Good Morning Vietnam

We've reached the final week in this year's A-Z Blog Challenge and these last few letters are always a doozie. Here we go-

V is for Valor

Dear Darling Grandboys living on the other side of the world, 

Nana misses you. When we talk via Facetime I want to cry from the missing, but you're so precious and so hilarious I smile instead. You live on the other side of the world because your Daddy is serving his country in the US Army. My daddy served his country too. You never got to know him, but you hear stories about your Poppie and that helps a little. 

In going through some boxes recently at your Mema's house in preparation for her move, your great aunt found a letter I'd written to my Dad (your great-grandfather) when he was in Vietnam. That's on your side of the world but to a not quite nine year old in 1969 it might as well have been the moon.

The letter is written on purple paper and I used four different colored markers to make it feel extra special. Across the top I've written Remember I Love You and I circled it too so he wouldn't forget. 

There are so many things I love about this letter, the first being my question to him asking-'What are you doing over there?' with a follow up ...."I hope you are having a good time." At age nine I did not know or understand the first thing about how war worked and for that I am so very grateful. 

I was telling my brother about the letter and he said that's exactly the kind of letter you want to get when you're fighting a war a world away. One that tells you the ordinary thoughts and doings of your little girl. One that reminds you home is a safe place and love lives there. 

The other thing I absolutely treasure about this letter is my dad kept it. He brought it back home with him when he returned from Vietnam. It was tucked away and this is the first I've seen it in decades. I guess the magic markers were not the only thing that made it special. 

Boys be proud of your homeland. Of America. The small towns and big cities. The natural beauty from coast to coast, her purple mountain majesty and amber waves of grain. 

The peoples so incredibly diverse in their race, religion, thought, and voice. 

The opportunities that abound for anyone willing to work hard. 

The risk takers and the homebodies. The volunteers, the philanthropists, the boy who mows his elderly neighbor's lawn. 

The generosity and unity of spirit we embrace when calamity occurs.

The freedom we have to pray, worship, gather. 

The freedom we have to speak, choose our leaders, be who and what we want to be. 

This is our foundation. It's what those early patriots envisioned when they put pen to paper and birthed a nation that would live on long after they were gone. It's what they gave their life's blood to and for, and what our service men and women have been defending ever since. 

Be proud of the men and women who sacrifice so much to defend the ideals this nation was founded upon. Noble ideals set in motion by imperfect people doing the best they could with what they knew in the times in which they lived. 

Is America a perfect place? No. There are no perfect places. But your country, the US of A, is better than most. She is a nation still growing up, a nation willing to learn from her mistakes, a nation longing to always do better, be better. Be proud of that and know too, how incredibly fortunate you are to be a citizen of the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

When I signed off on my letter to Poppie I told him I couldn't wait until September 29th, the day he would come home. That I was counting the days. Know I am doing the same for you. 

xoxo
Nana

One of These Things Is A Lot Like The Other

Note: I wrote this post late Thursday, then saw the word prompt for Five Minute Friday. Adding my link to the group there too. Visit Kate Motaung's blog and see what other writers had to say. Better yet, why not share your own five minute entry?  Today's prompt-Mom

As I was reading Hodgepodge answers yesterday I realized I didn't answer part two of question one, which basically asked how my experience as a mom was different than my own mother's experience. And since it's almost Mother's Day I thought I'd expand on that a little.

That's me with my mama. I guess I really am a brunette-ha! And apparently my obsession with beautiful weather started early.

I've been a mother for almost thirty years now, but when I think about Mother's Day it's my mother who comes to mind first, as opposed to my own role as mom. I know I'm so fortunate to have my mother still in my life, in my girl's lives, and soon in my grandson's life. Her first great grandchild. Course logistics are nuts, but we will find a way to introduce them face to face, and I know she's looking forward to that.

Me too, but this post is about her not me.

My mother loved us well. Really that is the thought that looms largest in my mind when I think about my mother. I have never once in all my life doubted the sureness of my mother's love. What a wonderful legacy and one I hope my children claim some day.

When I think about how our experiences differ a few things come to mind, but also a lot of similarities too. My mother raised four children and I raised two, so there's that. And she had a son which is not something I can speak to, although I will have a grandson which I know will stir up all sorts of new feelings in me.

My mom was a mostly stay at home mom and I was mostly a stay at home mom. We both worked off and on as our children grew, my mom as a librarian and me as a speech pathologist and later a teacher. We've both spent much of our adult lives volunteering in some capacity as well.

Back when I was in elementary school my mother was the phone chairperson for our area Christian Women's Club. I'm pretty sure her official title wasn't phone chairperson, but that's what we called it because she had to spend a lot of time on the phone taking reservations for a monthly luncheon, and handling some of the details. Probably more to it than that, but to a child's mind that was the gist of it.

No such thing as the Internet back in the day, so no online reservations or emailing information or avoiding human contact. It was all done the old fashioned way, and for you 'kids' reading here today, that would be a telephone attached to a wall that you dialed and that sometimes rang busy so you'd have to keep dialing until the busy signal quit.

And you had to talk to people when they answered because they mostly answered. We didn't screen calls and there was no voice mail. In fact I don't remember anyone having an answering machine of any kind, so conversation happened. Sometimes long conversations that had nothing to do with why you were calling. I remember we bought my mom  a little telephone for her charm bracelet that year because it seemed so fitting.

One of my favorite things as a school aged child was having my mother as room mom for my class. My younger sister was just one grade behind me, so she alternated from year to year whose room she volunteered in, but I loved it when she was in mine. She also dedicated countless hours of her life to filling various volunteer positions in our church and those are both things I enjoyed doing as a wife and mom too.

My mom was a military wife and moved a lot in her married life. I've moved numerous times as well,  so we have that in common. I think we both enjoy homemaking and handled picking up and setting down somewhere new pretty well. We would not call ourselves brave, but we can be when a job transfer calls for it.

My mother is an avid reader and was and still is a wonderful cook. Those are both activities I learned at her knee, and still enjoy. My girls also share a love of books and being in the kitchen too, and this makes my heart so happy.

My mother has an artist's eye and a gardener's green thumb. Alas I do not. I think these are things I associate with the role of homemaker because they were so much a part of my own mother and my childhood memories. In my head I have an artists eye and a gardener's green thumb, but in practice not so much. My mom has a way with flowers and can plop a bunch of blooms in a vase and they look amazing. I plop the same bunch and they just look plopped. Things grow in her yard and when I ask her how she says she didn't do anything special to make it happen. My mom sets a gorgeous table and irons linens like a pro. I do love a beautifully set table, but fall more into the 'good enough' category when it comes to ironing. My mother has made beautiful scrapbooks over the years too and while I try I never quite match her skill in those areas.

We both love shoes which has nothing to do with mothering, but seemed worth mentioning anyway.

My mother established so many wonderful family traditions around the holidays, and I think we're alike in that way. We want to make special occasions feel special and we both probably cling a little too tightly to some of that, but we're learning. We've both loosened the reins there in recent years, and Christmas still comes and it's still marvelous.

And we still bake too many cookies because some traditions are meant to be held tightly forever and ever amen.

Technology. This is one of the ways our experiences have differed, but more as we parent adults rather than small children. She didn't have to deal with a lot of technology in raising children, and even my generation mostly bypassed the craziness parents today have to navigate. When I was a kid we had a couple of phones in the house, and four channels on the TV. I don't remember it being a big deal, and although a couple of my friends had a phone in their bedroom, we never did. Even the friends with a phone in their room still shared the same line with the rest of the family, so not really 'your own phone'.

Social media was in its early stages when my girls were in high school and college so technology wasn't a huge deal in the heavy parenting years. Unless of course you count me trying to understand how it works-ha! My mom has email but uses it sparingly, and she loves to read my blog so at least she has her priorities straight.

My mom and I like to talk about spiritual things. We pray for our families, pouring out all the fear and worry, hope and gratitude, we feel for our children and our children's children, and in that way we are are very similar. I enjoy conversations with my mom about scripture or discussing something I've read in a book or puzzled over with my ladies Bible Study group. My mom thinks I'm a good mother and I appreciate that so much, even on the days it's not true.

Especially on the days it's not true.

My mom has been a superstar grandmother and has showered her grandchildren with love, prayer, and quality time. This is something I hope we share as I join the world of grandparenting this summer.

I think all mothers feel they've managed some aspects of parenting well, and some areas less so. There's regret over situations or seasons with our children where a mother wishes she could get a do-over, one more chance to make everything perfectly perfect. I feel that myself as a mother, but as a daughter?

As a daughter I never expected my mother to be perfect. Her love for me was perfect and that's always been enough.

And in that way I hope I'm exactly like her.
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A Colorful Hodgepodge

January is rolling right along, which means it's time for another edition of the Hodgepodge. Please only link here on Wednesdays if you've answered the questions. Thanks! Also, there are not a lot of rules associated with this meme, but I do ask if you link your answers that you take a minute to visit the blogger who linked before you. Everybody needs somebody, right? Here we go-

1. Share one thing that really makes your day.

I ran into my daughter2 in the grocery store on Sunday afternoon, and couldn't stop smiling. Quite often it really is the little things. 

2.  Lots of these kinds of lists out there, but one found here says the fifteen most colorful places on earth are:

Vernazza, Cinque Terre, italy~Burano, Italy~Havana, Cuba~Rio de Janiero, Brazil~Chefchaouen, Morocco~Balat, Istanbul, Turkey~Menton, France~Jodhpur, india~La Baca, Buenos Aires, Argentina~Guanajuato, Mexico~Capetown, South Africa~Valparaiso, Chile~Wroclaw, Poland~San Francisco, California~and Pelourhino, Salvador, Brazil.

Of those listed which would you most like to see up close and in person? Of all the places you've seen or traveled in your own life, what would you say was one of the most colorful?

If you didn't click on the link to see the pretty pictures you should! So many colorful little towns and villages around the world. When I read questions like this one, where I have to choose a single fabulous destination, I'm always torn between re-visiting a country I know and love (Italy! France!) or opting for a new and different locale. In this case I'm going with Vernazza because Italy. 

In thinking about colorful spots I've been fortunate to see in my life and travels, several places came to mind.  Three off the top of my head would be:

 Rapeseed in bloom, as far as the eye can see-UK

The Christmas Market in Strasbourg France

 Shanghai, China...definitely one of the most interesting and colorful cities on planet Earth

3. "Everything you want is on the other side of fear." Jack Canfield In general, would you agree or disagree with that statement? Why?

I think there's some truth in the saying, but hesitate to use the word everything. Sometimes what I want is on the other side of laziness. ahem. 

4. Imagine you're stranded on a desert island and dessert appears...what do you hope it is? Do you ever struggle to remember which spelling is desert and which is dessert?

I hope there's a perfectly torched creme brulee headed my way. The kind where you very gently tap the topping with a spoon, and it just barely crackles. 

Regarding desert and dessert-I don't struggle with that particular pair of words because I fall back on an old childhood trick known as sweet sugar. A sure way to remember the double s belongs in dessert. 

5.  What song almost always makes you cry?

The Star Spangled Banner, when sung well, can easily make me cry. The same is true of a beautiful rendition of How Great Thou Art. And if Garth Brooks song The Dance comes on the radio I almost always change the station. Cannot.handle.it. 

6.  January is National Soup Month.  Everything from soup to nuts, in the soup, thick as pea soup, souped up...which saying most recently applies to your life in some way? Explain.

We're building a house from start to finish so 'from soup to nuts' seems fitting. 
Especially the nuts part! 

7. Write a two word note to your younger self. What does it say.

Be brave. 

8.  Insert your own random thought here.

If you've never listened to Shane and Shane's Psalm2 I highly recommend. I might be wrong in saying this, but I don't think it's available in CD format, strictly a download via iTunes. Maybe I'm the only one out there still buying actual CD's-ha! Everything is downloaded or streamed or some such nonsense now. I'm not quite there. 

Anyway...about the 'CD'... I'm obsessed. If you're looking for soul-soothing music, uplifting, encouraging, and beautifully written lyrics check it out. There are 12 songs on the playlist? and I wanted to link to my favorite, but couldn't decide which one that would be. Here's one of my favorites~Better Than Life-



Enjoy your Wednesday all! 

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. And Me.

We went to see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty last weekend, billed as a comedy, but which left me gobsmacked. The film's message, if you want to call it that, has been rolling around my brain all week long, and I need to write it down in order to make sense of it.

I hadn't heard a lot about the movie prior to seeing it, but my daughter said she'd heard it was funny, plus I like Ben Stiller, so whatever. The film started out a little 'campy' and I thought eh, not my thing, but very quickly, as the story began unfolding and the tone shifting, I found myself caught up inside Walter Mitty's head.

It looks an awful lot like the inside of my own head.
He's fiction by the way.

In a nutshell, Walter Mitty has these big dreams and sees himself living a brave life filled with all sorts of experiences. In the real world he works a 9-5 office job in the basement of Life Magazine.  I don't want to give away the whole movie, but suffice it to say, one thing leads to another and he finds just enough courage and inspiration to take a first step, which leads to a second, and before you know it he is becoming the person he imagined himself to be.

I want that.

Before we moved overseas I didn't do a lot of traveling or 'out of my comfort' zone stuff. Don't get me wrong, I loved my life. I absolutely adored mothering daughters, and found the paid work I was doing supremely satisfying. But then we moved. Life shifted. And in the process, I shifted.  Living in another country opened up a whole world of opportunity I vaguely knew was out there, but didn't think a whole lot about because I was living my happy comfortable life. Nothing wrong with that, but once the lid on a box has been lifted it's hard to cram it back down.

When you're living an ocean away from what you've always known, and you're traveling a lot, experiencing new things on an almost daily basis, interacting with all sorts of people, pushing yourself to do things that are outside the realm of what you ever thought you'd be comfortable or capable of doing, it changes you.  And one of the ways it changed me was it made me a little bit brave.

I've always been what we call in our family 'fraidy scared' of so many things in life. Not just stuff that might fall under the category of adventure, but also things like dealing with uncomfortable situations, speaking up, anything that might be dubbed remotely confrontational.

I've never been a person who dives head first in to new things. I've always been thoughtful, and I like to consider all the possible 'what might go wrong' scenarios in my head, before gingerly putting my big toe in the water. My husband learned early on in our married life that when something takes me out of my comfort zone, I'm gonna be needing a pep talk. Even then it's likely I'll still have to be grabbed by the hand and pulled along much of the time. Or pushed, depending on what we're talking about.

I've always been a confident person in terms of what I believe, my ability to parent, my work, etc but in terms of stepping outside those areas? Not so much. Six years in another country though, built my confidence, made me not only less fearful of new, but actually found me loving it.

Insert a shift back to this side of the pond. A few years go by, and here I am, back in my comfort zone, living life with the familiar, and I think I've forgotten how to be brave. Forgotten that I am brave.  

As I watched the movie I kept thinking about how God works in mysterious ways. It was only a day or two earlier I'd written here about my word for this year. How it was a word that chose me, and in all honesty I was still sort of questioning the wisdom of choosing that particular word.  As I sat in that theatre it felt like my word was everywhere.  Unafraid.  That word, my word, was woven through the film in a way I couldn't miss. It might as well have been painted across the screen.

We're less than two weeks into 2014, but I've already been out of my comfort zone in dealing with some things I've committed to this year.  Then there's this-hubs and I will celebrate 30 years of marriage in June. We know we want to take a trip somewhere, but haven't been able to pin down the destination, mostly because he wants exotic and I want safe. He wants far and I want familiar.  He wants large and I want comfortable.

As soon as the movie ended I looked at hubs and said "I can do exotic...far...large."
Thanks Walter Mitty for the inspiration.

Most of all, I'm thankful for a Heavenly Father who knows me better than I know myself. Who wants more for me than I can ask or imagine. Who puts people and opportunity and situations in my path, and courage and conviction in my heart.

Who created a big-small, wide, wonderful, sometimes scary world, and wants me out there in it. Who walks beside the fearful and says be brave.

Five Minutes of Brave

Earlier today I said I wasn't going to participate in the 5-Minute Friday prompt today. The word is brave and I'm tired and a chicken.  As I wrote my usual random mix of nonsense though, the word hung around, so here goes...rememeber this is 5-minutes only, unedited...

It feels a little funny to write about being brave when there are people fighting wars and battling cancer and slogging through all sorts of awful stuff in this world. They are brave in the truest sense of the word.

I was thinking today about writing, and how it requires a certain amount of bravery too. Maybe not the kind of bravery it takes to go into the mission field or the battlefield or the surgical suite, but bravery nonetheless. I think my best writing is when I reach inside and pull out something real. It's putting myself out there and being vulnerable.

Blogging is easy for me. I'm a naturally talkative person and enjoy blabbing about nothing in particular with anyone who wants to listen. I get a lot of positive feedback on my blog and that sometimes makes me think I'm a writer.

Then I read what other people are writing. How they're able to capture the essence of something intangible with a few beautiful words that literally sing themselves off the page, and in those moments I don't feel brave. Instead I travel down the road of, "you're okay at blogging, but when it comes to real writing you're in the deep end without a paddle."

I know people will leave me comments and tell me I really am a writer, and I appreciate that, but it's not my aim. I'm talking to myself here. Giving myself a little pep talk. Reminding myself why I write. Telling myself to keep writing til I get it right.

Telling myself to be brave.