• Pages

  • About
  • Contact

• Categories

  • Live-Again-Blessings
  • Live-Again-Crafts
  • Live-Again-Days Defined
  • Live-Again-Eats
  • Live-Again-Events
  • Live-Again-Family
  • Live-Again-Reads

• Archives

  • March 2008
  • February 2008

• Blogroll

  • Angry Chicken
  • Karin’s Style Blog
  • Meggiecat
  • MidOhioCredit
  • Posie Gets Cozy
  • Soulemama
  • The Brocante Home Chronicles
  • The Pioneer Woman
• 
  

Births and the announcements of births are always Live-Again-Moments, and so it is with great pride and pleasure that I share the Live-Again-News of the birth of our family’s latest addition, our second grandchild, and first granddaughter!

You can see for yourself the great beauty our new baby possesses, and the comfort and security she feels in her maternal great-grandpa’s strong hands as she came into this world as an Ohio State Buckeye fan!

Allow me to introduce and gush about ♥McKenzie Grace♥, a leap-year baby, born on February 29^th, at 3:59 p.m. Born three weeks early (and two days before her mama’s shower~ she just couldn’t wait) via cesarean section, McKenzie weighed in at 6 pounds and 10 ounces, measured 19 & 1/2 inches long, was immediately identified as belonging to us by her glorious long strands of dark hair and dark eyes (certainly a trait from my side of the family).

Mc Kenzie’s arrival is a blessing to us all and she has settled right into our family as if she has always been a part of us.

The birth of a baby reminds me that the world will start anew each and every day, no matter what our state of affairs are. It makes no difference if we want our world to change or if we want our world to stay the same, it will change. Although change is scarey to some, hope to others, prayered for by many, babies are good changes. They are another person to love, and love is always good.

Have you loved a new person lately? Loving is what makes our days Live-Again-Days!

Wishing you loving changes in a constantly renewing world and a Live-Again-Day!

I love arts, crafts and doing things with my hands and so I though I would share a little something-something that I made for my daughter-in-law, Amanda’s shower this weekend.

I have to say the idea was not my own, it was my creative mom’s idea. I have since found that women have been making these little diaper-nut/candy dish favors for years and can’t believe I have never seen them before. I think that for a large part, my generation skipped the “handmade” chapter of life, although I am so happy to say that I think handcrafts are very much on the come back! Art is being expressed in so many different modes now and so many of us are finding outlets for our creativity. I think creating things with our own hands leads us to finding passions, ourselves, friendships, joys, and peace.

Thankfully I have very creative parents, who by want and at times in their lives, by need, created with love, many beautiful things. I am thankful for a mom who not only taught herself, but taught me to crochet, knit, sew, make all kinds of things and cook. I am thankful for a dad who taught me to paint, hang wallpaper, use a power saw and always let me hang out in the workshop. I am thankful that I grew up in a home where creativity was fostered and expected. Now I think I would shiver up and wither away if I could not have something in my hands to create what is going on in my heart and soul. Thank you mom and dad!

These little diaper-candy dishes were made by cutting a cute piece of pink gingham flannel into about 9 inch squares, and then folding the squares into a triangle shapes, gathering the points together and fastening them together with a shinny gold pin. I then dipped each diaper into melted paraffin and sat them on the kitchen counter to cool a bit. While the diapers were cooling, I shaped them. Once the wax cooled enough that the diapers could “stand” on their own, I left them to cool completely and the picture above in the final outcome. I think they are adorable!

Making the diaper-candy dishes took me back in time, reminding me of being pregnant and getting things in order for all my four sons’ births. The feeling of the flannel squares in my hand reminded me of wrapping my babes up in their flannel receiving blankets, nice and tight, and rocking them to sleep. Yes, those times were Live-Again-Times, and through a simple craft of cutting and folding a piece of flannel I was able to live that time all over again.

What do scissors remind you of? Do they remind you of your mother loving you enough to teach you how to carry them safely? A teacher showing you how to make that curved cut on a folded piece of paper to create the perfect valentine? Or perhaps they remind you of making a snowflake and hanging in a window, admiring it every time you saw it, knowing that you made it yourself, there were no others like it and you were its creator. You knew you were an artist and it felt good!

Pick up a pair of scissors today and make something for yourself or someone else. Make a heart or a snowflake and hang it from your rear view mirror or in a window and see if it doesn’t make your remember a Live-Again-Day. Now make another one and give it away and see if it helps create a Live-Again-Day for someone else and for you!

Cut away and have a Live-Again-Day!

My daughter-in-law, Amanda, and her hubby, our first born son, Joshua, are ready to greet a new child into the world! This soon to be delivered child will be the first born girl in our personal lineage and is scheduled to be delivered on March 17^th (scheduled… times have change, goodness, knowing the sex of the baby seems to be the norm now, which is so very different than just 20 years ago…). Yes, if the princess can wait, she will be celebrating her birth-day with lucky four-leafed clovers and green! She will surely lead a charmed life!

McKenzie Grace will make her grand entrance on March 17^th, if not before, as she seems a bit impatient right now (I can already tell she takes after her Grammy, and that’s actually a good thing at times). During the wait, much planning and busyness is occurring in preparation for this first girl-birth, and on Sunday, March 3^rd, our side of her family will be holding a baby shower to honor McKenzie’s upcoming birth and the loving fortitude and strength with which her mama, Amanda, has co-created and gestated her during the last nine months.

The shower will be a small gathering of women family member and a couple of close friends (who are family by choice), at the home of my very gracious mom, and Amanda is looking forward to spending the afternoon surrounded by people who love and care for her, relaxing (which will be a rare occurrence after McKenzie comes), chatting, opening precious baby gifts, and eating delicious cake made by my very own cake-making-artist sister, Lesa.

Showers mean so much more than crepe paper, funny shower games, shower gifts and punch and cake (although those are all really great things). Showers are about being showered with love and sprinkled with care, and definitely make a Live-Again-Day! We should have showers all the time! Who says there must be an impending wedding or birth? Showers are about family, friendship, caring and loving, and honestly, we all need a shower from to time or we tend to get funky! Showers keep us fresh, invigorated and fortified to go about the business of the world with bright eyes, hopeful hearts and joyous souls!

Do you know someone who is feeling funky and  needs a little rejuvenation? Do they need a shower? Grab a cupcake or a donut with sprinkles and cream, and go shower with them them with your love and care! Turn their day (and yours) into a Live-Again-Day! They will be glad you did, and so will you!

Have a shower and have a Live-Again-Day!

Is a “who” or a “what” that makes your meal a Live-again-Meal? Even though I llloooovvvvveeeeeeeee food, I will always pick the “who” over the “what“, but I do so cherish times when I can have both!

I am not a picky eater (if you could see me you would have no doubt), but pancakes are one of the few things I simply love, or absolutely cannot eat. I never understood how one cook’s pancakes could taste and even look different than another cook’s pancakes. I mean they are flour, milk and some other stuff, right? Although I make pancakes for my family on a regular basis, I cannot eat them myself, homemade or instant box kind (gag!).

Recently I was in the mood for pancakes so I started experimenting with and tweaking some recipes I had run across, and I have finally developed a pancake recipe that I love and now, crave! (Great, another thing I can crave…)

Thick pancakes always seem so heavy to me, but these thick pancakes are fluffy and oh, so light. The secret to their lightness is the egg whites which are beaten into soft peaks before being added to the batter. The extra step of beating the egg whites only takes a minute and is very, very worth the time!

These pancakes are not only thick and fluffy, but tasty too. I think it is the combination of the brown and white sugars and the vanilla that give them just a tinge of flavor that doesn’t compete with the maple syrup.

Tasting these pancakes in the morning will definitely set the stage for a Live-Again-Day, and certainly qualify for a Live-Again-Meal!

♥A gift from my kitchen♥

Live-Again Pancake Recipe!

The Ingredients:

2 Cups of Flour

½ teaspoon Salt

½ teaspoon of Baking Soda

1 teaspoon of Baking Powder

2 Tablespoons of Brown Sugar

1 Tablespoon of White Sugar

1 Cup of Butter Milk

¾ Cup of Milk

¼ Cup Melted Butter

4 Large Eggs, Separated

1 teaspoon of Vanilla

In a mixing bowl, combine flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder. Set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, white sugar, buttermilk, vanilla, egg yolk and melted butter. Set aside.

In a separate mixing bowl and using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form (like with meringue).

Next, add the bowl of wet ingredients (milk, sugar, ect….) to the bowl of dry ingredients and stir to batter consistency. Finally, gently fold the egg whites into the batter mixture.

Now, the batter is ready for the griddle. Fry and smother with your favorite toppings and enjoy! Yum-O! Oh, and this recipe makes lots of pancakes, so invite lots of people for sharing. (Left over batter does keep well in the refrigerator for tomorrow.)

Sharing meals with family, friends, or even new acquaintances can bring us joy, enlighten our days and join us closer. Think about who you are going to share a meal with today. Will your day be enriched because of them? Will your presence with them lead them to a Live-Again-Day?

Make pancakes for someone, eat, be merry, and enjoy a Live-Again-Day!

Pauly is my second born nephew, the dear son of my only sister, born on the same day as my second son, Caleb. Thank goodness we don’t really remember our second birthdays because Caleb’s was spend at home with his dad (not a bad thing by any means), and without his mom (me). I was at the hospital with my younger sister, wishing it were I there in that hospital bed, just so she wouldn’t have to bear the pains of labor herself. My apologies to my son for practically missing his whole 2^nd birthday, and my thanks to my sister for letting me share such a miraculous experience with her.

After a long labor and an unplanned cesarean section, a nurse wheeled a precious baby boy out into the maternity area hallway, and I thought I would burst with excitement staring into the enlightened eyes of my sister’s first-born child. I remember it just like I remember looking into my own sons’ newborn eyes and my grandson’s newborn eyes. It is a look that for me, only freshly birthed babes have. They look so wise and intense, and make me feel like they know much more than I. They are born knowing they only need loving nourishment. They need nourishment of mind, body and soul. We are born knowing the love is all that really matters. Why do we let ourselves forget at times?

Last night I was privileged to watch my now 21-year-old nephew rock it out! He preformed solo at Un Mundo Café, a neat coffee shop in Springfield, Ohio. His performance was amazing to watch! He sang songs he had written and melted into his guitar as he played with his heart and soul.

I was amazed at his talent, and felt honored to be there in his presence, yet once again. I was honored to witness his musical abilities and his creativity. How many people can write entire songs, lyrics and music and then perform them so flawlessly? But mostly I was honored to witness Paul knowing and living his passion, and doing so at the age of 21.

I watched my shy nephew, stand on the stage and live in the moment, a moment that only contained passion. I watched him dissolve into the songs and play his guitar like it was a permanent part of him that had always been with him. I watched him perform with a fun and fresh excitement that I had not seen in him before. With his guitar in his hand, his mouth to the microphone, and sweaty wet hair clinging to his head, I saw that look in his eyes that I had first witness 21 years ago. Yes, I was honored and privileged to be there with him again.

Is this what our passions do for us? Do they remind us, somewhere deep in our souls, that love is really all that matters?

I have spent a lot of time over the years wondering what my passions are. I have also wondered if I would really know when a passion presented itself. Would it come to me like a lightening bolt and burn itself into my forehead? Now I am thinking back to the first moment I met my nephew, my own sons and my grandson, and I am wondering if our passions have always been buried within us. Maybe it was passion I saw in those knowing newborn eyes, just waiting to be rediscovered and remembered.

Maybe the path to finding our passions is simply realizing love. During those moments of time when all feels good and right with the world, and we know that love is all that really matters, we should stop and look at what we are doing, make a mental note, or better yet, a soul note, and ask ourselves if maybe this is a passion.

What makes you feel whole, right and good? What makes your eyes resemble those of a new life? What makes you know that love is all that truly matters? Do you know your passions?

Thanks for another live-again-day Paul!

And a child shall lead them…

Let’s live another live-again-day!

I always picture myself as the mama bird, keeping the nest and preparing the food (thank God I don’t have to chew it up for everyone, He knows I would swallow and the nestlings would starve), going from one mama activity to the next, doing what needs to be done at the very moment it needs doing. That was my picture of me, pre- Grace Performs Ice Acrobatics incident.

Resigning my self to sitting positions for more hours that my mom-mode formerly allowed has been a humbling and startling experience. Having previously thought of myself as a fairly grateful person, I now see there were a few things I took for granted. Little things like standing, walking and bending over. But, the movement I took for granted the most is the “flit”.

Flit - Definition accroding to the American Heritage Dictionary

flit (flĭt)
intr.v. flit·ted, flit·ting, flits

• 1. To move about rapidly and nimbly.
• 2. To move quickly from one condition or location to another.
  n.
• 1. A fluttering or darting movement.
• 2. Informal An empty-headed, silly, often erratic person.

I admit it. I flit. I am a flitter. I don’t flutter - that would be like flitter, but much more graceful, no, I definitely flit. Flutters look similar to butterflies. Flitters look a little like butterflies, but fatter and jerkier. I tried to find a picture of a flitter to post here, but I couldn’t. I think they are few and hard to photograph because of the jerkiness. We are an endangered species so to speak.

This realization that I “flit”, or used to, has brought with it a very alarming realization. Not only do I physically flit, I mentally flit. Let’s stop here and make sure you read that right. I said “flit“, not “fit“. If I would have said “fit“, some might find me to be untruthful.

I flit daily from the washer to the stove, from the back porch to the garage, from the bathroom to the car. I flit all day long and then I complain about how tired I am.

I do not physically flit because I am hyperactive or full of energy (that would be way cool). No, I flit because I am confused, I think… Yes, confused, short-sighted, disorganized. Flitty-brained. Flitty- minded.

This is a devastating reality I have come to considering I have always preferred to think of myself as the “idea person”, the “think of everything person”. I thought I had a special turbo-brain. I knew I ran in circles a lot, I just didn’t know it was my fault. I didn’t realize I thought in Spiro-graphic thoughts, vs. nice linear thoughts.

I feel really bad that I used to complain about my flittery. “Why am I the only one that picks up, cleans up, folds up, cooks up, finds, shines and hears the whines?” My crutches and I miss flitting.

I miss being able to throw the spaghetti sauce together, fold the laundry, set the VCR (yes, they still exist and we are the most techno out dated people in town), look for lost shoes and talk on the phone, effortlessly at the same time, without worrying about how I am going to manage carrying the boiling pot of pasta from the stove to the sink to drain, and hold onto both crutches (you can’t, it is impossible, I tried…).

Yes, my hands are full of crutches, and to simply stir the sauce takes great foresight and planning. I must plan where I am going to lean my left crutch so that I can have one hand free (and the place I pick to lean the crutch must be obvious so I don’t lose it again), hang on tight to my right crutch, keep my right knee lifted and bent so my foot doesn’t touch the floor and I become accidentally tempted to put weight on it, and then use my non-dominant left hand to stir with (that I assure you is a feat unto itself). Yes, stirring is now a multi-step process that requires wise planning.

This is a challenge for my flitty brain, especially the tiny details that come with the planning, like remembering to grab a spoon as I walk past the silverware drawer, before I get to the stove and prepare to stir the sauce. I flit because I don’t think right. Back and forth trips that could have been avoided and saved me time. I could very well be the first person to ever lose weight (please God, please), moving so slowing with crutches, because I make so many unnecessary tracks, back and forth.

My husband was so kind last night while we were watching that new game show, 1 vs. 100. “Here, let me get that for you.” “What do you need? I’ll get it.” Nice, nice, nice, and I had to stop myself from glaring at him! “I” am the flitter! Not “you”. I flit, you sit. I found myself flabbergastedly surprised that I was thinking such thoughts, and if I am not mistaken, I think it was just one week ago that I was planning the sit down the whole family and tell them I am sick of doing everything myself meeting. Does anyone know what I want or what will make me happy??? Please tell me if you do. Really, email me.

So now I publicly and officially apologize for the complaints about flittering, and I assume all responsibility for said flittering. I promise to always remember to be grateful for my mobility, especially when it applies to the mundane tasks of mothering, wifery, housery (is that a word?), and life tasks in general.

I will be so grateful that a glow will emanate from me, harp music will be heard everywhere I go, and I will seemingly float about, washing dishes, clothes, walls and windows with a grateful smile on my glowy face. Forever and ever. Forever. At least all of the rest of this year. Okay, the entire first month, week, day after I am healed.

I’ll be grateful for as long as my flitty brain remembers. But, I’ll be forever grateful for my flitty brain . Having a brain that flits, makes one have thousands of ideas and feel oh, so, creatively smart. It helped me see that what I was complaining about were really just blessings.

Ask your brain if it is flitty or linear (if it isn’t sure, go here- http://wannabe.guru.org/lynn/apps/ , if you have way too much fun, you are flitty) and then ask yourself what blessings you complain about. Open Word, type them in, read them and then plant a kiss right on your monitor, tell them you love them and will quit complaining, at least for today, this hour, the moment. Now click on File, Save As, type in Mundane Stuff which are really Blessings that Help Make Live Again Days, and hit save. Now you have a file to help you remember incase you have a flitty brain like me.

Livin’ live again days!

Since the Grace Performs Ice Acrobatics incident occurred a few days ago I have been house bound except for a few hours at work and a quick trip to the doctor’s office. Needless to say there has been more sitting than usual going on in my life. As I sat yesterday, I glanced over at the book shelves and saw one of my most favorite books in the world. It is a small book entitled O Rugged Land of Gold, by Martha Martin.This book is dear to me because it is inspiring and evokes emotions that cause feelings of inspiration, gratitude for the people that surround me, hope, and fortitude, and leaves me in a state of awe toward nature and the world God created.

As best we know, Martha used real life situations she endured and a bit of imagination to tell the story of being stranded alone on an undeveloped (at the time), isolated Alaskan Island throughout a winter. At the start, she became quite severely injured in an earthquake. Along with head injuries, she suffer a badly broken arm that she forced herself to set and using what she had available in her supplies, create a make-shift cast. (Yes, I was relating to the broken arm injury yesterday. Comparatively speaking, I am a wimp.) She is also pregnant during this winter and does not become rescued until after the baby is born.

Martha’s story makes me wonder if I could survive alone in those rugged conditions. Martha makes me wonder if I could survive alone at all. The story she tells shows her inner strength and does affirm to me that such inner strength exists in all of us if we chose to use it.

I have read this book many times, but I still remember the exact moment that I read page 89 for the first time. As I read the words I was surprised and happy that I had found someone who experienced God much in the same way that I always have, and that she could express this experience far better than I.

Upon reading that page for the first time, I paused, read it again, took the book to the computer and typed the entire page up, printed it out and placed it in a plastic cover where it remains today, 7 years later, in my daily planner. Rereading that excerpt floods my mind with visions of mountains, forests, lakes and sky, and I immediately feel a peace surround me, a renewed reverence for and oneness with nature and burned into my mind again is: there was, is and forever will be God.

Here is what Martha wrote:

“I was raised in a religious home, but I had to live in the wilderness to experience the meaning of faith. In the States I accepted what my people believed, conformed to what was prescribed, and bothered my head no further. Here the slate is wiped clean of all creeds and doctrines; faith is stripped down to the fundamentals; and it becomes clear that all religion is no more or no less that the human soul reaching out to the Creator; that the individual alone, of his own free will and accord, must do the reaching. For me contact with God comes through His creation; the forests and the hills, the wind and the tides, the birds of the air, the creepy things upon the earth and the fishes in the sea, the starry heavens, the loyalty of a friend, love and devotion, faith and work, honor and awe.

I worship my God humbly before His manifestations, which go far beyond the ritual of any church. From Deep within me my worship surges forth, I am thankful and humble. A divine force- a spiritual guidance surrounds and envelopes me. This I know, not how or why: I only know that I do know, and it cannot be different.

As your needs are great, you will pray. This I ought to know from experience. I have said prayers since I could talk-mumblings and say-words- yet I have never prayed truly until there was nothing else possible for me to do. These last few weeks I have prayed more than in all my life before.

My prayers will be answered only if I pray with all my heart and humbly accept the answers to my prayers. To receive help I must do my part ungrudgingly, no matter how hard it will be.

I must work with all my might and intelligence and pray as I work. Then all will be well… Yes, I do sometimes doubt and question- much less now than at first. After all, I am only a mortal being, and I have been sorely tired.”

Excerpted from Martha Martin’s O Rugged Land of Gold, page 89

Many of my very favorite times occur out-of-doors. And when I can’t easily be out-of-doors, favorite photographs, collected leaves or buckeyes, or a loved passage from a favorite book can conjure up very special feelings, and special feelings make live-again-days.

Look around you right now. Do you see anything that gives you that special, live-again-day feeling? I can look up and see my favorite coffee mug and a puzzle that our family made together (which proclaims It’s Good To Be Queen!). If your answer is yes, I say good for you! If you don’t have something around you that gives you that live-again-day feeling, get something! Rugged times are easier to navigate when you are surrounded by golden treasures, and ordinary days become extraordinary days when you can tap into that live-again-day feeling!

Livin’ live-again-days!

I am not sure if this is ironic, if it was just destined to be or both. I was writing the introductory entry for LiveAgainDays blog when I decided to take a break before editing and make a quick trip to Wal-Mart. Thus, began the saga that will now and forever be remembered as the Grace Performs Ice Acrobatics incident. I played the part of Grace.

It was early in the morning and I could see that my car windows were frosty. I decided to run outside (coat-less, of course), start the car so it would defrost while I was making myself Wal-Mart presentable (I know you are laughing, there really isn’t a Wal-Mart dress code). Sadly, I only made it one step outside our front door when my foot slipped on the iced over step and my right leg preformed amazing acrobatic twists that until that moment I had no idea it was capable of. After gasping in amazement, I completed my performance by landing on my graceful right leg, smashing it between my backside and the edge of the concert step. Ta-dah!

There was no applause, just some crackly, crunching, ripping sounds from my leg and a heavy sigh and moaning from my mouth. I knew I had done something terribly wrong.

After sitting on the icy step for twenty minutes or so, desperately trying to will myself into a whole and healthy state, I crawled/slithered/drug myself back into the house where my lovely family was still nestled warmly in there beds. I laid on the living room floor, wet from too much ice sitting, and waited for my lovelies to wake. I really didn’t want to scream and wake the whole house up- that would have scared them- and I am just nice that way.

Throughout my wait, the initial huge volts of pain subsided and I was able to convince myself that I had just pulled some muscles, twisted some ligaments and I was just going to be A-Okay. I was convinced too, until I tried to pull myself up to a standing position, only to find that I couldn’t make my poor right leg do what I wanted it to do. At this point I experienced the kind of pain that starts in the tip of your right big toe, violently washes up through your whole entire body and spews itself out through your clinched teeth.

Back down to the living room floor I went. Fast. At almost that precise moment (must have been a psychic connection thing), I heard dear hubby Mark rousing in our bedroom. My heart started racing in anticipation of my impending rescue! Next I heard the bedroom door opening and man-sized rescue hero footsteps in the hallway.

My stupid, silly, unknowing husband called out “Good Morning!” Ha! I thought, “You wish buddy. I think I just ruined the day for both of us.”

I was so very brave. I didn’t cry at all when I sat on the ice for twenty minutes, breath knocked out of my lungs, rubbing boo-boos and wiping blood off my shin with my spit covered finger. But now that hubby was awake and I was coming to grips with the fact that my leg was really, really hurt, I knew that I could be weak and girly.

Mark looked down the steps at me through his sleep-crusted eyes, with his rooster look-a-like bed head hair-do. I could read his mind. He was thinking, “Why is Kelly laying like that on the living room floor?” Oh, he was so not awake yet and I knew that the information his eyes were sending to his brain was not processing correctly. So now in my vulnerable, I think I broke my leg state, all I could say with my trembling, trying not to cry voice was, “Mark, I don’t wanna have a broken leg.”

Mark woke up quickly then and announced officially that we were going to the hospital. I did the only thing I could do at that point and agreed to go while reassuring him, and myself, that I had only pulled muscles. I am a good wishful thinker.

Mark began trying to get me in an upright position when the true horror hit me. The one thing that has been drummed into all of us since toddler hood… I had just had an accident, I was going to the hospital, and not only did I not have on CLEAN underwear, I had on NO underwear. Remember the dreams you had about being out in public, realizing that you were naked and trying to get back home without anyone seeing you naked? That was the panic and terror I felt upon realizing I didn’t have underwear on.

What you must know is that I had gotten up very early that morning and quickly threw on some comfy, cozy sweats to piddle around the house in. No one else was awake. It was just me and my quiet house. So, there really was no reason at all for underwear. Going “free-style” is what it is called. I personally could care less whether one chooses to free-style/not free-style; it doesn’t matter to me. I had planned to put panties on while the car was warming up, because I was going to Wal-Mart, and we all know Wal-Mart has a strict dress code.

“Honey, I need a pair of white, hospital worthy panties please”.

Mark quickly ran for the panties and then stood guard making sure the sleeping 14 year olds didn’t wake (we had a sleep over friend), only to be scarred at the sight of me withering about the floor, trying to lasso a leg I could not bend with a pair of panties. I would have been mortified if they had seen me. Plus, I would have never been able to enforce the always wear clean underwear rule!

Now fully dressed and hospital appropriate, Mark was finally able to help to the car (well actually, Mark was able to watch me side craw through the house, garage and across the drive way, making sure I didn’t hurt further hurt myself).

An hour after crashing on my front steps we arrived at the emergency room where I was presented with a wheel chair to ride in. Three hours after arriving at the hospital, and two photo shots in radiology, the results were in and my right leg was voted Ms. Proximal Fibula Fracture of the Day. This title was not bestowed upon me with a crown, banner or even roses. Instead, I was presented with a pair of shinny crutches which will be the death of me yet (you can admire them in the picture above)!

So, what does breaking a leg have to do with good luck or anything good at all???

It’s all about the love! When you are down and hurt, you find out who will drop everything and meet you in the ER to make sure you are all right (thanks mom and dad). And, even though cell phone service is blocked in the ER, when you leave you can look at the list of everyone that tried to call and make sure you were doing okay. Yes, it’s all about feelin’ the luv!

Today as I write, it is one day after the Grace Performs Ice Acrobatics incident. Joshua, Seth and Micah (sons #1, #3 and #4), Amanda (Son#1’s wife) and my grandson extraordinaire, Colten, are with me at home. Caleb, who is son #2, is sick with the flu at his house. I am being waited upon and nursed back to full recovery. Seth and Micah awoke earlier than usual this morning to see how I was doing, Joshua and Amanda arrive with food and candy, and my coffee mug has been kept full the entire day as we have talked and laughed and watched TV. together. The phone keeps ringing with offers of help and wishes for wellness. All this attention did more than take my mind of the occasional throb of my leg, and the occasional annoyance I felt at being told to sit still. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It makes me feel loved.

As you think about the possibilities of breaking your leg one day (God forbid!), you might wonder about who would be there for you. Who would fetch you hospital worthy underwear, who would show up at the hospital eager to sign your cast, who would worry about waiting on you so you wouldn’t overdo, who would call throughout the day just to see if you needed anything?

The bigger question to me is who would I show up for? The list is pretty long, but, is it long enough? Could that list of friends ever be long enough?

Who’s on your list? Go ahead, write it out and take a peek. Now call, email, write or go visit one of them and tell them that you’ll be right there for them if they ever break their leg! You will both feel good.

Oh, I do wish I had not broken my leg, but, a broken leg definitely has its perks. Having family surround me with care, concern, laughter and love is worth just about anything and everything. And, if that happened to be the price one had to pay to experience that bond, I do believe I would break my leg everyday. Thank God that won’t be necessary!

Oh yes, it was truly another live-again-day.

Let’s live another!

Hello! I am Kelly and I live in Ohio. I am an average (in a special sort of way) person who spends the days home schooling kids, cooking, making things pretty and working part-time. I am a wife, a mom to 4 sons and 1 daughter-in-law, a grammy to 1 grandson and a soon to be arriving granddaughter (thank you God, a girl, finally), a daughter (hi mom and dad), a sister, an aunt and a friend.

Welcome to Live Again Days!

You might be wondering what Live Again Days is, or what live-again-days are. Have you ever had a day that was so very special, if given the chance, you would live it over again? If your answer is yes, then you know what a live-again-day is! I love live-again-days.

I think all days should be live-again-days. And, I think they can be! Truly, if at the end of each day, we step back and look closely at the moments of the day, we can probably find a time, maybe just a second of time, that was so special it would make the entire day (even if, for the most part it rated a -10 on the how-was-your-day-scale), worth doing over again, just to have that one speck of time again.

I want all days to be live-again-days! No, no, no. Please don’t get the wrong impression. I am so not PerkyPollyMissSusieSunshine (I have people who will vouch for me on this one) living in a castle on the hillside, watching my subjects below spend their days planning all the ways they can please me (nice dream though…). It is just that I, hovering in my 40’s, at 30+ years of age, happen to realize that live-again-days are so much better than the alternative, and if I am not living live-again- days, it is up to me to change that.

Yes. Live-again-days are my responsibility (I do so cringe at the “r” word at times). It is unfortunately true. I have to do it. I have to use all the senses that the good Lord gave me to look for and witness the goodness that surrounds me, and then use my mind, body, heart and soul to guide me and motivate me enough to create those wonderful flecks of time.

I have to have my eyes in search mode, looking for the beauty in all people and in all things. I see it on a daily basis with my husband and sons. Yes, even when they are looking at me like I am the one that just got beamed down from my alien planet. I can look behind their “I can’t believe I got stuck with her” attitudes and know that they are loving and temporarily confused. It happens to the best of us. And, I know the beauty was there when fabric store employee looked as if she wanted to kill me when I asked about the stores yarn shipments. She couldn’t have known that I had just move here from another, bigger town, with a larger selection, and that I really didn’t care about the yarn, I was only trying to make conversation and she was missing her chance to be my new best friend. Yes, I am sure there was beauty there; I just had to wait and look harder for it. Sure enough, moments after I knew she was wishing me away, I watched her be very helpful to an older woman. And the thankful gleam in that older woman’s eyes was enough to make me glad that I had been there, in that store, at that moment. And, I did see beauty in the fabric store employee, after all.

When I tire of looking for the beauty in people I can find beauty in things. Just the right tree with ice encrusted snow covered branches, a gorgeous sunrise, trinket things, shiny things, old things. All the treasures that truly mean something, are waiting for us to find them and enjoy them.

I have to pay attention to the most important sounds my ears are hearing and not focus on the noise. My ears can bring hope, joy, inspiration, knowledge and understanding into my life. I just have to remember to listen carefully!

I have to really feel the love in a hug or the gladness in an oh!-I-am-so-glad-to-see-you handshake, the softness of a favorite shirt, the warmth of the sun on my face and the refreshing coolness of the wind. There are so many ways to feel goodness!

I have to slow down and really enjoy the tastes that pass through my lips; fresh fruit, scrumptious deserts, thanksgiving dinners, great cups of coffee (in this instance, pots are always better than a cups); just your general swell eats. I mean really, I am going to eat anyway; I might as well savor the experience and let myself bask in the beauty of it all! (Dreamily picturing myself shoving dad’s dressing and gravy down my throat as if it will be the last meal I will ever eat, while grabbing for my steamy mug of coffee and eyeing mom’s incredible almost heaven cheesecake.)

I have to open up to the sensations that the glorious smells of life offer. The smells of fresh grasses, flowers, spring rains that make windows foggy, pretty ladies’ perfumes, just bathed babies and dinner in the oven on a cold wintry night, enter my nose and are breathed straight into my soul and create moments of happiness.

I have to use my mind (I do have one you know. God gave it to me and I think He might have had higher expectations for my using it.) I have to imagine all the ways I can contribute to not only my live-again-days, but others’ live-again-days as well. We are all connected and are in this together- like it or not.

I have to use my body (yes, I have one, from the same Source, and I know He isn’t pleased) to get up and go! Go see, hear, touch, taste and smell all that is good. Get up and go create beautiful moments and lovely days! One can’t experience live-again-days if one isn’t experiencing life.

Finally and most importantly, I have to allow my heart and soul to guide me through my days. I must nourish them and pay the most special attention to them. I must trust them. They are the very center of my being, the purpose of my life. My soul knows what is good and what is right.

This blog is about my journey to find and make the goodness that can occur even in the most ordinary of days. I will share my finds and efforts in making live-again-days, and I hope you’ll journey along with me and share your treasures and works as well. We are all in this together, and walks are usually more fun with a friend.

Let’s live live-again-days!

•  Subscribe to Entries

   Subscribe to comments

• January 2009

  S	M	T	W	T	F	S
  « Mar			«-»
  				1	2	3
  4	5	6	7	8	9	10
  11	12	13	14	15	16	17
  18	19	20	21	22	23	24
  25	26	27	28	29	30	31