Dear Friends and Followers,
I just wanted to drop a quick note to let everyone know that I have not dropped off the face of the earth, things are just "sketchy" around here. I am trying to immerse myself in work and loving on my husband and child. I'm not saying much, just chugging along. I hope everyone else is well.
By the way. Little boy can spell Mom! Love that kid!
Thanks,
Summer
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
Dear People Who Love Etsy,
Dear People Who Love Etsy,
I went a little Treasury Crazy this weekend.
There is also a Sneak Attack going on right now over on the Handmade Movement. There are 5 great shops with lots of great goodies!
MeravRoth
PaperandPosy
SassyBeautiful
HighcliffCreationsAbigailSierra
I also have a giveaway going on right now on my Facebook page.
And, if that is not enough to keep you going, I have a special in my shops right now. Use the code BACK2SCHOOL to score 30% off your order in my paper and jewelry shops.
Have a Great Day!
Thanks,
Summer
I went a little Treasury Crazy this weekend.
There is also a Sneak Attack going on right now over on the Handmade Movement. There are 5 great shops with lots of great goodies!
MeravRoth
PaperandPosy
SassyBeautiful
HighcliffCreationsAbigailSierra
I also have a giveaway going on right now on my Facebook page.
And, if that is not enough to keep you going, I have a special in my shops right now. Use the code BACK2SCHOOL to score 30% off your order in my paper and jewelry shops.
Have a Great Day!
Thanks,
Summer
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Dear People Who Think Its Easy to Make Something Out of Nothing,
Dear People Who Think Its Easy to Make Something Out of Nothing,
I have been AWOL from the things I love most because I am trying to make more out of the things I need most, namely, my job.
9 years ago, I made a decision to move to Dallas, TX with a friend. I had already finished my first Bachelors Degree in Music and I was looking at Law Schools, I just needed a little motivation. One of the schools I was looking at was in the Dallas area so I decided to do it. I started prepping for my LSAT while I worked on finishing my Bachelors Degree in Dance.
At the time, I was working for my University as a non-credit teacher with a kids dance program. I had about 110 students starting at age 3 up through college level. I had quite the racket going on, and most importantly, I loved it. After I made the decision to move, I talked to my coordinator who started looking for a replacement for me for the next year. She found someone within a couple of weeks. That was okay though, because it was only September and I had until May with my kiddos. I had a new plan, that I needed desperately, and I was okay with it. I was restless and ready to move on anyway. I had moved here for College and stayed a little longer than most to delay the inevitable jolt into the "real world". I had a "psycho" ex-boyfriend who had made a surprise reappearance in my life over the summer that resulted in a restraining order filled by me and granted by the court. I needed to get out!
But Fate, has different plans than we do. You see, that summer, my brothers were on their way back from a boy scout trip in Yellowstone and their path home brought them right through the town I was living in. They were about 30 miles away when my brother called asking if I still had that "cop" friend in town. I was teaching at the time, trying to lead a ballet class and help my brother at the same time. I dug through my purse and found the business card with the cell phone number written on the back. I hung up with my brother and called the number. I had never called him before so I figured, he said if I ever needed anything to call. He answered. My heart jumped. I didn't know why my heart jumped, but it did. He had just finished his shift, but he jumped back in the car and headed out into the county where my brothers were being harassed by someone claiming to be an off duty cop, but could show no documentation to support his claims. I continued to teach my class while taking update calls from my brothers and the "cop friend" on his way to their rescue. It all worked out. The incident had been called in and a State Police unit had pulled over all vehicles in question. The unit on scene was going to write my brother a ticket for traveling to close (he was trying to get the guy's license plate number), until my brother explained the altercation when the guy got out of his car as they were all parked at a construction area waiting on the pilot car. Turned out, the guy was in the academy and a complete hot head. No tickets were issued and when my brothers left the unit, the guy was in the backseat being yelled at by the State Police officer. By the time my "cop friend" made it out there everyone had dispersed already. He called me back anyway. He asked me to dinner. I was giddy. We went to dinner that night and made plans for a movie later that week. I was working two jobs that summer, one job during the day with the University's kids college program, and my dance classes at night. I ended up breaking the date 3 times, apparently a big no-no. He didn't call back.
So it happens, 3 days after I decided to move to Dallas with my friend, we had a football game, and I was in the marching band. As we made our way onto the field, I saw him. He was working an overtime shift at the game, as is our Conference policy (they have to have 4 officers on the field during a college game). He looks good in uniform. I bumped past him (in my own dorky band uniform) and commented "so much for calling people back." I saw him smile. I made it to my spot on the side line and snapped to as we were called to attention. I took my step off to enter the field, halted in my set, and, no! My phone started ringing in my pocket. For anyone familiar with the ins and outs of marching band, that was a big no-no. I shouldn't have even had it on me. I was my section leader and the senior member of the band. But playing piccolo makes it easy to maneuver around as you can hold your instrument with one hand, and our band decorum was on the light side, rather than the supper strict. I reached into my chest pocket, peeled the phone to my ear, and whispered "hello?" I heard his voice. "So, is now a bad time to call you back." "Um, yes!" I looked over at him and he waved. "Hey, aren't you suppose to be at attention?" He asked. I hung up, stuffed the phone away and smiled so big inside! We made it through our halftime show and I floated on cloud nine as I told my friends what had happened when one of them asked if I had answered my phone on the field. The fourth quarter of the game rained out (rain is a rare occurrence around here). He was directing traffic on the highway when I exited the stadium. He was drenched from head to foot. I waved as I went past. I got home and called him. When out for drinks with my friend that night.
And so, fate intervened. While the three of us were out, my ex decided to violate the restraining order by sending my a series of text messages. It was okay though, because my "cop" was there. He took me to the police station to fill out a police report, and since he was there, his sergeant took the case. I didn't go home that night. I fell asleep in his arms watching Moulin Rouge at his apartment. I woke up alone, didn't know where I was the next morning, I didn't want to call him while he was working, so I called a friend. I gave her the best location I could, and she found me. We went out the next night too. We danced to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge at our wedding, and I made steaks for dinner last night. I'll save the rest of this for another time.
So back to the subject on hand. I had effectively quit my job with the college, but there was the short 3 month dating period followed by the proposal, the marriage, and the inevitable, we stayed here. He was perfectly prepared to move, but he wanted to finish his degree. So we stayed, and now I didn't have a job. I took a job that summer working in medical records. That job sucked. Not to mention the fact that my boss had had her two girls dancing with me for years and was not liking the new teacher at all, so I got to hear about it every week of the summer session until she finally convinced me to open my own dance school. I got one of my former students to go in with me as a partner, and one of our younger (but oldest) students volunteered with us. We opened in August 2005 with somewhere around 45 students, in the hallway of the local mini-mall. By October, I had agreed to rent more space and we renovated a classroom. We did all of this on about $500 in loans from our parents that we repaid by the end of the semester. The following semester we were up to 80 students dancing in the recital. We have been growing ever since. In 2009, I expanded again taking over more space in the same building. We added a classroom and a store. This last year it finally became apparent to me, that there is no more space where we are and we are bulging at the seems. We now have 3 classes going on at 1 time. The third class utilizes the space in the hallway, where we first started teaching 8 years ago. We trip over people in our lobby. I made the decision in February to contract with one of our dance parents, to renovate one of his buildings for us to move into.
Needless to say, we are behind schedule. WAY behind schedule. My dear sweet hubby, 2 of my good friends, and 2 of my teachers (all volunteers), have spent the past 7 days, cleaning out the collection of a mass hoarder (the parent that owns the building), ripping out drywall and plaster, and trying desperately to make our opening day on August 12th. We met with the engineer on Monday, who assured me we could still make the deadline. We met with the city planner and contractor yesterday, who said, there is no way. My hopes and my heart were crushed. I went home and cried. I regrouped. I ventured forth and made the necessary arrangements to be able to stay in our old space for another month or two until the project can be completed. The downside of this is many fold. I have already packed 3/4 of my studio and loaded it into 2 different storage units. I have already started taking apart one of the dance floors in my classrooms. I have already had the glass company come for some of my mirrors, and I have already made arrangements to have my sign moved. The biggest down side of this, is that I still haven't been able to get the owner to actually sign a lease with me.
At least I was able to secure a building to open for classes, because without that, my poor little business would be no more. I am blessed to be surrounded by the support structure that I have, but this has meant that I have had to put my crafting, my writing, and even the precious time I have with my son on hold for the past week, and it is all in limbo for a little bit.
Thanks for listening (or rather reading) to my ramblings. I send you all the best of hope and luck as you try to turn your Nothings into Somethings and always remember that it is not easy. Do not let the negativity of others hamper your dreams. And always, always, always keep in mind that IT IS NOT EASY TO MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.
Thanks,
Summer
PS - A friend just called to tell me that our Pastor put a plea for hands and help from anyone with free time this Saturday to help at the new building. I find myself truly blessed to have let down the walls and joined this particular church.
PSS - I did not edit this, so if there are typos or bad sentences, I apologize.
I have been AWOL from the things I love most because I am trying to make more out of the things I need most, namely, my job.
9 years ago, I made a decision to move to Dallas, TX with a friend. I had already finished my first Bachelors Degree in Music and I was looking at Law Schools, I just needed a little motivation. One of the schools I was looking at was in the Dallas area so I decided to do it. I started prepping for my LSAT while I worked on finishing my Bachelors Degree in Dance.
At the time, I was working for my University as a non-credit teacher with a kids dance program. I had about 110 students starting at age 3 up through college level. I had quite the racket going on, and most importantly, I loved it. After I made the decision to move, I talked to my coordinator who started looking for a replacement for me for the next year. She found someone within a couple of weeks. That was okay though, because it was only September and I had until May with my kiddos. I had a new plan, that I needed desperately, and I was okay with it. I was restless and ready to move on anyway. I had moved here for College and stayed a little longer than most to delay the inevitable jolt into the "real world". I had a "psycho" ex-boyfriend who had made a surprise reappearance in my life over the summer that resulted in a restraining order filled by me and granted by the court. I needed to get out!
But Fate, has different plans than we do. You see, that summer, my brothers were on their way back from a boy scout trip in Yellowstone and their path home brought them right through the town I was living in. They were about 30 miles away when my brother called asking if I still had that "cop" friend in town. I was teaching at the time, trying to lead a ballet class and help my brother at the same time. I dug through my purse and found the business card with the cell phone number written on the back. I hung up with my brother and called the number. I had never called him before so I figured, he said if I ever needed anything to call. He answered. My heart jumped. I didn't know why my heart jumped, but it did. He had just finished his shift, but he jumped back in the car and headed out into the county where my brothers were being harassed by someone claiming to be an off duty cop, but could show no documentation to support his claims. I continued to teach my class while taking update calls from my brothers and the "cop friend" on his way to their rescue. It all worked out. The incident had been called in and a State Police unit had pulled over all vehicles in question. The unit on scene was going to write my brother a ticket for traveling to close (he was trying to get the guy's license plate number), until my brother explained the altercation when the guy got out of his car as they were all parked at a construction area waiting on the pilot car. Turned out, the guy was in the academy and a complete hot head. No tickets were issued and when my brothers left the unit, the guy was in the backseat being yelled at by the State Police officer. By the time my "cop friend" made it out there everyone had dispersed already. He called me back anyway. He asked me to dinner. I was giddy. We went to dinner that night and made plans for a movie later that week. I was working two jobs that summer, one job during the day with the University's kids college program, and my dance classes at night. I ended up breaking the date 3 times, apparently a big no-no. He didn't call back.
So it happens, 3 days after I decided to move to Dallas with my friend, we had a football game, and I was in the marching band. As we made our way onto the field, I saw him. He was working an overtime shift at the game, as is our Conference policy (they have to have 4 officers on the field during a college game). He looks good in uniform. I bumped past him (in my own dorky band uniform) and commented "so much for calling people back." I saw him smile. I made it to my spot on the side line and snapped to as we were called to attention. I took my step off to enter the field, halted in my set, and, no! My phone started ringing in my pocket. For anyone familiar with the ins and outs of marching band, that was a big no-no. I shouldn't have even had it on me. I was my section leader and the senior member of the band. But playing piccolo makes it easy to maneuver around as you can hold your instrument with one hand, and our band decorum was on the light side, rather than the supper strict. I reached into my chest pocket, peeled the phone to my ear, and whispered "hello?" I heard his voice. "So, is now a bad time to call you back." "Um, yes!" I looked over at him and he waved. "Hey, aren't you suppose to be at attention?" He asked. I hung up, stuffed the phone away and smiled so big inside! We made it through our halftime show and I floated on cloud nine as I told my friends what had happened when one of them asked if I had answered my phone on the field. The fourth quarter of the game rained out (rain is a rare occurrence around here). He was directing traffic on the highway when I exited the stadium. He was drenched from head to foot. I waved as I went past. I got home and called him. When out for drinks with my friend that night.
And so, fate intervened. While the three of us were out, my ex decided to violate the restraining order by sending my a series of text messages. It was okay though, because my "cop" was there. He took me to the police station to fill out a police report, and since he was there, his sergeant took the case. I didn't go home that night. I fell asleep in his arms watching Moulin Rouge at his apartment. I woke up alone, didn't know where I was the next morning, I didn't want to call him while he was working, so I called a friend. I gave her the best location I could, and she found me. We went out the next night too. We danced to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge at our wedding, and I made steaks for dinner last night. I'll save the rest of this for another time.
So back to the subject on hand. I had effectively quit my job with the college, but there was the short 3 month dating period followed by the proposal, the marriage, and the inevitable, we stayed here. He was perfectly prepared to move, but he wanted to finish his degree. So we stayed, and now I didn't have a job. I took a job that summer working in medical records. That job sucked. Not to mention the fact that my boss had had her two girls dancing with me for years and was not liking the new teacher at all, so I got to hear about it every week of the summer session until she finally convinced me to open my own dance school. I got one of my former students to go in with me as a partner, and one of our younger (but oldest) students volunteered with us. We opened in August 2005 with somewhere around 45 students, in the hallway of the local mini-mall. By October, I had agreed to rent more space and we renovated a classroom. We did all of this on about $500 in loans from our parents that we repaid by the end of the semester. The following semester we were up to 80 students dancing in the recital. We have been growing ever since. In 2009, I expanded again taking over more space in the same building. We added a classroom and a store. This last year it finally became apparent to me, that there is no more space where we are and we are bulging at the seems. We now have 3 classes going on at 1 time. The third class utilizes the space in the hallway, where we first started teaching 8 years ago. We trip over people in our lobby. I made the decision in February to contract with one of our dance parents, to renovate one of his buildings for us to move into.
Needless to say, we are behind schedule. WAY behind schedule. My dear sweet hubby, 2 of my good friends, and 2 of my teachers (all volunteers), have spent the past 7 days, cleaning out the collection of a mass hoarder (the parent that owns the building), ripping out drywall and plaster, and trying desperately to make our opening day on August 12th. We met with the engineer on Monday, who assured me we could still make the deadline. We met with the city planner and contractor yesterday, who said, there is no way. My hopes and my heart were crushed. I went home and cried. I regrouped. I ventured forth and made the necessary arrangements to be able to stay in our old space for another month or two until the project can be completed. The downside of this is many fold. I have already packed 3/4 of my studio and loaded it into 2 different storage units. I have already started taking apart one of the dance floors in my classrooms. I have already had the glass company come for some of my mirrors, and I have already made arrangements to have my sign moved. The biggest down side of this, is that I still haven't been able to get the owner to actually sign a lease with me.
At least I was able to secure a building to open for classes, because without that, my poor little business would be no more. I am blessed to be surrounded by the support structure that I have, but this has meant that I have had to put my crafting, my writing, and even the precious time I have with my son on hold for the past week, and it is all in limbo for a little bit.
Thanks for listening (or rather reading) to my ramblings. I send you all the best of hope and luck as you try to turn your Nothings into Somethings and always remember that it is not easy. Do not let the negativity of others hamper your dreams. And always, always, always keep in mind that IT IS NOT EASY TO MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.
Thanks,
Summer
PS - A friend just called to tell me that our Pastor put a plea for hands and help from anyone with free time this Saturday to help at the new building. I find myself truly blessed to have let down the walls and joined this particular church.
PSS - I did not edit this, so if there are typos or bad sentences, I apologize.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Dear Everyone Needing to Hear a Little Comfort,
Dear Everyone Needing to Hear a Little Comfort,
I had to have a talk with a couple of my students last night who were taking the Boston Bombing really hard. I don't want to de-emphasize what happened, nor do I want to tell people that we shouldn't be upset. Because we should be upset, and it should affect us.
My close friend and I went to high school at the same time, in two very different places, yet we were affected by many of the same things. This latest event of terror made me start thinking back...
We had Channel 1 in junior high and high school. That was our link to the outside world. It was 20 minutes of news broadcast straight to the schools. We did not have facebook, yahoo, google, twitter, or....readily accessible internet. The internet was still "launching". Any other sources of news that we got were when we got home to watch the 5 o'clock news, or from the newspaper. I know this sounds a little old school, but, hey. We lived through events like the Oklahoma City Bombing, the first World Trade Center Bombing, Waco Texas, the Olympic village bombing, not to mention the embassy attacks in Kenya and Tanzania by Al-Qaeda. We even had a racial riot at one of our football games while I sat in the band watching the game. They started threatening us with metal detectors at every entrance to every school in town and across the nation. These were just the events of junior high and high school, this doesn't even take into account the little I remember of elementary school which included the fall of the Berlin wall and the first Desert Storm.
In college, we watched the Columbine massacre unfold as we counseled fellow students from that area. I watched in horror as the towers fell on live TV, wondering if we were all going to be drafted into World War 3. I sat back as a young adult and watched our country head off on a mission to eliminate terrorism, a war that began pulling us apart as individuals and as a country.
Now, as a teacher, I have watched my students deal with the Virginia Tech shooting, Sandyhook, the movie theatre massacre, and now the bombing in Boston. We are still fighting a war on terrorism overseas, and now, I've watched as my little brother has served two tours in Iraq to help defend my freedom.
These events have always been a part of our world (unfortunately), but they are not new, and they are not necessarily increasing in frequency (although some may argue with me). The only difference has become our access to instant media. The internet has brought these stories to the front page of everyone's computers, phones, ipods, ipads, and other digital devices every time they log on to the internet. We no longer have to open a newspaper or wait for the 5 o'clock news to know what's been happening.
There are terrible things that happen in this world every day. Some of these things hit really close to home, and some of them remain in the distance, but they are always there. Do not fear the world. When you let fear take hold, the terrorist win. Instead, we mourn for the losses; we offer help and assistance where we can; we pray. Most importantly, we stand up and let others know that we will not back down, nor will we cave in because we have been pushed around.
These events shake us to the very core and make us begin to doubt ourselves, just like the bully on the playground makes us rethink every interaction. There is no difference between bullying and terrorism. If we allow these events to interrupt our lives for more than a grieving period, than we have allowed them to alter us, and that is not ok. To honor those that are lost, we have to remain true to ourselves and to each other, and we have to hold firm to our country and our identities.
This is just the heart of a small town dance teacher who is watching her beloved students deal with the same heartaches that she has had to deal with over the course of her own life. You are more than welcome to disagree with me, but I will monitor any inappropriate comments for the sake of my students. I hope you all understand that this is just my way of dealing with what is happening.
Thanks,
Summer
I had to have a talk with a couple of my students last night who were taking the Boston Bombing really hard. I don't want to de-emphasize what happened, nor do I want to tell people that we shouldn't be upset. Because we should be upset, and it should affect us.
My close friend and I went to high school at the same time, in two very different places, yet we were affected by many of the same things. This latest event of terror made me start thinking back...
We had Channel 1 in junior high and high school. That was our link to the outside world. It was 20 minutes of news broadcast straight to the schools. We did not have facebook, yahoo, google, twitter, or....readily accessible internet. The internet was still "launching". Any other sources of news that we got were when we got home to watch the 5 o'clock news, or from the newspaper. I know this sounds a little old school, but, hey. We lived through events like the Oklahoma City Bombing, the first World Trade Center Bombing, Waco Texas, the Olympic village bombing, not to mention the embassy attacks in Kenya and Tanzania by Al-Qaeda. We even had a racial riot at one of our football games while I sat in the band watching the game. They started threatening us with metal detectors at every entrance to every school in town and across the nation. These were just the events of junior high and high school, this doesn't even take into account the little I remember of elementary school which included the fall of the Berlin wall and the first Desert Storm.
In college, we watched the Columbine massacre unfold as we counseled fellow students from that area. I watched in horror as the towers fell on live TV, wondering if we were all going to be drafted into World War 3. I sat back as a young adult and watched our country head off on a mission to eliminate terrorism, a war that began pulling us apart as individuals and as a country.
Now, as a teacher, I have watched my students deal with the Virginia Tech shooting, Sandyhook, the movie theatre massacre, and now the bombing in Boston. We are still fighting a war on terrorism overseas, and now, I've watched as my little brother has served two tours in Iraq to help defend my freedom.
These events have always been a part of our world (unfortunately), but they are not new, and they are not necessarily increasing in frequency (although some may argue with me). The only difference has become our access to instant media. The internet has brought these stories to the front page of everyone's computers, phones, ipods, ipads, and other digital devices every time they log on to the internet. We no longer have to open a newspaper or wait for the 5 o'clock news to know what's been happening.
There are terrible things that happen in this world every day. Some of these things hit really close to home, and some of them remain in the distance, but they are always there. Do not fear the world. When you let fear take hold, the terrorist win. Instead, we mourn for the losses; we offer help and assistance where we can; we pray. Most importantly, we stand up and let others know that we will not back down, nor will we cave in because we have been pushed around.
These events shake us to the very core and make us begin to doubt ourselves, just like the bully on the playground makes us rethink every interaction. There is no difference between bullying and terrorism. If we allow these events to interrupt our lives for more than a grieving period, than we have allowed them to alter us, and that is not ok. To honor those that are lost, we have to remain true to ourselves and to each other, and we have to hold firm to our country and our identities.
This is just the heart of a small town dance teacher who is watching her beloved students deal with the same heartaches that she has had to deal with over the course of her own life. You are more than welcome to disagree with me, but I will monitor any inappropriate comments for the sake of my students. I hope you all understand that this is just my way of dealing with what is happening.
Thanks,
Summer
Friday, March 29, 2013
Dear Judgmental Christians
Dear Judgmental Christians,
I write this, not as a stab at Christianity, or any religion for that matter, but as a "stop and open your eyes" article. Today is Good Friday. I've been thinking about Religion lately in regards to my 3-yr old. I want him to know God, as I have known God. I want him to understand the lessons of the Bible and it's importance in our lives. I want him to think freely and be able to develop his own beliefs and ideas without someone else telling him what to think and believe. The question to myself is, how do I accomplish this without compromising my own beliefs?
Easter was a very important holiday for my family. As a child, my family went to church every Sunday for Sunday school and for service. Easter was the most important holiday in our family and our church. I remember the palms on Palm Sunday. Our church would have a huge Palm Sunday display and then the wonderful Easter Service and Easter Egg hunt around the church grounds. I have very fond memories of Easter Church Services. We moved when I was in 1st grade and found another wonderful church in our new location and the tradition continued.
Every year for Easter, Mom would make me a new dress and we would get all dressed up. It was not only a renewal of faith for us, but it was the beginning of Spring when life begins anew.
I remember so vividly Easter Sunday of 2nd grade. After church, we went home for our annual Easter Egg Hunt around the yard. That year, my mother decided my older brother was old enough to help hide the eggs. He was in 3rd grade. But the show was mostly for my little brother at age 3. Dad was instructed to take me and my little brother to go buy the Sunday paper. The trip was scenic with several "wrong turns". The little brother and I started to get cranky and a fight ensued. Dad looked up in the mirror at us and very sternly instructed us to "knock it off". He then looked at me and said "Don't you touch him again!" I moved over and hugged the door to keep as much distance between us as possible so as to not get in trouble again. Several turns later, we had the paper and were beginning the route back to the house. I broke the silence with a small "Dad." He ignored me. "Dad." I repeated a little louder. He glanced up in the mirror at me and then back to the road. I began to panic. "DAD!" I shouted in frustration to get his attention. "WHAT?" He snapped back at me. "Bubba's falling out of the car!" I exclaimed and pointed at my little brother as he began a slow lean out of the car. Dad looked over his shoulder and reached around with one hand while steering and braking at the same time. He managed to grab a leg and yell at me. "Well grab him!" I didn't know what to do. I looked at him in disbelief. "YOU TOLD ME NOT TO TOUCH HIM AGAIN!" Ah, the lessons we learn. Bubba had his lap belt on so he did not fall completely out of the car but he did manage to bump his forehead on the asphalt. What had happened was that when Dad took a turn, my little brother was holding onto the door handle. Needless to say, he unintentionally opened the door and then didn't let go as the momentum of the car pulled the door open. We weren't going very fast, but it was enough. In the end, Bubba was fine and Dad got in trouble with Mom. Dad did not scold me because I was following his directions of not touching him, but I did get a lesson about sometimes it's okay to break the rules if it means doing the right thing and Dad learned to activate the security lock on the back doors of the car. There was just something about Easter that always brought us together.
In the 3rd grade we moved back to the same small town we had started out in, but the church was different. The community had changed in the time we were gone. The economic recession had hit hard and most of our friends had moved. We slowly stopped going to church altogether. Except for Easter Sunday. We continued that tradition for several more years before we stopped going to church altogether, but we still sat down at home and talked about Jesus. We still had our Easter Baskets and Egg Hunts.
I started going to church with a friend in 7th grade and the tradition was reinvigorated with my parents although, they did not go to church with me. My little brother started attending the church with me as well. My Dad would get us up on Sunday mornings and cook a big breakfast and then take us to church. We continued this pattern through 9th grade.
I no longer go to church and have not regularly attended a church since the end of 9th grade. It's been almost 20 years. That being said, let me tell you a little more. The last Sunday morning church service I attended was before my Grandmother's funeral at the little community church where my Grandmother lived over 5 years ago. The most recent time I have been to church was for my other Grandmother's funeral a little over a month ago. I have been to Church's for Weddings, Funerals, and Celebrations over the last 20 years, but that is about all.
Now, let me tell you why. My life changed at the end of 9th grade. 9th grade was in the Junior High. 10th grade started High School. Everything changed. My Mother got sick that summer. She had to have "the surgery". My Aunt also lived with us at the time. I will save the stories about my Aunt for another blog. Let's just say those years with her in our house were not good years (about 3 years). Tensions began growing between my parents. Tensions we had never noticed before. My brothers and I pulled closer together. I began to notice that Dad smoked more. After Mom's surgery, her boss began stopping by the house regularly. He would go in the room where she was bed-ridden and stay for a couple of hours while Dad sat in the living room and chain smoked while mindlessly watching TV. It was very confusing. We stopped going to church. Mostly we stopped because it was summer vacation, but also because Dad stopped getting us up. There was no longer any enthusiasm in him anymore. He and my Aunt had gotten in a fight over who would cook Sunday breakfast one morning and Dad threw in the towel. (As these memories come back to me, I find myself starting to cry). I have blocked many memories from this time in my life.
One morning, Mom called me in to her room. She asked me what I thought of her boss. I said he was a nice guy and that it was really nice that he was coming over to see her and check on her. She asked me what I thought about him as a man. Then she asked what I thought about him as a father figure. I immediately responded with "I have a Dad. I have a great Dad." Then she asked what I thought about have a Step-Dad. Everything that happens inside someone's head when they receive shocking news, happened to me at that moment. The earth cracked beneath me and I fell into a never ending canyon of doubt and dismay. I was 14 years old. I couldn't respond. I just stared at her and looked back and forth from her, to the ever widening hole in the floor. What was she talking about? Then, she said it. "Your Dad and I are getting a divorce." What? I still couldn't speak. "Please say something." She pleaded. "I don't understand." I sputtered. "You know what divorce is?" I nodded. She then began to talk to me, not as a child, but as a friend. She explained to me that while her and my Dad loved each other very much, they were not "in love". She said she'd had a hard time dealing with everything and wasn't sure what to do. She said that when I was older, I would understand "love". There were many other things she told me about. She told me that she wasn't looking for someone else. When my now step-dad declared his love for her, it was on her last day of work before her surgery. It caught her off-guard.
That summer was a whirlwind. A week or two after Mom's confession to me, my bible-study teacher from church called. She'd noticed my absence and noticed a change in my voice over the phone. She asked if it would be okay if she stopped by and took me out for a soda. My parents consented. She picked me up and we went to the local Sonic and sat in her car and talked. I was dismissive at first and then she told me that I could trust her. She talked to me about God and that the church was there for me if I was in trouble. She gained my trust. I told her. I told her everything that my Mother had told me. She sat silent. I don't remember what else she may have said, but it was very changed from how she had been talking to me before I broke down. She became distant, as if I had insulted her. She dropped me off and told me she would call me next Sunday and come by and pick me up for church. I agreed.
I waited for her call that next Sunday morning. I didn't have her number and we didn't have cell phones. She never called. She never came by. Dad offered to take me to church. I shook my head, went in my room and cried. I felt abandoned. My Mother had dropped a bomb shell on me and the church abandoned me. Many people have tried to reassure me that the church did not abandon me, however, when I still look back on it today, I still feel the emptiness of a teenager. 14 is a hard enough age. That woman betrayed my trust.
My Mom got married on my first day of high school. I did not go. I was angry now. My birthday had come and gone and I had withdrawn into myself. I became more dismissive, and didn't care about school anymore. My church friends weren't talking to me either. All of a sudden I didn't exist to them either. It was a difficult reality. I went from a 3.75+ GPA, to 3.00. I did just enough to get by. I remember my 2nd period teacher asking us to fill out parent information cards for PE. One question was "your parents names". I raised my hand and the teacher mockingly commented on not knowing my parents names. I responded just as sarcastically "well, kind of. My Mom's getting married at 2:00. What name would you like me to put!"
I guess the moral of my story is to be careful how you judge people. I don't go to church because of the very deep betrayal at age 14. I find it difficult to place that must trust in an organization that prides itself on unity and faith, and yet can be so judgmental to a teenager that was reaching and grasping for help. I did maintain my faith through it all though. I thank God every day for not abandoning me, even though his representatives did. There are many other paths my life could have taken. I did not succumb to sex, drugs, or violence, although, that could have easily happened. Instead, I retreated into myself and into the lessons I had learned all those years ago when we went to the other churches as a child. I held tight to the lessons my parents taught me about doing the right thing. I believe in God and his son Jesus Christ as our savior. I would also like to add that while Jesus decreed that you should "go to church", he did not mean an actual building. There were no church buildings for Jesus and his followers. They met outside of town, or wherever they could hide from their oppressors to practice their religion. They met and they talked about God and about the importance of being good people. Jesus focused most importantly on not judging others, lest you be judged yourself.
So now I find myself with my 3-yr old and wanting to teach him the lessons I learned. I have decided to take him to church with some friends on Easter Sunday. I pray to God, that I can find a church that I can feel comfortable in and someday maybe even learn to trust. Until then, Happy Good Friday to all and thanks for listening to my story.
Thanks,
Summer
I write this, not as a stab at Christianity, or any religion for that matter, but as a "stop and open your eyes" article. Today is Good Friday. I've been thinking about Religion lately in regards to my 3-yr old. I want him to know God, as I have known God. I want him to understand the lessons of the Bible and it's importance in our lives. I want him to think freely and be able to develop his own beliefs and ideas without someone else telling him what to think and believe. The question to myself is, how do I accomplish this without compromising my own beliefs?
Easter was a very important holiday for my family. As a child, my family went to church every Sunday for Sunday school and for service. Easter was the most important holiday in our family and our church. I remember the palms on Palm Sunday. Our church would have a huge Palm Sunday display and then the wonderful Easter Service and Easter Egg hunt around the church grounds. I have very fond memories of Easter Church Services. We moved when I was in 1st grade and found another wonderful church in our new location and the tradition continued.
Every year for Easter, Mom would make me a new dress and we would get all dressed up. It was not only a renewal of faith for us, but it was the beginning of Spring when life begins anew.
I remember so vividly Easter Sunday of 2nd grade. After church, we went home for our annual Easter Egg Hunt around the yard. That year, my mother decided my older brother was old enough to help hide the eggs. He was in 3rd grade. But the show was mostly for my little brother at age 3. Dad was instructed to take me and my little brother to go buy the Sunday paper. The trip was scenic with several "wrong turns". The little brother and I started to get cranky and a fight ensued. Dad looked up in the mirror at us and very sternly instructed us to "knock it off". He then looked at me and said "Don't you touch him again!" I moved over and hugged the door to keep as much distance between us as possible so as to not get in trouble again. Several turns later, we had the paper and were beginning the route back to the house. I broke the silence with a small "Dad." He ignored me. "Dad." I repeated a little louder. He glanced up in the mirror at me and then back to the road. I began to panic. "DAD!" I shouted in frustration to get his attention. "WHAT?" He snapped back at me. "Bubba's falling out of the car!" I exclaimed and pointed at my little brother as he began a slow lean out of the car. Dad looked over his shoulder and reached around with one hand while steering and braking at the same time. He managed to grab a leg and yell at me. "Well grab him!" I didn't know what to do. I looked at him in disbelief. "YOU TOLD ME NOT TO TOUCH HIM AGAIN!" Ah, the lessons we learn. Bubba had his lap belt on so he did not fall completely out of the car but he did manage to bump his forehead on the asphalt. What had happened was that when Dad took a turn, my little brother was holding onto the door handle. Needless to say, he unintentionally opened the door and then didn't let go as the momentum of the car pulled the door open. We weren't going very fast, but it was enough. In the end, Bubba was fine and Dad got in trouble with Mom. Dad did not scold me because I was following his directions of not touching him, but I did get a lesson about sometimes it's okay to break the rules if it means doing the right thing and Dad learned to activate the security lock on the back doors of the car. There was just something about Easter that always brought us together.
In the 3rd grade we moved back to the same small town we had started out in, but the church was different. The community had changed in the time we were gone. The economic recession had hit hard and most of our friends had moved. We slowly stopped going to church altogether. Except for Easter Sunday. We continued that tradition for several more years before we stopped going to church altogether, but we still sat down at home and talked about Jesus. We still had our Easter Baskets and Egg Hunts.
I started going to church with a friend in 7th grade and the tradition was reinvigorated with my parents although, they did not go to church with me. My little brother started attending the church with me as well. My Dad would get us up on Sunday mornings and cook a big breakfast and then take us to church. We continued this pattern through 9th grade.
I no longer go to church and have not regularly attended a church since the end of 9th grade. It's been almost 20 years. That being said, let me tell you a little more. The last Sunday morning church service I attended was before my Grandmother's funeral at the little community church where my Grandmother lived over 5 years ago. The most recent time I have been to church was for my other Grandmother's funeral a little over a month ago. I have been to Church's for Weddings, Funerals, and Celebrations over the last 20 years, but that is about all.
Now, let me tell you why. My life changed at the end of 9th grade. 9th grade was in the Junior High. 10th grade started High School. Everything changed. My Mother got sick that summer. She had to have "the surgery". My Aunt also lived with us at the time. I will save the stories about my Aunt for another blog. Let's just say those years with her in our house were not good years (about 3 years). Tensions began growing between my parents. Tensions we had never noticed before. My brothers and I pulled closer together. I began to notice that Dad smoked more. After Mom's surgery, her boss began stopping by the house regularly. He would go in the room where she was bed-ridden and stay for a couple of hours while Dad sat in the living room and chain smoked while mindlessly watching TV. It was very confusing. We stopped going to church. Mostly we stopped because it was summer vacation, but also because Dad stopped getting us up. There was no longer any enthusiasm in him anymore. He and my Aunt had gotten in a fight over who would cook Sunday breakfast one morning and Dad threw in the towel. (As these memories come back to me, I find myself starting to cry). I have blocked many memories from this time in my life.
One morning, Mom called me in to her room. She asked me what I thought of her boss. I said he was a nice guy and that it was really nice that he was coming over to see her and check on her. She asked me what I thought about him as a man. Then she asked what I thought about him as a father figure. I immediately responded with "I have a Dad. I have a great Dad." Then she asked what I thought about have a Step-Dad. Everything that happens inside someone's head when they receive shocking news, happened to me at that moment. The earth cracked beneath me and I fell into a never ending canyon of doubt and dismay. I was 14 years old. I couldn't respond. I just stared at her and looked back and forth from her, to the ever widening hole in the floor. What was she talking about? Then, she said it. "Your Dad and I are getting a divorce." What? I still couldn't speak. "Please say something." She pleaded. "I don't understand." I sputtered. "You know what divorce is?" I nodded. She then began to talk to me, not as a child, but as a friend. She explained to me that while her and my Dad loved each other very much, they were not "in love". She said she'd had a hard time dealing with everything and wasn't sure what to do. She said that when I was older, I would understand "love". There were many other things she told me about. She told me that she wasn't looking for someone else. When my now step-dad declared his love for her, it was on her last day of work before her surgery. It caught her off-guard.
That summer was a whirlwind. A week or two after Mom's confession to me, my bible-study teacher from church called. She'd noticed my absence and noticed a change in my voice over the phone. She asked if it would be okay if she stopped by and took me out for a soda. My parents consented. She picked me up and we went to the local Sonic and sat in her car and talked. I was dismissive at first and then she told me that I could trust her. She talked to me about God and that the church was there for me if I was in trouble. She gained my trust. I told her. I told her everything that my Mother had told me. She sat silent. I don't remember what else she may have said, but it was very changed from how she had been talking to me before I broke down. She became distant, as if I had insulted her. She dropped me off and told me she would call me next Sunday and come by and pick me up for church. I agreed.
I waited for her call that next Sunday morning. I didn't have her number and we didn't have cell phones. She never called. She never came by. Dad offered to take me to church. I shook my head, went in my room and cried. I felt abandoned. My Mother had dropped a bomb shell on me and the church abandoned me. Many people have tried to reassure me that the church did not abandon me, however, when I still look back on it today, I still feel the emptiness of a teenager. 14 is a hard enough age. That woman betrayed my trust.
My Mom got married on my first day of high school. I did not go. I was angry now. My birthday had come and gone and I had withdrawn into myself. I became more dismissive, and didn't care about school anymore. My church friends weren't talking to me either. All of a sudden I didn't exist to them either. It was a difficult reality. I went from a 3.75+ GPA, to 3.00. I did just enough to get by. I remember my 2nd period teacher asking us to fill out parent information cards for PE. One question was "your parents names". I raised my hand and the teacher mockingly commented on not knowing my parents names. I responded just as sarcastically "well, kind of. My Mom's getting married at 2:00. What name would you like me to put!"
I guess the moral of my story is to be careful how you judge people. I don't go to church because of the very deep betrayal at age 14. I find it difficult to place that must trust in an organization that prides itself on unity and faith, and yet can be so judgmental to a teenager that was reaching and grasping for help. I did maintain my faith through it all though. I thank God every day for not abandoning me, even though his representatives did. There are many other paths my life could have taken. I did not succumb to sex, drugs, or violence, although, that could have easily happened. Instead, I retreated into myself and into the lessons I had learned all those years ago when we went to the other churches as a child. I held tight to the lessons my parents taught me about doing the right thing. I believe in God and his son Jesus Christ as our savior. I would also like to add that while Jesus decreed that you should "go to church", he did not mean an actual building. There were no church buildings for Jesus and his followers. They met outside of town, or wherever they could hide from their oppressors to practice their religion. They met and they talked about God and about the importance of being good people. Jesus focused most importantly on not judging others, lest you be judged yourself.
So now I find myself with my 3-yr old and wanting to teach him the lessons I learned. I have decided to take him to church with some friends on Easter Sunday. I pray to God, that I can find a church that I can feel comfortable in and someday maybe even learn to trust. Until then, Happy Good Friday to all and thanks for listening to my story.
Thanks,
Summer
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Dear Panhandlers,
Dear Panhandlers,
I might feel a little more compelled to give you a "helping hand" if you were a little more compelled to tell the truth. It's always the same thing...
"My mother is having surgery next week and I'm just trying to get home."
"My brother was wounded in the war and..."
Blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! Just tell the truth!
"Hi, I ran away from home 3 months ago because my mom wouldn't buy me an i-phone. The last sucker I talked to gave me enough money to get to your crappy town and now I need a little more money to get to the next crappy town because nothing is ever going to be good enough for me."
or,
"I wanted to see the world while I was still young so I used my entire life savings and hit the road. My life savings was about $80.00 so you can imagine how far that got me. Now I'm stick in this crappy town because this is where I was able to hitch hike to and now I just want you to give me some money so I get the hell out of here."
or the really honest,
"Hi. I'm lazy. I don't want to work. I'm going to sit here and beg other people to get me through life. If you don't give me money, I'll just steal something later and take it back to the house I live in with my parents where I have no bills. Then later, I will change into some nice clothes that I bought with the money I begged and get in my brand new car that my parents bought, and go cruising and use the gas that you are going to buy me."
or still yet,
"Hi, I'm a politician..."
AHHHHH! GET A JOB!
Thanks,
Summer
I might feel a little more compelled to give you a "helping hand" if you were a little more compelled to tell the truth. It's always the same thing...
"My mother is having surgery next week and I'm just trying to get home."
"My brother was wounded in the war and..."
Blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! Just tell the truth!
"Hi, I ran away from home 3 months ago because my mom wouldn't buy me an i-phone. The last sucker I talked to gave me enough money to get to your crappy town and now I need a little more money to get to the next crappy town because nothing is ever going to be good enough for me."
or,
"I wanted to see the world while I was still young so I used my entire life savings and hit the road. My life savings was about $80.00 so you can imagine how far that got me. Now I'm stick in this crappy town because this is where I was able to hitch hike to and now I just want you to give me some money so I get the hell out of here."
or the really honest,
"Hi. I'm lazy. I don't want to work. I'm going to sit here and beg other people to get me through life. If you don't give me money, I'll just steal something later and take it back to the house I live in with my parents where I have no bills. Then later, I will change into some nice clothes that I bought with the money I begged and get in my brand new car that my parents bought, and go cruising and use the gas that you are going to buy me."
or still yet,
"Hi, I'm a politician..."
AHHHHH! GET A JOB!
Thanks,
Summer
Monday, March 11, 2013
Dear Handmade Lovers,
Dear Handmade Lovers,
I'm hosting the SNEAK ATTACK today over on the handmademovement on +Etsy!
I'm hoping to see everyone over there!
I picked three great shops for us to sneak up on!
Here is the clue story for today.
The first shop is zinniawest from Ohio. Zinnia is originally from Japan and started making earrings for herself and her daughter. Then, like many of us, she decided to open an Etsy shop! I noticed that Zinnia has been adding new wonders since I selected her shop for the attack, and as I'm writing this, she doesn't even know what we have in store for her in a few hours time!
The second shop on my list is TheMerrySpinster from Millbrae, CA. Heather is the mother of 2 and loves yarn and spinning fiber into yarn. I can't wait to get my hands on some of these goodies!
My third victim for the day is NekoShop Norrkoping, Ostergotland, Sweden. I have a feeling she will fit in perfectly with our international team! Suey repurposes old fabrics and supplies to create new wonders and donates 10% of her shop profits to the world wildlife fund and her local cat rescue organization "nine lives". I fell in love with these little guys!
No sneak attack is successful without a wonderful group of supporters to help pull everything together. Here are some of the folks that stopped by the thread throughout the day.
HandmadeBySandi PaintedMemoriesByRos
pinkxopurple YukikoDesignsStore
SussesSpindehjrne byvala
LittleYellowFarm EffElArtions
NicsPics4U juBEADlation
MsBittyKnacks Stockannette
AllThingsNecessary KraftyGrannysHome
Sweetiespearls CuteNCurlyBowtique
sljbridal InsanitekGifts
Owlystore ArdentlyCrafted
UUendysCraftyCorner beadsoul
Thanks,
Summer
I'm hosting the SNEAK ATTACK today over on the handmademovement on +Etsy!
I'm hoping to see everyone over there!
I picked three great shops for us to sneak up on!
Here is the clue story for today.
First there was a FROG.
Who went to a CARNIVAL on a SCOOTER dressed as the MASCOT
for the TOOTH FAIRY. His best friend,
the DUCK, lives in the PAINTED DESERT and rides a SEAHORSE to work everyday. The two friends decided to stop and enjoy a
CUP CAKE, but they couldn’t decide on a flavor.
The duck wanted BLACK CHERRY. The
frog wanted COCONUT. While they were
arguing, a GODDESS made the EARTH shake to get their attention! She waved her TOPAZ wand and a magical WAVE
of water splashed the frog and the duck.
The two friends shook off the water and remembered their bff KEYFOB’s. The duck held up his keyfob in the shape of
an ANGEL, and the frog’s was in the shape of a ZINNIA. When they held the keyfobs together they
would cluck like a CHICKEN. The duck and
the frog decided to leave the carnival and get an OLIVE loaf and a TANKARD.
THE END
The first shop is zinniawest from Ohio. Zinnia is originally from Japan and started making earrings for herself and her daughter. Then, like many of us, she decided to open an Etsy shop! I noticed that Zinnia has been adding new wonders since I selected her shop for the attack, and as I'm writing this, she doesn't even know what we have in store for her in a few hours time!
My third victim for the day is NekoShop Norrkoping, Ostergotland, Sweden. I have a feeling she will fit in perfectly with our international team! Suey repurposes old fabrics and supplies to create new wonders and donates 10% of her shop profits to the world wildlife fund and her local cat rescue organization "nine lives". I fell in love with these little guys!
No sneak attack is successful without a wonderful group of supporters to help pull everything together. Here are some of the folks that stopped by the thread throughout the day.
HandmadeBySandi PaintedMemoriesByRos
pinkxopurple YukikoDesignsStore
SussesSpindehjrne byvala
LittleYellowFarm EffElArtions
NicsPics4U juBEADlation
MsBittyKnacks Stockannette
AllThingsNecessary KraftyGrannysHome
Sweetiespearls CuteNCurlyBowtique
Owlystore ArdentlyCrafted
UUendysCraftyCorner beadsoul
Thanks,
Summer
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