Valerie J. Steimle
Romance! I love romance. I love romance novels. I love romantic movies. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love. A crisis occurs. The couple is split apart by circumstances. Something happens and they get back together again. What a wonderful story. All of that clever dialogue. All of that heart wrenching emotion. All of that positive energy you feel when you read or watch to find at the end of the story that the couple involved have gotten back together and they live happily ever after. So it was interesting to find myself right in the middle of one last month after attending a singles conference from my church.
This guy just swept me off my feet. Phone calls every day, weekend dates lasting all weekend-- not just an evening. Long walks on the beach, dinner, movies—it was incredible. He was completely smitten by me and I just stood there aghast. Why are you aghast, you ask? Well, because this has never happened to me. This only happens to someone else. When I was single the first time, I had lots of guy friends which I really liked. But there was never just one who was completely smitten with me, even when I met my husband. It was a “grow to love you” type of a relationship, not love at first sight. This new guy was just too good to be true.
So when I forwarded some of the jokes to my son that my new boyfriend emailed me, he called me “twitterpated”. “I’m just twitterpated because its spring and the jokes weren’t that funny”, he wrote back. Twitterpated: a word used in the Disney movie Bambie to mean you really like a member of the opposite sex and your thinking is elated. It’s the way you feel when your arms touch while sitting together for the first time. It’s the way he looks at you when you are talking. It’s the feeling of security you have because you know he likes you. Everything seems brighter and more alive.
So now I had this boy friend and I spent far too much time thinking about him. I talked to him on the phone several times a day and I spent the rest of the time making plans for our next date. I had it bad. My kids would just roll their eyes whenever I was excited to go out. I would try to keep my excitement to a minimum but it was difficult. I called and emailed all of my friends and told them of my good fortune as well.
This went on for three weeks. After a while it became exhausting and I couldn’t keep up. I started feeling a great pressure and thought that this might not be such a great thing after all. I had the feeling that I was being backed up into a corner. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be “happily ever after” but it wasn’t. He was supposed to go to the next level in the relationship, but he didn’t. As the fourth week rolled on, I started thinking that I couldn’t do this anymore and I wondered how in the world I was going to break this thing off. It appeared to me that this was the wrong guy. Well, nature took its course and I finally ended it.
After looking back on the whole experience, I can honestly say that I learned something. What did I learn, you might ask? All those romantic movies I have watched, all those romance novels I have read aren’t what they are cracked up to be. It just doesn’t work that way in real life.
The real romance is going out on your regular Friday night date with your husband of twenty-five years and still having a good time. The real romance is when he holds your hand when you are in great pain to try to make it better. The real romance is cracking a joke after you mistakenly bounce a check. The real romance is when your husband holds you close after being gone all night because your best friend’s husband died and you had to stay with her. That is real romance…... and that is the kind that lasts forever.
Wherein Marsha Ward (the founder of American Night Writers Association) and a few of her friends blogged about Life, the Universe, and their place in the World of Writing and Publishing. This blog is now dormant.
Apr 5, 2007
Apr 4, 2007
Recruiting My Senses
by Faith St. Clair
Can anyone tell me where to find instructions on how to have a successful mid-life crisis?
I’ve looked everywhere and haven’t been able to find any instructions that sufficiently cover my frantic search for self, mission, form (of the physical kind), balance or brains.
I’m sure it’s in the same place as the how-to-be-a-good-parent-and-raise-happy-loving-obedient-faithful-always-doing-the-right-thing-children, the how-to-lose-50-pounds-without-chemicals-or-life-changing-habits, and the how-to-stay-focused-amidst-children, a-husband, re-structuring-at-work, work, learning, politics, wars, ACT’s, college-planning, financial-planning, yard-work, saving-your-children-in-a-social-decline, remodeling, homework, contemplating-new-second-careers, proms, church-callings, serving-others, cleaning-your-house, exercising, eating-right (which means shopping at healthy, pricey stores, reading all the ingredients and taking more time than to have raised the farm yourself), friends, family, fun, praying, pondering, fervent-praying, kneeling-to-pray, fasting-and-praying, or the smiling instructions are, but for the sanity of me, I can’t find them either.
I have a friend whose daughter asked her once, “Why can’t you be more like Faith? She’s always focused.” Focused?! I can’t see a thing! I’m going so fast and in so many directions, things are blurry. I don’t mind stopping on any one of the aforementioned avenues to bask in the fullness of what they can offer me as an aspiring-to-all-good-things-human in training. I feel like a jack of all trades, but master of none!
The chapters I want to look up in the instruction manual are, At What Point do You Have to be Grown Up and Declare that You Have Arrived and Have Become What You Always Wanted to Be? Or, What if You Never Figure What You Want to Be - Does That Mean You’ve Wasted Everything? I also need to read the section on How to Find the Priority in 100 Number-One Priorities.
I am grounded in the teachings of the gospel, the strength of positive thinking, the power of prayer, the confidence in being a daughter of God and in the direction these influences take me. But when your priority is not between good or bad, but rather between great and wonderful, important and meaningful, necessary and imminent, I kind of get sloshed in the middle of the spin cycle unable to find any focus.
So you say, “Have faith,” “Put it in the Lord’s hands,” “Carpe Diem!” I can’t seize the day, a month or even a lifetime if I can’t handle the seconds screeching by me! How can I be the captain of my soul when I can’t even recruit my senses?
Since I can’t find the right manual, I just want to make note that I’m 42 and have begun the blotching, sagging and wrinkling mode. If anyone has good information, I’d like to know how to restrict that to just the physical self so that it doesn’t seep into the mental and emotional self.
Thanks to Wikipedia, I get the what, I just need to know the how of having a successful mid-life crisis. If you find any helpful instructions, please share them.
And by the way, apparently I’m ahead of my time! I’m not supposed to be doing this until age 46. The good news is that it only lasts 2-3 years, unless you are a male, then you can expect it to last up to ten years! Whew!
Signing off…in what direction I’m not sure…
Faith St. Clair
Can anyone tell me where to find instructions on how to have a successful mid-life crisis?
I’ve looked everywhere and haven’t been able to find any instructions that sufficiently cover my frantic search for self, mission, form (of the physical kind), balance or brains.
I’m sure it’s in the same place as the how-to-be-a-good-parent-and-raise-happy-loving-obedient-faithful-always-doing-the-right-thing-children, the how-to-lose-50-pounds-without-chemicals-or-life-changing-habits, and the how-to-stay-focused-amidst-children, a-husband, re-structuring-at-work, work, learning, politics, wars, ACT’s, college-planning, financial-planning, yard-work, saving-your-children-in-a-social-decline, remodeling, homework, contemplating-new-second-careers, proms, church-callings, serving-others, cleaning-your-house, exercising, eating-right (which means shopping at healthy, pricey stores, reading all the ingredients and taking more time than to have raised the farm yourself), friends, family, fun, praying, pondering, fervent-praying, kneeling-to-pray, fasting-and-praying, or the smiling instructions are, but for the sanity of me, I can’t find them either.
I have a friend whose daughter asked her once, “Why can’t you be more like Faith? She’s always focused.” Focused?! I can’t see a thing! I’m going so fast and in so many directions, things are blurry. I don’t mind stopping on any one of the aforementioned avenues to bask in the fullness of what they can offer me as an aspiring-to-all-good-things-human in training. I feel like a jack of all trades, but master of none!
The chapters I want to look up in the instruction manual are, At What Point do You Have to be Grown Up and Declare that You Have Arrived and Have Become What You Always Wanted to Be? Or, What if You Never Figure What You Want to Be - Does That Mean You’ve Wasted Everything? I also need to read the section on How to Find the Priority in 100 Number-One Priorities.
I am grounded in the teachings of the gospel, the strength of positive thinking, the power of prayer, the confidence in being a daughter of God and in the direction these influences take me. But when your priority is not between good or bad, but rather between great and wonderful, important and meaningful, necessary and imminent, I kind of get sloshed in the middle of the spin cycle unable to find any focus.
So you say, “Have faith,” “Put it in the Lord’s hands,” “Carpe Diem!” I can’t seize the day, a month or even a lifetime if I can’t handle the seconds screeching by me! How can I be the captain of my soul when I can’t even recruit my senses?
Since I can’t find the right manual, I just want to make note that I’m 42 and have begun the blotching, sagging and wrinkling mode. If anyone has good information, I’d like to know how to restrict that to just the physical self so that it doesn’t seep into the mental and emotional self.
Thanks to Wikipedia, I get the what, I just need to know the how of having a successful mid-life crisis. If you find any helpful instructions, please share them.
And by the way, apparently I’m ahead of my time! I’m not supposed to be doing this until age 46. The good news is that it only lasts 2-3 years, unless you are a male, then you can expect it to last up to ten years! Whew!
Signing off…in what direction I’m not sure…
Faith St. Clair
Labels:
Relationships,
Retired Bloggers,
Spiritual Things
Apr 3, 2007
Why Are Buildings Special?
by Terri Wagner
During the Saturday afternoon session of GC, I found my attention wandering a bit. The Tabernacle means very little to me. The stories the GAs told about their experiences was touching, especially Brother Monson's and gave interesting insight to the way the church administration has changed. But I was still puzzled as to why this building had such significance.
I'm sure it has a wonderful history; I'm sure if I lived in Utah, I might understand more; I'm quite sure I'm missing something here.
Do buildings matter? I'm not sure. Years ago, I lived in what I consider my adopted state (military brats never feel at home anywhere) of Virginia. When she came visiting, I took my mother on a ferry ride across the James River to the oldest still-standing plantation in the area. She was impressed by the history, the people who had stayed there, the old ways of a forgotten time; however, I was impressed by the living tree that has stood there for several hundred years. I wondered if maybe Moroni has passed that way in his wanderings. I wondered if George Washington or the early Jamestown settlers had sat in the coolness of this tree; in short, I was impressed with the tree!!!
I can't remember the talk or who gave it, but someone once told about having an experience in a rock canyon (I don't see much of those around here) and contemplating how old the rocks were, and in a sudden burst of realization (don't many of our testimonies come this way?) knew with complete certainty that he was actually older than the rocks. His vision of how old became a testimony of eternity.
Can buildings invoke that feeling? Is there something significant in bringing the building up to code? Will it play a more important role in the future? Why are buildings special?
During the Saturday afternoon session of GC, I found my attention wandering a bit. The Tabernacle means very little to me. The stories the GAs told about their experiences was touching, especially Brother Monson's and gave interesting insight to the way the church administration has changed. But I was still puzzled as to why this building had such significance.
I'm sure it has a wonderful history; I'm sure if I lived in Utah, I might understand more; I'm quite sure I'm missing something here.
Do buildings matter? I'm not sure. Years ago, I lived in what I consider my adopted state (military brats never feel at home anywhere) of Virginia. When she came visiting, I took my mother on a ferry ride across the James River to the oldest still-standing plantation in the area. She was impressed by the history, the people who had stayed there, the old ways of a forgotten time; however, I was impressed by the living tree that has stood there for several hundred years. I wondered if maybe Moroni has passed that way in his wanderings. I wondered if George Washington or the early Jamestown settlers had sat in the coolness of this tree; in short, I was impressed with the tree!!!
I can't remember the talk or who gave it, but someone once told about having an experience in a rock canyon (I don't see much of those around here) and contemplating how old the rocks were, and in a sudden burst of realization (don't many of our testimonies come this way?) knew with complete certainty that he was actually older than the rocks. His vision of how old became a testimony of eternity.
Can buildings invoke that feeling? Is there something significant in bringing the building up to code? Will it play a more important role in the future? Why are buildings special?
Apr 1, 2007
From April Fool to highest value
by Anna Arnett
I missed my turn to blog again yesterday, so I’m taking advantage of April Fool’s Day to write a tad about tricking others. My early ‘off the cuff’ hoaxes usually fell flat. I remember three quarters of a century ago putting salt in the sugar bowl. Instead of laughing, Daddy gave me a good scolding—after he finished spluttering over his ruined dish of oatmeal.
April (or All) Fools Day may be lighthearted and fun, but how did it get started? I went to Wikipedia for suggestions. Nobody seems to know. All explanations are flawed. Some say it developed when the Georgian calendar changed New Years from spring to January 1st. Others suggest it was merely a matter of spring fever. But do we have to know to enjoy? Now, that’s a moot question.
My plentiful experience deepens my belief that we enjoy on different levels. A child laughs because his parents laugh. He may not know why, but he truly knows the joy of joining. It’s always sad to learn about children who do not know the deep joy of family. When all is said and done, family joys are usually the most lasting. Forgive me if I now boast a little.
Last week, in Newport Beach, CA, we participated in the creating of a new, eternal family. Our grandson, Greg Ethington, a six foot eight inch athlete, married Brittney Whitworth, five foot seven and also athletic. Greg’s grandparents, parents and all eighteen of their descendants, several uncles, aunts, cousins and friends convoyed to California for the wedding. Brittney had even more relatives and friends there. Her whole family, including her three living grandparents were absolutely delightful, and I soon felt we were old friends. In the two full days we were there, I never heard even one cross word. (Yes, I know my hearing is bad.) It was as pleasant as an ANWA convention.
Best of all, Greg is the fourteenth grandchild my husband has had the privilege of marrying. Greg’s also the fourteenth grandchild to marry. We have fifteen more to go, but who knows when or where. We really do count our blessings. We returned home worn out, but happy.
(Notice, this is one of my short entries)
I missed my turn to blog again yesterday, so I’m taking advantage of April Fool’s Day to write a tad about tricking others. My early ‘off the cuff’ hoaxes usually fell flat. I remember three quarters of a century ago putting salt in the sugar bowl. Instead of laughing, Daddy gave me a good scolding—after he finished spluttering over his ruined dish of oatmeal.
April (or All) Fools Day may be lighthearted and fun, but how did it get started? I went to Wikipedia for suggestions. Nobody seems to know. All explanations are flawed. Some say it developed when the Georgian calendar changed New Years from spring to January 1st. Others suggest it was merely a matter of spring fever. But do we have to know to enjoy? Now, that’s a moot question.
My plentiful experience deepens my belief that we enjoy on different levels. A child laughs because his parents laugh. He may not know why, but he truly knows the joy of joining. It’s always sad to learn about children who do not know the deep joy of family. When all is said and done, family joys are usually the most lasting. Forgive me if I now boast a little.
Last week, in Newport Beach, CA, we participated in the creating of a new, eternal family. Our grandson, Greg Ethington, a six foot eight inch athlete, married Brittney Whitworth, five foot seven and also athletic. Greg’s grandparents, parents and all eighteen of their descendants, several uncles, aunts, cousins and friends convoyed to California for the wedding. Brittney had even more relatives and friends there. Her whole family, including her three living grandparents were absolutely delightful, and I soon felt we were old friends. In the two full days we were there, I never heard even one cross word. (Yes, I know my hearing is bad.) It was as pleasant as an ANWA convention.
Best of all, Greg is the fourteenth grandchild my husband has had the privilege of marrying. Greg’s also the fourteenth grandchild to marry. We have fifteen more to go, but who knows when or where. We really do count our blessings. We returned home worn out, but happy.
(Notice, this is one of my short entries)
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