Let Summer Begin!

We in the midwest have been burried in snow throughout the Winter and pounded with rain storms throughout the Spring.

Now, we are on the cusp of Summer. Bring....It....On. I know it's not officially Summer until June 23rd but this is Memorial Day Weekend -- the unofficial start of Summer. Pools open, friends open their lake cottages, patios seem like a good place to be.

Soon we will all be griping about the heat and humidity. Our gardens will need rain. But right now, we can enjoy the flowers blooming, the kids with the Summer energy that kicks in before the "I'm bored" phase and the opportunity to light up the grill.

Jump in a lake. Go visit your neighborhood pool. Get a pedicure and rock some kicky sandals. Take the family on a picnic. Attend an outdoor concert. Plant a few vegetables. Plant some flowers. Try some new recipes. Go on vacation.

It's Summer. Enjoy!

A Dog for the Rest of My Life

I am a dog lover. Right now, I am into black labs but I love all breeds. I've had some great mutts and probably will have more. Do dogs have souls? We had this great discussion in Sunday School last week but I firmly believe they do. And, I believe they have the greatest capacity to love.

I've told you this story before but it bears repeating. When I was about 5 years old, I begged and pleaded for a dog. My mother, who had some dog issues, agreed with a few caveats:

not a puppy
housetrained
not huge

With my beloved grandmother as co-conspriator, we found the perfect dog: Candy.

Candy was with us until mid way through my college days. I miss her still. No offense to my other dogs but I think she will always be my favorite.

My parents have had oodles of dogs and I have loved them all. Well, that's not true. I was not crazy about Ashley whose idea of a good time was to bite everyone in sight. I tried very hard not to touch her.

The great thing about dogs is the one you own at the time is your favorite. Best dog ever! I miss the others but I am so grateful for the one at this time in my life. My Gabs, my friend, my dogger. And, Harriet, who lets me carry her around like a baby.


We dog people are drawn to cute sayings and cute stuff about our dogs. Here's one I read a couple of years ago about why people love dogs:

Dogs are angels here on earth. They carry a white light, a spirit. That is why people feel better after they've touched a dog. The dog has a forgiving soul and always thinks we are better than we actually are. You can tell them anything, and I mean ANYTHING, and they will always love you no matter what you have just told them. So perfect and beautiful in so many different packages, God knew what he was giving us with the gift of a dog. What a great world this would be if everyone could live up to be the great person your dog thinks you are.

I will always own a dog. Or one will always own my heart.

Prayers

If you believe a certain religious sect, the Apocalypse begins tonight and those of us who consider ourselves believers will not be here tomorrow.

So, what am I doing to prepare myself for this great event? I am doing laundry, running errands and most importantly, writing prayers. I am liturgist tomorrow. I suspect my congregation of great friends and wonderful Christians will be in their normal seats in the pews.

The hardest part of being liturgist is writing the prayers. I know what I pray for and for whom. But you try to strike a balance between the generic and personal. You, at least I, try to say something that touches the soul... that makes someone think, "Yes, I pray for that too."

Whenever I remind myself that I am not worthy and I share this thought with my minister, he replies, "No, you are not. Do it anyway." What a gift!

The next time you are in a house of worship and someone says, "Let us Pray," remember that someone put some time and effort into crafting a community prayer. And, the greatest gift may be the ability to worship together.

Alone Time

I crave alone time. And God's joke on me is that I live with the most social man ever put on the planet.

Alone time allows me to breathe, to pray, to make lists and to listen to my soul. Alone time heals me.

Yesterday I took a couple of hours off work to do personal stuff. Catch up. Walk the dog, send some cards. Dan came home to pick up some stuff he had forgotten. Alone bubble busted.

There's a balance we all strive to find. Socially engaging/work engaging/private time. I spend a big chunk of my week with a smile on my face and a story to tell. It's rude, but I often come home with the silent message of, "I'm tired and I don't want to talk." How awful is that?

Doing the voyeur thing, I often wonder about retired people. How do they do it? Do they enjoy spending 24/7 with each other? In my voyeur experience, I can tell you the answer is no. One of them is always wishing the other would get out of their hair.

But, I'm on the young end of the Baby Boomer generation. One perk is I'll never know about retirement because we will be the ones who can't afford to retire. I will work until I can't work anymore. If I get really successful, I will have a room to myself and I will occasionally channel Greta Garbo,

"I want to be alone."

But just for a while ....

The Help

Have you read this? I read it a while ago and recently reread it. I can't explain it but it touches me.

I have southern roots. Lots of them sprout in Knoxville, Tennessee but I also have an adopted love for Mississippi and the family of my in-laws.

There is a graciousness that goes with the South. There are also a lot of secrets and terribly dark days of prejudice and violence.

Whenever I spend two minutes with any of my southern cousins, I immediately begin to speak with a southern accent. I can't explain it.

Can you imagine asking your "help" to use the bathroom outside? That's just a little glimpse into this book and the issues it raises.

If you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it. I read an article last week and the author said the book was rejected more than 40 times. I applaud her for rewriting and resubmitting a b'jillion times. Now, it's also been sold to Hollywood and a movie will be coming out in August. I hope the movie is as good as the book.

If you've read the book or see the movie, let me know what you think.

Addicted to Facebook

Hello, my name is Sheri and I need a 12-step program. I am addicted to Facebook.

I love it. I love you, my friends. I love seeing your children and grandchildren. I love hearing about your day. I like checking out which pages you "like" and seeing what mutual friends we have.

For my media friends, I love your weather forecasts, your updates on breaking news and the fact that you interact with us regular people.

My aunts and my cousins, well ... without Facebook, I wouldn't know your latest blog, see your latest interests, know you play silly games ... I wouldn't get to share as much of your life as I do now.

High school friends and college friends -- wow, the power to reconnect! To see you as your grown up selves and superimpose that image with the one in my memory. It's mind boggling.

Seriously, I know what's going on with my church family because they put it on Facebook.

A few months ago, I was in a meeting with a vendor and my boss. The vendor was giving me great compliments and (jokingly) said, "You need to give her a raise." My boss replied, "Whatever... every time I check she's on Facebook."

Of course, he is my friend on Facebook and the only way he would know I was on it is he is on it too.

Guilty! I open it at home. I open it at work. I float between whatever I am working on and checking the status of my friends. I wait for Faith to tell me who I should pray for and I wait for Susan's hysterical posts. I long for Kristen's newest adventures and recipes. I see the travels of my peeps and I cheer for their accomplishments.

And at least once a day, somebody, somewhere tries to tell me something new and my answer ends up to be, "I know. I saw it on Facebook."

Mom's Day

Mother's Day is bittersweet for me. I love my mother, my best friend, with all my heart. But I didn't get to birth children of my own and that is one of my true regrets in life.

Yet, God opens doors. He gave me Jennifer and Tyler -- two of my greatest blessings. He gave me their mothers, two of my best friends. He gave me goddaughters (thank you Jan!) and a bounty of children to love. My "sister" has three children and thankfully, she has commanded that they love me.

You never stop being a mother. Today I was liturgist in my church and I flubbed a portion of the responsive reading. There's nothing like looking into the congregation and seeing your mother say, "You messed it up."

Yes, I did. And thanks Mom. One of your most amazing gifts is to let me know that I mess up and you love me anyway.

I truly believe it takes a village to raise a child. This child is looking at 50, a scant few years away, and realizing the women who shaped me, scolded me, loved me and soothed me.

Here's the prayer I shared with the congregation this morning:

Gracious God,

Today we honor mothers. We thank you for the mothers who gave birth to us and step mothers who stepped up. Thank you for adoptive mothers who grew children in their hears. Thank you for foster mothers who deal with situations most of us couldn't imagine. We thank you for grandmothers who get to love and laugh and send the children home.

Lord, let us also honor aunts and godmothers and all who touch our children. Thank you for neighborhood mothers who instinctively know it takes a village.

Let us also be grateful for Mary, a young mother in a challenging situation, who gave birth to our Lord.
,
May your loving hand touch all mothers everywhere.

So, I hope you honor yourself today. If you birthed a child, participated in raising a child, smacked a child upside the head for doing something dangerous or stupid... you have added to the community of humanity for all the greater good.

And may you all have someone who can look at you with a wink and a smile and say, "You messed up." Yes Mom, we all do it once in a while.

Sunday School

With a nod and a thank you to my friend Jay Flora, I will tell you something he said in Sunday School this morning.

"I used to get up a little early to attend Sunday School, but I was really there for the worship service. Now, I get up early to go to Sunday School and I hang around for the worship service."

My apologies to Jay for the paraphrasing.
My parents dragged me, kicking and screaming, to Sunday School. Really? Don't I do enough? Don't I volunteer for every event? Don't I show up for most of the big stuff?
I went to my parents' Sunday School class and it was wonderful for a while. Then I sought out my own. My own age group, a different agenda, a different conversation.
I love my minister and I love worship. But like Jay, I embrace the intimacies of Sunday School. I think we really helped Karen and Terry last week (thanks to Lori) and I think we collectively hold each others hands and hearts.
Sunday School means I came for worship but right now, in this group, I'm here for you.

Cubicles

Is there anything worse than being assigned to a cubicle each day? Well, of course disasters like tornadoes, tsunamis and other freaks of nature come to mind. But in the day to day working world of us little worker bees, I think cubicles are the worst.

When I was a young worker at AFNB (about to become Bank One) I had a little office appropriate to my little job. When they were building the Bank One Tower (now the Chase Tower) I was shown the plan of seniority and cubicle size. I did not rank an office but I did get a rather large cubicle with a great view. I also managed a parking space in the underground garage which meant I could go from garage to garage without messing up my hair.

As I grew with the company and my beloved boss retired, I got his office. With a door. With a conference table. With art that inspired me.

A little less than a year ago, I took a wonderful job with a company who's mission I firmly believe in. As the little troll on the totem poll, I was assigned a cubicle. I (being me) decorated it. I put out a candy jar (which almost broke me) in a way to say, "Stop by. Get to know me. Help yourself."

I put great faith in one man (my boss) and he put great faith in me.

I now have a great office with a door that locks and two windows that let in the sunshine. I have no idea why that is important to me but it is. The only thing that I miss about Bank One is the bank plane. Since we're a small, not -for-profit credit union, I think I will continue to fly commercial.

Here's my advice for all business owners and managers out there. If you really want to stifle creativity and productivity:

Put them all in a cubicle
Make them clock in & out and account for every second of every day.