Tag Archives: shoes

First world problems

A dear friend of mine has a wonderful blog, and she recently shared about her realization of how some of her quirks might need minor adjustments. http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/07/762/

Before I go any farther, if you think that you don’t have any quirks and that I am judging my friend, rest assured I am not.  We all have quirks –especially me (like my need to have all of my beverages completely filled with ice so that they are cold enough).  Nine times out of ten, those personality characteristics are what I love the most about my friends.  Trust me, I am not living over here in my glass house because I know many people the world over would love clean drinking water while I am complaining that my drink isn’t cold enough.  I get it.

I am acutely aware that even despite the tragedies that have befallen our family I am still more blessed than 95% of the world’s population.  That awareness is something that I am trying to instill in my children as they are becoming older and much more world savvy.  No name brand or one singular item will define the character of your heart.  Hard work and serving others is much more important than momentary thrill of a purchase.  These aren’t just platitudes for me, and I am trying on a regular basis to let my life’s choices be an example to my children.   Sometimes I don’t think they are listening.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

One day, our daughters were bickering in the van about something so trivial I cannot even remember what it was.  They both had valid points, but in the end of the day, they were clothed, nourished physically and spiritually, and housed.  The thing they were arguing about was not life threatening nor earth shaking; so I pointed out to them that their conflict was a “first world problem” suggesting that they should agree to disagree and move on.

They acquiesced, and our whole family started quoting lines from a family favorite video: Top 100 First World Problems by Scooter Magruder, as we continued on down to our destination. Upon arrival at the local big box hardware store, we made  a quick double-check of our list to create a game plan for this excursion in the midst of our home remodeling.

As we opened the doors to the van, our littlest was searching for her shoes.  Under the seat, next to the seat, in the back of the van, in my purse (as if they would be there), and on the ground – they were nowhere to be found.  I know I grumbled a bit asking if she wore shoes to the store.  She assured me she thought she did.  My annoyance wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t just gone through the same thing a week before when we drove THREE HOURS to pick up her brother from med school camp –  only to discover she was sans shoes.  We had to go to the Mecca of the South and buy shoes before the closing ceremonies, forcing us to enter late (something I detest doing).

There was no rescuing her this time; so, I scooped her up (which was a challenge as she is getting tall) and carried her into the store with bare piggies.  On our way in, I was chiding her for not bringing shoes.  I reminded her this was crazy,  and she was old enough to be responsible for her own shoes.

Then it came:  wisdom wrapped up in a long-legged, curly-headed, freckled-face eight year old little girl.

“You know, Momma.  This is a first world problem.  Lots of kids around the world don’t even have shoes.”

Touché, my little Sally Gal. Touché.

They are listening.  They are always listening.  Be mindful of what you say, and even more mindful of what your actions speak.  I know I am definitely trying to be much more particular!

Clo's keens

By the way if you need a chuckle, check out Scooter’s video on youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXCsRlpbqPM

Let me get my shoes on.

Image

I have always been enamored with my paternal grandmother, Mama Cloie’s, response to requests to go do something.  Requests of  “Hey Mama, let’s go get a hot dog and milkshake” or “Let’s go pick up some fried chicken for supper” were always met with a “Let me get my shoes on!” My Mama (pronounced maw-maw) has never had a driver’s license; so her involvement in my ideas always required a driver.  Her enthusiastic response was one that I felt embodied a life without hustle and bustle and was always a resounding nod that whatever thing I suggested was important – important enough for her to drop what she was doing and go on my suggested adventure.

Lately, I have been very quiet on this blog and there exists a myriad of reasons for that.  The biggest being my ability to be sucked into the enemy’s number one tool – busyness. Last March, I had the joy of participating in a women’s conference in my church.  It was a wonderful day and I was so glad to share my story with “my” people. That elation lasted all of a few hours as the enemy’s attacks came fast and furious.  At least a dozen women that attended had the rug pulled out from under them – emotionally, physically, financially, spiritually – in the coming hours, days and weeks.   My own home and heart were not spared either. After hearing me talk, many of those same women reached out to me for prayer and counsel.  I am thankful that my refinement by God’s fire has given me a heart to recognize hurt, pain, and suffering, but more than that –  a heart that wants to help, if I can.

Additionally running in the background was an e-mail sent to me by a dear friend about a blog she stumbled across that I might enjoy.  As I watched a video on the blog, I was humbly brought to my knees watching myself in the woman’s story of being too busy to recognize her child’s need to simply spend time together. The blogger’s decision was to make each moment matter with her child and herself.  My emotional response to the video was reinforced by a conversation I had with the little C.  After seeing one of her curly-headed toddler pictures flash on our digital frame, I lamented, “I miss that little, curly-headed Clo.”  Without even batting an eyelash, her response went straight to my heart, “Well, I miss the momma who wasn’t always so busy working and doing other stuff.”  Sadly, she was right, and I knew it.

I had been a bench warmer for a few years while Sawyer was healing, and once he was better, I went on a wild spree to not only get back on the field but also play all the positions available. Not a wise, nor Godly choice.

This silent time in my writing was not wasted.  It was a revival time spent with God deciding what to do next and how to go forward to be the woman He wants me to be.  One of the biggest decisions I made was to step away from the ministry where I was involved because it was what God needed me to do.  I renewed my efforts to pare down, get rid of, and otherwise de-clutter to prevent material stuff from keeping me from making memories.  I reaffirmed that I love teaching, and that God truly gave me a talent for working with children.  Yet, I also recognized that the best job and ministry I will EVER have involves the children God gave to me.

But the most important thing I discovered was freedom.  Freedom that truly comes from giving it to God.  I think my two Cloie’s were conduits to that message of freedom. One reminding that I was blowing it by saying yes to every request for my time, and one modeling that I don’t need a title to work for God.

I simply need to be ready to put my shoes on.