ramblings of a smart blonde

Monday, January 11, 2010

"This is your life. Is it everything you dreamed that it would be?"

Last week, my words about my grandmother were read at her funeral. As a grieving young woman, it made my heart ache. However, as an aspiring writer, it was an honor greater than any other I have ever received. It allowed me to give something back to a woman that had given me every single thing I could ever want from the moment I was born. The night I wrote that piece about my grandmother, I laughed while typing some parts, and cried during others. As my grandmother's loved ones listened to the pastor read it, they laughed and cried, too. I looked around the room, surveying the familiar faces inside, and I realized that what I saw was the definition of a successful life. Below the teary eyes of those who loved her most were smiles, and it became clear to all who were present that one cannot possibly think of the life my grandmother lived without grinning. She left behind a legacy of love, laughter, and living life to the fullest. In my book, that makes her one of the most successful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. In a world full of people fighting viciously for a taste of success, it is refreshing to see proof of a person that earned the title without having to hurt themself or others in order to do so.

The day that I was born, my grandparents were there with a pink dress for me to wear home. My cousins, my brother, and I were all so blessed to have those two wonderful people there waiting eagerly to hold us as we each began our lives on Earth. We all have countless pictures of Grandmother holding us when we were babies. Grandmother's arms always made us feel safe, and she seemed happiest with a sleeping grandchild on her lap. She was a natural with children, and even as we got older, she had no problem handling what most others would consider a handful. I cannot even begin to count the number of summer nights that all five of us would spend several nights at a time at Grandmother's house. She somehow managed to wake us up, cook a magnificent breakfast, play ball with us outside, cut grass, make us lunch, wash clothes, make the beds, clean the house (which she claimed was always dirty), warn us to stay away from the water hose, mud, or whatever else we could get into, change our clothes when we played in the water hose and mud anyway, cook dinner, put bandaids on all injuries sustained during the day, catch the fireflies we set loose in the house, give us baths, change us into pajamas, and put us to bed. Then, she did it again the next day, as well as any other day that we wanted. She loved us being there, and no matter what tricks we pulled, before we left to go home, she'd whisper in our ears, "Now, you call me if they are mean to you, and I'll come pick you up." And, she always did. She never broke a promise to us, even as we grew older and found ourselves breaking promises we made to her. She did not love us because she thought we were perfect. Instead, she just loved the great things about us so much that our flaws were unnoticed by her. At Grandmother's house, love was always stronger than hate. Always.

My grandmother was recognized as the type of woman that could always be seen working hard in the background. She never wanted to be the center of attention. She never sought after glamour or glory. At our family gatherings, Grandmother can be seen in the background of nearly every photograph or video that I have ever seen. We always struggled to make her sit down long enough to eat more than a bite of food at a time. She worried more about us having enough tea in our cups and rolls on our plates than most people do about their mortgage payments. She insisted we eat, leave our plates wherever we ate, and then relax. Helping her clean or do anything else was not an option. The only other rule besides this was that in her home, one was to respect three men: Jesus Christ, Elvis Presley, and Paul "Bear" Bryant. None of us ever found out what the punishment would be for breaking these two rules, which is exactly the way Grandmother wanted it. To her, holidays were special because they allowed her to make her family happy. This past Christmas, she said, "You know, when I was little, we got in trouble for laughing at the dinner table. I think it should be a happy place. I think we should get in trouble if we DON'T laugh at the dinner table." Of course, she said this while eating her steak on a fold-out card table that was set up beside the big dining room table. She did not care anything about sitting at the head of the table. She had a better view of her son, daughter, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren enjoying Christmas lunch from that little card table. That, to her, was the best seat in the house. Five minutes after she sat down, she was surrounded by grandchildren that gladly traded their seats at the kitchen table or in front of the TV to sit with her. We flocked to her. Like I said, she was a natural.

Even though my grandmother enjoyed being a background worker, her personality and incredible character set her apart from others. She was smart, beautiful, witty, charming, saucy, bright, hilarious, adventurous, brave, generous, careful, strong, thoughtful, and forgiving. She kept all of the little things we all wrote about her when we were little, and one said, "Why hasn't her hair turned white?" That is perfect when remembering her, because we all thought our grandmother was way cooler than everyone else's. She did not fit the stereotype of a grandmother, nor did she fit any other stereotype. It was not until the last year of her life that I ever heard her say, "I'm tired." That was the first time that I realized that my grandmother was not composed of rechargable batteries. Honestly, I would not have been shocked if someone told the energizer bunny was really just my grandmother wearing a costume all along. She had wonderful friendships with others, and when her grandchildren grew older, she began traveling often with close friends. She had a vibrant social life, refusing to sit at home and do nothing with her time. Hearing her talk on the phone with a best friend was like listening to two teenagers, always giggling and making fun plans. Whether she liked it or not, she was never able to fade into the background as she wished. Some people just shine without knowing it. She was one of those people. She was a star.

People ask how I am doing, and I tell them, "I'm okay." And, I am not just saying that, although it is the generic response to that question. I am okay, because I know that my grandmother is somewhere awesome with people that she has been waiting patiently to see again. This is how she would have wanted it to be, without a doubt. I keep telling people that the one thing I can do for the woman that gave me everything I ever wanted is to allow her to have what she would have wanted. I cannot be selfish and be angry with God for taking her from us. Instead, I am thankful that he took her in a peaceful way, allowing her to maintain her pride and dignity, just as she wished. I am grateful that we were given so many amazing years with her. I am blessed to have a multitude of memories, photographs, videos, stories, and keepsakes to remind me each day of the kind of person my grandmother was, which will allow me to live the kind of life that she can be proud of as she watches over me from the clouds. My grandmother's story is not a tragedy, regardless of how it ends. It is a comedy. It is a romance. It is an inspiration. It is everything she ever wanted it to be... and more.

I did not cry when I wrote this; I smiled. It makes me happy to remember the way her laugh sounded, how she would say, "I've got to watch my stories." before turning on her favorite soaps, the way her scrambled eggs were always perfect, and the way her perfume smelled. It makes me laugh to think of the adventures we had as kids during the summer at her house. I can literally feel my heart warm when I picture her walking around her house, making sure everyone had every single thing they could possibly need during a meal, stopping only when the grandchildren all yell, "GRANDMOTHER! GO SIT DOWN AND EAT!" She'd say, "Oh, you hush." But, she'd go sit down.... even if only for a few minutes. Goodness, I'm going to really miss her. I already miss her like crazy. I cannot wait to see her again. Until then, I just want to make her proud.

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint."
Isaiah 40:31

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

I think this is what my soul sounds like.

"....like your sheets."

beautiful.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

My grandmother's ring is on my right hand. This Christmas, she and I sat by each other at the table and laughed, talked, and ate an awesome meal. That was the last time I ever saw her.

At 1:58 p.m. on January 2, 2010, she passed away. It all happened very quickly, and because of this, we are all still in shock right now. My grandmother, Dott Thomas, was an incredible woman. She was a phenomenal mother and grandmother. She was there for all of our sporting events, school plays, pageants, graduations, recitals, concerts, and any other event that involved her children or grandchildren. She taught me how to throw a football. When we were kids, she played baseball and tag with us. She took pride in her independence, setting a good example for the five grandkids that adored her. While some women in their 70's enjoy hobbies like knitting, our grandmother decided to try riding motorcycles.....and LOVED it. She liked to travel with friends, shop, and go walking in the morning. She could pull off the color orange like nobody else I know. Instead of allowing her four grandsons to take care of her yard work for her, she insisted on doing it herself. My grandmother had a gold car and gold shoes, and moved around quickly in both. In fact, I am pretty sure she stopped paying attention to speed limit signs about a decade ago, which is a genetic trait that I must have gotten. When she passed away, she was 75 years old. But, you would have never known it. You would have never known it at all.

Her ring is on my right hand. Her genes are in my blood. Her influence is in my being. Her love is in my heart.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

2009: a year in pictures

New Year's Eve 2009-2010:

HLT

Monday, December 21, 2009

december 2009 photographs

lazy afternoon at the lake house

Lesia's Surprise Party- 70's style :)

Darla Magillicutty and Skip Fondue

(me & jamie)

He was singing, I'm sure! Haha!

more to come.........

12.21.09

twitter.com/HLT4BAMA

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

New canvas. New year. New me.

December is my favorite month. Each December, I find comfort in the knowing that a new year is right around the corner. The idea of a fresh start has always brought to me a type of relief that I have been unable to find elsewhere. Because it is so wonderful and rare, I truly cherish the concept of starting over, and am incredibly thankful each year when December arrives with this extraordinary gift. Naturally, the gift of starting over is far more complicated than the rest of the presents I am given each December, as it requires more time to unwrap, more patience to understand, and more effort to use effectively than the others. Because this gift is completely invisible and lacks an instruction booklet, I have only learned how to truly start over by many years of trial and error. As a 22 year old woman, I am no expert on how to effectively do anything, especially something as complicated as an entirely fresh start. However, I do feel like I know much more about this concept than I ever thought I would. Each December, I focus on what I'd like to change about myself in the year to come. This has not worked for me, though, because I spend each year trying to correct the mistakes made in the year before, which totally defeats the purpose of a fresh start. This December, I hope to focus on all of the parts of myself that I want to leave behind in 2009. I want to begin 2010 with a clean slate, carrying with me only the parts of me that I love. If I want to be happy in 2010, I cannot begin the year surrounded by the unhappiness that came with 2009. I must forgive, forget, and move on. What I have done defines the person I am, but it does not define the person that I will become.

Although many claim to be quick to forgive, one cannot deny the extreme level of difficulty that human beings generally have with forgiveness. Anger comes to us easily. Hatred is easy. Bitterness is easy. Regret comes naturally, even if we fight it. Fear is easy. In fact, every single negative emotion had by the human race comes without any effort or request. Unfortunately, the most beautiful feelings one can possibly feel in life are ridiculously hard to find. One must journey deep into his or her own soul in order to find out what steps must be taken in order to feel something as incredible as love, admiration, faith, trust, and forgiveness. Brother Larry once told me that life's greatest rewards come from doing the things that we fear the most. I am terribly afraid of letting go of people, dreams, memories, or ideas that are the closest to my heart, and many times, this is because I am terrified of the idea of what kind of person I might be without these people, these hopes and dreams, or these memories. I have a hard time letting go of my mistakes, because I am more comfortable with my identity as a girl that regrets her actions than I am with the thought of being a woman that overcame guilt and regret. When someone does wrong to me, I am more comfortable being angry with that person than completely forgiving him or her.

Many people say they always forgive, but never forget. This does not seem possible to me, because remembering how badly someone made me feel has always prevented me from letting go of whatever wrong was done. Until I let go of the feelings that came with the wrongdoing, I cannot possibly forgive someone completely. In order to forgive, one must let go. In order to let go, one must allow him or herself to forget. It is human nature to cling to bad memories in order to protect ourselves from getting hurt again. We force ourselves to remember each person that betrays and hurst us to protect ourselves from trusting and getting hurt by this person again. We grasp tightly onto memories of our failures in hope that we may avoid failing at these things in the future. Because we desperately feel the need to protect ourselves and our hearts from pain or harm, we have become a generation of people that often forget the times in which we were happiest long before we forget the times in which we were the angriest or the most miserable. Earlier, when I did something called a "picture survey." It took three times as long for me to find a picture that described the happiest day of my life than it did to find a picture of a time that I was miserable. In that moment, I realized that I ruin every happy day now by questioning how long it will be before someone takes that happiness away from me. One time, someone told me that I looked horrible in the color yellow. Years later, I still refuse to wear yellow because I'm convinced that other people will look at me and think that I look awful. I do not remember who said it, when it was said, or what I was wearing at the time, but I have avoided adding anything yellow to my wardrobe because of an insult I received in high school. I forgave the person that insulted me, but I never forgot the way the insult made me feel.

If there is one thing more important than forgiving others, it is forgiving ourselves. This is what I struggle with the most. Even though I constantly make excuses for other people and their actions, I feel guilty excusing any of my own mistakes. Sometimes, I force myself to remember times that I said the wrong thing or made a bad choice, and I replay those mortifying moments over and over in my head until I fully exhaust each and every "should have" or "could have." It is almost as if I am never satisfied until I feel sick to my stomach. It is so hard for me to allow myself to just let go of the things that I cannot change, even when I have learned from a past mistake. I could list 500 examples of bad decisions I have made, terrible things that I have done, or hurtful things that I have said. But, I would struggle to write 10 things I have done that I am absolutely satisfied with and proud of. In order to have a fresh, clean start in January, I have to forgive myself for mistakes that I've made this year. I have to forgive myself for being human and not knowing then what I know now. I cannot continue beating myself up over phone calls I should have made, sermons I wish I had not missed, and choices I should not have made. If I cannot forgive myself, can others forgive me? If I stay awake every night crying over my inability to change the past, I will be too exhausted to appreciate the beauty of each new day. If I begin 2010 surrounded by guilt and regret, January will be the 13th month of 2009, rather than the first month of something new. If an artist did this, he or she would spend his or her entire career making corrections to one painting on one canvas. The result would be horrendous. The different colors of paint would eventually mix with each other, and the painter would end up with a muddy, brown canvas. If a painter is unable to correct a mistake on a piece of work, he or she could try again on a fresh, new canvas, choosing to learn from a past mistake and move forward. Instead of wasting our time trying to erase what cannot be erased, we should all accept that perfection is not a requirement for beauty, happiness, or success. If we choose to be like the first painter, we will end up with one muddy canvas. However, if we follow the path of the second painter, we can create many beautiful works of art in a lifetime. A work of art may be seen as flawed by its creator, but to the rest of the world, it is a perfect showcase of beauty.

One must unburden him or herself with the mistakes he or she made in the past. We all do things that we cannot take back, and the only thing that matters is that we would take these things back if given the chance. We are all afraid of being hurt. We are all afraid of failure. We are all afraid of betrayal. We all fear something, and as unfair as it seems, the only way to overcome a fear is to face it. In protecting myself from what scares me, I am only making my fear even stronger. Choosing to face a fear, however, gives ME strength. I am afraid of death, because it has taken so much from me in 2009. I am terrified that every single time my phone rings, I am going to hear bad news. I am scared that I will not be able to go through the stages of grief again without losing my mind completely. I am terrified that death will take someone from me that I cannot live without. I am afraid that if it does, I will spend the rest of my life completely unhappy, desperately trying to fill a void that cannot be filled. I have to face my fear. I have to come to terms with death, because whether I fear it or not, it will happen. I must be confident in myself and the bond I have with the ones that I love, as well as my faith in God. Fearing death as much as I do gives so much power to death that it destroys me each time it occurs. I fear death because I fear the lack of control that I have over it. If I face my fear, then I have to give up my desire for control. In doing this, I can release myself from the guilt I feel when I lose someone close to me. If I am not in control, then I cannot blame myself for not being there to prevent it from happening. If God is in control, then each death is His will. I find peace in knowing that the lives of my loved ones ended on Earth because God wanted to give them a new, fresh start in Heaven. Instead of being angry with myself for not being there, I can be grateful that He was there to carry them away from pain in the palm of His hand. Fearing death made it more powerful. Facing that fear makes life more powerful than death. Death may stop one from walking on Earth, but it cannot take away the wings one gets in Heaven.

In 2009, I struggled to forgive others. I failed to forget what should be forgotten and remember what I should never forget. I fought a losing battle with guilt and regret. I was too hard on myself for my mistakes and imperfections. I let a fear of death consume me. These are the parts of who I am that I am choosing to leave behind.

I hope to begin 2010 as a person that has forgiven others for doing what has already been forgotten. I will be a young woman that fails until she gets it right, but I will not define myself as a failure. I will be apologetic instead of guilty, and spend more time on what I can do than on what I wish I would have done. I will love life more than I fear death. I will not allow my nightmares take away the power of my dreams. I will remember that the person I am now is not the person I will become. I will wear yellow and feel absolutely fabulous! I will let love come into my life without questioning the length of its stay. I will be proud of my imperfections. I will only keep the photographs and memories of happy times. I will still believe that good things happen to good people. I will remember the compliments I receive ~~and forget the insults~~. I will enjoy God's sunshine until it rains. Then, instead of running to get an umbrella, I'll dance as the raindrops land on my smiling face.