I'm the Short Aunt...

On Sunday, we had my youngest nephew's 1st birthday party. Harrison Robert will actually turn 1 year old tomorrow, and that delightful cheerful soul has been such a wonderful addition to our family already. He is the happiest baby I've ever seen. Sure, he's had a few bad moments with teething, but on the whole, he's been a happy, giggling bundle of joy.

After the guests all headed home from the party, my brother-in-law took some photos of me with each of his 3 kids as I had requested. As most of you know, I'm always behind the camera rather than in front of it. I like it that way. But every once in a while, I like having snapshots taken of me with my nieces and nephews, too. The photos turned out quite well and made Aunt Mel happy.

Harrison and I posed. His Mom got him laughing from across the room, and he's just too cute. Grace and I cheesed and giggled for the camera with ease. She was adorable in her fancy church dress. She's a true girly-girl and loves dressing up.

But when it came time for Jacob and I to have our photo shoot, Jonathan insisted on doing a height check photo to determine how close Jacob was to reaching my height and beyond. He's only 6 how bad could it be, right? WRONG! We stood back to back, and if the photos are any indication, my goofy little nephew is going to be taller than his old Aunt Mel in short order. [sigh] My sister is now betting that he'll be taller than I am by third grade. YIKES! And my friend James from college (who will forever be known as Jamie to me) saw the photos online and suggested I look into surgery to lengthen my height so I could keep up. OUCH! I hear that surgery is rather painful, but thanks for the suggestion, Jamie. Hee hee!

Yeah, it's bound to happen. I'm going to be passed up by all of my nieces and nephews eventually, but that's OK. I'm all right being the short aunt for now. I can still whip any of them at Monopoly, and I play a mean Wii tennis game, and so it's all good as long as they don't mind hanging out with the short one in the family.

Things Are Pretty Bad Right Now...

Due to recent budget cuts and the rising cost of electricity, gas and oil, as well as current market conditions, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been turned off. We apologize for the inconvenience.

My friend and colleague, Heidi, sent me an email with that simple message yesterday, and it just made me laugh. Yes, things are difficult right now, and I am not making light of these tight economic times or the hardships so many are facing by chuckling. But I truly believe that we need laughter to survive. We need to find humor even amidst these dire circumstances, perhaps especially during them really.

I'm not always Suzy Sunshine or the girl looking at the rosy side of life. You all know me better than that. I'm a melancholy brooder, a writer, a dreamer. Actually, I'm not sure whether the glass is half full or half empty most of the time, but I do know the FILLER of the glass, and I know HE tends to fill us even when there doesn't appear to be any liquid in sight. HE's the one who multiplied the loaves and the fishes to feed multitudes. HE made water into wine. HE restored sight to the blind. HE made the lame leap for joy. And HE is right here with us now...

LORD, thank you for the gift of laughter. Thank you for the filling joy that only YOU can provide. Keep our hearts tuned to see YOU, to hear YOU even when the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be waning and all appears to be lost and hopeless. Keep us looking to YOU, the ultimate FILLER, the ONE TRUE HOPE!

Tomorrow Is Fresh With No Mistakes In It…

No matter how you voted in the last presidential election, yesterday was an historical moment and should be celebrated. America has a new President, and a new Democratic administration has stepped in on a platform of optimism and hope. This is a fresh start, a new beginning, a pristine opportunity.

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

I always liked that line from Lucy Maud Montgomery's pen in Anne of Green Gables. It is a good reminder that each day starts anew as a breath of fresh air.

Hope and optimism are fuel for the human spirit. It's contagious, infectious, enthralling, and right now it is spreading like wildfire. I hear it at work amongst my co-workers. I catch a glimpse of it in a cashier's eye at Meijer. I feel it surrounding my friends as we converse in person or online. It's there, right there in front of you, if you open your eyes to view it.

Yesterday ushered in a change. A new man has stepped in as the leader of the free world. So many are looking toward this new President and his administration to deliver them from their financial burdens. The economic crisis in this country is burdening so many who have lost their jobs and homes. Still others are seeking changes in our health care system. The rising swell of health costs each year is staggering and preventing many from getting proper medical treatment. Some are eagerly anticipating their loved ones who are serving overseas to quickly be returned to them. So many have faith in the winds of change

On the flip side, there are some that are tempted to downplay the significance of yesterday's inauguration. There are the nay-sayers who have already started commenting on how futile and naive the aspirations of the new administration are. The critics are already bubbling over with anticipation waiting for the mistakes, the goofs, the corruption to start piling up. They have faith in failure.

But my faith isn't in a man, a change in administration or policy. My hope doesn't rest in the hands of critics or the doomsday crowd. My trust, my hope, my faith, my optimism rests in GOD, in my LORD and SAVIOR, and today I'm allowing that ULTIMATE HOPE to infuse me as we move forward as a nation. I'm embracing the HOPE.

GO LIGHT YOUR WORLD
by Chris Rice

There is a candle in every soul
Some brightly burning, some dark and cold
There is a Spirit who brings fire
Ignites a candle and makes His home

Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to
Light his own candle some other way
See now your sister, she's been robbed and lied to
Still holds a candle without a flame

Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the lonely, the tired and worn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

We are a family whose hearts are blazing
So let's raise our candles and light up the sky
Praying to our Father, in the name of Jesus
Make us a beacon in darkest times

Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the helpless, deceived and poor
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world

Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

How Do You Say...

In the office, we have quite a hodge-podge of accents both globally and from the USA. Here in the IP section, I continually get re-educated on regional dialects in the USA especially, and I find it amazing.

For example, my friend Stephanie is from Kentucky, and she moved back to Louisville a few years ago. My friend Kristen and I planned a weekend excursion to visit her, and when I told my co-worker Dena about my trip, she hastily corrected me on the correct pronounciation of Louisville.

“Not Louey-vill, Mel. It’s Loo-ih-vull.”

Now Dena is from Tennessee, and so I trusted her advice, and after a few day of intense phonetic training, I finally got my Midwestern tongue to say it as she suggested. The silly thing is that once I got the pronounciation down, I had to say the word extremely fast so that I wouldn’t screw it up. It quickly became a one-and-a-half syllable word for me. Dena joked that she was tempted to say Gesundheit each time I said the city since my pronounciation was more like a sneeze than a word. HA!

Well, fast forward a couple of years, and we get a new attorney in the office from Louisville, and being the Southern gentleman that he is, it takes him a while to finally correct my pronounciation and that of Dena’s for his beloved hometown.

“Slow it down, Mel. It’s Loo-uh-vull. It should just roll off your tongue.”

So I’ve been practicing the correct recitation ever since, but it has brought up a couple more questions in my mind. Does that mean that Nashville should be Nash-vull? Knoxville be Knox-vull? Asheville be Ash-vull? And what about Greenville? I lived there for 4 years, and I don’t recall anyone correcting my speech and suggesting that I call it Green-vull. Or does it depend upon which of the Carolina Greenville’s you are referring? Now, I’m confused.

I’m a Midwest girl. It is what it is. I grew up with that nasal Michigan thing going for me, but then I went to college in South Carolina and have now lived in Indiana for 12+ years. Honestly I’m not sure where I sound like I’m from. When I’m tired, the Michigan comes out in me. Words like car become different, and it’s a dead give-away. But ordinarily under proper resting conditions, I’m not sure what a linguistic expert would say of my speech. Would he pinpoint the Michigan thing instantly? Would he sense the Carolina influence? Would he detect the Hoosier-isms?

Oh well! I don’t know any Professor Higgins types to investigate it further, and let’s face it, I’m no Eliza Doolittle either. I just think it’s fascinating to study how people say the same word from location to location. I love the differences which make up this melting pot I am pleased to call home.

Weekend Update

OK. I'm going to share something here, and I just need you to be happy for me, all right? Just play along. Are you ready?

I got a new microwave yesterday, and I'm pretty excited about it. I'm not quite doing cartwheels across the floor (and since I have never been able to do cartwheels THAT would be quite an amazing feat), but I am pretty psyched about the newest member of my kitchen appliance family. I know, to the casual observer, this might seem a bit trivial or a tad silly for one to get so enthused about the purchase of a new food-heating tool, but it has made me quite happy. [I realize I'm easily amused.]

I've had the same microwave since my first apartment back in Peru, IN. My sister-in-law's mother brought me her spare microwave right after I moved into my first post-college apartment. Believe me, I was grateful for that brown metal box, and it has served me well these past dozen years or more. It has made several big moves with me across the state of Indiana since those humble beginnings in the Circus Capital of the World. Over the years, it has survived in tact with dignity and quality service.

But lately, it's been less than a top performer. About a month ago I started noticing that I was having to heat things up for longer and longer time periods...especially the baked potatoes, and you all know how I feel about my baked potatoes, right? Well, it was taking about 12-15 minutes for one medium-sized potato to get cooked all the way through, and that just didn't seem right.

So on Saturday, I broke down and bought a new microwave, and it has made all the difference. I still am learning all my heating options and reading through the manual. Yes, I'm one of those people. I read manuals. Don't you? The new microwave is pretty much nuclear in comparison to the antique circa 1986 microwave that is no longer with me. [Yes, that is not a typo, I found a 1986 sticker on the bottom of the old model. WOW! I had no idea...]

But lest you think I would so easily toss the old out without so much as a fine farewell, let me assure you that I did take a moment or two of quiet reflection before ceremoniously heaving the ancient relic into the dumpster. There were no tears, no drawn-out speeches, no flowers or lumps of dirt to lay on the grave of the dearly departed. It was just time to say goodbye, and so I did without making too much of a scene.

Then I came back inside out of the cold and promptly heated up a potato for dinner in the new black GE model on my countertop. It only took about 5 minutes, and I had a steaming hot baked potato waiting for a dollop of Daisy. Life is good.

In other news, I bought my luggage for England this weekend as well. I purchased a red set on clearance [WOOHOOO!], and I'm quite happy about it as well. I was glad to find luggage in my price range that was not gray or black. I wanted my new set to stand out a bit, and I think red luggage will do the trick. I opted not to get the black luggage with a skull and crossbones on it. Yes, interestingly enough, they actually had luggage covered with skulls and crossbones. I considered it for about 2 seconds since it was so very unique, but I guess I figured that would be a magnet for undesired attention on my international travels. HA!

OH! OH! And I finally took the Christmas tree down this weekend as well. It was time to pack up the remnants of last season [sigh!], but somehow, I do miss the lights and my snow globes. Although, it is kinda nice having my living room furniture all arranged like before. Ah, but Christmas 2009 will be here before we know it. Only 340 days to go. WOOHOO!!

Yeah, it's been a good weekend. I hope you all had a great weekend, too and are gearing up for another great week. HUGS!

Let Your Inner Song Out

I can usually determine what kind of day we’re going to have here in the IP section by whether or not Carl sings at my desk. Yes, you heard that right. I frequently get "serenaded" by one of my attorneys when he is in a good mood. He has a pretty good voice, by the way, and he likes to compose new lyrics to familiar tunes to make them relevant to our work environment. This morning he started off with some tune I didn’t recognize, and naturally expected me to reply in song at 7:15 AM...

Him: [singing] Good Morning, Melanie, and how are you today?

Me: [talking] I’m just peachy.

Him: [singing] Please reply in song.

Me: [talking] I haven’t warmed up my vocal chords yet.

He went on half-talking and half-singing for 5 minutes about how and why I should sing more. Then he tells me that I especially need to practice singing for England.

Me: Huh? Why do I need to get ready to sing in England? Is there a music tour I’m going on that I don’t know about?

Him: True love requires singing. Let your song out. How else are you going to snag a husband in England without a song?

Me: [laughing] Ommmmm...so you’re back to that again, are you? [He’s been going on and on for months about how he feels my purpose on this trip to England is to find a duke, earl, lord or someone with aristocratic blood to marry.]

Him: [He paused for a moment to mentally compose his response.] Whether through your voice of through your heart, if you’re not singing, you must part.

Me: Wow! That’s--that’s something.

Him: Didn’t know I had the gift, did you?

Me: I knew you had something. Not sure I’d call it a gift. [We laughed some more, and he continued on with his rant.]

Actually, I love to sing. I just don’t like to sing publicly. No more of that! I grew up doing solos, duets and trios in church and school programs, and it was torture for me--the knocking knees, the faltering voice, the gulps mid-song, the sea of faces, etc. OK, so trios and duets weren't quite as bad, but those solos were just the worst! I’m shivering just thinking about it, or maybe I’m shivering because it’s 14 degrees below 0 this morning, and I still haven’t recovered my body heat after my mad dash from the car to the building. [One moment please...I’m gonna put on my gloves now.]

There that’s better. Where was I?

Anyway, I love to sing, but I just have a mediocre voice. It's not anything amazing at all. For one thing, I don't have a really strong voice. Part of that is a lack of confidence when it comes to singing, I guess. But I have been known to belt out along with Sarah Brightman while cleaning. Yes, I like to clean with Sarah or Michael [Buble], and I just can't listen to them--I must sing along, but even then I'm hoping my neighbors can't hear me over the vacuum. HA!

Throughout the day, I usually have a song going in my head even if it’s just the Smurfs theme song. La-lah, la-lah-lah-la... Or a show tune like I Could Have Danced All Night or some obscure Broadway song that Sarah Brightman has introduced me to like Meadowlark. Oh, I love that song! [sigh!]

Now Carl likes to walk by my desk singing one of those annoying ditties that gets in your head and then won’t leave like Don’t Worry Be Happy or In the Jungle. You know what I mean, right? You get those songs in your head, and all day you are trying to cleanse them out and get another tune going to replace them. Anything else would be better. Yeah, that drives me crazy, which is definitely a short drive some days.

Hmmmm...maybe I will take Carl's advice just this once. Maybe I should rehearse a song and be ready just in case I meet Mr. Right in an English garden or along a bike or walking trail in Indiana. At our meeting, I will burst into song...

*If ever I would leave you,
How could it be in spring-time?
Knowing how in spring I'm bewitched by you so?
Oh, no! not in spring-time!
Summer, winter or fall!
No, never could I leave you at all!*

What do you think? Should I pick something else? You don't think it's too much for a chance encounter, do you? HA!

I’m just kidding, of course.

Whatever you do and wherever you are today, I hope you release your inner song, as Carl suggests. Let it out. Whisper if you must, hum along as you will, whistle about your day, croon to your colleagues, yodel as you drive home, croon to the radio, but whatever you do release your inner song and share it. As for me, I'm going back to the previously scheduled song in my head now. And NO, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Some things are meant to be private... Hee hee!

*Taken from 1960's Camelot, selection from If Ever I Would Leave You, music and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe

Running Along the Path

My Pastor is going through the book of Job for the next few weeks. This past Sunday was our jump-start into the passage, and if it was any indication, this is going to be an exhausting, convicting yet exhilarating ride. I was crying 5 minutes in and then sniffling throughout the rest of the message.

To go along with the weekly sermons, Pastor Mark recommended 3 books we could select about pain and suffering. I struggled to pick just one, but I did. I had read another book of Philip Yancey's, and so I thought I'd try another one by him: Where Is God When It Hurts?

Every morning this week I've been reading a chapter and learning a great deal more about pain and how useful it can be in our lives. Today I was particularly struck with these few lines which go right along with my blog from last night:

*I think of a world without another pain, the pain of loneliness. Would friendship and love even exist apart from our inbuilt sense of need, the prod that keeps us all from being hermits? Do we not need the power of loneliness to pry us away from isolation and push us toward others?*

Isn't that good? I think I picked the right book.

It is true that we need pain to get us moving sometimes. Like this morning in Indiana, it is -6 degrees right now and with the wind chill factor, it feels like -18 degrees. Brrrrrrr.... I was so cold driving into work that I put on a second pair of gloves mid-transit and kept slapping my hands together so that I could feel something. Hey, how long does it takes for frostbite to happen? I wonder. I suppose to an outsider it would have appeared that I was clapping along on my drive. Yep, that's me--I like to do quick little cheers on my morning commute to help get me going. HA!

Then after parking my car as close as I could to the building, I ran from my car to the door, praying the entire way that I would not fall flat on my face along the slick path. Yes, like a 5-year-old expecting hot cocoa and cookies after playing in the snow, I ran inside just so I could get warm. But without the sensation of pain, I wouldn't have sensed the urgency to move, to get out of the cold. The pain protected me from foolishness.

So to without the pangs of loneliness, I wouldn't sense the need to mingle and interact with my fellow image-bearers. The pain is stimulating me into action and pushing me to get out of my head and merge into the lives all around me, and that is right where GOD wants me.

*Taken from Philip Yancey's book, Where Is God When It Hurts?, chapter 4, page 56

Self-Imposed Solitary Confinement

I don’t know that I could say I’m a true introvert really, not in my core of cores anyway. I guess I’m half introverted and half extroverted or perhaps it’s a 60/40 split. OH DEAR! Does that make me a split personality? I hope not. The scoop is that I’m not completely shy, especially if you catch me on caffeine, but I wouldn't say that I'm exactly bold or forward either. I live somewhere in the middle.

In certain social situations, I’ll jump in and try to get people interacting, but normally that social butterfly aspects kicks in only because others aren’t talking or someone isn't joining in on the conversation. It is always my goal to get those outside the circle to join in. I don’t like anyone left out. I like drawing shy people out.

In other settings, I’ll freeze up and have nothing to say, but typically that happens when someone else is dominating the conversation. I just go quiet and retreat into my own thoughts or start mentally composing my blog. I do that a lot. So at times, I guess I can seem a bit withdrawn.

You know that saying about how “there is strength in numbers...” Well, I feel safe and secure when I am alone. I’m actually quite cozy on my own in my neat and tidy world with my music, movies, books, writing, photos, etc. I surround myself with those things and immerse myself completely into them, which isn't a bad thing in itself. However, I tend to get too comfortable with my slightly reclusive tendencies and this leads to isolation. I start to like my own company best, but somehow I'm quite sure that THAT is not what GOD intended at all. And every once in a while, I think GOD likes to remind me that I need people in my life.

Over the holidays, I spent nearly a week with my parents and Grandma. We had 6 awesome days together, just spending time in the same room, playing games, talking, teasing, sharing stories, shopping, etc. It was priceless. But when I got back home to my 1-bedroom flat which is 400 miles from those loving connections, everything seemed off. Suddenly I didn’t like being alone all the time. I was bored with my own company, and that just doesn't happen to me very often. I can always find something to do on my own. There is always a project I need to work on like making greeting cards, working on a scrapbook, editing photos, etc. Or if I need to get out of my apartment, I'll stroll through the IMA gardens or take an excursion through the art galleries. I'll drive downtown and tour a museum or walk along the canal. I'll just grab my camera and off I'll go exploring the city. But lately, that hasn't been effective. I find that I'm needing interaction with people, and for the first time in a long time, I'm struggling with adjusting to the solitude. It's too quiet, and I'm suffocating in the silence.

So I've made some recent efforts to get out of the Mel zone more often. I spent a couple of days with my sister and her family. I had lunch with a couple of friends. I celebrated the New Year with family. I had some single girlfriends over for dinner and a movie. And after all that, I discovered that being with people is like taking a drug, and this girl doesn't want to quit this habit. I’ve missed being around people more. We were not created to be alone all the time. Everyone needs a bit of solitude, but too much of a good thing can be hazardous to one's health. I need people. There I said it--I'm needy. [GASP!] WOW! That was therapeutic.

Let me say it again: Melanie is needy.

LORD, thank you that we need each other. Help me to seek out more opportunities to serve and be used in the lives of those around me. LORD, please help me to love people as YOU do!

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." -- C.S. Lewis

Comic Relief 101

Let me share a recent conversation between me and one of my attorneys.

SETTING THE SCENE: Someone was in the conference room that this attorney and his fellow attorneys had reserved, and so for a few minutes, the 4 of them were all standing around my desk waiting for the previous meeting, which was quite obviously going long, to disperse.

Him: Hey, Melanie, why don’t you go knock on that door and clear the room for us?

Me: What? Are you scared of kicking them out of the room? Come on. You can do it. You attorneys thrive on conflict and confrontation. You live for it. That’s why you became a lawyer, isn’t it? You know it’s true.

Him: How prejudicial of you? I can’t believe you just said that. [He paused for a moment, and I could tell his brain was churning and that I was about to be dinged.]

Him: Saying that every lawyer likes conflict is like saying that every legal assistant is helpful!

Me: OUCH! [laughing] I didn’t see that one coming.

I've heard him repeat our conversation at least 3 times now. He sure is awfully proud of himself for that comeback.

Welcome to my world! This is just part of our daily banter in the IP (Intellectual Property) Section of the Legal Department, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. It keeps me guessing and laughing even while under tremendous stress from approaching deadlines or immense pressure from the insurmountable stacks of paperwork attacking my desk. Ahhhh...what would we do without comic relief? I know that I'm rather thankful for it.

120 Days Until Mel Goes Global

In 120 days, I'll be flying over the ocean for the first time (and hopefully only the first of many such adventures ahead). It's true. In 4 short months, I will finally be on my way to England to get that first stamp in my passport.

I've been talking about taking this journey since I first fell in love with everything English at the ripe old age of 7. My Mom woke me up that warm July day in the wee hours of the morning so that together we could watch Princess Diana marry her Prince Charming and live happily ever after. OK, so the story didn't quite have the happy ending we imagined, but no matter, from that moment on in 1981, this dreamer wanted to visit Great Britain and see that magical land of history, pageantry and literature.

My quest to learn all I could about the fair isle of England began all those many moons ago. I researched everything I could about England, even doing a grade school research project on the island and memorizing a list of the monarchs in succession. I read the English classics, filling my head with passionate tales or moody masterpieces like Persuasion and Jane Eyre. I consumed British poetry, drawing life from the pen of great romantic poets such as Elizabeth Barret Browning or the stirring ballads of Alfred Noyes or Lord Alfred Tennyson. I reveled in the delicious vivid language of William Shakespeare, devouring each scene of his great works such as Hamlet and The Taming of the Shrew. I heartily fell in love with British musicals, vicariously living life in song through Camelot and My Fair Lady.

And now it is nearly time for this voyage to begin... [sigh!]

Finding Hope In New Places

I've been catching up today on some of my DVR-ed programs since I haven't been watching much TV lately. I just finished watching 3 episodes of Eli Stone with Jonny Lee Miller, Victor Garber and Natasha Henstridge. Now, I'm not highly recommending this show or suggesting that others will be as captivated by it as I am. Like all shows on television, this one is flawed, very flawed. But I keep watching, and until today I wasn't even sure how to define why. But earlier this weekend I had a phone conversation with my friend Becky on an urelated matter and then watched 3 episodes back-to-back of this show, and somehow that combination has given me clarity, and I now feel that I can better state why this show interests me. In a word: HOPE.

Eli Stone is all about hope. The basic premise of the show is that Eli (Jonny Lee Miller) is a modern-day prophet. He's a partner in a big law firm with a brain aneurysm that miraculously causes him to have visions, which provide clues about which cases and clients he needs to pursue. His visions come from GOD, and if he follows them (basically follows GOD's leading), he is able to really help people and make a difference.

Some of the episodes have really been out there spiritually, and so I'm not saying that one will gain deep spiritual insights by watching the program or that the Gospel is clearly presented with a nice big red bow. It's not like that. After all, Sigourney Weaver has played the role of God in a few episodes, and I must confess that THAT has been a huge stretch for me. But at the core of the show is Eli's gift and his potential to change his world. If he follows the direction that his visions lead him, he can better humanity; but if he chooses to go against the visions, something disastrous always happens maybe not right away but it does happen. But he always has that choice, that opportunity to take the path less traveled or to do his own thing. Each episode he learns something more about himself, about the role of the visions and their effect on the people closest to him. His character is growing week by week. He's evolving into a better man. He's becoming who he was meant to be by following the will of God.

The show doesn't point the viewer to Christ or direct them toward GOD really. But what it does is show us what one person with hope can do. Deep down we all know that there is more to the pursuit of happiness than things and possessions. We're wanting something more. We're looking for something better. We're seeking hope. Hope of a better future. Hope for a world driven by love not fear. Hope is an attractive thing, and I think people are drawn to it especially in those darkest moments. And let's face it, things are more than a bleak right now. The economy is failing, people are losing their jobs and homes, marriages are under duress because of those financial pressures--people are struggling and in need. Right now, things aren't looking all that rosy, but even now there is hope. It's always darkest just before the dawn...before the light of hope beams through, before Aslan steps in, or before the one ring is ultimately destroyed, etc. [Yes, I know I went back to literature references again instead of real life. Sorry about that. I'm a book junkie!]

Tonight while watching the last episode of Eli Stone for 2008, I was convicted. I know, I just said that there weren't spiritual nuggets to glean from the show, but tonight the show really got me thinking more deeply. Hope is not just a gooey warm feeling that tomorrow will be better. It's not just a dream or a vision for the future. Hope is a PERSON--GOD's own SON, JESUS CHRIST. And as a Christian, I already have that HOPE. That HOPE lives within me. But am I living like I possess it or rather that HOPE possesses me? Am I properly reflecting the HOPE that resides within my own soul? Do people see me as one filled with hope or are they seeing someone quite different?

LORD, I need YOU. I need the hope that only YOU are and that YOU provide. Help me to better shine the light of YOUR hope, the ultimate HOPE, on the lives of those around me.

Psalm 39:7 "But now, LORD, what do I look for? My hope is in YOU."

Psalm 71:5 "For you have been my hope, O Sovereign LORD, my confidence since my youth."

*All our hope is in You
All our hope is in You
All the glory to You, God
The light of the world

Jesus Messiah
Name above all names
Blessed Redeemer
Emmanuel
The rescue for sinners
The ransom from Heaven
Jesus Messiah
Lord of all*

*Taken from Chris Tomlin's Song Jesus Messiah

Celebration of Life Part 2

Today my sister, her husband and I drove to Warsaw for my Uncle Lowell's funeral. Lots to absorb yet as my mind replays the events of the last week, but suffice it to say that today was a day of both sorrow and celebration. We celebrated the lives of 2 people (my uncle and his second wife) who have gone on to Heaven, and while they were not perfect but flawed people like all of us, they were forgiven. Today was a reminder of GOD's faithfulness and amazing grace toward us, undeserving though we are. FATHER, thank you!

He's Always Been Faithful by Sara Groves

Morning by morning I wake up to find
the power and comfort of God's hand in mine.
Season by season I watch him amazed, in
awe of the mystery of his perfect ways.

All I have need of his hand will provide.
He's always been faithful to me.

I can't remember a trial or a pain he did
not recycle to bring me gain. I can't
remember one single regret in serving
God only and trusting his hand.

All I have need of his hand will provide.
He's always been faithful to me.

This is my anthem, this is my song, the
theme of the stories I've heard for so long.
God has been faithful, he will be again.
His loving compassion, it knows no end.

All I have need of his hand will provide.
He's always been faithful to me.

My Life: Amusement for Others

Somehow my single life remains quite amusing to my co-workers. I don't have a bad life. I have a pretty good life, but it's certainly not as exciting as married people seem to think it is either.

I've been interrogated by one of the attorneys that I support this week. He enjoys giving me a hard time on a regular basis. You see, he thinks I have a secret life outside of the office that no one knows about, and he is constantly quizzing me on what my plans are, who I have met lately, etc. If I have a migraine, he thinks I'm actually just suffering from a hangover from a party the night before. That's so me...NOT! If I am sick on a Monday or come in late after a doctor appointment, he is convinced that I just got back into town from hanging out with George Clooney all weekend. HA! If only he knew just how quiet this single girl really lives. Maybe too quiet...

Anyway, let me set the scene for this week's investigation into my non-existent love life, which seems to be a popular topic at the office. I'm glad that I can be amusement for others. Hee hee!

THE FACTS: I have 2 small little red marks on my neck. I have had them since Wednesday morning when I burned myself with my curling iron. I got this new curling iron a month ago, and it heats up rapidly and is almost too hot to use safely. This is the 2nd burn I have gotten while using this same piping hot device. I have a fading scar on my right shoulder from an earlier mishap 3 weeks ago. Hmmmm...I'm thinking it might be time to get a new curling iron.

YESTERDAY: Well as you can just imagine, this attorney noticed the red marks first thing on Wednesday morning and was quite sure I had a hickey.

Him: "You want to explain why you have 2 red spots on your neck there, Mel? Is that why you wore a turtleneck yesterday?"

Me: "I burned myself with the curling iron this morning, that's all." [I tried to keep my composure and not burst out laughing, but I can feel the color inching up my neck and across my cheeks. I'm totally blushing.]

Him: "Right. A curling iron. Got it." [He gave me a wink like we were sharing a secret.]

Me: "No really. It WAS a curling iron. I even have a small scar on my shoulder from the same iron where I burned myself before Christmas."

Him: "Sure, Mel." He said with a laugh and walked on down the hall, totally unconvinced.

TODAY: He walked over to my desk and started discussing some of the projects that we are working on, but then the conversation turned again to yesterday's topic.

Him: "OK. Let's see it."

Me: "Huh? See what?" I quickly caught on to what he was talking about and turned to boldly face my accuser. "It's fading and nearly gone today."

Him: "Must have been some fun New Year's Eve you had to last more than a week." [I can feel myself turning a dark shade of red.]

Me: "WHATEVER!! It's a curling iron burn." Just then a second attorney (the newest attorney) walked over to my desk and much to my chagrin he quickly got filled in on the prior conversation.

Him: "She claims that she has a 'curling iron' burn on her neck," he said making the quote signs with his hands as he said the words: curling iron.

Me: "I wish I had a better story for how the marks got there, believe me, but it is what it is. It's a curling iron burn."

The 2nd attorney: "Methinks she doth protest too much."*

Me: "I give up. Now you are using Shakespeare against me. That's cold."

*Actually, he was misquoting the Bard just a wee bit, but I decided to keep that OCD moment to my self.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
Hamlet Act 3, scene 2

Celebration of Life

A week ago today I was with my family joyously celebrating the New Year at my cousin Julie’s home in Warsaw, Indiana. My cousin Susan from the Chicago area drove down with her husband Cesar and their 3 kids, and my cousin David and my Aunt Peggy were also there joining in the fun. Two of Julie’s older daughters joined us mid-afternoon, too. I drove up with my sister Barbara and her family, and my brother Chuck and his family came over for the day as well. So there was quite a crowd assembled, and Julie, her husband Jason and their youngest daughter Jessica were incredible hosts for the whole familial brood that descended upon their dwelling.

We had an awesome lasagna lunch together and snacked the whole day afterwards on homemade apple and cherry pies, Oreo truffles, peanut butter bon bons, chips and salsa, garlic bread, etc. It was a wonderful feast.

That afternoon, we played games like Sequence, Wizard, Balderdash, etc. There were lots of kids, and honestly, I was with the kids most of the day. It’s just what I tend to do--gravitate towards the kids. I like adult interaction, but I love hanging with my younger cousins and my nephews and nieces when I get the opportunity. The kids and I started a foosball tournament in the basement game room and had a couple of referees assisting for a while on the house rules. Bet you didn’t know that there were refs for foosball, did you? We played with Jessica’s Pet Shop toys, made “lunch” with the play food in Jessica’s kitchen, and then settled down to watch WALL-E, which is another instant Disney classic. Completely adorable! [Mel's Plug: If you haven't seen this film, you really should.]

My cousin Julie and I were happily snapping photos the whole day and loving every minute of it. It was great to be altogether once again, and we need to do it more often. I'm hoping we can make this a yearly event.

Well, 2 days later I got a late night call from my sister with some sad and stunning news, Julie, David and Susan’s father and step-mother died in a plane crash in Tennessee. They still don’t know exactly what happened to cause the crash, but both of them were killed, and this shocking news has been rather difficult for my cousins and their families, as you can imagine. I haven’t spent a lot of time with my Uncle Lowell for a few years since he and my Aunt Peggy divorced when I was in high school, but I remember him as a pleasant, hard-working man with a good sense of humor, and I am deeply saddened for my cousins’ and this shocking loss. In times like these, there just are no words really. All I want to do is hug my cousins and let them know I love them and am praying for them.

LORD, please grant these dear family members peace and comfort as they face the visiting hours at the funeral home this afternoon and attend tomorrow’s memorial service. Wrap your arms around them, LORD, and remind them of your continual outpouring of love even during this crushing time of sorrow. As we all gather together once again, help us to celebrate the lives of those lost and remember YOUR faithfulness even now!

Vertically Challenged

On my drive to and from Michigan, I kept seeing the billboards for the child safety seat law about how children under 4'9" need to be in a booster seat while riding in a car. For some reason that bugged me.

You all know that I'm short. Let's face it. I am, and I've always been so. At my tallest, I was 5 feet and half an inch. Growing up, my goal was always to get taller than my Mom, who was 5 foot 2 1/2 inches, but I never made it that far no matter what I did. I tried stretching, running, riding my bike, but to no avail, I was left vertically challenged. I'm the shortest one in my immediate family, and my nieces and nephews are quickly passing me up. There are even wagers going for when the youngest among them [Jacob (6), Grace (3) and Harrison (11 months)] will pass me. I know, it's completely painful to discover your family is betting against you, right. It's devastating really. It's just my burden to bear, I guess. [sigh!] Hee hee!

So now I see all these billboard signs around Indiana and Michigan about children needing to be in booster seats until they are 4'9", and it gets me pondering. At my last doctor appointment, my doctor informed me that I was just a hair over 5 feet tall now. YIKES! WHAT? I've already lost nearly half an inch since college. What happens if I lose a couple more inches? Am I destined to be in a booster seat by the time I reach 40? Can you drive in one of those? Don't laugh. Can you?

I already know I'm doomed to be that little old lady driver someday. You know who I'm talking about--the one that can barely see over the steering wheel...like the woman in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. That's gonna be me in a few years, and hey, maybe a booster seat would help the situation, but I'm just not looking forward to it. It seems insulting to have to sit in a booster seat at my age. I mean I'm already tempted to use one of those boosters at the theatre to prop my short self up just in case. I mean, what if some super model sits right in front of me? How will I get to see the performance? It's a real struggle.

Many of you probably don't realize what it's like for short people. The world is being built for the super-sized, and it's discrimination against those less fortunate with height. Kitchen cabinets are blatantly constructed for the taller humans among us. And what about the aisle shelves at Walmart? You don't know the lengths I've gone through to get a can of beans from the top shelf. You just might see me sliding a spatula out of my purse for just such a purpose. And why is it that the diet pop is always on the top row? What you think that only tall people are watching their figures? That's just insulting. And don't even get me started on cars...sometimes I can barely reach the pedals in a rental car. That just hurts.

And let's not forget Randy Newman's controversial Short People from 1977. I tear up just thinking about it.

Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
To live

They got little hands
And little eyes
And they walk around
Tellin' great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little feet...

Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
To love

They got little baby legs
And they stand so low
You got to pick 'em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That go beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They're gonna get you every time
Well, I don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
'Round here

What did short people ever do to him? On behalf of my fellow vertically challenged citizens, I am outraged. I'm ready to compose a song right now in protest about the giants among us. NAH! I'm kidding. I love that song, and it makes me laugh every time. Besides, Randy has more than redeemed himself by brilliantly scoring Toy Story and numerous others, for which I thank him.

All right, so I'm short. There. I've said it more than once now. My therapist would be proud. Let me say it again...I'm short. It's a fact. It is what it is. OK, so the world around me is always reminding me that I've got height issues. Big deal! I'm only rarely offended by short jokes these days, and if I am...well, you better just watch out. You might find me biting your ankles.

Home For the Holidays

Oh, there’s no place like
Home for the holidays,
‘Cause no matter how far away you roam
When you pine for the sunshine
Of a friendly face
For the holidays, you can’t beat
Home, sweet home...**

I made the nearly 400-mile drive to my parents home in Michigan for Christmas, and I had a magical time with them and my Grandma for nearly a week on my own. There is just something special about being with my parents on Christmas Day, and I am so glad I made the trek North again.

THE PLAYERS: I don’t know about your family ties, but there is just something extra wonderful about the way parents love their children. I don’t have kids myself, and so I can’t quite explain that bond of unconditional love firsthand from the parents’ side of things. All I know is that no one loves me quite as much as my Mom. Well, GOD loves me more, but Mom is second. Growing up, I was always a Daddy’s girl, and I suppose I still am in many way, but I’ve just felt the bond with my Mom grow by leaps and bounds the last few years, and this last year was no exception. She gives of herself immensely and is genuinely warm and loving. But watch out, just when you think you have her all figured out, she'll surprise you. I love that about her. I want to be just like my Mom when I grow up.

My Dad is one of the funniest people I know. I have his dry, wry sense of humor. The sarcasm flowing through my veins definitely came from his side of the family tree. He’s brilliant, great with numbers, a natural born writer and quite handy around the house. My Dad’s love language is definitely gift-giving. He is extremely generous and kind, and he gives great hugs. I think his hugs are getting tighter with age, too. And I love how he always has so much to tell me: "Hey, Mel, you'll never guess who I saw last week..."

My Mom's Mom, my Grandma, will turn 93 in a week, but she still gets around well with her walker. She lives with my parents, and while this last year has brought some changes to her health and strength, you can still catch a glimpse of the woman within when she laughs, and those are moments I treasure.

THE SCHEDULE: Well, I got to sleep in just a bit while I was in Michigan, but quite honestly, my parents were wearing me out. HA! I went to bed before them every night. Seriously, I don’t know quite why I was turning into a pumpkin at 10 or 10:30 PM every night, but I certainly felt rested every morning and was up by 7:30 AM because of it. WOOHOO!!

I don't know about your Mom, but my Mom loves keeping things and neat and tidy. She still doesn't see the need for a real dishwasher. And growing up, doing dishes was one of our most dreaded daily chores. Well, after my latest visit to my home state, I was quick to discover and recount to my other siblings that times have changed. My Mom doesn't always see the need to do dishes now after every meal. [GASP!] I know, it's shocking, isn't it? Seriously, the first night I was there, I headed to the kitchen to help get some dishes started, after all it is part of the routine, but my Mom stopped me: "That's not enough dishes to worry about tonight. Those can wait til tomorrow. I often don't do them after every meal now."

You could have heard a pin drop in the moment of silence that followed before I caught my breath and revived myself: "Who are you? And what have you done with my Mother?" Why is it that parents who become grandparents suddenly relax and don't take things like dishes seriously any more? Come on. If it it was a dire need to keep the sink clear of dirty dishes when I was 11, it's still a necessity now.

THE GAMES: I love playing games with my parents. They are playfully competitive, but not out for blood or anything like that. We played Mexican train dominoes several times during my visit. It is definitely a family favorite. As usual, my Mom beat my Dad and I nearly every time, but that just made our interaction more lively. My Dad and I had to give her a hard time about her accidental wins since they always seem to catch her off guard. “Oh, did I win again? I didn’t realize you had just drawn 10 more dominoes. Do you want me to help count up your points for you?”

We also played Scrabble and Boggle a few times. Both of my parents love words as much as I do if not more. This lead to a heated debate about one of my Boggle words. We got out the Oxford dictionary, which did NOT have my word listed, and so it was disqualified from my score. [sigh!] However, upon further investigation (i.e. Merriam-Webster online) when I got home, "snarf" IS a word circa 1963. It is a combination of "snack" and "scarf" as in: "She snarfed down some pizza rolls after school and ran to soccer practice." AHEM! I believe that would have given me the winning edge that round. Not that I'm keeping track. HA!

THE EVENTS: We went shopping a couple of times. My Dad and I headed to the city to pick up some after-Christmas sale stuff. He is a great shopper. He’s very focused and knows what he is after...get in, get out--my kind of shopper! My Mom and I spent a day shopping, too. We hit a massive Salvation Army store that she wanted to visit, and then I also introduced her to the world of Kohl’s. It was a rather successful shopping venture for both of us!

It was great to visit the church where I grew up. I got to see lots of familiar faces. I still think those people in Croswell are some of the most loving people I have ever met in my life.

I spent an afternoon on my own driving around my hometown and the neighboring area. I had to visit the Lexington General Store, of course. It's a whimsical store of a certain by-gone era that delights me every time. I also drove down to Lake Huron and walked out on the pier. On this visit, I got to see scenery like never before. There were glaciers of ice along the shore, and naturally I was glad I had my camera in hand. It was incredible.

THE READING: I got to catch up on some reading, too. I'm once again captivated by the love story of Elizabeth Barret Browning and her husband Robert Browning. I've read some of their story over the years, but a few months back I picked up a secondhand copy of a biography on their romance, and it has me transfixed. The author goes from his story to her story and back and forth again. The Immortal Lovers by Frances Winwar had me crying, laughing, sighing, staring off into space, highlighting like mad, jotting down notes, etc. I think my Dad thought I was going a bit nuts when he had to repeat something like 5 times to get my attention, but it's such a great story. I'm mesmerized by it. I've always known more about Elizabeth (or Ba as her family and friends called her), but reading Robert's words now, I'm seeing that he too was such a romantic, maybe even more than she.

"Let me say now--this only once--that I loved you from my soul, and gave you my life, as much of it as you would take,--and all that is done, not to be altered now: it was in the nature of the proceeding, wholly independent of any return on your part..."

[BIG SIGH!] Now, that is beautiful.

THE MUSIC: I don’t have a piano of my own, and I haven’t played much for years. My Mom still teaches piano, and she still had all my old books in the cabinet, and so I had fun running through the old Michael Aaron books and a couple of hymn arrangement books. Of course, I spent most of my time in the classical books, but that's just more my style. For some reason Chopin, Mozart, and Beethoven are easier to play and always have been for me.

Now I’ve already recounted the how and whys concerning the fact that I will never be a concert pianist, but I still love tinkering away at the piano and discovering that I haven’t forgotten how to read music. OK, I knew I hadn’t completely forgotten, but it was good to know that my fingers were finding the correct keys most of the time. I won’t go into the percentages or law of averages here, but it was better than it could have been considering that I don't get much practice in. AHEM! And my dear Grandma seemed to enjoy my playing, which is all that matters. I know, she’s almost 93 and perhaps not as discerning as she once was, but I played a lot of the classics that were her favorites, and she kept on smiling.

Just a small note to my perfect-pitch-musically-gifted-prodigy of a sister: I made it through Moonlight Sonata about 10 times without anyone crying include our musically-talented parents. AHEM! Carnegie Hall has shockingly not called me yet to schedule a performance, but perhaps they have my old phone number on file.

Yes, I really had a great time in Michigan, and I'm looking forward to some more visits up North in the months to come. Feel free to check out some of the pictures.

**Taken from the song (There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays by Robert Allen and Al Stillman published in 1954