Amazing Grace

I have a bucket list.  You know the kind:  the list of all the things you want to do before you leave this world?  For me, the items on there are definitely stretch objectives.  I'm proud to count myself as a person that does not put off obtainable joys, yet some joys I wish to experience are simply out of my current capacity either due to financial or logistical reasons.

So, Andrea Bocelli and his ridiculous ticket prices were sitting on said bucket list waiting.

I knew the moment he announced his 2011 concerto.  His U.S. "tour" was coming to Anaheim.  Close enough!  Immediately I looked up the tickets, and just as immediately I knew I was going to have to watch Craig's list and pray that someone would have to give up their tickets at a loss.  I visited every day just about, but no one was selling those tickets for less than face value.  So I kept waiting.

Then came the Great Flood of 2011.  The one in my kitchen.  The one that took out my dishwasher and my floor.  And though insurance covered the majority of the cost, I still took a hit that made my precious dream of Andrea in person an impossibility this time around.

Yet on Thanksgiving night, during dinner.. and I believe we were chatting about something on my bucket list... Cheyanne suddenly got up from the table and came back with an envelope. I opened the card.
"Merry (Early) Christmas!" It read.  "Because of all the people wandering this universe, you deserve for all your dreams to come true.  Chewy, Mom! and Tim"

I had no idea what to expect when I pulled the folded paper out of the envelope.  Unfolding it and seeing the words "Andrea Bocelli" threw me for such a loop I'm quite sure the neighbors heard me shrieking in delight.  Screaming actually.  I could not believe it.  A dream, quite literally, come true.

There was another letter inside with the tickets. This one just from Chey and I'm not going to share it here, but suffice it to say that that letter alone was every bit as wonderful as those tickets.  To be loved like that is a greater gift than anything in the world and I am so very, very grateful.

So it was that I sat next to my dear friend, Sabra, on December 11th listening to that amazing voice.  It was surreal.  I wiped away a few tears in both disbelief of my great fortune and because Sr. Bocelli just does that to me.  and then he sang "Amazing Grace."

This is a song I don't love.  In fact, it's rather boring though the words are nice.  But when Andrea sings it, it just rips your heart out.  It's like you've never heard it before.  And the irony that a blind man is singing "I was blind, but now I see" is not lost.  Yet it wasn't the beauty, nor the way he connects with what seems like God himself that hit me.  I sat realizing that I was once a wretch.  Yes, I was wretched.  I was sometimes cruel, I took advantage, I lied and I was reprehensible.  I could have kept going down that path but for my children.  Somehow I always managed to put them first, to keep the focus on their welfare and eventually I became the person I wanted them to think I was.  It was nothing short of amazing grace that saved a wretch like me.

With very little make-up still on my face I left that show changed - again.  I realized I have never been alone even when I felt completely and utterly abandoned.  There has been a hand guiding me the entire time.  He often says "Be Still."  I hear it all the time - at least when I finally shut up long enough to hear.  On December 11th, he finished that sentence:  "Be Still and Know That I Am."  Indeed.  He is in the face of my children.

Just Love

Instead of wondering what I can get out of this world, how about waking each day with the question:  What can I give today? Who can I love?  How can I brighten this small piece of the world I live in?  

I think about how I’ve been dreaming of finding that special guy.   

Because I’ve been hurt, because I don’t want to make the same mistake thrice I have a terrific list of must haves and can’t haves.  I doubt seriously there’s anyone out there that would qualify just in those specifications alone.  He must be perfect and generous with his love for me and – here’s the real rub - he must magically make up for all the wrongs ever done to me.  It’s no wonder I can’t find him.  

Then I think about how I was given Dia at a stage in my reproductive life that, without help from science, might be considered a miracle.  It’s remarkable nonetheless.  And I wonder why me?  Maybe it’s because my only thought when it comes to children is to love THEM.  I expect zero back in return.  I merely relish in the love I feel for them.  Nothing in my life has ever brought me so much.  Just loving.  Without asking for a damn thing back.  Just loving them.

And it occurred to me today during my meditation that that is exactly what I am doing wrong everywhere else.  I want.  I want to have as much as the folks on the top of the hill.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a perfect family with a man, a father, at my side because it looks shiny and it is what is normal and expected.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a better car, a bigger house, nicer stuff.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a bigger bank account.  Give me that.  I want. I want to travel the world; to be taken care of; to sit back with my feet up and have someone else do it all.  I want.  Give me that.

And in all my life the only thing I was ever so brilliant at that I actually give myself credit is my parenting.  That’s not because I’m so wise and so magnificently insightful.  It’s because I don’t talk all the time.  I listen.  I am not looking for my agenda to get filled.  I’m not waiting for the day that they do whatever it is that is going to make me feel loved, cherished, validated, worthy, fulfilled.  I just love.  And it works.  It’s successful.  Inadvertently.  It’s a side effect of just giving of me to them with no expectations of a return.  In fact, not even wishing for one.  And when the return comes – and it does – it lights me up so much more than any grand gesture dressed up in a bouquet of roses ever could.

So logically… wouldn’t it go to follow that if I put that kind of love into every other part of the world, it would earn a return as successful as my parenting?  What if tomorrow I wake up and ask:  What can I give today?  Who can I love?  Where can I show compassion?  How can I help?  And just trust that that, in and of itself, is enough.  What do I get back?  Nothing.  But my little corner of the world is rosier, and the sun shines a little brighter in it.  Because of me.  And that is enough.

In fact, I won't wait until tomorrow.  I'm going to start now.

It's Time for a Revolution

All this "Occupy (insert location name here)" nonsense has my inner activist fired up.  I'm not one to shy away from a cause, but I also tend to lead a life of moderation.  Therefore nothing has gotten me revved up enough to date to lead a movement or join a protest.  Nothing, that is, until now.

Folks, it is time to do something about this.  We have spent decades - nay! centuries! - accepting this atrocity as not only fine, but important.  We teach it to our children in preschool.  It's blasted all over children's programming and blatantly displayed on the walls of their classrooms.  Yes, people, I am referring to:

The Alphabet.

Well, not the whole thing.  Just one letter.  That letter, may I be so bold as to say - is the letter "C."

Despite the fact that this letter begins my last name and my daughter's first name, I think we can all agree that it is time to do away with this archaic and unnecessary letter (or, rather, this arkaik and unnessessary letter - see where I'm going?)  It makes the same sound as two other letters we already have.  Why is it there?  What is it for?

I, for one, believe we should start a campaign (or, rather, kampaign) to do away with this treachery (or, rather, trea...ch???  OH!)  Oh, right, the 'ch' sound.  How do you make that with the other letters?  Darn it.

Never mind.

I will then, change my campaign to the eradication of the letter "Q."  After all I cannot think of single time that the "kw" combination would not suffice (or ck in the unique "que" instances (or, rather, the uneek "que" instances)).  Therefore, I shall be hosting a rally on the steps of the U.S. Department of Education to promote a bill to reduce our Alphabet to 25 letters and to prohibit the further use of this offensive letter.

Who is with me?  We will call it "Occupy Sesame Street!"

My Little Monster

I had to work for a little bit this morning.  It's Saturday and we'll soon be off to a play and then we'll spend the rest of the day together, so I had Dia playing on her own while I got some business stuff done.

My background noise while I toiled away was her playing, singing and chatting to herself or the cat or any inanimate object about.

She's dressed for the day in a swingy dress and crazy tights with polka dots, stripes and stitches down the legs.  The stitches particularly inspired her apparently:

To Albert (the kitten):
(Singing)
"It's still me
Why are you afraid?
Could it be the stitches down my leg?"
(this was done in a rhyming fashion which I, as a totally biased bystander, found genius)

And then, she turned her attention to cutting the heads off of all the models in a catalog:

Dia, to the model: "I will cut your head off, Princess!"

(Speaking for the 'princess') "No!"
"Yes! You will never marry now!  Buhahaha!  Princesses without heads cannot marry!  It is the RUUUUUUUULE!"

Then, to add more color, she explained to the now decapitated models:
"You will all be monsters like me now!  Buhahaha!

and, still snipping away at the catalog:  "Heads, heads, heads!  You are all dead, like me!  La-la-la-loo!"

.... Should I be afraid?

Dia said "YES!"

Customer of the Month

IT'S THE BRAVE NEWCUSTOMER OF THE MONTH!

This is Dia. She's cuter than you.

Let's see how Dia fared with the BNW Customer O'The Month Questionnaire, shall we?

1) Who are you, what do you do, and how long have you been shopping at The World?
(name, age, occupation, status, etc, please...)

My name is Dia C. and I'm a Kindergarten student.  I am 5 years old and I'm not married.  I'm not old enough.  I do have a job: taking care of my cat, Albert, but I don't get paid for that.  I have been shopping at Brave New World about 1 year now I think.

2) What do you read on a regular basis? Favorites? Hated?

I read books and comics a lot.  Like 15-16 hours. 
Favorites:  The pop-ups!
Favorite Comic:  I don't have one.  They are all my favorites, but I really like Super Dinosaur, Kid Houdini and Shrek.
Hated:  The ones that are just very, very boring.

3) If you could have any super power, what would it be?

To go really, really fast - like a 1 minute mile!

4) What makes you think comics are cool for a girl your age?

They are so cool because you don't know the answer until you get the next one and it's always a surprise.  That's why I love them sooooooo much!

5) What got you interested in comics in the first place?

Tiffany.  She was my nanny.  She brang my first comic (Super Dinosaur) to read to me.

6) How are you going to spend your $25 Brave New Bucks for being the Customer of the Month??

The next comic of Super Dinosaur!  Or maybe the How To Talk Zombie book.  I love that one.

7) What else would you like the BNW masses to know? Website, personal motto, etc, etc? You tell us!

Be there!  It's so fun.  They have good comic books and cool real books too. 
(I asked her what her personal motto was and she said:  "If you drink it and you don't like it, stop drinking it!"  HA!)

Dia, you're the best! Thanks for being exactly the kind of customer Brave New World likes to have. Smart, adorable, and wearing awesome kicks! (and special thanks to your mom, Katie, and that awesome nanny Tiffany!) Now come get your $25 Brave New Bucks!

There's a new Super Dinosaur this week!