Small Things That are Big

I’ve met a lot of new people lately. Visited a lot of new places. Started new traditions. Am learning new routines. A whole lot of new, new, new. And for the most part, it’s all really good stuff. Regardless of how comfortable we are in our lives, after a while it becomes necessary to break the pattern by turning your world upside down.

And I’m becoming an expert at this upside-down world thing.

But there comes a point when you have to put a limit on how much new you can handle. How many responsibilities, how many new friends, how much change. Because as fantastic as it is—theoretically—for your life, emotionally, people are still human and human beings have limits to how much they can take.

A thing that seems small and mostly insignificant to one person might be just the absolute last thing another can handle. The thing that sends them over the edge of tolerance or withstanding or whatever.

I am finding that this is the case for me and my family. And we’ve hit upon a semi-solution. There are a lot of things we have to continue to do, big things that can’t really be changed or cut out of our daily lives. But there are other things for which we can say no. Things that can be removed from the endless load of new that keeps being piled upon us, and that will lighten our burden just slightly enough that we can carry it another day. Or week. Or whatever.

There comes a point when we have to remember that the pyramids were built brick by brick. The strongest foundations, the lasting ones, have to be created over time.

One of these days we’ll be less new. Less overwhelmed. And then we’ll be able to take on more of the small stuff. Until then, those things will just have to wait for when we’re stronger.

When’s the last time you evaluated your priorities and cut out some of the small things that weighed you down?  

Filling Up the Cracks

This weekend, one of my online friends shared a statement made by her nine-year-old . The beautiful words were passed on by a number of people because of the profound simplicity of this child’s words. 

Sarah Eden’s daughter said, “When your heart is broken, you choose what to fill up the cracks with. Love or Hate. But hate can never heal. Only love can do that.”

I think now is a really good time of year to spread some love. Actually, there’s never a bad time to spread love. It is, after all, what makes the world go round, right?

So let’s share some ideas.

I’m a fan of angel trees, Toys-for-Tots, Sub-for Santa, and any assistance we can give to homeless shelters and food banks. Small donations don’t take much, and are a good way to contribute to the community.

Or, on a more personal level, spread some kindness and cheer by smiling more, saying kind words, and noticing the distress of others around you. Everyone benefits from small acts of kindness.

What are you doing to spread the love this week?

Christmas Glitter Notes Pictures

Change is Coming

I don't do this very often, but this week, I'm feeling a bit melancholy, and when that happens, sometimes, the result is poetry. Hope you don't mind if I indulge in sharing here. 

Change is Coming

This week the last of the leaves are turning

Preparing to drift to the ground

A layer of snow dusts the mountain tops

Preparing to stay for the winter

Farmers harvest their fields

Gardeners clip back their plants

People dust off their coats and boots

Getting ready for the temperatures to drop

Animals store their winter supplies

And build sturdy nests to keep them warm

While birds form flocks

And fly south.

The north wind blows

Bringing cold air and change

And a lone whistle sings

That winter is coming.

While families huddle close

Knowing changes in weather

Cannot steal love’s warmth

No matter where they live.

Are you ready?

Have a lovely weekend, and I hope you'll take time to notice the beauty resulting from seasonal changes. I know I will.  

Our Inanimate Family Member

When we got married, my husband gave me this really incredible chair. It’s this monstrous blue microfiber thing that reclines, and is wide enough to fit two people—or, well, my husband and I—side-by-side. The microfiber is the stuff they were making way back before it was popular like, twenty-years ago. Ultra-soft, durable, and still looks brand new after you’ve cleaned it a bazillion times.

We love this chair. Even though it’s almost nineteen-years-old, and ceased to match our home décor, colors and style what feels like eons ago. It’s one of those things you can never get rid of. That one piece of furniture that you wouldn’t ever even consider putting in a garage sale or giving to goodwill. So every time we rearrange the furniture, it ends up in the den, or the spare bedroom—somewhere out of the way—where it can’t be seen.

But we still use it. When one of us is sick or has an injury, or surgery, or a special need that requires a comforting place to curl up, we drag out the big, blue chair. (I cannot count the nights I slept in that thing when I was pregnant and couldn’t get comfortable in my bed. Nor the nights I rocked my fussy babies to sleep in it.)

More than a piece of furniture, it’s almost an important part of our family.

Is it normal to consider a chair—a piece of furniture, an inanimate object—as part of a human family unit? Do you have something like this in your life? What is it?

Change It? No Thanks.

Change? No Thanks.

Sometimes I think the world is an exhausting place to be. I hear myself vent or complain about my teenagers and how they know just how to schedule out my time to their liking, and how tiring it is to be the parent. How I don’t know when I can possibly fit one more thing into my daily life.

But then, I think back to my teenage years. And I remember.

Being a teenager is exhausting too.

And painful.

And huge. So huge.

Whether they understand it or not, my teens are at the baseline of life, where they make some of their most crucial decisions, learn some of their hardest lessons, and where they become the people they will be as adults.

And even though I have three teens, an almost-teen, a crazy-busy husband, and my own life, I realize that there will never be a time more confusing and full of angst, than the one my kids are currently experiencing.

The ups. Are high.

The downs. Are low.

The disappointments devastating. And at the same time freeing.

There are certain things that I—the mother—can make better. But there are others—will always be others—that I cannot. Would I keep it from them? Some days, I wish I could. But then I look at who they are now, and how they got here, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Even on the days when I’m exhausted. After all, that’s what naps are for.

Smokin Hot Date

**Oh, and don't forget to pop over to Star Crossed and check out my review of Dearly Departed, by Tristi Pinkston. Such a fun book!  

Last weekend, I had a hot date with a younger man. Seventeen-years-old, just about six-feet tall, spiky brown hair, light blue eyes, plays the guitar, and also an amazing artist. Total babe.

Well, okay. He’s totally my babe. As in, my son.

Here’s how the date came to be: he came home from school one day and says, “Mom, guess what?”

Me *going through the mail and somewhat distracted*: “Hm?”

Him: “You know how you really wanted to see Phantom of the Opera at the school, but it’s sold out?”

Me *looking up*: “Yeah.”

Him *holding up two tickets*: “Look what I got?”

Me: *eyebrows raised* “How’d you get those?”

Him: “I have my ways. I know you really wanted to see it, so I’m going to take you. Wanna go with me?”

Me *heart melts cuz my son is so thoughtful*: “Um, YEAH!”

So he took the evening off work and we went to see a sold-out showing of Phantom of the Opera at the local high school. (BTW, the cast was Am.Az.Ing. Those kids can SING!) And then we got ice cream at Sonic, because that’s the only way to end a great date with such a studly man.

Proof positive that some teenagers still enjoy spending time with their parents. And also, that they can be conscious of our needs and desires and make them a priority, even if the occasions are rare.

My son only has the rest of this school year, and then one more before he graduates. I can only hope I’ll have more moments like that before he does.

Have you witnessed a teenager going out of his or her way to do something thoughtful for his or her parents lately? I’d love to hear about it.

**Oh, and don't forget to pop over to Star Crossed and check out my review of Dearly Departed, by Tristi Pinkston. Such a fun book!

Who We Are

For all my ranting about love and how terrible it is to watch the hearts of our children break when they’re let down (probably a number of times throughout their childhood), I also have to admit that these experiences tend to be defining moments—the ones that make us who we are or will grow up to be. Yes?

Heartache tends to make the strong stronger, and the weak, well, weaker. And it’s not so much about how our hearts are broken or by whom, so much as how we handle it and what we choose to do with the experience.

Watching my kids has taught me a lot about life. Say I’m teaching them to roller skate. They fall down and get hurt, skin their knee or something and most of the time, all they need is a kiss from their mom or dad to take the pain away (and okay, maybe a doctor visit on extreme occasions). And then, once they’re healed, they get back up and work twice as hard to figure out those dang shoes with wheels. They don’t forget about their hurt or what caused it, but instead choose to learn from it. Sometimes they’re able to avoid or prevent similar situations, and sometimes they aren’t. But at least they know how to deal with whatever comes. And so do I.

Or, okay, if we don’t know how to deal with it, we know how NOT to deal with it. Yeah?


Guess I have something in common with Forrest Gump's mother, who said, "Don't ever let anyone tell you they're better than you, Forrest. If God wanted us all to be the same, he'd have given us all braces on our legs." 

I understand that this might even be an unusual way to look at life’s ups and downs. But I’m an optimist, an idealist even. And I believe that learning how to deal with heartache is half of life’s biggest battle. (The other half being that we learn how to deal with love.)

Do you agree? Not agree? Am I off my rocker?

Heart Breakers

I’ve decided that every kid is destined to have their heart broken by an adult at least once before they grow up. I’m not talking about, you know, being told they have to clean their rooms, or even feeling lied to about the possible existence of a certain white-haired-jolly man who wears a red suit.

No, I’m talking about kids trusting certain adults in their lives—be they teachers, scout leaders, clergy, sports coaches, whoever—who make promises or give expectations, but do not follow through. Who humiliate or hurt for reasons that kid will never understand. Every one of my kids has experienced this, and I’m telling you now, it’s a keen kind of let down, a heartache that you would never expect possible.

How does this happen?

I don’t know. Maybe sometimes it’s accidental. Those times don’t seem to hurt quite as bad as the ones that are on purpose. And believe me, it hurts the parents as much as the child. (Sometimes, that might be the point, which makes it even worse.)

But it must be necessary to the growth of the child, their personal journey. It must. How else would any adult justify making a kid feel like they’re worthless? Like their best isn’t good enough? Like they’re less important, less liked than their peers?

They don’t. There is no justification. NONE.  

But it happens just the same. So what do we do about it? We get out the voodoo dolls, buy the kid prizes, love them through it.

Also, we have a very important chat, which I will discuss on Wednesday, because otherwise this post will be holy-wow-long. In the meantime, I’d like to know. Have you experienced this yourself or with your kids? And how did you handle it?

*In case you're wondering, this discussion will tie into writing, but not until Friday. Keep reading!

Oh, Holiday Parties, You Do Rocketh

You know what else I love about December? Despite the massive amounts of extra housework that comes with putting up and taking down holiday decorations, and with having the kids home from school tracking mud and slush onto my floors, and leaving dishes all over the place, no one really complains about helping.

Maybe it’s because they figure Santa is coming so they should be good. Or maybe they just really want extra money so they can go to movies or out with friends. But mostly I think we’re all just in a better mood all the way around. And we spend time together.

And it isn’t just my little family. December brings with it a plethora of opportunities to visit extended family, coworkers, friends, and other people with whom we associate but don’t very often see socially. Even better, though, if we don’t have an invitation to visit someone, we have the opportunity to extend an invitation for others to come visit us.

In case you didn’t put those two things together, let me help you. Kids + housework= party with friends / family/ other misc people we like. And it’s usually not even a fight to put together.

Huh. Go figure.

Yet another thing I love about December. What possible gathering do you most look forward to this season? How do you know the people with whom you’ll socialize and when was the last time you saw them?

Random Stuff I'm Thinking About

1. If you let it, life will pass you by. So take action, pay attention, and live now. You never know when your tomorrows will come to an end.

2. Everything we experience in life is a lesson learned. The difference for writers (and also musicians) is that we take those lessons and share them with others through our work. Sorry friends and family, you’re all liable to end up in a book or story at some point. That’s just how it works.

3. It’s okay to have a great idea for a book or plot or character while nothing else in your head gels as coherent. Sometimes, that’s how it goes. Take it when it comes.

4. Just about when you want to quit, you realize you couldn’t if you tried. So you take a little nap and then keep going.

5. Thanks to social networking, news (good or bad) spreads with super-lightening speed. (Big, huge thanks to everyone who has sent words and thoughts of sympathy and kindness this last week. They’ve all been much appreciated.)

6. Ben and Jerry’s makes the best ice cream, barely beating out Häagen-Dazs, who makes a really good mango sorbet. (Thanks, Becky!)

7. Retail therapy only works for stress. It doesn’t necessarily help with grief, unless you’re shopping at a bookstore. Otherwise, you’re better off going to a movie.

8. Sometimes it takes a wedding or a funeral to bring out all the family members you haven’t seen in years. Why is that? And can it be changed? And while I’m on the subject, why does it take a family tragedy to remind us to tell the important people in our lives how much we love and appreciate them?


Anything else that should be on my mind? I’m trying to get back on track, so help me out here.

The Thing About Families

No one can tell you the definition of what or who makes up your family. Common blood is only a small portion of the equation.

In times of grief, we hold each other up, give each other strength, and understand that sometimes words mean nothing while a strong pair of arms is everything.

For some, divorce is a break that causes an unbreechable chasm, while for others it becomes the means for the addition of more people to love. More parents, more siblings, more aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents that extend into uncountable numbers. Not just more people you love, but also more people who love you.

Blood may be thick, but a bond of love is thicker, stronger, and more important.

Sometimes we forget these things, because every family has several levels of dysfunction, of fault, of human frailty. And then something happens that makes us remember. Makes us appreciate each other. Makes us hold onto the only people who will always love us.

Family is the center—the core—of everything, in life as well as in death.

That is all.


*I hereby officially promise that next week’s posts will not be so depressing.

A Lifetime of Funny

Okay, so you know that road trip we went on last weekend? It required approximately twelve hours of driving. Six there, six back. I know a lot of adults who don’t like being in the car that long, let alone kids.

Before you ask, no, we don’t have a DVD player, portable XBox, Nintendo, or Playstation in our family vehicle. (I know—so archaic!) So what’s a family to do for that many hours? Well, we aren’t completely in living in the stone ages. We do have iPods. But you can only leave those little buds in your ears for so long. We hadn’t gone far before we were chatting, being silly and laughing.

During the drive, I remembered why I write for children. They’re infinitely funnier than most adults, much wiser, and far less jaded.

Take my nine-year old. We’re on the road, driving past lots of billboards. He looks up, sees an advertisement for a casino and, looking puzzled, says, “Two dollar craps? What the…”

He was so serious. So truly confused. I’m still laughing. And I won't even discuss with you the ensuing debate over whether it’s pay or be paid.

Not much later, we passed a sign. Watch for falling rock. My DH pipes up, “When I was a kid, my older brother told me Falling Rock is a lost Native American kid. I spent hours and hours of my life looking for that guy.”

We had a good chuckle over that, but it wasn’t hilarious until the next day. We passed a gray-haired Native American man hiking nearby, and one of the kids shouts, “Hey, I think I found Falling Rock!”

Yeah. We’re a strange bunch. But living life through the eyes of my children gives me a since of wonder and fulfillment that nothing else in my adult life ever could.

Besides, they’ll always keep me laughing.

Things I Love, End of the Week: I Love My Family

What else did you expect?

There is no better feeling than being a part of a family. Even on days when I'm frustrated or angry, I wouldn't give up my family for anything.I'm not just talking about my husband and kids, although, I love them more than anything and anyone in the world and they are the center of my world. I'm also talking about my whole extended family.


Interesting detail. I'm the oldest of seven biological siblings. I have two sisters and four brothers, and since my parents are divorced and both remarried, I also have four step-siblings. Both sisters and one brother are all married with kids--a total of five. Then my husband is one of the youngest of five. All married, all with three or more kids.

And that's just the beginning. Add in aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents--well, I have one large family. You can imagine how overwhelming family gatherings can be on this level. But it's also wonderful, and fun, and there is so much love there.

Case in point. I had my very first book launch party in December. We held it at a local Barnes and Noble, and spent quite a lot of time spreading the word. (Hm. I think I blogged about this earlier.) Anyway, even though I'd been spreading the word, I really had no idea that everyone--I mean EVERYONE--in my family was coming. We had at least a hundred people that night. Easily. And they were there for me. To support me. To buy my book. To show their love.

I had family there from both Hawaii and France (coincidental timing, I hope) as well as Southern Utah and Northern Utah. People drove for hours to get there. For me.It's not just impressive, it's touching. I love them.

And my girls, the ones I mentioned last week. I love having them in my life. In many ways, they're family too, even though we aren't related by blood.

And then there's my little family. My husband--who bought me sterling silver fairy earrings for Valentine's Day--and my children, who, with their father, are the best part of my life. Every night before he goes to bed, my nine-year-old climbs up on my bed and calls me to come sit with him for a nightly snuggle. He calls me Love. My twelve-year-old daughter will text me at random during the day, just to say hi and tell me she loves me. My fourteen-year-old daughter raids my closet and borrows my makeup and hair supplies--right before she puts on her tie-die shirt and mismatched socks to go play soccer. When I walk in the door from being gone, my sixteen-year-old son puts his arm around me and tells me he loves me. Every day. Just because it's true.

And as I write this blog, I can hear my husband doing the dishes downstairs so I don't have to. And in a little while, he'll bring me a drink so I don't have to go down and get it myself. That's real love.

There's something so special about being part of a family. And I'm sorry if I've gushed a bit, but it's Valentine's Day, so I figure I'm entitled.

Today's the day. Go call the important people in your life, your family--be they blood related or just bonded by love--and tell them how much you love them. Today you have a good excuse. Well, you know, if you think you need one. Which you shouldn't.

Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

The Ultimate Gift

The Ultimate Gift

This past week my family had the opportunity to go on a trip to a place I’ve always wanted to visit. As a young girl, I remember dreams of visiting a paradise where palm trees grew coconuts and everywhere you looked, the ocean was within view—or at the very least close enough to smell. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawai’i, but didn’t actually do it until my own kids are nearing adulthood.

My husband’s mother, Carol, had a similar dream. She always wanted to go to Hawai’i, and had big plans for her retirement. Unfortunately, she died before she got to make the trip she’d been dreaming of all her life.

One of the lessons I’ve learned through her untimely passing is that I should never put off the dreams that are most important to me. If you want something badly enough, generally you can find a way to get it, even if it requires some degree of sacrifice in other areas. Then, along the way, there are hundreds of other lessons to be learned, and other experiences to be had. This is what makes up our mortal life and the growth of our spiritual strength. Not to mention the creation of memories you’ll carry with you forever.

If you think about it, the same thinking applies to our personal dreams and aspirations as well. Like my dream of writing and becoming a bestselling author. But that’s another blog.

How can we deny ourselves this growth? These memories? I challenge you all to go after what you want most in life and to find a way to do that thing that so draws you. Never put off the things you love or desire, hoping that tomorrow opportunity will fall in your lap. Do the thing that drives you because sometimes, tomorrow doesn’t come.

This was the type of thinking that brought us to one of the islands I’ve always dreamed of visiting, and what made us decide to take the whole family as a Christmas gift. It was expensive, and the kids missed a week of school, and we came home to the depressing cold and snow and icky, yucky Utah inversion air. But the only thing we’ll ever regret is that our time there passed so quickly. And that we didn’t take two thousand pictures instead of one thousand.

The whole experience reminded me how important it is to give our children time, experience, and love. These are the gifts that will never break, wear out, or be forgotten. It is the ultimate gift of family.

Live for today, plan for tomorrow, learn from yesterday, then let it go. Now, go out and do something you’ve always wanted to do, but have been putting off. You won’t be sorry.

**By the way, though I had several entries to my current contest, no one actually guessed the right name. So…I’m extending the deadline until midnight, Friday, January 22nd, and giving everyone who already guessed the opportunity to guess again. If at some point in the past I happened to tell you my first name, go ahead and throw it out there, as long as I told you the answer before December, 2009. If you have that kind of memory, you should be rewarded. Please remember, close family members do not get to enter this contest. Sorry! (By the way, the prize is from Hawai’i.)

Until We All Meet Again

By Nichole Giles

We prayed and prayed. And even though I wasn’t good at fasting—my body had always struggled to do without essential vitamins for more than 8 hours—we held a family fast. For the first time in 10 years, I was able to fast for a full 24 hours. But it wasn’t enough.

Carol was dying. Through all our prayers, our fasting, and many priesthood blessings, my husband Gary’s mother had survived—but after all was said and done, not one of us could deny the conviction with which we knew that the cancer would take her. She knew it too, and did her best to prepare the rest of us.

Meanwhile, life went on around her. The kids started school, my husband went to work, stores had monster sales, politicians campaigned for seats on the city council, and my two younger sisters planned weddings.

The first wedding, despite a somewhat tenuous relationship between the husband and wife-to-be, came together beautifully. My family handled all the preparations except the food, and we worked together as a team. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful settings for a wedding I had ever seen, but they didn’t get married in the temple. I listened to the finality of the bishop’s words, “For all your time on earth” and felt an undeniable sadness that my baby sister might never know the benefits of eternity.

The next wedding was different. You could feel it in everything. Again my family banded together to take care of the details, but this time, Gary and I were the only immediate family members who were able to attend the actual ceremony to see my sister sealed to her husband. I was the lucky one who escorted her through the endowment session the evening before. I held her hand, her face glowing and radiant, as she sat waiting for her true love to escort her through the veil.

I sat in the temple that day with my husband, watching my sister and her love join hands in bliss, and pondered the meaning of it all. Love and death. Here in this room, I could accept that Carol would soon be gone. Here in this room I could accept that this union I was witnessing would bring forth new life. And yet, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks.

The next day, even though I was only twenty-eight, I sat in a chair usually reserved for the mother of the bride—a place I was more than honored to sit—while the beautiful couple was joined for eternity. I had never been so proud.

The reception was a celebration to behold, and stretched out into the night long after the newlyweds were gone. I celebrated too, danced with my husband, my father, and both of my sons. And joy of joys, my daughter made a point of telling me that she hoped someday she would get to be married in the temple. And so we celebrated life.

Early the next morning, we received a phone call from Gary’s sister, Jennifer. “Mom’s going to be leaving us soon,” she said. “She slipped into a coma in the night, and we’re afraid it’s only a matter of minutes before she’s gone.”

Gary’s parents’ house wasn’t far away—only two miles or so—and we were dressed and there in record time. Jennifer was right. Carol’s eyes looked bruised—surrounded as they were by prominent dark circles—and they were closed. Every breath she took seemed to come right back out again, never seeming to make it anywhere deeper than her throat. The cancer had spread to her lungs and liver, causing her liver to shut down completely and allow fluid to build up inside her until she looked like a balloon that would pop. Her skin was a ghastly yellow pallor.

We gathered there, in that tiny bedroom, twelve people waiting for death. But Carol held on, insisting—even as she left this world—on waiting for everyone to arrive. One by one, her children and family members came to join the bedside vigil. Those last moments were precious as we each took a moment to tell her goodbye, shedding loving tears as she took her last breath and left us to pass through the veil.

Though she wasn’t my natural mother, a part of me felt broken, missing. We wandered around like zombies, fighting off the raw ache in order to do what needed to be done. Someone called the mortuary. Someone else started a phone tree to extended family members and close friends. An obituary was written, and the children were fed.

During all this, I couldn’t help but ponder the rapid pace at which joy turned into pain. It hurt. It hurt so bad I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings welling up inside me. Carol was no longer the person in pain—that was us now. By her leaving us behind, the roles had reversed.

Several days later, my sister returned from her honeymoon and called to see how we were doing. She sounded so happy—so utterly in love and at peace. And then it clicked. That feeling I’d been searching for returned. Of course we would see Carol again. My small children would have the opportunity to know her in another life, and to impart of her love and wisdom. And though they didn’t know it now, they would someday pass her genes and her spirit on to their children—who would also get to know her. The circle of life mirrors the blessings of eternity.

Lucky for me, I had a rare, and profound opportunity to witness both in a matter of two days.

It’s been six years since Carol passed away, but we remember her every day. Sometimes I feel the nearness of her spirit, and know she’s watching over us, taking time out of her busy schedule to protect us and help lead us in the right direction to find happiness and the fulfillment of our destinies.

Also in that time, between my two sisters and my married brother, I’ve gained three nieces and two nephews. I love those kids. I even got to witness two of them being born into the world. Life continues on into eternity.

And so it goes, until we all meet again

Where Did Love Get Lost?

By Nichole Giles

This next weekend my grandpa’s extended family is getting together for the first reunion in eleven years. Regrettably, we won’t be able to make it to this one, but we hope to attend another function of some kind, where we’ll be able to see those relatives we only see once or twice a year. Sadly, I realize that in many cases I won’t be seeing some of my relatives until next Christmas, or possibly summer 2010. How sad. And yet, mostly unavoidable.

With the approach of summer and gatherings, I find myself thinking about relationships of all kinds, and the efforts required for each one. The truth is, there is no relationship in existence that doesn’t require work or effort from all parties involved. Be it the relationship between man and woman, husband and wife, parent and child, siblings, friends, colleagues…heavens, even a relationship between a pet and owner. All types require us to…well, do something.

In order to have a relationship with someone, you need to spend time with them, have conversations with them, and understand where the boundaries are. Make no mistake, every relationship has boundaries, or in other words, rules of how you are and are not allowed to treat one another. For those of us who choose to cross those lines, do we know what the consequences will be? We should, and yet so often we don’t.

For example: If I…choose to call up my step-mother and curse and swear at her because I don’t like the gift she gave us for Christmas, (even though she put a LOT of thought and effort into having it custom made) she—as well as my father—may choose to not speak to me for a long time. And they’d be justified because I was acting like an immature, spoiled, brat. When someone gives you a gift, especially one which was made out of love (however that love can be misconstrued), you say, “Thank you for the thoughtful gift.” And if you absolutely hate it, you put it away somewhere and only ever take it out when that person is coming for a visit. This is not an opinion, people. It’s a matter of respect. But what are the consequences? I guess it depends on the people involved and their ability to forgive and forget—or not.

Example number two: If a husband has a choice between going to his daughter’s dance recital and working overtime (for no extra pay) and chooses to work, the wife has every right to be angry, and so does the daughter. And if that same husband (by the way, this example is NOT my husband) then opts to work on major holidays like Christmas, or during big family reunion picnics in order to avoid visiting family members or setting up new toys, how is his family supposed to feel? Is this a healthy situation? Is it okay for work to be more important, more desirable than family? Absolutely not. That’s not an opinion either. It’s a matter of love, and if your love becomes twisted in such a way that money becomes more important than the people it supports, well…where does love go then? Again, it depends on the people. But my guess is that at some point, the happy family will break down.

Example number three: Two friends, who have been close in childhood, move on with their lives. One gets married and has kids; the other friend gets married, but soon divorces and spends several years single again—with no children. If the married friend continues to keep in touch with, to check on, and be concerned about the single friend, she is being a true friend. But if the single friend waits for her married friend to always call—rarely returning calls herself—visit—never even wondering how big the children are getting—and generally puts forth little or no effort, the relationship falls flat. Eventually, the married friend will feel like a burden to the single friend and slowly fade out of her life. Because the truth is, a one-sided friendship isn’t a friendship at all.

I’m not trying to analyze the relationships between others (although it may appear that way) but instead, I’m wondering about my own relationships and hoping I can pay close attention to those people who matter to me. When they grow up and move away, will my kids remember that I was there for them at the most important moments? Or will they look back and say; too bad my mom missed the best things? When my husband is gray and wrinkled, will he look back in time and know that I was the best, most faithful, loving wife I could be? When I die, will there be a hundred acquaintances lined up to give condolences, or a handful of close, loving friends clutching each other and bawling their eyes out wondering why I had to go at the tender-young age of a hundred and five?

Now don’t get me wrong on the other end of the spectrum, either. I’m not saying you have to spend every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon with Grandma Lindsay, whose only known conversational skill is that of complaint. Nor am I expecting that we should all invite great uncle Jim—the person who is constantly looking for only negative things like the temperature being one degree too high, the water too tepid, and the food to bland, no matter who is taking care of him, and always without a word of thanks—to move into the guestroom and live with us indefinitely. Unhealthy relationships can be a drastic energy drain, and when you put so much effort into a relationship that never changes and never gives forth any kind of gratification, all you get is exhausted. Even though we love these people and want to spend some time with them, there has to be some effort to balance the scales, or eventually, we’ll lose our ability to deal with any of it.

I’m not a relationship expert. And I’m a long, long way from perfect with these things. But I am trying to learn from my life experiences. And I learn a little bit more with each year that passes. I hope with a bit of effort I can strengthen my relationships with the people who matter to me. I’m looking for balance on all levels, and I’ve learned that life balance starts first in the relationship with one’s self, and then in the relationships with the key people in a person’s life. Family, close friends, neighbors, work associates…it all fans out from there.

Does that make sense?

I don’t often allow myself to ramble—especially on my public blogs. But more and more often I watch the way some people treat others, and I do not understand where love got lost. Not just the love between family members or friends, but love for our neighbors, our community, and our fellow human beings. Have we really become so callous that we can turn our heads to a homeless person on the street? Is the universe we live in truly so imbalanced that we would lose completely the desire to acknowledge the existence of each other? The needs of each other?

I don’t understand. Not at all. And I realize I can’t fix the thoughts running around the heads of other people. Nor can I tell anyone besides myself how to fix the problems of the world. What I can do is work on the issues in my own self, and make a large effort to balance the scales in my life. I can be a good example to my children, and try to teach them the same things I’ve learned.

And if, for some reason, someone gives me a gift—even if it’s a used, re-gifted, odd dollar amount gift card—I’ll accept it graciously and say, “Thank you for the thought.”

And people, my words will not be a lie.