No. Work performance? Absolutely not.

Steve lost his job because of personal differences with the company's corporate blowhards. Because he is, in their words, a "disgruntled employee."

WHO DOES THAT?? What is this, the sixth grade?

Listen. We have a son who will turn 13 years old tomorrow. He's in middle school. Sam is at a point when we are teaching him it is a fact of life that he will encounter difficult people. That's just how the world works. We tell him it is his job to always handle himself appropriately and do his best to be kind and respectful to others, no matter how badly their personalities may clash. Sometimes it is helpful to simply walk away, but you can't always just gather up your toys and go home.

Unhappy relationships are tough, but even the best of relationships take work to maintain.

Steve has said working for this company is like being in a bad marriage; nobody communicates, and everybody blames someone else for any infraction.

My husband tried. For months he has set a positive example by going straight to the sources of gripes and grumbles and insisting on working through issues so everyone can move on. In his supervisory role he was probably too kind at times, giving second (or third or fourth) chances and plenty of corrective instruction in order to keep people working.

But he didn't buy into the corporate BS. He is a man of high morals and is driven by things far greater than money: Integrity. Kindness. Family. That's what I see. If you ask him? He was taught to do things the right way - to do the right thing - no matter who was or wasn't watching.

As it turns out, his former employer talks a great talk about putting people first, but their follow-through stinks. In fact, the company's motto is People first 24/7. In our house we've added to it a little: People first 24/7. Unless you're not the right people.

In an interesting twist, my brother worked for the same company, on the same crew as Steve. They fired him, too.

Oh yes they did.

WHO DOES THAT???

In the grand scheme of things we will come out on top. Today I am angry and feeling defensive, yes. (And if Steve wasn't disgruntled before, he sure is now!) Because in 17 years of working in the pipeline industry - and I mean working, putting pipe in the ground, operating equipment, not giving orders or pushing papers from an office - Steve has never come close to being fired. Ever. Has he butted heads with some higher-ups? Of course he has! That's life. The people who have to keep everything within budget and on deadline don't always see eye-to-eye with the folks who have to stand knee-deep in the mud with rain pouring down while they try to bail out the hole so they can work. That's just how it goes. But each has their job to do and most adults can learn to overlook their differences and work alongside each other toward a common goal.

So yeah. I'm pissed off that of all the crappy employees they could have chosen to weed out, they picked two of the best workers in the field. Apparently your work ethic means nothing if you refuse to drink the Kool-Aid.

Whatever. Life goes on. The natural gas industry is a great one to be in these days. Business is booming and it won't be long before both of these guys have settled into new jobs, hopefully far, far away from the corporate madness. The paychecks might be a little slimmer but as long as we can feed our family and keep the bills paid, we're good.

Yesterday I teetered briefly on the edge of madness just thinking about how we'll make it through the next few weeks. Between Steve having some time off between work projects, then coming home to be with his dad during brain surgery, and now being cut loose altogether, we are scraping the bottom of the barrel.

But then the phone started ringing ... friends sent messages of support ... prayer warriors added us to their lists ... and so many people we love collectively took my face in their hands and forced me to focus on what is important: Steve. Sam. Rachel. Me. Our faith. Our family and friends. We are warm and well fed, and we have much for which to be thankful. Praise God.

I'm no Pollyanna, but I can say with confidence today that I know everything will be OK.

Time to circle the wagons.

I am angry.

I'm hurt and feeling defensive of my family and I wish I could tell you all about it but now isn't the right time, so could I just ask you to pray for us?

Know that my marriage is strong and that in itself will sustain us through much. We are healthy (well, OK, some might question my mental state but that's nothing new) and our children are fine. We have hit a roadblock but we will push through it together. And, God willing, we'll come out stronger on the other side.

 Today? Some inspiration. Turn it up, baby.



When the darkness tries to get me
There's a light that just won't let me
It might take my pride, tears may fill my eyes
But I'll stand back up.

Feeling festive?

Is it too soon to be thinking about Christmas decorations?

Steve would say YES.

When I was in stores and saw Halloween candy on clearance on one side of me and Christmas stuff going up on the other side, I would have said YES.

But now that Thanksgiving is just around the corner I'm starting to get that itch to pull out the boxes.

I don't go crazy with Christmas decor, but I do like our home to look and feel festive. I have friends who decorate a tree for every room of their home - and those trees are absolutely gorgeous - but you will not see my house in the pages of Better Homes and Gardens anytime soon. Or ever.

Alas, we have our own brand of decorating style. It's cheap. It involves many hand-me-down and homemade ornaments and, at least the last two years, a tree plucked from the nearby forest. The first year we did this - too broke to go buy a tree - a friend tagged the monstrosity Steve brought home "aggressively festive." It took up half our living room.

Funny how they always look so much smaller ... until you get them in the house.

But she was beautiful, wasn't she? Every lopsided branch of 'er.

As it turned out, we all loved that tree. I discovered my children didn't give one wit about whether they had a perfect tree. They had only two requests: that we actually decorate a tree before Christmas Day (admittedly sometimes a struggle), and that the tree be real. In fact, they are so adamant about having a real tree that when I brought home a small, pre-lit tree I found for $5 at a thrift store recently, the first thing they both asked was, "Is this going to be our only tree?!?" I assured them it would not be.

The joy of an artificial tree, though, is that I can set it up and fluff it and decorate it at my leisure. I don't know yet where this new one will go, but I'm pretty sure I will be getting it out soon to satisfy that itch to start decorating. I would like to try my hand at a themed tree. What theme? I have no idea.

Wait. Is "aggressively festive" a theme?

Today is a big day.

Sam's 13th birthday is approaching. It has caused me to do a lot of thinking about this boy and how he has grown and changed over the past few years. Shoot ... one can hardly call him a "boy" anymore; he is at least as tall as anyone else in the family and taller than several. But it's not just his stature. He is becoming more thoughtful and responsible every day.

It is with that in mind that I hesitated only a little when he asked me if he could sit by himself when he went out to hunt this morning. It's opening day of the firearm deer season (the kids have the day off school for it), and for a mama like me the thought of sending her firstborn out into the woods before dawn ... and carrying a gun ... can be a little unsettling. Because accidents happen. And he really is just a kid, isn't he? That means above all it is my responsibility to keep him safe.

The older he gets the harder it is to make those decisions that could mean the difference between keeping Sam tucked inside this safe little bubble at home or allowing him to go out into the world (or the woods, as it were) and face the potential to be hurt - physically or emotionally - and to learn some tough life lessons. Maybe to make some big decisions on his own. And hopefully, to learn what success feels like.

He is not alone today. We are fortunate to have within our extended family some wonderful men who have taken Sam under their wings while his dad is working so far away. We are also fortunate that deer camp is a big old school house down the road within walking distance from home. Sam has been there since Saturday afternoon - I literally have not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time. I hear about what he's doing in bits and pieces - hunting with his bow (archery season precedes firearm season) the last few days, going out with the uncles to move trail cameras and check bait piles and tidy up their stands, I guess. And when he came to the house to get his gun last night and to check with me that he could sit by himself today, he was practically glowing. When I told him he could as long as the uncles were nearby, he came to me and hugged me and said, "I love you, mom."

I'll take it.

I have not seen that boy so happy in quite a while. He is in his element. He's with the guys, away from mom. He is free to be who he wants to be (within reason) and to experience some independence.

It's a big day for both of us.

Increasing our (God-given) talents.

I usually reserve my Sunday writing until later in the day, but I had to sit down and make note of this before it slips my mind.

With Sam doing his man thing hanging out with the guys at deer camp, and Rachel having spent the night at Nana's last night (and me too battle weary to want to force her to get up and be ready) I went to church alone this morning. My preference is always to have my family beside me, but these occasional days when I attend worship by myself are a bit of a treat, too. (Shhh! Don't tell the kids.) I'm able to listen without distraction and focus on my own actions rather than always pointing out where we are in the hymns or coaxing tired kiddos to stand when appropriate.

As it turned out, this morning was the perfect time for me to be able to soak it all in because I really needed to hear the Gospel lesson for today.

In the book of Matthew, chapter 25, verses 14-30 we read the parable of talents. In short, three slaves were given unequal portions of their master's money. While the master was away, two of the slaves increased what they were given and when the master returned he praised them for increasing his wealth. The third slave didn't fair so well.

"And the one also who had received the one talent came up and said, 'Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you scattered no seed. And I was afraid, and went away and hid your talent in the ground. See, you have what is yours.'" (v. 24-25)

Because the third did nothing with what he was given - except bury it - the master called him wicked and lazy, suggested he could have at least invested that money to earn some interest, and took back from the slave the little he had been given.

"For to everyone who has, more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but from the one who does not have, even what he does have shall be taken away. Throw out the worthless slave into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (v. 29-30)

"Fear robbed him of his potential," our pastor said.

Fear robbed him of his potential.

Something to think about: what "talent" is planted in you? Are you allowing it to grow, or is fear causing you to bury it?

We as Christians are all blessed with the gift of faith. We are not all equally blessed with talents (or money or beauty or children or fill-in-the-blank). It is our responsibility to nurture the talent (or money, etc.) we are given to make it thrive and to honor God. So that when our Father does the final tally we can say, "See? You gave me this and I turned it into this."

And He will respond, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

The first snow!

I love waking up to the first snow of the season. Love it!

In Michigan we are blessed to experience the best (and yes, sometimes the worst) of the four seasons, and right this moment I can't think of anything more inspiring than going to bed with big, fat, fluffy snowflakes falling, and then waking up to a layer of The White Stuff covering everything.

OK, so it's not that pretty when you can still see the brown grass peeking out from underneath, but the trees! Oh, the trees are beautiful. And the snow gives everything this glow. Including my children who are so happy they could burst. They stood outside last night with their faces turned to the sky and their tongues sticking out to catch those fluffy flakes. By the time they came inside their hair was soaked and their hands were red and cold.

This morning when I parked at the bus stop Sam and Rachel jumped out to get in a few minutes of running around in it. They scraped what they could off the hood of the truck to toss a few snowballs at each other. I relished in Rachel's squeals and Sam's laughter.

Now that the house has calmed (save for the cats chasing each other around) I am beginning my day with some quiet reflection, glancing out the window frequently while I sip a cup of Mexican hot chocolate.

By the end of February I will be singing a different tune. But not today.

Hello, snow. We're happy to see you.