It came to my attention that this past Thursday was International Happiness Day.  I can’t remember how I found out…but I do know it was after I made this video.  I was kinda overwhelmed with all of these pictures and videos I had taken over the last couple of weeks on my phone and figured this was the best way to get them up without taking up too much space.  And then…after it was finished…the Earth aligned with the moon and stars and I heard about the whole Happiness day thing.  It would have been super awesome-er had I actually got it published on that day.  But I didn’t.  So…there went the coolness factor in that whole scenario.

Anyways…while I’m usually the one leading the Happy dance…often convincing even the least cooperative member of our family to eventually join in…I’m finding myself watching instead.  It seems it’s been a while since I’ve hosted the pep-rally for life; doing a high kick, spirit fingered cheer for the simple things…evoking the band wagon “woohoo” chant from my crew…like all good pep-rally leaders do.   And we all feel the strain.  You know the one.  That strain of uncomfortably that comes when the person who normally leads the pep-rally is found hanging out behind the gym smoking a cigarette while her pom poms hang out of her back pocket?  Yeah…that one.  Everyone’s all, “What?!?!?!  She’s supposed to be doing herkeys!  What’s she doing under the bleachers with the kids who wear all black and act like they hate life?”  Soooooo…(And that was a metaphor Mom and Dad.  Nobody’s smoking.)…I guess I’ve been sitting back and watching more.  I’ve let someone else lead the cheers.  I’ve let go of that responsibility for a second.  And I think that’s okay.  It has to be.  Because at some point, I know I’ll grab my pom poms again and my herkey will be bigger and better than ever.

I’ve watched my kids jump in and find happy.  Maybe I’ve actually rubbed off on them a little.  Maybe.

It’s officially Spring.  Tomorrow is March 24th.  And maybe you didn’t know that March 24th is Harry Houdini’s birthday.  And it’s also when Elvis joined the Military.  I know this because Chase told us at dinner tonight.  How can that not make you happy?

Happy Spring, Friends.

And coincidentally…Happy International Happiness Day (a few days late).

spring time happiness from mindyclarkson@comcast.net on Vimeo.

I am beyond backlogged on preserving family memories.  It comes to my attention that I have put a lot of pressure on myself to be the dream catcher for the entire family.  Like…the reality that I am not keeping up with capturing the memories in my mind…much less getting the images in my camera or into a story…makes me crazy.  My camera actually had to be dusted off the other day.  And the real proof came when I logged into the blog just now and I had to enter my password because it had been too long since last time.

So…the next few posts will be catch up.  Because Lawd knows I won’t be able to sleep at night if I don’t play memory catch up.

First of all…

We kept under wraps that Colt was trying out for the Intense Basketball Academy’s AAU 7th grade boy’s team.  This was a big deal.  This is select basketball.  This is where the big dogs play.  I took him to the tryout while Chad coached Colt’s YMCA team’s last game.  His siblings and I quietly sat in the bleachers and watched the returning, skilled players run through tough drills while the clearly, qualified coaches watched their execution with unforgiving eyes.  If they failed to make the corrections the coaches gave…you knew they were not happy through a stomped foot that echoed throughout the gym or a yelled NO with a clap in front of their faces.  Colt has never been coached by anyone other that Chad…and it was a bit of a shock.  As I watched…I saw my son nod, work harder, and make corrections in a way I hadn’t really seen before.  I saw him put everything he had onto that court.  And I had no idea if it would be enough this time.

Last November…his heart was broken when the school coach cut him after making it all the way to the end of tryouts.  He told him that, although fundamentally he was better than a lot of the boys who had made it…he just wasn’t big enough or defensively aggressive enough to handle the kids on the teams they would be playing who had already “come into their size.”  Chad and I sat behind him in that meeting with the coach…listening to him tell Colt that he was right on the bubble.  And that was tough.  It was tough to know he was that close.  It was also tough to see him hurting.  He had those normal thoughts that we all have when we are told we aren’t good enough…to quit.  Just quit so we don’t have to feel that rejection again.  We let him wrestle with those feelings for half the day…and then we had our come to Jesus meeting.  And that afternoon…he signed up to play for the Y.  It wasn’t easy to do.  He didn’t want to play for the YMCA again when his dream was to wear his school’s uniform.  But he put everything he had into doing everything that coach told him in that meeting.  He became a different kind of player.  He went from making plays to being a play maker.   While the boys on the school team scrimmaged during practice…he spent evenings alone on the driveway shooting.  While they were celebrated by cheerleaders and fans…he used trash cans as defenders.  While they were noticed…he kept his head down with a quiet determination.  And I saw glimpses of what makes a great athlete.  He learned that it’s not just about talent…but determination and work and never giving up.  He didn’t take no for an answer…and that made me more proud than if I had been watching him from the stands at the Jr. High game.  I’m not saying that he doesn’t still have a lot of growing and developing to do…but for this season…he did everything he could.

So…at the end of the select tryout almost 2 weeks ago…the coaches said, “Thanks.  we will be in touch.”

And we waited.

We waited for a week…hearing nothing.

And then it came.

My phone dinged with a text.  And this is how it started…

“Congratulations.  Your son has made our IBA Baller 7th grade boy’s team.”

****

So…I tell that story.  That beautiful story of disappointment and perseverance.  Because…don’t we all need to hear those stories from time to time?

And…well…this one happened to my son.

Who knew that having a kid in Jr. High would take me right back there myself?

It’s as if I’m walking around those halls…arching my back so I look a couple of inches shorter…wearing long, full skirts (that are the least fashionable things that I could put on my body, in case you were wondering) just so I can bend my knees to appear (you guessed it) shorter while standing with a group of boys and girls.  At least I was logical.  I mean…you can’t really bend your knees in jeans or shorts because then people will see.  And then they will know that you are NOT 4 inches shorter than you really are.  I was smart like that.

I actually found myself telling Colt the other day that he needed to give a girl a better head nod than the haphazard hello he gave a “popular” girl that we ran into at his basketball game the other day.

What????!???

Then I had to apologize to him and tell him that I was wrong about that and that his head nod was fine.

What I was responding to was the behind the scene memory that the whole scenario brought up in my own mind.  She clearly wanted his attention.  He clearly didn’t give her what she wanted.  This would clearly result in her not liking him anymore and him losing the chance of having a relationship like all the other kids up there.  Clearly.

WHAT??????!!????

Who am I even thinking about??  Am I identifying with her??  Am I thinking about what is best for him??

Clear…my @$$.

It took my small brain a minute or 20 to realize what I was doing.  I was trying to work out my own 7th grade issues through my son…who apparently has his head screwed on straighter than I did…(or do, sadly).

His reply,

“I’m not interested in having a girl friend right now.  I think it’s stupid to rotate through girls in 7th grade…just because that’s what everyone else is doing.”

Cue the scene in Aladdin when the Genie’s jaw drops to the floor out of shock.

I might as well have been one of the other 7th grade boys…taunting him and ridiculing him for not wanting a girlfriend.

Nice.  Mom of the year award…right here, folks.

Then we talked about how a lot of these kids are already telling each other “I love you.”  They are writing it online.  They are willing and quick to give their hearts away…and I don’t even want to know what else they are willing to give away.

And the fact…that even for a second…I got caught up in it all…just so my kid could be popular…just so I could seemingly “right” my own feelings of inadequacy and insignificance in Jr. High made me sick.  Because that’s the bottom line.  Why else do we, as adults, blast social media with all of our kid’s successes and accolades?  Is it really about them?  Sometimes…yes.  But if we are honest…maybe it’s also about how it reflects on us.  It’s so we can feel good and proud.  But I really believe it’s the kind of proud that we have to be careful with.  I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever post anything good about our kids.  I’m just saying…it’s a heart matter.  What are we putting out there?  And why?

So…once again…I’m taught by my kid.

Your head nod was fine, son.  You go be well known and liked out there…BUT…be well known and liked because when people talk to you or spend time around you…they leave feeling built up and good about themselves.  Bring out the best in people.  Make them better.  Make them feel cared for and important.  Be well known for that.

One of the first questions I like to ask my kids when they get in the car from school is not “How was your day…”

…but instead…

“How did you show Jesus to someone today?”

And my oldest son can always answer that question.

I have to be careful to not get in their way, sometimes.  Shame on me.

Lesson learned.

Again.

****

I look at you…and my heart beats faster.  You are extraordinary.

Last night I shaved my legs.  And…let’s not kid ourselves…it’s rare that I take the time to do that.  And it made me wonder…why?  Why do I not take the 90 seconds that it takes to shave my legs on a regular basis?  It’s not like it takes that much time.  I mean…it’s 90 seconds.  And the answer came…almost as fast as the question.

Because it just grows right back.

And that made me realize how much of my life is spent processing and believing that way.  I’ve been in a lazy rut.  I have been leaving dishes on the counters.  I’ve been leaving laundry on the floor.  I’ve been leaving dog and cat hair un-vacuumed.  I’ve been leaving dust on the furniture.  And I’ve been dissatisfied with that.  I’ve been irritated and irritable because our home is out of order.  And I’ve also been questioning why I’ve lost my drive.  And the whole “shaving of the legs” thing answered the question for me.

It just comes right back.

I had gotten so tired of spinning my wheels to accomplish these jobs…these jobs of the home maker…with no feeling of accomplishment.  Nothing is ever done.  There is no check mark I can put next to “do laundry” that tells me I completed something.  Because the clean clothes aren’t put away before the laundry baskets are full again.  The minute I dust the furniture…it starts accumulating again.  The  minute I vacuum or sweep the floors…the dog and cat run through and there it all is again.  I pick up the poop in the backyard and Boom…there it is again.  I find myself sitting down at the end of the day to rest from a job well not done.

And that is very dissatisfying.

That’s when I realized that I had to change my inner dialog.  My goal can’t be to cross something off of my list…because the same list just comes right back.  So…it reasons that if my goal doesn’t change…then my satisfaction level won’t either.

My goal has to be radically different.  It doesn’t have an end.  Whoa.  What???  I don’t get an A+ for my hard work??  I don’t get to cross things off my list??  I don’t get to be finished??  What’s the point of even having it, then?  My answer became clear to me.  My goal is not to finish my work.  My goal is to do my daily work to honor and please God.  He is not concerned if I get to cross laundry off my list.  But He is concerned if I am working with willing hands.  What makes my work accomplished is if I perceive it as profitable and let my attitude follow.  It will make a big difference in my thinking.  Of this…I am sure.

I am meditating on this verse from Proverbs today:

“She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.”

BAM.

****************

We have fully experienced Winter.  It is down right cold.  Coats and mittens are cute and all…and I can get down with a wool hat and scarf like nobody’s business…but I’m gonna be real.  My soul is longing for warmth.  I dream of stepping into soft grass and feeling the warmth of the Spring sun on my skin.  I want to wear shorts and tank tops.  I want to put the Ugg boots away in exchange for a new pair of brown flip flops.  I want side walk chalk to stain kids clothes and a gathering of friends on the driveway at night.  I want to replace hot tea with lemonade.  Even my posture appreciates the promise that Spring brings.  Instead of my arms being crossed, my head bowing and my body closing up to protect myself from the cold wind…my arms swing, my head lifts and my body opens up to appreciate the warm breeze.  We have had some glimpses of it…and I have forced it is some ways.  I bought the girl’s new, green bows in preparation for St. Patrick’s day…willing it in my mind.

And don’t get me started on my new clear, bubble umbrella.

Favorite shots:

She has entered the Lego phase of childhood.  It keeps us inside and warm.

All the kids had friends over except for her.   There were many little sister tears of being left out until we decided to make cookies for everyone…giving us a good reason to bring out the bunny apron.  Spring softly whispers.

Spring whispered again with this magical umbrella…worthy of a loud and proud “THREE CHEERS FOR SPRING” chant.

We took full advantage of our random “warm” day.  The boys all did their thing…

…and the girls did theirs, which was spying on the boys doing theirs.  They are devising a serious, yet stealthy plan here.  It’s very hard work being a girl.  Those boys don’t give them that much material to work with.  That is…until they realize that they are being watched.  Then they turn up the “interesting” a notch.  This particular scene on this particular afternoon was right out of a Judy Bloom book…which made me particularly happy.

Happy Valentine’s Day.  We are working hard over here…making boxes and such.

So…until Spring arrives in all it’s glory, I light this Warm Woolen Mittens Candle…and bask in the Joy that the Winter Olympics bring.  Because who doesn’t love the Olympics?  And further more…who wouldn’t love a candle with the name “Warm Woolen Mittens?”  I mean.  Seriously.

I’d like to be able to say that I went on some sort of artistic sabbatical or something.  I’d like to be able to say that I purposely took a break from writing and photography and everything else artistic.  But neither is true.

I’ve been thinking about this quote that I heard a while back.

“You almost have to be a little diluted to stay motivated.”

BOOM.  My truth.

This truth has been stuck in my head and has been whirling around in there every since I heard it…swishing through my non-diluted, too realistic thoughts like nobody’s business.

And the thing is…

for me…

it’s true.

I lost my motivation for a bit.  I lost the motivation to be creative in the simplest of ways.  And I guess I have to be OK with that.  I can’t force it.   I’ve learned that much.  I can miss it…but I can’t force it.

And as I’ve sat patiently in that place…I’ve missed the order that creativity brings to my life.  To others…it may seem the opposite.  To others…the, often flighty ways of any artist, makes them a bit “quirky,” or “erratic,” or “unpredictable.”  But to me…I need it to feel grounded.

So here I sit.  Typing and deleting and editing and fumbling with rambling thoughts…trying to will myself back from the edge of discouragement that the lack of motivation brings.  For someone who typically has a love affair with words…I strangely don’t have much to say.
Except that I find it sad when beautiful moments are reduced to a facebook status or even worse…a tweet.  But that seems to be my case these days.  Here are some of my favorite moments from my days of “going dark” on the ole’ blog.

I’ll leave you with that…and this:

A favorite quote from a great movie that we recently saw and that I highly recommend…

“And that’s what we storytellers do.  We restore order with imagination.  We instill hope again, and again, and again.” -Walt Disney (Saving Mr. Banks)

Here’s to allowing our imaginations to restore order again.

I wish that this was a space were everything was always happy.  But things are kind of a mess.  Everywhere I look…a mess.

And this time…no amount of tinsel or white twinkly lights can make it better.  For example…the laundry on the middle of the living room floor…the one that Annslee is laying on top of watching TV…the one that we just keep stepping around because none of us feel like folding it…

well…you can throw all the white twinkly lights in the world on top of it…but it will still be there.

And the sadness that we are all feeling right now…

you could wrap garland and bows all around it…until you can’t even see it anymore.

But…we will still feel it.

Our family has taken some hits.  Our morale is low.  It’s been 6 months of a lot of “No’s.”

And…this is when most people would tell me…”Just look around at all you have!  You are so blessed!  You have no real reason to be stuck in this pit!  What about those people over there???  Now…they have a reason to be stuck.  But not you!!!  You have every reason to be happy!”

And all of this is true.

But…as I watch my son’s heart break because he got a big “NO” last week…I wonder…is that what he needs to hear?  Is that what I need to tell myself??

Maybe.  But somehow that speech just didn’t seem right.

Instead…I sat beside him in his bed…and we cried together.  We cried because it hurts when we lose something our hearts were dreaming about.

After a long conversation…we both realized that he was stuck in the anger phase of grief.  And I may be too.  We knew we had gone through denial.  We knew that during those 2 or so weeks…we thought, “For sure…this baby will be okay.”  Denial.  And we prayed.  He prayed a lot.  He admitted to me last night that he begged God for the life of his sibling…telling him that he would never sin again if the baby would live.  What a sweet and tender prayer from a child.  So…there was the bargaining stage.  And then comes anger.  And with anger comes jealousy…and envy…and bitterness.  With anger comes destruction…

destruction of the heart.

So…we realized…we both have been walking around in anger for a while.

And then…last week, we both really thought the tide was turning and we were going to get a “yes”…a “yes” that we had all been hoping for, for a very long time…and more importantly…a “yes” that we were “needing” and “counting on”…because this “yes” was going to dissolve the anger of the other “No’s” in our hearts.  However…instead of that “Yes”…it was another heart breaking “No.”

And so…the anger of this “No” combined with the anger from the other “No’s” was just about more than we could take.

Just about.

And just like that…God was going to have us work through this together.  All of us.

Trusting Jesus is great.  Focusing on what we do have is great.  But letting God walk you through the anger phase of grief is absolutely necessary.  You can tell a person all you want that it could be worse.  Yes…it could always be worse.  But it doesn’t take away the hurt.  It just kinda heaps a little bit of guilt and shame on them for being sad.  And most importantly…we all realized…that you can’t live your life waiting for the yes’s to dissolve the hurt and anger of the no’s because it just doesn’t work like that.

So…I guess what I’m trying to say is…

Yes.  We are a mess.  Our messy pet hair covered, dirty laundry splashed, toilet ringed, dust invaded house reflects our messy hearts.  But each day…we pick up a toy or a wet towel here and there…straightening one room at a time…item by item…piece by piece.  It’s not going to get done in one day…or even in one week.  It may take a long time.  And I’m okay with it.  I’m not going to be angry with the mess anymore.  And I’m going to teach my son to not be angry with the mess either.

And by God…we are going to throw as much tinsel and twinkly lights around our mess as possible…

not because we are trying to hide it…

but because we are making it beautiful.

Today…I’m praying that we keep our messy and tender hearts open to God as He continues to tend to them…gently mending the broken pieces back together.  I thank Him for not giving up on us when we rip our hearts out of His hands and scream, “Just leave us alone!”  I pray that we will let him comfort us and that we can let go of the anger that we hold onto…mistaking it for protection.  I pray that we will not just know…but feel the comfort of this love…this care…this repairing.  I pray that we will not mistake His love…that we will not question it…that we will not grumble in it…that we will not doubt it.  I pray that we will not turn our backs…and shy away from what He…in no doubt…is using to bring us closer to Him.  I pray that we will quit blaming Him for the mess…and that, instead, we allow Him to make our mess beautiful.