life

I am back in Birmingham. It was a long two weeks away from home. Now that I am away from my family, I can remember the reasons I love each member and be grateful for their presence in my life. There was out-loud arguing this year. Very strange for my family. Normally, we fight in that passive-aggressive, non-spoken way. I think fighting out loud is actually better, although it's very different for me. I get severe stomach pains when I am truly stressed out. It hasn't happened in a long time, but I tell you what, I had some severe stomach pains the day of our family picture. Woohoo, it was an intense day.
I had the feeling on the way back to Birmingham that I am headed back to life, to adventure. My life is a up and down journey now. Nothing is known, nothing is familiar. I am about to start an internship that thrills me to pieces and scares me to death. I will then take my licensure exam and then....travel? job? relationship? location? car? money? All delightful, frightening question marks.
The most delightful part of my holiday was, of course, my nephews. They engage in life with such vigor and enthusiasm, it makes me wonder if I am just missing out. I like watching them learn...learn how to read, how to add and subtract, how to be good winners and losers, learn the meaning of words. For instance, Mike, Ryan, Warren, and I did a ski run named 'Sweet Revenge.'
Ryan: Alison, what does sweet revenge mean?
Alison: Well, do you know what revenge means?
R: No.
A: Well, revenge is when someone does something mean to you and then you do something mean in return. Some people think it feels good to get someone back and so it's called 'sweet revenge.' But, it's usually better to just forgive or else revenge becomes a cycle with people just doing mean things back and forth to each other.
I hope my explanation was a good one. But, it struck me as funny to realize that my little nephew didn't know what revenge meant. There was a time when I didn't know the meaning either. Their questions make me reconsider my own knowledge and question what I hold as truth.
There is something so comforting about my nephews. Sometimes I go sit beside them as they sleep and listen to their breathing. It's so steady and relaxed and trusting. I slept in the bed with little Ryan and would fall asleep with his hand in mine.

partaaaaay

I think there is really nothing much more stressful than family togetherness time during the holidays. My other brother and his family arrived today and it is now mass chaos. Delightful at times, exhausting at others. The key for me is to go into the holidays with realistic expectations. I used to hope that this year would be the magical change. We would all be happy and have no arguments, no diseases, no sickness, no pain, nothing but joy. Ah yes, sigh. But, it's a much shorter fall when you go in knowing that we will still annoy each other and still be thankful for each other and still be even more thankful that we don't live in the same town.
But all in all, there is nothing like family. Nothing like Ryan's face when he sees me each morning. Nothing like hearing Mike chat about school as we put together his new Star Wars lego spaceship. Nothing like laughing with my sister-in-law and being grateful for our friendship. Nothing like tickling smooth little bellies and hearing peals of laughter.
I am grateful to feel grateful this evening. Does that make sense? It's hard to keep my spirit up right now. I am in ski country with a broken ankle. I can't snowshoe. I can't sled. I can't tube. So, I have little pity parties sometimes and feel really frustrated. Yet, this evening I am grateful. For this family. For this life. For these moments.

life

My nephew, Mike, hurt his finger today on the playground. So off we headed to the hospital to get it x-rayed, like normal people. His finger wasn't broken. I'm not sure anyone really thought it was; however, in light of my current situation, we're not into waiting for a couple of weeks.
You know, it's funny. My grandfather was a doctor, my Dad and brothers are doctors, my sister-in-law is a nurse...yet, my family has never been one to race to the hospital. In second grade, I broke my wrist. My parents didn't take me to the hospital for about 12 hours because Dad thought I would be fine. And then, my cast didn't come off until after a week or so of me complaining about pain. Finally, the cast came off showing enormous blisters on my arm. I was allergic to the fiberglass in the cast. Oh yes, and then my father touched a power line with his chain saw and was thrown off of the ladder from electric shock, but he refused to go to the hospital.
And here I sit, two weeks later. At least I have a better story now. I was a bit bummed about the whole pine cone thing. Although I did throw a mighty mean scowl at that pine cone, it didn't help.
People keep saying I must have a high pain tolerance. Maybe I do. Maybe I'm just ignorant. Regardless, I am now fitted in a comfy, enormous walking boot. Don't worry. I won't be sneaking up on anyone anytime soon. If you want to sign my boot, I have a new set of metallic permanent markers handy.

On a different note, I've decided that, if at all possible, I'm never opening Christmas gifts without a child present again. We celebrated Christmas tonight and it was so fun. Mike and Ryan were hyper for two hours prior in anticipation. Ryan picked out my present days ago and has continually been showing me the box, asking me to guess the contents, shake the package. Tonight, we sat down around the 6 inch tree and Ryan shoved the little package into my hands. He scooted his little body next to mine and practically tore the paper off for me. It was delightful to watch someone be so excited to give away a present. He bought me bright, shiny, snowflake earrings that he picked out himself. I love them.

my second broken bone in life

After a terribly painful day of skiing yesterday, I finally went and had my ankle x-rayed today. Walaaa...it is indeed broken. This is the ankle that I thought I sprained two weeks ago. I never had it x-rayed because I was able to walk and I wasn't in terrible pain. But, yesterday, oh man. I about passed out on the man helping me get my swollen ankle in a ski boot. But, never wanting to be the wimp, I headed out the slopes with my boys and had a nice day. However, when my toes were black at the end of the day and I was limping, I decided that it might not hurt to have it checked. So, here I am. Proud to say that I skied on a broken ankle. No more skiing for me this trip. So, I'm trying to be thankful for other things. The mountains are still beautiful. My nephews are still adorable. And I realize how much I take for granted and how much relies on that bony little ankle.

fill in the blank

What do I believe? I believe that love is real. I believe that studying makes me smarter and working hard makes me luckier. I believe that I need Jesus like the air that I breathe. I believe that forgiveness is possible and necessary. I believe that laughter is healing and a good sob is healing. I believe that it's fun to hope and it's necessary to dream. I believe that failure and success are both excellent teachers. I believe that there are gifts so precious, so undeserved, so real, that I open my hands wide to the sky and say thank you a million times over.

almost done, but not quite

I wish I could take my psychopathology book and sleep on it or slam it into my forehead or something to force the knowledge in without all the work. There it is. I just want to be lazy. I'm tired of studying. Tired of papers and projects and presentations and busy work. I feel like quite the scrooge this evening. I am holed up here in my bedroom with my babysitting money and I'm complaining and there is not a Christmas decoration in sight. So there. Did I make anyone else feel grouchy or just myself?

Look to the clock on the wall, hands hardly moving at all

I'm currently in a waiting phase. I don't really dig it. Okay, I hate the waiting part. There's anticipation, fear, anxiety, hope, dreams, caution. A million things. Right here. My instinct is to storm in, make my purpose known and blaze away with answers while 'We are the Champions' plays in the background. Instead, I wait. Ever so unpatiently. But, if anything leads me to prayer, it is this. This unrest, this hope, this wait. I pray and wait for answers that don't seem to be coming, for peace that seems elusive, for a dream that remains but a dream.
I was reading in Ecclesiastes tonight. The part about a time for everything. (Ecc 3:1-8) It seems that in each section, I like one of the options and don't so much care for the other. I like the time to be born, not fond of the time to die. Digging the time to plant, not so the time to uproot. Loving the healing and building and laughing and dancing and gathering and embracing. Not so much the killing and tearing and weeping and mourning and scattering and rerfraining. Yet, I know that I must have both. I must have the waiting as much as I must have the movement. The loss of one or the other results in a deficit. So, I wait. Here. I wait.

only forward

Isn't it strange that two people can be a part of an event and have two totally different experiences? Today during class, we took a tour of a nearby children's treatment facility. At one point, my friend asked me my impression of things. We discussed our experiences and I was again surprised to find that we were looking at the same building and children, yet interpreting some things differently. And I've thought about it with my brothers. We grew up with the same parents, yet I have different relationships with my momma and daddy than they do. I remember things differently. My life is made up of millions of memories that are mine alone. I could talk for hours about my memories, but I could never begin to describe everything I remember, every nuance, every smell, every sensation, every feeling. I'm sitting in a corner of the computer lab in the social work building on the campus of UA. I could list strings of events that lead me to this moment in time at 4:13 and thirty seconds on December 5, 2007. I have my foot propped up from a fall I took 3 days ago alone on a trail. My black leather jacket is drapped across the back of my chair. The jacket my mom got me in New York when we went there over Spring Break with some friends several years ago. My bright red backpack is sitting on the chair. The one that I don't really like, yet can't seem to get a new one because this one still works. It's got white out spilled and stained on the front and a tiny stapler in the front pocket. I'm about to go to pyschopathology and sit in the back row with Monica and Emily and roll my eyes when things get really boring. (I never sit in the back row.) I could go on and on. All these little things are part of my life, part of my memories.

gimpy

Well, I have another kankle. This time it's on the left ankle (last time was the right ankle from the spider bite). See, what happened was, I, for the second day in a row, found myself craving a run. I was thrilled to pieces and headed out on Jemison Trail. About a mile into the run, I hit a pinecone hidden underneath a pile of leaves. I remember a crunch of the pinecone, a pain in my ankle, and then the ground. I have no recollection of falling, I was down so fast. As soon, I as caught my breath, I commenced to hobbling back the way I had come, noticing that my ankle was increasingly looking like someone had shoved a ping-pong ball under the skin. After about 20 minutes or a half mile later, a sweet woman pulled over and asked if she could give me a ride. Apparently my lifeless little ankle gave me away. I threw all caution to the wind, all the warnings about not getting in a stranger's car, and I hopped in that vehicle faster than you would have thought possible due to my gimpyness.

That was yesterday and here I sit today. That's what I do a lot of right now: sit. I'm not all that great at sitting still actually. My ankle is enormous and blue with a blackish tint. Isn't blue the new black this year? Sam (the 8 yr. old I'm babysitting) told me last night that my ankle looks like it belongs to a 400 pound woman. Thank you, Sam. And yes, my friends are fondly calling me gimpy, while being ever so patient with my walking speed. Oh yes, and then the classmate who tagged me and said, "betcha can't catch me!"

But, you know, things like this always help me appreciate what I normally take for granted. When suddenly it is a challenge to walk up a flight of stairs or change the laundry, I realize that I usually zip around with no thought for the blessing of working legs, ankles, and feet. I realize that I am so blessed to be able to exercise on a normal basis and blessed to know that this wound will heal. My impediment will be relatively brief, unlike the sweet girl in my program who is confined to a wheelchair. I have no idea what that must be like. I don't want to harbor pity for her, only love. And new knowledge about the difficulty of getting pity looks and the difficulty of receiving help, asking for help, the difficulty of slowing down and not being in control.

So, I am thankful. Thankful that it was left ankle that got hurt and not my right, since I have to drive so much back and forth to Tuscaloosa. Thankful that it was an ankle and not a hand or a brain, especially right before exams. Thankful that I fell on the trail and not on concrete, so nothing else was hurt. Thankful that there is kindness and generousity in the world. Thankful to remember that God is control. Thankful to watch my body heal itself, amazing it is. Thankful to have friends who make me laugh and mimick my walk and call me funny names and be patient and would probably carry me on piggy back if the need arose. I am thankful. It's good to be reminded of what I have.

I finished up another class today. I can't believe I'm almost 3/4 of the way through grad school. One more semester and I should be done with school (possibly forever!?). I thought I'd go to grad school, come home, not really meet anyone. God is wonderfully surprising.

'I is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he enables me to stand on the heights.
He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You give me your shield of victory,
and your right hand sustains me;
you stoop down to make me great.
You broaden the path beneath me,
so that my ankles do not turn.'
Psalms 18:32-36

gotta keep it sharp

Books I have read recently and highly recommend:

Atonement
The Will of Wisteria
Eat, Pray, Love
The Dance of the Dissident Daughter
Blink
Freakanomics
The Kite Runner
The Color of Water
I Capture the Castle
My Sister's Keeper

three's company

Oh my goodness, I've forgotten to tell the best story from Detroit! Okay, so Amy and I return to her house one afternoon to the scene of two neighbors having a heated discussion. Apparently, Chico, one of the neighbor's dogs, had killed the other neighbor's cat. Sure enough, there scampered Chico with a chunk of white fur and blood hanging from his mouth. I kid you not. There was a chunk of fur. Chico wasn't playing around with that cat. So, Chico's owner leaves the discussion and is trying to coax Chico back to her house. Amy and I quit watching and start up the stairs when, screeeeeeeeech, bam. Yep, chico was crossing back to his home for a nap after his tasty meal, now he lies dead on the side of the road and the car has already moved on. After that, Amy couldn't watch and I just couldn't stop watching. It's like in a scary movie when you cover your eyes with your hands and then peek through your fingers. So, the shovel comes out and chico disappears. Cat dead. Dog dead. Two down and one to go. So, Amy and I go about our business when I hear Amy scream from the living room. What has she found? A dead mouse. Cat dead. Dog dead. Mouse dead. Tread carefully.

roast marshmallows

I got back yesterday from Detroit. I went out last night in flip flops and a little hoodie. It was chilly here, but nothing compared to the chill of Detroit. I was so glad to let my little toes breathe after having them wrapped so tight in boot socks for 4 days. However, that was last night. Interesting fact, there is no heat right now in my social work building at Alabama. You see, there is some obscure policy that in order to switch the units from air to heat, the weather has to be below freezing for three consecutive nights in a row. Apparently, we haven't achieved that yet, so we are cold. I was using my warmed up lean cuisine to warm up my hands and top of my legs during lunch. I know it's not how it works, but it really hacks me off that Mr. Mike Shula, who didn't quite pull through as the "savior" for the roll tide, makes millions, yet my building is falling apart and we don't even have freakin' heat. I wish I could rearrange priorities. I'd put education waaaaayyyyy above sports. (p.s. bear is dead and has been for years.)

two by two

I'm sitting here cozy in my bed with my laptop propped up in my lap. I've just had a bedtime snack of my choosing and I'm about to hit the sack. Yet, as I enjoy the simple luxuries of living, I am reminded of the hundreds of homeless men and women who came through the lunch line at the Noah Project in Detroit on Monday. Amy helps coordinate the project and I helped out with lunch that day. As I looked in their faces, I was reminded that we are not so different. I could be one of them, a homeless woman. They could be me. A slight change in circumstance, a disappearance of abuse or drugs or money problems, a second or third or millionth chance and it could be different. One man asked if I had a good holiday. I told him that I did and asked about his. He replied, "It was fine. I mean, I'm homeless, but things could be worse." I wanted to cry out, "how could it be worse!? How?" Instead, I gave him a smile along with a packets of mayonnaise and mustard for his sandwich. Last time I mentioned thanks, I wrote about hobbies and friends and little joys. But tonight, I'm thankful for a man who reminded me to be thankful for basic things, things I take totally, absolutely for granted. So tonight, I am so grateful for a warm place to sleep. I'm thankful for access to clean, running water and a toilet. I'm thankful for a phone and place to receive mail at a permanent mailing address. I'm thankful for healthy food of my choosing. I'm thankful for access to knowledge through school and books and the internet. I'm thankful for access to good medical care. I'm thankful for a clean toothbrush and straight teeth. I'm thankful for clean clothes and a washer/dryer. I'm thankful for options and back-up plans and family support and forgiveness for my mistakes and hope for the future. I'm thankful to know Jesus, my only answer in this crazy world. So, tonight after 9 long hours of class and 2 hours of driving that I honestly comlain about every Wednesday evening, I ask a pardon for all the blessings I take for granted as if I have a right to my life.

feels like home to me

I have created a wonderful home for myself in Birmingham. I love the city, I enjoy running into people I know, I love walking at Jemison Trail and Aldridge Gardens. I like knowing the restaurants and where to go dancing. Birmingham is what I mean when I say "home." Yet, I have discovered with joy that there are other places that feel like home to me. I'm sitting on Amy's couch in Detroit, MI at this very moment. I've visited Amy once a year since she moved here, so this is probably my fourth visit. And this place feels like home. Amy and I have a very close friendship, one where silence is as comfortable as laughter. I know the members of her church and help her throw birthday parties for her friends. It's as comfortable here as being at home. And whenever I visit Warren and Jackie in Utah, I just mesh right into their family. I am known there and loved. I just called Mike (it's his eighth birthday) and listened with secret joy as the nephews argued over who was gonna talk to Aunt Alison. And of course, when I visit my parents, I am home. Over Thanksgiving, I got to spend a bit of time in the house while my parents were out. I wandered around looking at the pictures of people I love, those alive and those who have passed away. I looked at the trinkets that represent so many trips and memories. I play a few hymns on the grand piano that I have cherished, even as a child. I smile as I see a note that my mother has found and put on her bulletin board, a note I wrote to my parents 7 years ago. And then, there's Melissa's apartment where I have cooked countless meals and watched way too many episodes of American Idol. And Natalie's apartment, where we returned after hours of dancing at the blues club and played games with her friends. And I suppose I could go on. But, I am grateful to know that so many places feel like home. And I am grateful to know that it has nothing to do with the place, only with the people. People that I cherish and find such delight in. It is good to be known. It is good to be loved. I am grateful.

don't blink

An elderly couple lives across the street from Claire and me. On pretty days, the old man sits in a lawn chair in the front yard and chills out. As I was headed out to Nashville on Tuesday, the man was getting settled in his chair and his little wife was rubbing sunscreen on his arms. I was running late, but figured a few minutes of interaction would be more worthwhile than worrying about hurrying. So, I wandered across the street to say hello and wish the old man a happy thanksgiving. He made sure I would be returning from Nashville and then asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
I replied, "No sir, I don't."
"Well, I sure wish I wasn't married. I'd be your boyfriend in a second!"
"I'd love that. Happy Thanksgiving."

Yesterday, I was walking around Radnor Lake, which is about 2 miles from my parents' home. It's my absolute favorite place to walk and yesterday was no exception. The trail was covered in yellow leaves. There were places where I couldn't even see the trail, just followed it through habit. And then, in this one clearing hundreds of yellow leaves were swirling through the air on the way to cover the ground. The lady walking near me said, "look, it's snowing leaves!" Indeed, it did look like a swirling snowstorm.

Yesterday, (later in the day)I was trying on a pair of shoes at the store and this crazy cute toddler just wandered over and put his hands in my lap and started climbing up. He had on a little Thanksgiving outfit and curly hair. I loved it and the mother was a bit embarrassed and said he doesn't normally do that with strangers.

Perhaps my thought in this entry is that I have such delightful tiny interactions with strangers and it saddens me that our world is becoming an increasingly dangerous place. Because I believe that most people are good and then the ones that are bad ruin it for the rest. Because I like meeting new people without fear and I like a toddler's ability to make new friends with such ease and I would love to help the woman on the side of the road with the broken down car. I'll be glad for heaven when it comes.

Yet, I know that we are all human and we all make choices. I have lied before, I have made bad choices. I wonder if we are all capable of evil. I wonder if I am capable of evil. I wonder what leads us to make the choices that we do, for better or worse.

lessons from an aunt

As William climbed into my jeep this evening to go to dinner, he asked, "what kind of car is this?"
"A jeep," I replied.
He quickly stated, "Jeeps are soooooo cool."
To myself, I know, I know.

Lessons learned:
1. We started our evening with a meal at cheeseburger charlie's.
lesson #1: never give a child the milkshake before the meal. or just don't order the meal and be done with it.
2. We next had bathtime.
lesson #2: always say yes when the kids want to put on their bathing suits and goggles and put their faces into three inches of water to find the eight coins you dug out of your wallet and dropped in the water while they impatiently closed their eyes and listened to where the splash occurred. this activity can last for a good fifteen/twenty minutes
3. We continued the evening with hot chocolate and story time.
lesson #3: never underestimate the power of marshmallows and curious george.
4. We finally headed to bed.
lesson #4: no matter how many times the child had selective hearing or a forgetful memory, the little "i wuv you, aunt alison" will always work.

live like you were dying...thank you, Tim McGraw

Once when I was very young my mother told me that she would die for me. I remember thinking that was so weird. I may have even told her that I would rather that she be alive. But, I understand her now. And it's a gift to understand what it means to love someone so much, so intensely, that I would give up breathe and life for him or her. I feel like I write and think and talk about love a lot. And I so wish that our English language had different words for different kinds of love. Because I frequently talk about my love for mangos or dancing or painting or water gun fights. But, that's different than the kind of love I am discovering in the Lord which is different still from the love that I have for my parents and the other love I have for my nephews. And there is another yet for my friends and still another for romance. And this past year has been full of growth and new understanding in various kinds of love. I had the realization this morning that I have, four months later, a certain amount of gratitude for the hardship I faced this summer during a break-up. As everyone knows who has walked (or crawled) down the path towards emotional healing, it can be an excruciating journey filled with sudden surprises of happiness and new discoveries and a renewed and rediscovered sense of self. Perhaps that's what I meant when I wrote 'being brave' on my list of things I'm thankful for.
And as I look forward to the next three days with my family, I am so thankful. We have walked through some flames as a family and come out communicating better for the most part. It produces a nice ache in my heart just thinking about how much my parents love me. I don't think I'll understand it until I have a child of my own (maybe, some day, we'll see). I grasp it better now with my nephews, but I can tell it's not the same. Tomorrow I get to see William and Hayden. I can't wait to hold them and tickle their little tummies and read to them and have those hilarious conversations. I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm thankful for my family whose love I cannot lose and didn't chose and we're stuck together and I'm just so glad.

give thanks always

I want to trust in God's timing, in his plan, in his purpose. I want to rest in who he created me to be.

The past weekend has been so full. It started at a table surrounded by dear friends and yummy food. They indulged me by saying what they are thankful for. And as I've moved through this weekend, I have so often thought of what I am thankful for. So, here's a start...
The fall leaves. I believe they are more beautiful this year than ever before. I have seen flaming red trees, brighter than I ever could have imagined. And there are lots of my favorites: trees that are half green and half another color. I do like to look at the process of things. And now I have a big pile of crunchy leaves on my bedside table.
Cooking. There's something fun about being in the kitchen cooking a meal, having a recipe, starting to follow it, and then just throwing in whatever else sounds interesting, smelling it, and then the freedom and enjoyment of sharing it with others.
Dancing. Again, there is really nothing as enjoyable. Especially with a twirly dress.
Brigid. As always, she is a delight. Today, we picked out our necklaces. We each have a heart necklace. Hers says 'lil sis' and mine says 'big sis.' She pulls me out of myself and helps me be more generous and kind and concerned.
Painting. I finished a painting this past week. I am so proud of it. I'm getting better. The colors of the lily just dance. And I already have another request. A peony. I love painting off of a photograph and the photo I've got to work with is stunning. Bring it.
Friends. Growing up brings such joy and heartache and struggle. But, one of the most beautiful changes about growing up for me is the change in relationships. They have such depth now, such realness.
Meeting new people.
Daily phone conversations with my Dad.
McDonald's soft serve ice cream.
New music.
Clean laundry.
Fall weather.
Anticipating fun events: i.e. visiting Amy Brown in Detroit! woohoooooooooo!
Taking pictures to capture events.
Fall pears and apples and oranges.
Biking.
Being brave.

smile!

Today, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Literally, Luke was barking like a madman at 5:45am after Claire left for work. Usually, he doesn't remember that I'm upstairs in the bed so he just hangs out in the backyard until I make noise in the kitchen and then he is reminded of my existence and barks to get in. But, today, he knew I was upstairs deep in slumber and was ready to see me. So, Luke's barking and I jumped out of bed on the other side than normal and went to wave my pointer finger in Luke's face. I leave him outside and go back to bed. Barking. A lot of barking. I storm back downstairs and wave my finger in his face a second time. Back in bed. Ah sweet silence, eeeerrrrhhh eeerrrrhhhh eeerrrrhhh, already time to get up?
So, since I was already kind of moody, I started thinking of things that irritate me. Probably not a great way to improve one's mood, but sometimes it's interesting to be pessimistic for a change. So, here's my list:
1. Houses on the highway. It never fails that a house is being carted on 20/59 towards Tuscaloosa. And the house takes up both lanes of traffic and does a frightening little sway that makes it difficult to get up the nerve to pass. And of course, to top it off, the little truck is always following behind with the 'oversize load' sign on the back. As if the enormous house meandering down the road didn't already catch my attention. Driving that ridiculous little truck behind an oversize load would have to be in my list of top ten worst jobs in the world.
2. Luke barking at 5:45 am. Still upset about that apparently.
3. Radio DJs talking in the morning instead of playing music. The last time I want to hear people chatting and laughing hysterically at their own jokes is in the morning. I want music and a sense of calm.
4. Cooking shows in the morning. This morning as I'm sitting in the student health center, Good Morning America (I think that's the show) is doing a cooking demonstration. Not of waffles and fruit or french toast. Nope, some kind of meat and vegetables. Made me kind of sick thata early in the morning.
5. What's worse than a political debate? Two politicians talking at the same time while apparently having a debate. How can you debate something when you can't even hear the other point of view?

Okay, that's all I came up with. I'm sure that are other things. But, that's enough of that.

On a happier note (I can't help myself), I did see a trailer filled with flats of pansies this morning. All those colors were just waving in the wind. My grandmother used to tell me that the black part in the middle of the pansy was a face and they were all smiling at me. I don't ever see a pansy without thinking of my grandmother.

And one time when I was little, my brother, Warren, was teasing me about something and called me a pansy. I replied, "Oh yeah, well, you're a sunflower." He burst out laughing while I just stood there waiting to find out what made a pansy different from any other flower. Ohhhhh.

Going Going Gone

It is interesting to me that I spend and earn money constantly, yet I rarely actually see or touch or feel or smell money. Process: Babysit. Get a check for babysitting. Deposit money in checking and savings. See money pop up on my online banking statment. Pay for dinner with a debit card. Watch my savings earn $.03 in interest. Write a check for tithe. Babysit. (Study so I can get a real job in the near future.) And so on. End of process. Notice that never once did I actually hold a dollar bill or a coin in my little hand. So, money exists in an abstract way.

I have to brag for just a second. I went car shopping today. BY MYSELF. It wasn't bad. Actually, it was kind of fun to speak totally for myself. Normally, I let my father or brother speak up for me on car issues. But, notebook in hand, I marched into three dealerships, stated my wants and needs, and looked at lots of cars. The first salesman was well, such a salesman. Annoyingly so. The moon came included in the deal if I just signed on the dotted line and handed over my credit card. The second salesman didn't know a thing about cars. I kid you not. He knew more about the colors than if a car had four wheel drive. Peace out dude. And then, ahh, the jeep dealership. A man my father's age showed me around and knew more about jeeps than I could ever even want to know. And let's be real, I love a jeep. And if I was a true jeep enthusiast, the brochure let me know that there is a jeep camp and lots of jeep gear to be bought. Maybe a gym bag....

A conversation I forgot to mention that William and I had the morning before I left two weekends ago:

W: Alison, are you going to stay and take care of us?
A: No, honey, I have to go back to school.
W: School!? Don't be silly. Grown-ups don't go to school!
A: Well, actually they do. School just stops being fun.
W: Oh. Well, who's your favorite teacher?
A: Umm, I guess Ms. Terrell.
W: Ms. Terrell. I bet she's soooo nice.

whole/hole, their/there, two/too/to

There are times when I simply want a moment's reprise from the endless thoughts and analyzing that my brain puts forth. And I have to wonder about my dreams lately. They are filled with familiar faces in strange scenes and endless ideas. I wake up exhausted. I have that churning feeling. Like everything is dug up and moving around and I'm fully aware of all my emotions, yet I don't know what to do with them. All these memories and and feelings are here and I'm not sure how to deal with everything and then file it away. So, I guess I'll go against my natural tendency towards order and just let things be. Elizabeth Gilbert writes, "Grief and nuisance are inevitable in this life, but if you can plant yourself in stillness long enough, you will, in time, experience the truth that everything (both uncomforable and lovely) does eventually pass." And, I would hope to add, resolve. Everything eventually does pass and resolve.
I was thinking today as I was walking Luke that I would love a buddy. I have reached that point in life where the desire for the company of 'my man' is present. I think it's natural at age 25 to think that it would be nice to have someone to share the beauty of a sunset in autumn with. And yet, I don't want to go around thinking that something is missing either. I want to be a whole person regardless. I felt whole today as I worked on a painting for my parents. I felt whole as I finished a test for psychopathology, a class that I am extremely interested in. I felt whole as I ate soup after getting chilled on my walk with Luke. I feel like a whole person. And someday, I hope to share a whole me with someone else. But, for now, I'll just be whole.

Touchdowns

Sam (8 years old) came down for church this morning dressed in shorts. I really didn't mind. The kid loves wearing shorts and as long as he wasn't going to argue about going to church, I certainly wasn't going to argue over a pair of shorts vs. a pair of pants. However, I gathered that he's not supposed to wear shorts based on his immediate response to seeing me.
"Well, Alison, I should get to wear shorts because it's the same as what you're wearing. Your dress only comes down to your knees. So, basically, it's like you're wearing shorts." I had to laugh. My hope for him is to know a living God, not a dress code. We got in the car.

This afternoon I played football with Sam and his neighbor friend. I must say, I was pretty proud to hear Sam announce to his friend, "Alison can throw a spiral." Yessssss. I got to play quarterback for both teams, thank you very much.

It's strange to see how differently children grow up. Just in terms of money, even. Brigid is concerned about how much everything costs. She is aware of money. She doesn't ask for chips with her sandwich without asking my permission first. And then, there's Sam. He's grown up with everything. He throws away a half-eaten icecream cone without a second thought. Sam drinks bottled water. And neither child is bad or wrong, just different. I get to spend a fair amount of time with children from different families. My nephews, Brigid, Sam, Charlie. It's like getting to be a life-size fly on the wall. I get to observe these families and how they interact. I get to see the values instilled and the routines. I like observing.

stainglass

This morning as I entered Independent Presbyterian Church with Sam and Charlie, I gasped. I have never felt the presence of the Lord that strongly before. Let me back up, I read somewhere recently that one can experience God through all five senses. That God can not only be heard and seen, he can be tasted and smelled and touched. I love that. It allows me to allow God to be bigger. Perhaps if God created all things, then he is in all things, and can be experienced in things that we never imagined possible. It helps me look for God. I think God is in the beauty of this fall weather. I think he's in the hot tea I savor each morning. He's in the faces of my nephews. He's the presence in my soul that holds me fast.
So, this morning. I walked into a sanctuary filled with sunlight streaming through the stainglass windows and music pouring out of the organ. I felt as though I'd walked into the Lord's kitchen because my immediate feeling was that I was home, yet at such a sacred place that it would not have been bizarre to remove my heels. Something about the beauty of the day and Sam's crazy hair and the multitude of light and music, I could see God everywhere. And strangely, it produced such an ache, a sadness, that my eyes welled up with tears. Have you ever witnessed such beauty, such love and emotion, that it hurts? Produces a certain crazy sadness that is even when it seems that it shouldn't be? Surprised by joy. Surprised by sadness.

musings at 11:22pm

So, I'm babysitting this weekend. It's strange to suddenly be in charge of two children, two dogs, a cat, a fish, and a house. Normally, I just go about my merry way and take care of myself and my few possessions. It's strange to sit here proped up in a bed in someone else's big house. I just observed my surroundings. I am in a beautiful house filled with beautiful things. I wonder if I'll ever have a house. One that I own. Probably. Right now, I have some furniture, a TV, a computer, an IPOD, a car, a mattress, pots and pans, books, photos, a phone, clothes, too many shoes, jewelry...I already have a lot of stuff. Actually, the other night I had to laugh as I plugged in my computer, phone, camera, and IPOD. Is that normal? We live in a strange world.

Well, I have a confession. I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year. Sometimes I just don't really get into Christmas. (The month long holiday with obligatory gifts, family outings, hugh meals, repetitive music....plus December has always meant exams) I don't know why but I was excited to see the lights up at the Summit and hear the first strain of a Christmas carol. Normally, I get kind of bent out of shape at dealing with Christmas before Thanksgiving. I've already started thinking about Christmas presents. I want to make applesauce and cut down my own Christmas tree and have my annual cookie decorating party. Maybe it's just the fact that we'll all be together on Christmas this year. (by all I mean the Downs clan of 11). You see, Christmas day in my family has varied a bit. With dad being a doctor, sometimes he had to work on Christmas, so we would just work around his schedule. And then the brothers ran off and got married, so I had to learn how to share on the holidays. But this year, I get everyone again. I like that. Because, as much as some family members just drive me bonkers, they're family. I'm getting so dang sentimental.

One interesting story before bed. Question: What is the normal speed limit in a neighborhood? Around 35 right? So, I was cruising down Brigid's street Friday night taking her home, when woowooowoo-blue flashes-woowooowooowooo. Bummer. I pull over, hand the cop my license and wait to find out what I did wrong. Apparently I was going 38. Okay, a ticket for 3 miles over? Oh no, the speed limit right there is 20 mph. You heard me. Count it by 5's...5, 10, 15, 20. Oh dear, so 18 mph over the speed limit is reckless driving. Wouldn't that be a fabulous story. Oh, yeah, I got a ticket for reckless driving. How fast were you going? Oh, a strong 38 with my 'little sister' in the car. Thankfully, the cop came back with a bright yellow warning! Yea!! I'd like to say it's because I'm so cute, he just couldn't give me a ticket, but I doubt the deer-in-headlights look is that attractive.

is

I've never posted a facebook status. However, I've always been interested by the fact there is an 'is.' Alison is...(studying, eating, sleeping, driving, playing, dancing...). Today, I thought about putting up simply 'Alison is.' Like Alison exists. Currently she is alive and breathing and she is Alison. No one else. Nothing more. Nothing less. It reminds me of one of my favorite things in the Bible. I love when God says 'I am.' God exists. He is alive and moving and real. No one else is God. God is. Simplicity at its best: all-encompassing.

sunflowers

A new whole foods market has opened up in Nashville. Jennifer (my sister-in-law) and I wandered in and a few seconds later she said, "Alison, what are you doing?" You see, we had entered by the flowers and the beauty and smell just took me in. When she said that I realized I was standing in there with my arms wide open and a huge smile on my face. I'm sure I looked like a goober, but it was wonderful to get lost like that in something so beautiful.

And yes, because Melissa mentioned that this should go in the blog, I will tell about my reaction in the car. I was cruising home to Birmingham from Nashville when I started to hear a weird noise coming from the engine. So, what was my reaction? To turn the music up a little bit. I was just hoping that the noise would go away! Alas, it only got louder and then water started spraying out from under the hood and the wheel started locking up, so I had to pull over at a rest stop. I proceeded to wait two hours and then have my beautiful jeep towed the rest of the way to Birmingham. Then to the service station, then to Enterprise rent-a-car. Sad day. The jeep is sick and has been for several months. I've started looking at new cars. I'm looking for an excellent, very cool car with four wheel drive and great gas mileage. Oh yes, also brand new and cheap. If anyone happens across this car, I'm sure you'll buy it for yourself, but if not, give me a call. And don't tell the jeep we might be calling it quits.

my boys

I spent time this past weekend with Hayden and William. As always, it was a delight. There will never be anything like ringing the doorbell and hearing two little sets of feet come racing toward the door mixed with cries of "Aunt Alison's here! Hurry!"

Sample conversations:
On Sunday morning we were enjoying a pancake breakfast when a pesky fly starting swirling around the table. Hayden quickly covers his food and then tells Jennifer, "Mom, we need to get a spider for the house. The spider needs to eat that fly. That fly needs to get dead." Get dead. I kid you not.

Later that morning, Hayden, William, and I were pretending. It's so nice to pretend. We were all crammed into the Thomas the Train tent pretending like we were camping and hearing scary noises. Hayden made a low monster noise and I pretended to be really scared. Sweet William put his hands on my arm and said, It's okay, Aunt Alison, it's just pretend. There's no such thing as monsters." How sweet is that?

And to hear those boys pray before meals. It just makes my heart sing. They saw the sweetest, most genuine, inspiring things. Who needs church?!

Last night Hayden politely asked if he could wake me up this morning. Of course! I expected the normal scene of a nephew flying through the air landing on a sleeping Aunt. But not Hayden. He snuck in, put his little hand on my cheek, and whispered, "Aunt Alison, good morning. It's time to get up. The sweet rolls are in the oven." Once I opened my eyes, he dove into my arms.

Ah yes, one more scenario. Brad and I took the boys downtown to the Race for the Cure 5K. Brad was helping man the medical booth and the boys and I just wandered around. Which by the way, if you ever need an activity for kids, sign up or take them to a 5K. There were tons of people, free snacks, lots of action. It was great. Anyway, the boys and I were sitting on the curb cheering for the runners when Hayden pipes up (quite loudly), "Look at that runner, she is soooooo slow!" The funny thing about kids is that they are only stating what is obvious to them. Hayden was in no way trying to be rude or mean. She was a slow runner by comparison and mentioned it out loud.

There is really nothing better for my soul and my spirit than these boys. They encourage me, love without restriction, engage life with intensity, and are delightful companions.

I've really been blessed with such wonderful males in my family. It's pretty obvious that I adore my father. Both of my brothers are trying to hook me up with jobs near them. And my four nephews have my heart.

counting down

One of the last times I hung out with Brigid, we were riding in the car together listening to country music. She said, "Alison, why does everyone sing about ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends?" I thought to myself, oh just wait, Brigid, just wait until that first or second or third heartbreak. Just wait. You'll be singing a sad song too.
At this point in life, I've been the one left in the relationship and the one to leave the relationship. There's no good way to break up. Both sides suck, everyone gets hurt. But, what I've noticed is that most, if not all, of the sad songs are from the person who got left. I'd like a terribly lonesome song from the person who leaves. Because that side hurts too. Feelings happen or things change or something goes awry or a million other reasons and you know it's time to let go. But, that doesn't mean that everything is just guns and roses. I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes you make a choice because you know in the wellspring of your heart that its the right choice, but it's still hard and the consequences of that right choice don't always feel right.
I had a conversation with a friend the other day and we were talking about our 'back-up plan.' (I had one with my friend, Richard and he had one with his high school friend.) You know, the person who you agree to marry if you haven't married someone else by that time. I realized that my back-up plan and I agreed to age thirty! Now, we did this in high school at about age 16 so 30 was double the time. But, oh gosh, now I'm 25 and that's just 5 more years. Maybe we'll back that deadline up a little bit. Regardless, my friend and I agreed to be the 50 year-old back-up plan together. He did put a contingency on the plan that I still look good in blue jeans, so I've got to stay in shape for at least 25 more years.
Ah, the subject of love and relationships. I wonder if that will be the topic I hear about most when I'm a therapist. I bet money it will.

Oscar the Grouch

My favorite event in my neighborhood is trash pick-up. On Wednesday night, I pull the trashcan out to the road and observe how each little townhouse has its trashcan neatly lined up by the mailbox. Then, on Thursday morning when I go out to get the trashcan, the neighborhood looks like World War III. There are trashcans strewn everywhere, across the yards, in the street, upside down, sideways. I just love it. One morning I'm going to get up early enough to watch the trashmen fly through the neighborhood throwing trashcans around with glee. One morning.

I've discovered lately that I actually enjoy driving down to Tuscaloosa. Crazy, right!? I don't enjoy the ride home because I'm usually just hungry and tired and sick of watching the gas gauge go from full to empty. But, oh, the drive down to Tuscaloosa is my friend. It's a forced time of stillness. How often am I really still (besides sleep)? Rarely, if ever. But, to sit in the car and watch the world come alive is quite beautiful. Especially right now as the leaves are changing colors and the rising sun melts away the fog and the birds are skeedadiling off somewhere else. It's my time to sit in silence and let my mind and self just be. Sometimes I feel really peepy and other times just sad. But, it's just me and my Savior. My favorite book is 'When the Heart Waits' by Sue Monk Kidd. It's basically about resting in the Lord and letting Him work. That's what faith feels like to me right now. It's resting in the Lord and knowing that He is at work. I don't see the signs and I don't understand the time frame and I'm really not always happy about the waiting process. But, as the world swirls around me, I plant my feet on my Rock and know that He will hold me fast. I believe that.

oh dear

I remember when I was little and experienced deja vu. I thought I was blessed with some sort of spiritual gift. I thought that for a while actually until my Mom mentioned one day that she had just had a deja vu. She burst my bubble of spiritual blessedness. I also remember that I realized on different occasions that certain smells brought back memories of people or places or events. I, again, thought I was so special until, you guessed it, someone mentioned a smell that reminded him of that time...Another bubble burst. However, I have now confirmed my 'specialness' based on two recent events. One: this past summer I drove my brother's jeep wrangler. It was my first experience driving a stick shift. And I loved it. Absolutely. Not to mention that my brother's jeep is awesome. Huge tires, all kinds of devices for towing, four-wheeling. I felt like a woman studmuffin in that thing. Well, the first day or so that I'm driving the jeep, I'm heading up a steep hill and pop that bad boy into 5th gear. I proceed to climb the hill at about 20 miles an hour and can't figure out why I'm going so slow. But, always optimistic, I just wave at the other cars flying by me at normal speeds while cursing the fact that I'm ruining my cool-car-driver image. Ah yes, as my brother instructs me later, downshift to go up steep hills. Ah, yes. Just like a bicycle. Two: Today I had a doctor's appt in downtown Birmingham. I, of course, needed money for the meter. But, every coin except 4 small pennies, were located in my back jean's pocket on the floor of my bedroom. You see, last night I collected every coin around in order to play games at the Hallelujah party. So, I'm searching under the car seats, in the glove box, in the CD cases. There are no coins. Should I risk getting a ticket? No, there goes the little ticket lady. Hmmm, maybe I can ask someone. Ah yes, here comes someone. Sir, can I have a dime? I think I have one. Yes, here you go. Great, thank you!! Did I mention that the man appeared to be a homeless man?! Alison, you took a dime from a homeless person?!
There. I have verified the fact that I am 'special.' As if we needed proof...

hehe

Another funny incident. This morning I had to go to the dermatologist to get a little itty bitty wart frozen off my pinky finger. So, I'm waiting and then enters my doctor (who is pregnant), a medical student, and two residents. So, including myself and the baby, that's six people crammed into a tiny room watching a doctor freeze off a tiny wart off of a tiny finger for about 10 seconds. I know my life was enhanced. I'm sure those residents and med student can now perform any surgery or save the world after getting to observe that inspiring procedure.

Praise the Name!

Okay, I just got home from a 'hallelujah party.' Yes, you read that correctly. Hallelujah party. Raise your hands in the air. Basically, that's a fancy name for the ever-popular church fall festival/trunk or treat. I went with Brigid. I was wholly unprepared to walk into mass chaos of hundreds of children tripping over their costumes (aren't little kids' costumes more for the adults than the children anyway?) and rollercoasting up and down on sugar highs and lows. The amount of noise in that room was unbelievable. Furthermore, I wasn't exactly in the majority. In other words, I was the only 25 year-old woman there in the midst of hundreds of married couples and their flocks of children. I thought I enjoyed children. I think I still do actually. Just in very small doses. Like one or two kiddos at a time. It was a rare situation where I thought I just might slip out the side door, hike up my levis, and head for the hills. But, Brigid had a delightful time and I won a tootsie roll pop and a spider ring, so I guess all's well that ends well. Hallelujah.

Ribbit

I think we've probably all gotten lots of gifts in our lives. There are Christmas presents, Easter baskets, birthday gifts. But, then there are those gifts that are perfect, the "I-know-you-and-when-I-saw-this-I-just-had-to-give-it-to-you-gifts." Last night, my dear friend, Natalie, gave me a sky blue blanket from Honduras. We spent two fun-filled weeks together in Honduras this past summer and on her way out, she saw the blanket and thought of me. I wrapped myself up in it for a nap this afternoon. And this afternoon as I was hiking through Oak Mountain, I would stop every now and then to pick up a beautiful orange or yellow or red leaf. I do this every fall as the leaves change color and release from the trees. I was reminded of a gift I received during college from a dear friend. I had been studying all afternoon and took a little break. When I came back to my room, there were two of the most beautiful leaves I had ever seen sitting on my computer. Such joy to have someone notice my habit and join in my game! And one last gift. As I sit here tonight I'm wearing obnoxious green frog king socks. (You'll just have to see them.) I love these socks and wear them inside the house when the weather turns cooler. Mike got these for me a couple of years ago. He picked them out all by himself for his Aunt Alison. He must have been about 4 years old. So, I wear them and smile every time I pull the little froggies over my toes. I like gifts like these. Spontaneous and full of connection to another human being.

tireswing over a creek

Okay, let me just set up a little scenario for you. Every Wednesday morning I spend three hours in a research class with a teacher from Korea. 1. I don't really like research. 2. My teacher is quite nice and a fair grader, but we simply cannot understand her English. If it wasn't for the powerpoints in English I would be lost. Today, for example, Dr. Park was giving some sort of example and I couldn't figure out if she was saying hamsters or gangsters. So, in my mind I just kept switching back and forth to keep myself interested. It really is an excruciately painful class. Getting a masters degree is not quite, not at all, what I thought it would be.

Then, each Wednesday evening I spend three hours in a psychopathology class. Today we were talking about human sexuality and the teacher made an interesting point about men and women. She said that women really have a wide range of femininity. A woman can be anything from a tomboy to a barbie. But men, on the other hand, have it more difficult. There's just superman to weird. I think that's interesting. And, I've often felt that men really get a tough time with all the feminism stuff. Personally, I like that beautiful balance where a man knows I'm completely capable of handling this life, yet I also love to have a door opened for me and to be picked up for a date and told I look just lovely. So, good luck guys, find that perfect middle ground.

I've really been proud of my father though. He told me once that he wasn't going to give me away at my wedding. Really, Dad!? Really. He told me that I'm not his possession to give away. I am an adult and capable of making my own decisions. He will state that I am Nevin and Myrtianne's daughter. I love that.

And then last year when Dad got part of his finger amputated, he had a woman perform the surgery. She was the best doctor for the job and Dad stated that if he wanted his daughter to have every opportunity in the world, then he should allow every other woman that same chance. Again, how much do I love that.

waltz

I was listening to an old Josh Groban CD this morning and was struck by the beauty of these lines:

I sing to life and to its tragic beauty.
To pain and to strife and all that dances through me.
The rise and the fall, I live through it all.

That, just like Gibran's poem on Joy and Sorrow, encompasses what I'm feeling and what I keep trying to express. On the wall next to my desk is the quote, "I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing."

Amen to all of these words. Amen.

Alison (friend, daughter, sister, student, dancer, artist, singer, lover of life, writer, aunt, niece)

The good thing about sorrow is that it makes you appreciate the smallest of things. Those moments when a gust of wind blows a bunch of leaves off of the trees and I am surrounded by a small whirlwind of color. Like the old man across the street who sits in a lawn chair in the front yard every day and waves at the cars that pass by. The joy of getting a note from my father signed,
'love Nevin (Dad)' The knowledge of knowing that every pain I experience allows me to identify more fully with yet another human being. The simplicity of allowing myself to stop everything and understand what I'm feeling. The joy of praying because I feel like my sanity absolutely depends on it.
I know I've been writing about sorrow a lot lately. And it's not because I'm a totally depressed person. On the contrary, I think I'm actually a quite happy person. I truly love life and enjoy people and laugh a lot. Yet, the past few months have been filled with decisions and revelations that have allowed me to examine my life and who I am as a person and what I stand for. And some of those most important moments have been during the hardest days. So, I'm intrigued by that part of the process. The part where the waiting takes place. The part when the heart waits.

a little crust of bread

Today I was just praying for God to sustain me. As much as I know "it will all work out," that is not bringing much comfort at the moment. Because in this moment, it isn't working out, it isn't fun, it isn't okay, I'm not satisfied, on and on. And as much as I want to find rest in the okay of the future, I also want to find discomfort in the not-okay of this moment. Because this is what I have right now. This moment that feels like a dress that doesn't fit quite right. And in this moment, I feel like God is daring me not to notice Him. The last two evenings I've taken walks during that time when the sun is setting and its light is so bright that it brings tears to eyes on account of its brillance. It's something you cannot miss. There is no way to be outside walking or driving or talking to someone in the driveway without being annoyed at the blinding light. I feel like that's the Lord. He's trying to get my attention, claim my attention, focus my eyes back on Him. I'm begging for sustenance and being blinded by His brillance. Being reminded to find my completeness in Him, for nothing else will ever satisfy those desires and fill me up.

shit, damn, hell

I think there are some things that the heart knows are true that the brain just doesn't want to accept. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe my heart is denying what my brain knows is the truth. Sometimes I think my damn optimism is misplaced. I've been cussing more lately. I don't want to act out with food, I don't do drugs, I'm allergic to alcohol, boys are just trouble lately. It's like I want a little 'bad' coping mechanism. Because I still feel sad even after I exercise, talk, paint, read, journal, pray, sing, dance, on and on. So, a good cuss word every now and then makes me feel rebellious and fiesty.

EVER

Dr. Seuss wrote those lines I think. (refer to previous blog entry) 'Oh, the places you'll go!' Maybe I should read that again. I think I got about 15 copies when I graduated from college.

Today I went shopping with two of my girlfriends and we went into Sephora. I hope I spelled that right. It's a really intense make-up store. I've really never experienced anything like it. Ever. It was overwhelming and I can't say that I ever want to go back in. I am still in shock that stores can put pictures of basically naked people up. I mean really, can you miss the men's chests when walking by Abercrombie or the women's breasts at Victoria Secret? And Sephora had some of both. A little bit of the men. A little bit of the women. Don't want to leave anyone out now. I'm still amazed though and hope my sweet nephews never enter a mall. EVER. And yet, we scratch our heads and wonder why ever other woman in America is on a diet and men have complexes and we are all so self-conscious. I'll just hold up my air-brushed photo when I walk around. Oh except, that you wouldn't recognize me. So, I'm crying out against a crazy society that promotes outward, physical beauty and longing for a place where we look past all of that and engage in meaningful conversation.

have you ever seen a rock tumbler?

After seeing Phantom of the Opera, I am now back on a Broadway kick. I pulled out my Les Mis CD's. I love the last song. The lines...
'Take my hand and lead me to salvation
Take my love for love is everlasting
And remember the truth that once was spoken,
To love another person is to see the face of God'

I played those 15 seconds over and over yesterday. Somehow it helped me feel comfortable in my sadness. I think that far too often, I try to run from anything that feels yucky. But, I think there's harm in not being still for a little while and letting the feelings tumble around inside. Several of my wonderful friends asked me today why I didn't call them last night. My only answer is that I needed to be alone and mull and pray and sleep.

And for some reason today when I was riding the bike, the lines 'there is really nothing you must do and really nothing you must be' popped into my head. I like that. I don't remember where it came from. Just a little gift out of the sky. It felt like permission to be fully myself today. To release myself from my own expectations. To forgive the fears and worries of the future. To accept where I am and the feelings that I hold inside. To begin to hurt and heal and love in a cycle for the rest of my life.

take me there

Today another wave crashed. I sensed its coming and felt the water rush over me tonight. I'm not afraid of the waves anymore. They are overwhelming for a while, but I can now cling to the knowledge that the water always subsides and fresh air comes again. And while I don't necessarily enjoy the crashing waves, I can appreciate their purpose. I know that I am being challenged and refined and made stronger. I know to whom I look for strength. And I have learned that there is nothing amiss in feeling the wave, all of it, and not running from it. Because there is no way around, no good way. The only way is straight through and underneath. So, I accept the water and feeling of panic and the swirling foam and the sense of being in solitude, but not alone. And yet, while I write nice, fancy words about the waves, I long for a period of absence, for I am tired and weary.

Tonight was another evening of simply praying for God to wrap me up. I want to feel Him. And, of course, He answered. I hung out with my little sister again tonight. She asked me if I was glad I got her as a little sister. I could not be more delighted. And she told me how glad she is that I'm her big sister. That she wishes we could be real sisters. And as we were walking through the Vestavia Rave, she jumped up on the concrete that surrounds the flowers and starting dancing away to the music playing on the speakers. And so we danced and danced. We danced to Backstreet Boys and did ballet moves to slow songs. And then we finished up with swing moves. And she loves the twirls, where one person twirls the other person in and out. And as I twirled her in, I got a big hug and as I twirled her out, I got a huge smile. And I began to realize that I need Brigid as much as she needs me. In our delight in life and each other, I could feel the Lord and I was thankful.

wasn't it 1492?

Last evening I ate at Nabeel's in Homewood. I arrived, saw that the parking lot was full and decided to try a tricky sidewalk parking spot. And older man was pulling onto the sidewalk next to me, so I figured it would be okay. We got of our cars and I said to him, "So, I guess it's okay to park here?" He replied, "Oh, probably. Why not?" I said, "Yeah, gotta take a risk" to which he quiped, "That's right, just like Columbus!" I started to laugh and then walked into a window box of flowers and he whipped out "Watch out for the flowers in your risk-taking!"
I like little interactions with strangers.

So, the trees are changing colors. I love when the trees change colors. There's something peaceful about the changing of the seasons letting me know that life goes on and I have to keep moving. Sometimes I wish the world would stop so that we could mourn the losses around us. But, if we did stop, we would never get to start again, for there is too much grief in the world. I think the trees bursting into reds and oranges and yellows let me know that something else is in control whether today makes sense or not.

On your mark, get set

I have never been one for long debates. Actually, I've never been one for short debates either. I don't like what feels like arguing to me. I prefer, if necessary, to hear the other person's point-of-view, state my own, and move on. Perhaps because I've always had simple answers. My faith is based on Jesus and love. For me, relationships are built on communication and trust. I vote for the person I think will do the best job. As stated previously, I stand on love on any contraversial issue.
I think Eliabeth Gilbert says it well. "In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted. Only artistic excellence is incorruptible. Pleasure cannot be bargained down. And sometimes the meal is the only currency that is real."
In my social work degree, I am focusing on children and adolescents. There is something devasting about studying the issues affecting children. Some of the same things affect adults, yet it's different when it's a child. I study sexual abuse and post-traumatic stress disorder and disease and health insurance and on and on. And there are moments when I wonder 'what's the use?' Our world is so broken and hurting. And the answers are huge and unfinished and overwhelming. Remember, I like simplicity. So, for me, I have to break it down. And remember that I cannot save the world and every child ever wounded. But, if I can help a few. Love a few. Hope for a few. Be beauty for a few. Then, I will have made a difference and that is a start.

kick back

I forgot to mention Sam's friend, Christopher, who went bowling with us. Christopher asked what I'm studying in school. Social work. He asked what I want to do. Be a therapist. He asked why I want to be a therapist. Because I want to help people. And then, sweet Christopher asked, "Alison, do you want to be a therapist to help people or is it really just because you want to take naps during your breaks in those big comfy chairs you'll have in your office?"

I love it. Finally called on my own game. Thank you.

I give up

On Friday night I babysat Sam. He's one of my little buddies. He's in second grade, extremely high energy, and is usually quite delightful to be around. Well, Sam and I were sitting in my jeep outside the Summit movie theatre waiting to pick up Charlie, his brother. (how much of a mom did I feel like picking up a teeny bopper at 9:30pm at the movie theatre from his co-ed hang out experience?!). We were playing round after round of 'I Spy.' In this particular round, Sam said, 'I spy with my little eye something white.' I proceeded to guess everything white I could possibly see and no luck. Finally, I gave up and Same shouted, 'It's you, Alison! You're white!' I just fell over laughing. Way to think outside the box, little dude. I am definitely a 'white' person, though hopefully not truly the pasty white color I was looking for. And this is why I enjoy children.

curry powder

I am finding moments of such wonder lately. For some reason, I keep laughing in the car when I'm all by myself. It's delightful. It's like the Lord is just blessing me with moments of joy that spill out. I laugh at funny things I see, funny things that I think. But mostly, I just laugh for no reason whatsoever. Yesterday I drove home at 6am in order to make it for tailgating and the Titans game. I drove as the darkness disappeared and the sun came up in its glory. I couldn't even bear to put the visor down in the car. I just let the blinding sun rays pour all over me. And I watched the fog rise off the fields and then I got to witness a good couple thousand black birds flying across the horizon. A huge line of birds doing the wave across the sky.

And I am finding joy in listening to the passion in my friends. One friend recently described his love of playing the drums, such that he was meant to play. Another friend lit up when talking about chronically ill children in our group presentation. She carried that discussion out with such vigor. Another friend went dreamy eyed when talking about a glorious library in Ireland. Another friend came home from a conference just thrilled at having led her first psychodrama. I love this. I love this part about this time in life. I am watching my friends and myself discover and pursue our dreams. That's a fun thing to be a witness to. I am so proud of my friends. And I am so thankful that we are called to different things. It makes life so spicy.

breaking it down

I also have a statement to make. Where do I stand on abortion? Love. Where do I stand on homosexuality? Love. Where do I stand on a million other contraversial issues? Love. I've said a million times that I have no answers. I've decided that I have one answer though. Love. I don't want to claim that something is right or wrong. I don't want to claim that I know that best answer for someone else's life. I don't want to claim that I understand any person whose shoes I have never had to walk in. In reality, it doesn't matter what I think, if I think something is right or wrong. What matters is that I love each person for who they are and where they are in their journey. So, I chose love as my answer, my right and wrong, my understanding. Because if there's one thing I can understand, it's humanity and the need to be loved.

the land of the free and the home of the brave

Finally, I got to watch a winning football game. This fall I have been to more football games than I probably have in my entire life. I've watched Auburn lose, the Titans lose to the Colts, and BSC lost the homecoming game on Saturday. But, yesterday, finally, the Titans pulled out over the Falcons. I've never really been much of a football fan. But, I'm actually starting to like it. At least, I like being at the game. I still don't like watching football on TV. I must say that I felt like a true American at the Titans vs. Colts game. There was something really cool about being at the "American" sporting event. No other countries really care that much about football. So, there I was next to my brother, father, sister-in-law, and 70,000 other fans. And I was really proud to put my hand over my heart, listen to Sara Evans sing the most beautiful rendition I have ever heard of the national anthem, and just go crazy when the fireworks go off and the fighter jets flew over over heads during the 'land of the free and the home of the brave!' It was a neat moment. However, I must say that I usually laugh at least once during a football game at what a funny sport it is. I mean really, one ball and a bunch of guys knocking each other down all over the field. I simply cannot imagine running down the field knowing that at any moment some 300 pound dude is going to come toss my body onto the ground. I would run away screaming before my body was mutilated. I enjoy my health and my intact bones and ligaments. Maybe next year. I also laughed yesterday at the couple sitting next to Dad and me. It was a guy chowing down on a turkey leg (which generally grosses me out) and drinking beer faster than I could drink water and his barbie doll girlfriend. I don't think she even knew there was a ball game going on. They were a hoot.

Speaking of which, my father is a hoot. He simply doesn't care what people think about him. I love that. I think of all the lessons he has taught me, this is one that I hold most dear. I remember precisely when the lesson took place too. Dad and I were in the airport and he was doing his silly Egyptian walk and I got embarassed and asked him to quit. He told me that I didn't need to worry about what other people thought. It just didn't matter. And it doesn't. I can't say I always succeed at not worrying, but I try. Anyway, Dad was his normal self yesterday. He blew kisses into the air when the Titans did a good job, he waved at some horses that policemen where definitely sitting on, he stole an orange cone because Brad needs one, and he sneezed louder than you could possibly imagine. And the funny thing is, everyone loves my father. He is successful, yet not presumptious. He is wise, yet not imposing. He is generous, yet not forceful. Obviously, I think the world of him. And I'm thankful to be at a point where it is possible to really appreciate 'older' people, especially my parents. I am at a point where I know that I don't know everything. I am at a huge transitional period in life and I am thankful for the wisdom of those who have gone before and managed this life successfully. I thought that I would arrive at a place where I understood life and how to do this crazy thing. But, I haven't and I won't. My life is my journey. And I realize that no one knows how to do this life thing. You just do the best you can. That's what my parents did and I think I came out just fine along with my brothers. When Mike asked me what we should do in the middle of the dog fight, I didn't know for sure. I just knew to follow my instinct and protect him. So, I just follow my instinct. I listen to the wisdom of those around, pick what's right for me, and ultimately, follow the wisdom that resides in me as well.

wwuuuvvvv, truwww wwwuuuuvvvv

So, the nephews blog as promised. This past summer, Warren, Mike, and I went backpacking for a weekend. We hiked out on the last day and Mike and I waited in the parking lots with the packs while Warren went to get the car. While we were waiting, several hikers arrived with their dogs, none of which were on leashes. All of the sudden, two of the dogs got into a vicious fight very close to us. I tried to wedge Mike in the middle of the packs and wrapped my arms around him to use my body as a shield. Luckily, one of the owners stepped in the middle of the dogs and broke them apart. But, it was so close and terrifying. At some point during the fight, Mike whispered, 'Aunt Alison, what should we do?' He was scared, I was scared, and I didn't know what to do. I just knew that I wanted Mike to be safe. More than anything, more than myself, I needed to protect him. And, although, I was frightened, it was a wonderful feeling. I think there are several people in this world that I would take wounds for just to ensure their safety. But that's just in theory. This was a gut response to a real-life situation. I wanted Mike to be safe and I knew that I would take a dog bite to my body over one to his precious little self. I liked that feeling. Those four little guys have my heart (and I think they know it!).

put on your party hat

Today is my father's 65th birthday. For some reason, the birthdays this year seem different. I turned 25 in July. That's as close to thirty as it is to twenty. My middle brother turned 35. That's as close to fourty as it is to thirty. And Dad turned 65. You guessed it, that's as close to 70 as it is to 60. And there's something important in this to me. Every year I get asked if I 'feel' older on my birthday. And this year, I actually do. I feel like 25 is different. Like somehow, by turning 25, I officially became an adult or at least expect myself to quickly become one. I am not where I thought I would be in life at this point. I didn't have an exact plan, but it really didn't consist of still being in school and being single. Hmm, let me rephrase that because it sounds like I'm disappointed in where I am in life. I didn't expect to be in the process of earning a master's degree and discovering who I am as a person. I didn't expect to have more questions than answers. I didn't expect to have such amazing friendships and actually have a decent relationship with my mother. I didn't expect to have four nephews who I adore and would give my life for or adopt if the need arose (another blog about that later). I didn't expect life to be like this. But, I have learned by now that life never takes any kind of path I could imagine and I am just fine with that. I have already lived a challenging, exciting, amazing life.

But it is strange to think that in five short years I will be thirty years old. And my brother will be (gasp!) headed toward middle age and my father will be seventy years old. Now, that is assuming that we all, God willing, are blessed with another five years of life. As I watch my father age, I'm not really happy about it. He is still physically fit and works all the time and travels like its his job. Yet, I see small changes in his energy and walk. And I don't want him to get 'old.' I want him to forever get to go dancing with me. However, I know that I can't stop time and wouldn't really want to any way. Because, in spite of the challenges and 'growing pains,' I'm enjoying this growing up process. I'm learning a lot and I don't want to stop. So, life goes on in its glorious, heartwrenching circle.

Call back

I realize, as I read over my past postings, that I continually arrive at a place of 'no answers.' A place where I glimpse mountains of sadness and frustration and loneliness and heartbreak (either in my own life or that of others) and I have no idea why and no answers. I don't know where to begin. But, I have come to two realizations. First, I am thankful that I am older and have gotten to experience some of life. I have a different perspective than I did even in college. I remember a particular romantic break-up in college that was simply devasting. In some ways, I'm not sure I even thought life could go on. Yet eventually it did. Other painful experiences continued to happen and now, when something just awful happens, I am able to step back and say, 'Wow, this really hurts and it really sucks and I hate like hell that I am going through this, but I know that it will pass, the world will keep on turning, the sharpness of the pain will eventually become duller, and I will be okay. Right now, I don't feel okay, but I will be okay. I will. I always have been before.' And two, I think the depth of my faith is in these questions. Faith is simple when life is easy. And sometimes faith is even easier when it's hard; I just cling to Jesus. Yet, the hard times bring out my questions more than usual. The why's and the anger and the hope. I have always been aghast to hear that it's 'wrong' to doubt God or question Him or be angry with Him. To me, that's simply ridiculous. I am in a relationship with the Lord and in my real relationships, there are no hidden emotions. Plus, if God created me, I figure He better be able to handle my anger. It was His idea in the first place.
I'm currently reading 'Velvet Elvis' by Rob Bell. It's excellent and I highly recommend it. I love the following lines, 'A Christian doesn't avoid the questions; a Christian embraces them. In fact, to truly pursue the living God, we have to see the need for questions. Questions are not scary. What is scary is when people don't have any. What is tragic is faith that has no room for them....Maybe that is who God is looking for - people who don't just sit there and mindlessly accept whatever comes their way.'

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

The past two nights I've gotten to dance. That makes for two wonderful evenings. On Friday night, Dad and I went downtown to BB Kings and boogied for a couple of hours. And last night, I had the priviledge of dancing on the top floor of the AT&T batman building in downtown Nashville to my favorite dance band of all time, Craig Duncan. And all the dancing fools were from First Baptist Nashville. Now, I have had the joy of dancing with my parents and their Sunday school friends for years. It always ends up being me and my best bud from growing up, Jennifer, and all the adults. There is one man named John who laughs louder than you would ever think possible and dances like a crazy chicken. I will hire him to dance at my wedding reception someday just to kick things off. Anyway, I just love dancing. Something happens to me and all the insecurities about my body that have plagued me for years just fall away and joy wells up and overflows. That may sound extreme, but it's true. I rarely love life as much as I do when I'm dancing. Someone asked me the other day when I discovered that I loved to dance. As far as I can tell it was when I was a toddler. It is recorded in my baby book that when I was still in diapers, my Mom went in the laundry room and I was standing next to the dryer moving my little tush back and forth to the rhythm of the machine. I guess that's when it started.

beep beep beep

I am so grateful for laughter. My journey lately consists of moments of joy, waves of sadness, and intense frustration. After the worst day of classes yet on Wednesday, I skipped class on Thursday, slept in, and ran some errands. I went to buy a printer at CompUSA. It was a riot. I asked for help picking out a printer that is compatible with Mac. (In matters of electronics, I don't pretend to not need help.) So, some dude named 'Art' is being paged and everyone keeps asking me if I'm the woman who is looking for Art. Apparently, yes, I'm looking for Art. Finally, this little grandmother-like woman named Gloria meanders up and says that she can help me. So, I tell her that I want a laser printer and off we go to the scanner aisle. At this point, I'm thinking maybe I don't need help. Until, she scratches her head and smiles and says, 'Now wait a second, honey, you said printer didn't you?' So, off we go to the printer aisle at last. Finally, we find an affordable printer that will sync up to a mac and I'm ready to get out of that store. And Gloria just walks away. I assume that she's going to get the printer (please Lord), so I wait. For about 10 minutes. And while I'm waiting a man walks out with a cart of purchases and the alarm goes off like crazy and all the employees just stand there and look at him and then I hear Gloria yelling 'Ms. Downs, I've got your printer!' as she wanders up and down the aisles looking for me. And right then, I just burst into glorious laughter. I mean, doubled over, joyful laughter at how fun and crazy our world is. And since that moment, I've been able to laugh more. My eyes have been opened once again to the beauty around me in spite of heartbreak and sadness and death and disease. Perhaps my joy is going deeper because the sadness has carved out more room.

Steffi

I just watched the opening show of the new bachelor....why? because Claire knows one of the girls on the show. I just want to say that I am embarassed. Embarassed that one and a half hours of my precious life was just wasted and embarassed for the poor people on that show. Thank goodness the office starts on Thursday night. I like having one quality show to watch a week.

my phone conversation with Ryan

A: Hey Ryan!
R: Hi.
A: How are you?!
R: Fine.
A: Whatcha doin?
R: Nascar
A: Watching nascar, that's cool. Who's winning?
R: yells, 'Mom!! Who's winning?' - pause- Dad's car's winning.
A: oh, cool.
What'd ya do today?
R: Went to a luau. There was rain and hail.
A: Really? Did you get hit?
R: by what?
A: The hail.
R: yep.
Drops the phone. Yells, 'Mom, I'm done talking!'
The End.
I love that kid.

and so it is

There are no shadows where there is no sunlight.

On Joy and Sorrow

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lue that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and other says, "Nay, sorror is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at you board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily ou are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
-Gibran

an ode

My jeep just reached 100,000 miles and I believe it deserves a moment. I am a bit attached to my 'baby jeep.' Now, that may sound strange, but stop a minute and think with me. I got this jeep in 1998 when I was in high school and it is now September of 2007. A lot has changed in my life over these years. I applied to colleges across the nation, ended up at Birmingham-Southern, graduated, got a job at a crazy restaurant, started grad school, moved a million times. Yet, this car has been there through it all. It has traveled the I-65 north and south more times than I can count. This car has carried hundreds of meals for 'meals on wheels.' This car has carried hundreds of pounds of food over the course of three years to First Light women's shelter. This car has been wrapped in toilet paper, care of my high school friends. This is the car I hydroplaned in. This is the car that's been nailed twice in the bumper (not my fault) and later nailed someone else's bumper (definitely my fault, damn 280 in traffic). This is the car in which I hit three of my four stationary objects. I still have a cassette tape from high school in the center console. I still have a high school sticker on the side window, yet no college or grad school stickers. This car is laden with crumbs from breakfasts eaten on the way to school and memories of the great conversations and adventures I have had with friends. It's my baby jeep. Thanks for going the distance.

the chitlins

This summer in Utah I went to church with my nephews. I really like sitting with them because they are allowed to have toys and coloring books during church. Sometimes I need help sitting still too. However, the funniest thing about church to me was the comment the lady always made at the end of the children's story. After the prayer, she always said, "Now boys and girls, please go quietly back to your seats since we are in God's house." I thought it was a strange comment each time. I understand that you don't want the kids going nuts necessarily and there is power and holiness in reverance. Yet, for some reason, I believe that the God I personally worship is a noise-loving, rambunctious God who delights in the authenticity of his children. I guess I just don't want my nephews to grow up knowing rules. I want them to grow up knowing God. A God who is alive and powerful and deeply in love with them, just their crazy, silly little selves. And I was reminded of this desire as I read the following line from Elizabeth Gilbert's 'Eat, Pray, Love.' "Be very careful not to get too obsessed with the repetition of religious ritual just for its own sake...Flexibilty is just as essential for divinity as is discipline." I long to be in love with Christ, not just my church. We serve a changing, unknown God. So, it would follow for me to be steadfast in my love for Him and comfortable in His plan that moves me along through a changing world and changing life.

20/59 south to Tuscaloosa

Today as I was driving to school, I saw a cop car out of my rear view mirror. So, as I learned in driving 101, I made sure I was going about 68 and let mister po po drive on past me. I was in the middle lane and he was in the fast lane. Now, I thought everyone knew that you never, EVER, drive faster than a policeman. Apparently not. Because next thing I knew I car flew up behind the policeman, who then moved to the middle lane to let the car past. The car kept on going until the policeman went back into the fast lane, turned on his lights, and pulled the poor sucker over. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but really, that was kind of pathetic.

with some skin on it

There are days when I am overwhelmed by the grief in this world. Yesterday, I listened to a dear friend talk about her devastingly painful divorce. Today, I listened to a friend describe an incidence of physical abuse to a child. Or the friend who's baby has suffered a severe brain injury. Or the friend who is about to give birth to a child with Edward's syndrome. I read about war and death and poverty and discrimination. And I don't have answers. I don't know the why's or how's. Sometimes I want to just gather up everyone I love and hold on tight.

But, then I glimpse these moments of beauty like the elderly woman and her son sitting in the sun rays at Aldridge Gardens today or hearing my own laughter and having a short moment of embarassment at how loud it was in the restaurant.
And I recognize that I love and hate this world. I love the beauty and delight and even the trials that make us wiser and stronger and more patient. And I am so thankful that we have each other. I have my Jesus, but I am ever grateful for the sound of my friends' laughter and the hugs from my parents and the smiles from my nephews. I believe these things are Jesus too.

malentendidos

Okay, one more post for the evening. I just read the following line out of my textbook on family therapy and now feel totally prepared for whatever lies ahead.
"Errors in professional judgment that should be avoided are the tnedencies (1) to see differences or commonalities when they are not there or (2) to not see differences or commonalities when they are present."
Ah yes, all clear now. Basically, just be a mind-reader, don't fuck up, and you'll be fine.

Last night I saw 'Balls of Fury.' It was truly a stupid movie. However, I was pleased to note that I understood the Spanish cuss words as well as the sexual joke they tried to make in Spanglish. So, those four years of college have really paid off.

Now, I'm not totally pessimistic about school. Please understand that I generally enjoy school and the learning process. There are just funny moments when I realize that what I got out of a class is probably not exactly what the teacher intended. Pero, vendejo, yo puedo entender las palabras importantes! Ciao!

Don't need seconds

Lately, I cannot seem to find the words for long prayers. My prayers are one sentence pleas repeated over and over. Thank goodness the Lord does not seem to tire of my repetitive words. Lately, all I can seem to say is "Lord, heal my heart." "Lord, please wrap me up." And "Lord, fill me up." I have no answers right now. In fact, I'm not sure that I ever did have any answers. But, the Lord has always answered my cries in such peculiar ways. Almost as if he's thinking about what I'm thinking He should or could do to help me out, then lets out a little chuckle and leads me down another path. Like the other day, it happened in the car. I was jamming out to a song and all of the sudden, I got a little glimpse of myself. Like a little idea of how cool God thinks I am. He likes my spirit and my spunk, he indulges my quick changing moods and moments of self-doubt, he created my talents. It was a beautiful moment when I felt the negative messages that sometimes run through my head scurry away and pure thoughts come in. And what I realized is that I am enough. And God is enough. So together we are enough. He is enough to fill me and wrap me up and heal me and lead me. He is enough. So, I want to wrap my arms around 'enough' and be satisfied and be whole and be healed and be loved.

pink panther

I just spent the weekend in Nashville. I really needed a dose of my nephews. They just do my spirit such good. I showed up at my brother's doorstep and rang the doorbell and within seconds I saw little eyes peek through the shades and then Hayden started screaming, "Aunt Alison's here!" Next thing I know, he is furiously trying to open the front door in spite of the child lock that is and has been on the door since they moved in. As soon as Jen opened the door, Hayden was in my arms with a huge smile. The commotion woke up William who them came sleepy-eyed out of his room, took my hand, and said, "Aunt Alison, when you were on your trip, I missed you." Now, that is a heart-warming welcome.

We spent the day together and it was full of sudden, beautiful delights. Like in the car, William said out of the blue, "Aunt Alison, I love you. You are such a nice girl. And you are very pretty." Work it, little guy. He knows how to get the women. And then after reading one of the Clifford books to the boys, William sighed and said, "Aww. That was such a nice book." Oh yes, and then there was the moment when Hayden called Brad's new road bike, "wicked cool." Seriously? Where did he learn that?

But, the best scene of all happened in the kitchen this morning and took place in less than thirty seconds. Hayden was playing with an airplane he had put together when all of the sudden he cried "ants!" and raced over to the fruit bowl. He moved the bowl and started squishing the ants with his bare hands. Once all the ants were thoroughly squished between his fingers, Jen told him to go wash his hands. At this point, William spied his golden opportunity and confiscates Hayden's plane. Hayden returns and screams for his plane and William screams that Hayden wasn't playing with it and so it's okay and then Jen intervened and I just stood there laughing. That's why I'm the aunt, not the mother.

zesty

So, another nephew story. Another one of my nephews is Hayden. Now, Hayden is quite a character. He had speech problems and went through various courses of speech therapy. Now the little guy just won't shut up. And it's such a wonderful blessing after all those years of trying to coax words out of him and understand his body language, that we just can't bear to tell him to be quiet for a few moments. But really, sometimes a few moments is now needed.
Well, Mom took Hayden to church with her last Sunday. They sat up in the balcony which is apparently pretty cool with Hayden. During the children's story, Hayden went downstairs and vyed for a seat close to Pastor Frank and then gave Mom a big wave across the sanctuary. Then, for the prayer, Hayden gave his grand finale. Pastor Frank asked the children to pray with him and Hayden went to his knees with his forehead to the floor for the prayer. I mean, talk about spiritual zest! I'm not sure where he learned that move though. I've never seen Brad or Jen anywhere near prostrate during prayer. Who knows, but this kid is in.
Then, yesterday after Dad and Brad moved my playhouse from the farm to Brad's house, Hayden told them that he was so proud of them for their hard work. I love it.

hike the trail to mordor

Today, we're going to talk for a few moments about animals. I have never been much of an animal person, but this may be changing. I actually like a dog now. My roomie, Claire, has a dog named Luke. He won my heart over the first afternoon that Claire wasn't home. You see, he normally sticks pretty close to Claire. But, when she's gone, he's up for a new friend. So, Luke and I were in the apartment together and he commenced to following me around. Not in a whiny, droopy way. No, he followed in a 'you are so cool, I would follow you to the ends-of-the-earth' kind of way. Then, when I studied he sat right outside my door and barked at any slight noise. It's pretty cool to have protection as you travel to the ends-of-the-earth. So, Luke and I are now buddies and I am a little more open to the rest of the dog population.
Now, spiders have not helped their situation concerning me. No active 'let's win over Alison so she doesn't squish us and throw us to a watery toilet death when she finds us.' Noooo. A freakin' spider bit the crap out of my ankle on Saturday. Now my right ankle looks like I ate 50 doughnuts for dinner and all the weight gain went to that poor little ankle and foot. And it hurts like the dickens (whatever dickens feels like). Bad move mister spider. Bad move. You and your friends are going down if I can ever hobble over to you. Shesh.

gender differences

I know there was never any question as to my feminine nature. However, just in case of any discrepancy, I have definitely proved my femininity beyond question. Yesterday, while talking to friends about the Virginia Tech football game, I mentioned how much I hoped they would win the game and if need be, that the other team would just let them win. I mean, that school has been through it. Everyone agreed with me up until the 'letting them win' part and that's where they confirmed that I think like a girl. Apparently football supercedes all else and winning is winning and losing is losing. Forgive me. Oh, and one more thing, I will never boo another team. Never. Everyone comes out and works their butts off and I applaud every team, whether winner or loser. So there.

livin' on the edge

I feel compelled to tell my mother's racy joke. She loves this joke. Tells it in little whispers followed by outbursts of laughter. It's hilarious that she loves it considering how conservative she can be at times. Yet, I suppose we all need a little sometime spicy in our lives.

But, let me set the joke up. I thought about it because tonight I walked through the drive thru at Krispy Kreme doughnuts with Melissa and Felipe. Felipe had never had a Krispy Kreme doughnut and well, I guess Melissa and I just needed some eating therapy. So, the three of us marched through the drive thru (the walk-in part was closed, by the way) and then enjoyed our sugary delights while sitting on the curb.

Okay...

What do boobs and doughnuts have in common?
One's not enough and three's too many.

I'm sorry if you are sorely disappointed by my racy joke. I guess this whole entry would be better if you knew my mother.