Nine years ago, I had nothing to do but go to work and decide which friends I would ski with the next day, and which bar I would go to that night.  One day, purely by chance, I found out that my *ahem* “valley” wasn’t as green as I had thought and that it was in fact a brown infertile field.

While I saw doctors and took medicine and dealt with fatigue and nausea and saw more doctors and changed medications, I longed for those carefree years to return. A year later I found out that not only had the “valley” returned to green, much to my surprise, it was fer-tile.  34 weeks later, I was a mom.  I looked back longingly at a time when I could jump out of the car and run into a store alone, and when I could drive down the road without singing “How much is that doggie in the window” two hundred times so I didn’t have to hear the freaking crying the entire ride. 20 months later, when I was pregnant again, I ached for my first pregnancy when I could sleep late and take naps in the middle of the day and only had my own face to stuff. When my third child was born, four years and six weeks after the first one (I said fer-tile didn’t I?), I dreamed of the time when I had one hand for each child and my husband and I weren’t outnumbered.

Sixteen months ago we sold our house and moved into a rental. My heart ached to be able to paint my own walls and drive holes into them willy nilly.  We’re on our second rental now and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.  I’ve wasted too much time looking back.  Now is the time I should be appreciating.  Now is when I should be feeling the joy.

The size of the mountains may vary from time to time. There may be the occasional brown patch. But our valleys, yours and mine, they are green right now. We just need to open our eyes, take off our shoes and wriggle our toes in the grass that is under our feet at this moment, because even though we can remember it a little, it’s always growing in different directions.  It will never be the same.

photo credit: Nicholas T. / CC BY 2.0

I agreed to do this Serenity post, then mildy freaked out since I am the farthest thing from serene.  In fact, I doubt that’s ever been a term used to describe me.  I’m more like a chihuahua on crack.  I don’t even sleep peacefully, just ask my husband.  So I went to my old pal Google and looked up “quotes about celebration”.  After wading through some ridiculous quotes, this one jumped out at me:

“Celebrate what you want to see more of.”

So simple.

When I think celebration, I think huge party, which then makes me think of having to clean my house and get ready for tons of people and oh God what do I feed them all? and then I realize I’m writing run-on sentences and my head explodes.  Serenity fail.

Reading this quote made me realize that celebrating something doesn’t have to be an ordeal, but simply a way of being happy for the things that you love.  So I sat down to think about what I wanted to celebrate, without being cliché.  We all know I’m thankful for general things like family, friends, my home, etc., so to push myself further.  Or maybe not over-think things for once.  I want to celebrate the little moments in life, the things that make me happy.  The sight of the sun breaking through the clouds that causes me to pull over and snap a picture.  Waking up before everyone else and enjoying my coffee in the quiet of the morning.  The comfort of old friends.  Those oh-so-rare moments when my husband will dance with me.  Love notes from my daughter.  Black stretchy pants and clean sheets.

Moments like those are what I want to see more of, those stolen flashes of time that cause me to smile.

Starting today, I celebrate.  Won’t you join me?

*****

Meg aka Sleepy New Mommy has dedicated her life to college football and owning an original Slush Puppie machine and can often be found pulling her foot out of her mouth.

You could think I was cruel for celebrating the hardest fight of someone’s life.

You might think I’m a little crazy for using the word “love” in regards to a person who’s last name I don’t know.

Honesty. Stoicism. Determination. Self-Awareness. These qualities so brazenly shining through like a comet in a night sky. I am undone.

“I took my last drink nine days ago. I admitted I am powerless over alcohol, and that my life had become unmanageable.” – Maggie Dammit

I celebrate Maggie.

“. . . one of the biggest components of my disease is the need to have everybody like me.” – Maggie Dammit

I celebrate being honest with her audience of readers.

“I preach it every day over on Violence UnSilenced, that speaking out will set you free. I am standing here today, shaking, but free.” – Maggie Dammit

I celebrate advocating for others in the midst of personal struggle.

“Alcoholism is a chronic, progressive, fatal illness, and though I had no control over its occurrence I have absolute control over taking responsibility for it, over its treatment . . . Most of us have something we use to disconnect, to zone out, to hide, to run, to stuff away.” – Maggie Dammit

I look at our liquor cabinet – it is silent – not whispering to me. I glance at the refrigerator . . . it holds no seduction. I stare at the kitchen cabinet. Filled with the boxes of processed food. Jars of Nutella – it isn’t luring me now – but it has – and I know it will again . . . my “something” that is chipping away at the potential joy in my life . . .

I celebrate community. Over 200 comments from hands reaching out to lift Maggie up. To still her shaking. Not flinch in the face of her fear, of her honesty. Of the special sisterhood of women who are nodding their heads and saying, “We know honey, we know, come here and we will give you rest.” One can feel the love coming off that page.

I celebrate the women who are speaking their truth with Maggie. Who are willing to share their lessons from 14 years in recovery.

Celebration isn’t always about streamers and noisemakers. Sometimes it is in the tears and love and the sun coming up on a fresh start.

(photo credit Morgan Siler Cecil)

The text:

Why Worry?

There are only two things to worry about.
Either you are well or you are sick.

If you are well, then there is nothing to worry about.

But if you are sick, there are two things to worry about.

Either you will get well, or you will die.

If you get well, there is nothing to worry about.

If you die there are only two things to worry about.

Either you will go to Heaven or Hell.

If you go to Heaven, there is nothing to worry about.

But if you go to Hell, you’ll be so damn busy shaking hands with friends,

You won’t have time to worry.

——

Being laid up with a broken ankle really sucks. But I don’t have to worry. Much.

Happy Sunday, y’all.

(photo credit)

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your loves sake. Amen.

page 134, Book of Common Prayer – Compline

(Originally Published May 31, 2009)

… which I thought was pretty stupid because, um, DUH, of course it was supporting me.

Till I realized that my natural state of “rest” still had me tense enough that my body was pulling up from the floor.

I worked to rest my body, to let my body rest on the floor, to let the floor support me.

It’s been a year and I still naturally just bow up from the floor or the bed when I’m trying to rest. It’s still a constant effort to let my surroundings support me.

Today – let’s all give letting our surroundings support us a try – however we choose to take that.

Namaste.

(photo credit)

For all ya’ll reading this who forgot to set your clocks forward and who missed church, and for those of you who forgot to go to church for the 42nd year in a row . . .

“I’m pretty sure if you take all the Psalms and lay them out one after the other and let a toddler mix them all up that it will say “TAKE A FUCKING CHILL PILL, The word of the Lord.”

“And it’s still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it’s best to hold hands and stick together.” – Robert Fulghum

Photo Credit @thegirlsmoma

(Originally Published August 16th, 2009)

I grew up reciting the Apostles Creed every Sunday. I can still turn my mind off and repeat the prayer verbatim. Ironically, as I’m sitting in Sin City with a group of people I met online, I find myself creating a new creed.

A “Flinger Creed”, if you will.

We don’t believe in the Gods of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Christian Scientist or Judaism.

We believe in the wonder and amazement of nature and science.

We believe that kindness begets kindness.

We believe in the power of community, the strength of people caring for each other, the trickle-down effect of a single act of kindness.

We believe in family.

We believe in raising children to be free thinkers, to know they are loved for their choices and guide them to make good ones.

We believe you have the power to change your life. To create a new destiny. to mold a future of happiness.

We believe in the power of prayer, the knowledge of a greater community striving to find strength in difficulties, and the resulting wonder.

We believe you do not need a God to find your soul. We believe you don’t need a God to live Jesus’s words. We believe you don’t need a God to get to heaven on earth.

We believe your spirit lives forever as a memory in the community you create. For ever and Ever.

Amen.