The First Chapter

Not too long ago, I wrote a blog entitled The Last Chapter about meeting the person I hoped to walk with down the pathway of life. A very dear friend commented that The Last Chapter of one book is really just The First Chapter of the next. I wonder if she knew then how right she’d be...

Friday night, somewhere around sunset while watching hummingbirds flit around the backyard, the guy you’ve come to know as the “nicest guy on the planet” asked me to spend the rest of my life hand-in-hand and heart-to-heart with him. Saying YES to marrying Robert was the most natural thing in the world; it was like I’d said it a million times before and yet, like it didn’t need to be said at all because we both just knew that the pieces had fallen into place for us to have our own Happily Ever After.

And so a new chapter begins, the first chapter of our life together, and while there are countless parts of this story that have yet to unfold, here’s what I do know…

I know that when I think of the future, his hand is the one I want holding mine. I know his feet are the ones I want to step on when we slow dance in the kitchen and his arms are the ones I want around me when I need shelter from a rough day. I know his laughter is the sound I want ringing in my ears and his words are the ones I want encouraging me. I know his sorrows are the ones I want to divide and his joys are the ones I want to multiply.

I know that no matter where we are, or where this path takes us, we’ll walk it side by side and simply being together will be enough. I know that we’re grounded in a friendship that grew into love and that we are both truly blessed to have amazing parents as role models for what marriages should be. And I know that not only will I be joining together with a wonderful husband, I’ll also become part of a family that includes fantastic people who genuinely care about others and go out of their way to lend a helping hand or give an encouraging word (and he’ll be joining a pretty awesome family too!).

I know it won’t be easy and it won’t always be fun but I also know that he’s one of the hardest working men I know and that he’s more than willing (and able) to rise to the challenge of putting up with my quirks. I know he understands me even when I don’t understand myself and that he is always patient and kind. I know he loves me unconditionally even when I don’t deserve it because he knows that’s when I need it the most. I know he makes me laugh and that when he’s not around, the things he says float through my mind and I laugh all over again. And I know that no matter how long “the rest of our lives” turns out to be, I’ll want to love him five minutes more.

And for now, I don’t need to figure out the rest. I know enough to know that if the rest of this story is anything like the first chapter, it’s going to be a best seller and I’m going to read every page twice. :)

Weekend Top 10

Since the weekend moved past me at the speed of blur, and we’re already well into the middle of a new work week, I think I’ll take a quick moment today to press the PAUSE button and reflect on some of the things I realized over the past few days.

10- No matter what time I rise and shine, I’m going to be 5 minutes late… at least.

9- There will always be a coupon in Sunday’s paper for something I paid full price for on Saturday.

8- Watching a guy play ball with a three year old is the quickest way to tell if he will be a good dad someday.

7- A scoop of ice cream on a park bench will never be anything less than a perfect date idea.

6- You can go a whole weekend without TV and truly never miss it.

5- Flip-flops and Harley exhaust pipes do not play well together. And, by the way, curls and helmets don’t either.

4- A lunchbox is quite possibly the sweetest place to find a love note.

3- Walking to the neighbor’s party means you can eat an extra cookie (or two) when you get there.

2- Dinner always tastes better when someone else cooks it (or grills it, as the case may be).

And…

1-   Life is infinitely better when you have someone to share it with.

I hope your weekend left you with a smile on your face, a memory in your heart, and someone special on your mind. I hope it was something magical, something special… Something More.

Half a BOGO is a NO-NO... Or Is It?

At some point over this past weekend, I found myself in line at a local store. At the other checkout, an older gentleman was purchasing a bottle of multivitamins. The brand happened to be BOGO (buy one, get one free) so the cashier told him he could have a second bottle for free. He said he didn’t need it. She tried to encourage him that it was free so he should take it anyway. He again said, “Thank you but I don’t need it today.” While a part of me thought, ‘he should take that free bottle’, another part of me thought, ‘good for him for not taking what he doesn’t need’. While I didn’t quite understand why he didn’t follow one of my favorite mottos which is “If it’s free, it’s for me”, what happened next moved me from “I didn’t quite understand” to “did that just really happen?”

A lady, who was in line two people back from the gentleman, went and picked up one bottle of the same multivitamins. When the cashier rung up her items, the conversation went like this:

Evelyn (the cashier): Your total is 27.46 please.

Customer: No. That’s not right. Those vitamins should be free. You need to take that off my bill.

Evelyn: Do you have a coupon?

Customer: No, but they were BOGO right? And that man didn’t get his free one. So I want his.

Evelyn: Excuse me?

Customer: That older man who was just here, he bought one and I want the free one he didn’t get.

Wow. Did I just hear that right?

They went back and forth on it for a few minutes with Evelyn trying to explain to the lady that she didn’t purchase vitamins to entitle her to a free bottle and the lady trying to explain to Evelyn that the store expected the man to take it and since he didn’t, it was up for grabs for everyone else. And a small scene ensued and Evelyn called the manager. I left at that point since I was already 30 minutes late so I have no idea if the lady left with free vitamins or not.

As I drove away, it occurred to me that I really have no idea what the right thing would be in this situation. And then I wondered if my ethical compass was really that broken that such a small thing was causing me such great pause.

On the one hand, since the vitamins were BOGO and they probably expected the bottle to leave the store at some point during the day, maybe it doesn’t matter to them who takes it? On the other hand, the woman had not fulfilled the purchase portion of the BOGO agreement so she had no rightful claim to the bottle in the first place so taking them for free is sorta like stealing, isn’t it? But on the other, other hand, the lady get points for being creative but on the other, other, other hand, I have to wonder what kind of nerve it takes to actually expect a store to honor a request for half of someone else’s BOGO. In the end, I was no closer to sorting it out than I had been when it happened. I gave up on testing my ethical aptitude and moved on to a fun weekend that didn’t require quite so much thought.

I am interested, though, in your thoughts. Should the lady be the proud owner of free vitamins or is half a BOGO a real no-no?

CDs and Red Glitter Shoes

Someone asked me recently, “If you could only listen to one artist for the rest of forever, who would you choose?” Oh, what a tough question. I know you think you know the answer.

Did you guess Bill Gentry? I do love Bill’s music and the guys in the band are amazing; Bill would probably be my choice if the question was ‘if you could only go to one concert, whose would it be?’

Did you guess Christian Kane? I have been overheard saying that Christian could make The House Rules at my house any day but...

As much as I love Bill and CK, over the last few months, I have fallen head over my red high heels with the sounds of Steve Carlson. If you remember, Steve was one of the first Monday Music Reviews on this blog and since that time, I’ve realized that I was only scratching the surface of understanding what a goldmine I had found. I knew I liked him but I had no idea just how much.  I like him to the point of having four CDs and to round out the complete collection, yesterday I was beyond excited to learn that the one CD I didn’t have in my collection was back in stock so I ordered it for myself “for my birthday” (or so I tell myself) from a company called CD Baby.

Today, I received the following email from CD Baby:

Your CD has been gently taken from our shelf with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow. A team of employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure it was in the best possible condition before mailing. Our world-renowned packing specialist lit a local artisan’s candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy. We all had a wonderful celebration and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved “Bon Voyage!” to your package, on its way to you, in our private jet. We hope you had a wonderful time shopping with us. In commemoration, we have placed your picture on the wall as our “Customer of the Year”. We are exhausted but can’t wait for you to come back and shop with us again.

In my little mind’s eye, I pictured my CD being spruced up and sent off in the same way Dorothy and the gang were fluffed and fancied before they were supposed to leave the merry old land of Oz. Since that is one of my favorite movies (and probably where my love affair with red shoes began), I've now connected CD Baby with happy childhood memories and automatically believe my CD is in good hands, coming from a good place. Any company that takes the time to be that creative and to give that much attention to an email that could have simply said “Your order has been shipped” is the kind of company that I can easily share my hard earned dollars with, even if it’s only a few bucks for a CD.

And, for some reason, even though he probably had no hand at all in CD Baby's message, I suddenly like Steve Carlson all that much more. Just knowing he's connected to this company makes him seem somehow more romantic, more sentimenal, more nostalgic, and even more like someone I'd want to be "a friend with" instead of "a fan of".

I hope today that you have a CD in your player that makes you feel sentimental, something in your email inbox that brings you an unexpected smile, somewhere to go tonight that makes you feel like wearing your red shoes, and someone in your life who makes you want to come back home again.

The Deep End of the Kool-aid Pool

Over the course of this blog, I’ve talked about several genuinely well-meaning people who attempt to parent me. I understand and appreciate these people because I too suffer from an incurable urge to “Mom” folks; you know, reminding them of appointments, picking up after them, supplying them with band-aids or Tylenol, or going to the Grown-up Girl Scout’s Bag of Everything to pull out a sewing kit or a screwdriver when they need something mended or repaired. And, yes, there really is a screwdriver in my pocketbook and yes, it really has come in handy more times than I can count. Recently, I realized that the line between “helpful” and “all in the Kool-aid and don’t know the flavor” (as the saying goes) gets quite blurry.

Recently, one of these mom-type people tried to dive headfirst into my Kool-aid pool without her water wings and without going into all the details of the splash her belly flop made all over my brand new white beach towel, let’s just say, I was significantly less than pleased. And, despite knowing better, I let it be known.

I fumed, I fussed, and yesterday, I wrote what some would call a scathing blog about it. But after posting the blog, I decided that the sugar in my Kool-aid pool must have clogged the filter because it was clearly not working to separate my thoughts from my words. And so I deleted it, and this blog has returned to its normal state of happy bliss.

Because there’s a lesson to be learned from how poorly I managed the situation, I’ve decided to choose to believe that the mom-types in my life are trying to be helpful, even when our definitions of helpful aren’t the same. I’ve decided that just because someone doesn’t treat you in the way you want to be treated doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t treating you the best (or the only) way they know how. I’ve decided to believe that perhaps it’s not always the mom-type’s giving but my receiving that’s the problem. Maybe I wasn’t open-minded enough to see the bigger picture and to realize the helping was well-intended even if misdirected. Geez, who knew that a little Kool-aid on a beach towel could teach you so much?

I hope that in your corner of the world today, you have a mom-type person, or several of them, who love you, mean well, and know when to dive into the deep end of your Kool-aid pool and when to stay on their beach chair, reading a trashy novel by the lifeguard stand. I hope that when you get unwanted splashes of Kool-aid on your beach towel: 1. That you remember that it’s just Kool-aid and that Shout makes wipes for that; and 2. That you are open to the idea that maybe your beach towel needs a little colorful splatter every once in a while to help you remember that life is not always black and white; sometimes it takes an occasional splash of cherry or grape or orange to remind you that life is too short to be anything but sweet.

Happiness... Scandinavian Style

Yesterday, someone asked what I did over the weekend. I said, “We went to IKEA in Charlotte.” With a quizzical look, he asked, “What’s an IKEA?” Hmmm, I thought about it. How do I explain this?

IKEA is “Happiness…. Scandinavian Style.”

IKEA was founded in southern Sweden in the 1940s and now offers unique and innovative home furnishings to the global masses. The wares happily combine form with function, and high quality with low price, so IKEA treasures appeal to everyone from the Glamour Gal who wants to decorate in sleek European lines to the Bargain Betty who wants a table service for 12 to come with price tag for two. There’s something for everyone and I can pretty much guarantee that you’ll find something you didn’t even know you needed.

A trip to IKEA begins with a ride up the escalator to the Upper Floor where rooms are showcased for your enjoyment. Living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens, even bathrooms, are all staged with IKEA furniture and furnishings that are discretely tagged with item numbers. You jot down, on the blank side of the store map you got at the front door (they’ll also give you a pencil AND a tape measure), the item number of anything you fall head over heels in love with, anything you think you might fall in love with later, or anything you might just want to look at again. Don’t forget to open the kitchen cabinets and drawers; those are stocked with nifty gadgets and tools too! Apparently European kitchens are small or narrow so IKEA has an extensive array of items that use wall space instead of counter space. While it’s different than what we’re used to by American standards, the innovative and creative storage options are definitely worth considering in my own counter space-saving missions. IKEA rooms allow you to go from Modern and Industrial to Country and Classic, or to mix it up to go somewhere in between.

   

By the time you’ve perused the rooms, you’ll need a moment to regroup from all the things you’ve seen and all the creative ideas that are bouncing around in your head. Luckily for you, you find yourself at the IKEA Cafeteria and it’s time for lunch.

For the sake of the complete experience, I had Swedish meatballs with ligonberry sauce and Swedish apple cake. If you’re not familiar with ligonberry, it seems to be a magenta-shaded cross between a cranberry and a blueberry. I think ligonberry sauce might show up on my Thanksgiving table this year…

After lunch, refueled and recharged, and hopefully with a plan, you head back down the escalator to the Lower Floor where all of the furniture, house wares, dishes and utensils, bedding and towels, prints and frames, candles and vases, and on and on and on, are stacked in tidy bins and on shelves for you to shop. Our convoy included a cart, a hand truck, and three big yellow shopping bags.

I found these two prints at IKEA and words can’t express how much I love, love, love them. Since I really have nowhere to put them, I caught myself thinking, “I wonder if I could build a house around this print in the same way that I build an outfit around a pair of shoes.”

I bought a few fun and fantastic things and stayed well within the budget. I didn’t buy everything I wanted but I may have worked on my birthday list should anyone who loves me (hint, hint) need some ideas…

And, oh, I almost forgot one of the best parts of the trip! After you check out (but keep in mind, this is a minimalist, environmentally friendly store so don’t expect the cashiers to bubble wrap or tissue paper your items; if you want that, you have to DIY at the ‘wrapping station’), swing by the snack bar for cinnamon buns. And, a word to the wise- pack some plates & forks for your trip home because as much as you say you’re saving those cinnamon buns for Sunday breakfast, someone will want one before you get out of the parking lot.

IKEA is a full day’s trip but it’s absolutely worth every minute and we’re already planning our next adventure.

I hope your weekend held something as yummy as cinnamon buns or ligonberry sauce (but not together, ‘cause that’s just gross!), something as memorable as a road trip with friends, or something as exciting as a short trip to Europe (or a European-inspired store a little closer to home). I hope your weekend was… Something More.

The Last Chapter

For quite some time now, I’ve been “single and searching”, a spare looking for a pair, a Jenny waiting on her Forrest, a Cinderella seeking her Prince Charming. I tried everything I could think of… twice. Internet- check. Speed dating- check, check. Meeting friends of friends- check, check, and check. And nothing worked.

That ‘nothing’ was working so well that I contemplated writing a book about it. It would have to be filed under Fiction because no one would really believe that all the craziness I’ve seen could actually happen to one person. If not yet on paper, the book was written in my head… with just one teeny, tiny little problem. I had absolutely no idea how it was supposed to end. I didn’t have a knight on a white horse to sweep me off my feet. I didn’t have a Prince Charming asking me to try on glass slippers. (I did have a guy asking to borrow some articles of clothing but we won’t get into that today.) I didn’t have a Happily Ever After; I didn’t know if a Happily Ever After was even possible so I couldn’t very well write a love story without knowing who and what the last chapter would be.

And so the book remained just a figment of my imagination… until recently.

And then, out of nowhere, when I least expected, in the last place on Earth I thought I’d meet someone, on a day when I’d given way less than my best effort to look cute, I crossed paths with someone I hope will walk with me a while… a very, very long while.

And in the midst of this whirlwind romance, I’ve learned that sometimes even if “when you least expect it” isn’t a specific date marked on YOUR calendar, it has always been in bright red letters in permanent ink on God’s calendar, you just have to have some patience and a little faith.

Sometimes, the reason behind “everything happens for a reason” becomes clear when you start to piece together how many twists and turns life had to take for the two of you to end up in the same parking lot on the same day at the same time.

Sometimes, “when you stop looking” really comes down to a day when you have a million other things on your mind and you stop trying and you stop thinking about trying and you just show up in your least favorite pair of jeans to the thing you didn’t really have time to show up for in the first place.

Sometimes, “Mr. Right” does have a first name and he’ll introduce himself but you have to get off your cell phone to give him a chance to walk over.

And, in time, maybe on a day when you’re sharing ice cream on a park bench, you realize that all the times you were stood up, all the times a first date didn’t lead to a second date, all the times you cried because another effort failed, all the times you ignored a red warning flag, all the times you thought the world had ended, and all the times you thought you didn’t have another ounce of try left in you… all of those times are worth it to get you to the one moment when you know you’re in the right place, with the right person, and the only thing that matters is that all the time in the world will never be enough. Sometimes you write an entire book knowing that going through every chapter is the only way to get to the last chapter, the one chapter you could never grow tired of reading.

Before She was Mom

Not too long ago, I was flipping through some photos on facebook and noticed some pictures of my mom from back in the day. She was laughing with friends, kicking back with burgers and fries and red Solo cups (that I'm told was filled with Coca-Cola when it was still "The Real Thing") at the racetrack. In that moment, it occurred to me that my mom, like all other moms, used to be something other than a mom.

Before we came along, she could hop in the car and go anytime without worrying about whether she had diaper bags, toys, and snacks. She could eat ice cream and potato chips for dinner without worrying it would set a bad example. She could buy a new dress without worrying about paying for dance lessons. She could take a vacation and not have to hear bickering from the backseat about who was taking up too much room. She could sleep in, stay up late, and watch whatever she wanted on tv. 

But she chose to become a mom. And every day after that, she has chosen to put us first. She gave up steak dinners to have fish sticks and mac & cheese. She stayed up late sewing dance costumes and got up in the middle of the night when we were sick. She changed jobs to make sure our college educations were secure. She cheered at games, clapped at dance recitals, and tried her best to make me practice the piano. She bandaged scraped knees and mended our broken hearts. She laughed at our corny jokes and put our artwork on the refrigerator.

She taught us to think twice and speak once, to check our pockets before putting our dirty laundry in the basket, and to "try it, you might like it". She always made us wonder if the threat to "back the truck up to the playroom and throw everything out the window" was just an idle threat or an inevitable promise. She kept us on our toes but made sure we stayed grounded (in the "good sense" version of the term, not the "no tv for a month" version). She let us choose our own outfits but gently kept us from turning into episodes of What Not to Wear. She gave us a curfew we secretly appreciated and pried into our business just enough to be caring without being meddling. She had a solution for everything but when she didn't, she simply said, "I don't know but we'll figure it out together."

I may not need Mom anymore for putting a band-aid on my skinned knees but I do still need her to mend a broken heart from time to time. I no longer eat fish sticks but I know that if I need to talk, she'll have a home cooked meal and some words of wisdom. I can sew my own pant hems now but Mom is there to analyze any problem and help me piece together a plan of action.

There are lots of things that I guess technically I don't need Mom to do for me anymore but there are so many many more things that I'll never be able to do on my own. For those things, she's still there and I don't have any doubt that she always will be. For that, I'm grateful and so very very blessed. Mom gave up a lot to become a mom; she gave up a lot to raise us right and to send us out into the scary world she tried to protect us from. In all of her giving up over the years, she's never once, not even for a moment, given up on us. And for her unconditional, unfaltering, and unfailing love and sacrifice, we have no words to do it justice except Happy Mother's Day... today and every day. We love you, Mom.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Growing up, I was never really involved in team sports (unless you call dance a sport which is not a debate I’m trying to start here today) but I do love to watch them. Show me a field, court, rink, or cage and I’ll show you one happy girl. While football will probably always be my favorite, there’s just something special about a good, old fashioned baseball game. Maybe it’s the picturesque contrast of blue skies and green grass or the smell of red dirt and hot dogs; maybe it’s the sound a bat makes when it solidly connects with a line drive or the feel of camaraderie when a bunch of strangers temporarily unite as friends cheering on their team. I’m not sure what it is but I know that no other feeling matches the one I get when I hear the first bars of Put Me In Coach over the loudspeakers.

Last night, I went to watch a little league coach-pitch softball game. The seven and eight year old girls we cheered for were decked out in light blue uniforms with hot pink accents (including hot pink knee socks) and ribbons in their ponytails. They were the adorable little Fancy Nancies of the softball world.

What caught my attention was not really the ballgame itself but the tiny little outfielder from the other team. She stood about knee high to a grasshopper and was proudly hauling around a glove about three sizes too big. She would make the trek from the dugout to her spot in the outfield, the spot the coach told her to stand in. Her spot. The spot she would not deviate from. For anything. Her focus on the pitcher and the batter was like that of a laser beam until… a bug flew by.

She followed the bug; she picked a few outfield flowers. She threw some dirt into the air to see which way the winds were blowing. She waved to her mom who was trying to get her to pay attention to the game. She was perhaps the most precious thing I’ve ever seen in cleats. When a ball finally came out her way, she stopped it and launched it back toward the infield, a lofty throw that went maybe half the distance she intended. But, the effort prompted a little outfield happy dance. In her mind, she was better than Cal Ripken Jr., Brady Anderson, and Tom Glavine all rolled into one.

I have no idea what the final score was, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter. The girls are learning teamwork and sportsmanship and the fundamentals of the game. More importantly, they’re having fun. They’re enjoying the summer moments of childhood when their worries consist of “Where are my pink knee socks?” and “What flavor juice box did the snack mom bring?” They’ll have plenty of time to worry about the rest of life later.

I hope you’ll spend a few moments of your summer acting like a kid again. I hope you’ll go outside, breathe in some fresh air, dig in some red dirt, and roll around in the green grass under a blue sky. I hope you’ll take in a ball game and remember the carefree days of your childhood. I hope you’ll worry a little less, chase bugs a little more, and end all of your efforts with a little happy dance. Until we meet again, friends, I’m off to buy some peanuts and Cracker Jacks…

Weekend Recap

I hate to break it to you, blogbuddies, but I’m having one of THOSE days.  You know the kind. The days when your pants feel too tight, your bangs are in your eyes, your brain and your typing fingers are working at two different speeds, the printer is out of ink, and you desperately want to rename the copier Bob Marley (because it’s always jammin’). Yep, by all accounts, I’m having a Monday on a Tuesday.

But, lucky for me, I had a great weekend and I can happily dwell in the memories of it. And, lucky for you, I’m willing to share the tales with you!

Friday night, we piled into a very fun and very loud pick-up truck (and can you believe someone let me drive??) with some friends for a trip to the Mexican restaurant. I managed to prove, yet again, why you should think twice before handing me the keys to your wheels. Getting the beast into the skinny little parking space by the curb was not so challenging; getting it out was either a minor miracle or something that would have won me some big bucks on America’s Funniest Videos. But the truck’s owner (who is perhaps the nicest guy on the entire planet) was beyond encouraging and we all ended up back home safe and sound. Too early to call it a night, we picked teams and played a few thousand games of cornhole. If you’re not familiar with cornhole, it’s the grown-up version of beanbag toss. It’s not nearly as easy as it sounds but it is more fun than you can imagine. We played late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how you choose to look at it. I haven’t laughed that hard (or felt that uncoordinated) since elementary school.

Saturday, I went with some girlfriends to a baby shower for one of the sweetest people I know. Congrats again, Leigh Ellen, Jon & big brother Jacob; I can’t wait for the arrival of Jackson in a few weeks! To balance out all that precious baby love, we headed out Saturday night for wings and MMA fights on the big screen. It was a historic night; Hall of Famer Randy “The Natural” Couture retired from the sport after a devastating loss to Lyoto Machida (and a chipped tooth) and Georges "Rush" St. Pierre maintained his title after five rounds of stand-up sparing with Jake Shields. At our table, we took turns choosing fighters to cheer for; sadly, I picked zero winners. None. Nada. Zilch. Not one. Not even by accident. Oh well, I suppose it's a good thing I’m not a betting kind of gal.

Sunday, the aforementioned “nicest guy on the entire planet” and I went to church and kept the nursery. I’d told him that dealing with 2 and 3 year olds was something like herding cats. He laughed like he didn’t believe me; I think he’s since changed his mind. But he was a good sport and for his efforts, I gave him some animal crackers. J

After church, since it was nice out, we went for a walk around the block and then ruined our exercise by hopping over to Sunny Skies for an ice cream. Don’t you just love a simply fantastic afternoon of nothing fancy? I know I do!

I hope that this weekend was a sign of things to come and that there will be a lot more Mondays (or Tuesdays that act like Monday) where I can happily say, “Let me tell you about my fantastic weekend!” I hope you spent your weekend soaking up some sun, sharing some laughs with friends, and sewing some memories into the fabric of your life. I hope your weekend was something simple, something special, and… Something More.

Choosing to Shine

I was going to post about my fantastic weekend but in light of the news on Osama bin Laden, I feel compelled to shift gears a bit. We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

I’ve often been told that I live in a bubble, naïve and innocent and somewhat oblivious to how the world actually works. Today has been a prime example of that. I see news coverage of people partying, rioting almost, in zealous celebrations of the death of Osama bin Laden. Am I the only one who doesn’t know what to make of this news, or how to feel about it exactly?

I won’t lie to you, I was happy to hear that the world’s leading terror mastermind is no longer a threat to our freedoms and liberties but to celebrate a death, any death, in the streets around the world just makes me profoundly sad. I was comforted to hear someone say, “We’re not celebrating the death of a person, per say, we’re celebrating the hope of a kinder world.” That makes sense to me. Kinder world, I’m all for that.

The news is now reporting that there may be retaliations and repercussions for the US military actions. I’m not surprised to hear that; I’ve always been told that when one terrorist influence is abolished, there are ten more, or 100 more, ready to step in to replace it. That, in a nutshell, scares me; evil thinkers are the most creative people on the planet and the good people who aren’t wired to think in terms of evil have a hard time figuring out how to insulate or protect themselves from it. I, for one, enjoy living in the bubble where I believe people are inherently nice and good.

Instead of celebrating the death of Osama bin Laden, I’m choosing today to remember those lost on 9-11. Instead of being scared that evil will sneak back into our lives, I’m choosing today to admire the family members who bravely picked up the pieces and moved forward. Instead of worrying about our national security, I’m choosing to be grateful that there are first responders who are always willing to run in when everyone else is running out. Instead of wondering about the future of our freedoms, I’m choosing today to honor our military service personnel who stand on the thin line between good and evil, fighting abroad for people at home, sacrificing their comforts so that I don’t have to. I’m choosing to see all the good that remains in the world rather than to give one more moment of thought to the evil.

I hope today that you’ll remember the good that lights up your world. I hope that you’ll hug someone who has held a candle of hope in your personal life. I hope you’ll thank a soldier who has aimed a flashlight of freedom in the dark corners of the world where evil lurks. I hope that as much as you acknowledge the light carried by others, that you will also serve as a tiny twinkling light for someone else. I hope you’ll do something today to brighten the corner where you live and to make your tiny piece of the world a kinder place. I hope you'll make today something special, something positive, something memorable... Something More.