a chance

And so, we now have a new president, our 45th president, who was voted in, whether fairly or not.   For the next four years, if he fails, democrats will remind us that he didn't win the popular vote.  If he succeeds, the republicans will insist he was voted in fair and square.

I've never told anyone who i voted for, and i won't.  It's no ones business.   If you want to tell me who you voted for...okay, but don't expect me to respond in kind.

Do i like Trump?   Can't say i do.  There were other republicans i liked more. 

However, i'm going to give him a chance.

A fair chance.

Like i was given.

When i was in 10th grade...my life was...upside down.  My mother and stepfather were divorcing, it was messy, it was violent and it was devastating.   There were secrets, and i started failing school.  I'll never forget when i was sent to a principals office for something or other, and she stood over me, glaring at me, and told me i was never going to amount to much, i was going to be a drunk, nothing but trailer trash.  

I was at my lowest point.

But i wrote a story...it was dark, it involved death (all my stories did around that time) and it got attention.   A friend of the family called me, i'll never forget that, he called me to compliment me on the article.   And 2 teachers reached out to me.  Both were involved with writing.  One was in charge of the school newspaper, and one had a writing class.   Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Hollman gave me a chance to show a different side of me.   Mr. Kennedy put me on the Clipper staff, Mr. Hollman challenged me to take a class and write stories.  

They both challenged me to show the world a different side of me and prove myself.    To prove i was more than trailer trash.   I told Mr. Kennedy what i had been told...and his response was simple "Don't ever let anyone tell you what you are, show them what you can be."   

I'm not a drunk, i'm not trailer trash (oh btw, one thing i learned living in Florida, jeepers some of those trailers are nicer than most homes), i'm a great mother, a pretty dang good wife and i like who i became.

I was given a chance.

So, i'm going to give Trump a chance.  He may screw up.   He may succeed.  He may do a bit of both.  Let's see. 

Obama screwed up, he succeeded, he did a bit of both.

Bush screwed up, he succeeded, he did a bit of both.

Clinton screwed up, he succeeded, he did a bit of both.

Bush screwed up, he succeeded, he did a bit of both.

Reagan screwed up, he succeeded he did a bit of both.

The list goes on.

the average me

So, i was taken a few minutes to myself and grabbed a Christmas issue magazine (i'm a little behind in my reading) and there were suggestions for gifts.   Okay, so I'm looking at gifts that are recommended for family and i had to chuckle when they suggested $200 ear plugs for my teenager.  First, my kids break earplugs - within 6 weeks they are complaining one plug doesn't work.   This could be $5 earplugs or a $35 pair.  Second, he usually wears his headset on the bus, which means he would bring them to school, which means....yeah, they'd be stolen in a week.

So then, i read about gifts for friends and truly burst out laughing.  This magazine was recommending i give a friend a $198 bathrobe.   Yes, you saw that right, $198. 

Now, i can tell you - if i were to give one of my friends a $198 bathroom, say for instance, i gave it to Melody - her first thought would be "Oh my gosh, Sharon robbed a bank!"  I love Melodyq with all my heart, i consider her a sister.  But no way am i giving her a robe that cost more than my weekly shopping list.

Now, i consider myself an every day type of woman, i clean every day, i do laundry every day, I lose my mind every day...but the people who put together these magazines are a wee bit out of touch.  I can't imagine any of my friends spending $169 for a pair jeans which are the must have for the spring.  Or a t-shirt, a plain white t-shirt that's a great bargain at $50.

(just have to squeeze this in:  I remember all the "in-things" while i was in high school.  Remember calvins  and Gloria vanderbuilt jeans?  I will never forget a classmate wearing jeans so tight she struggled to sit at her desk and was telling her friends she had to lay on the bed with her sister pulling the snap together so she could zip them up.  Ah, the good old days.)

I know my friends don't expect me to spend my grocery money on them.  Most of my friends are happy when i give them something i made with yarn.   I've been given a pair of microwave slippers that are one of the best things i've ever been given.  The average person doesn't want a gift that would financially strap their friend. 

The average person is happy with a girls night out that can includes a cheap bottle of wine and a couple of dice.   The average person comes home bragging about an incredible bargain she found (and has a husband who asks "And how much did you spend to save me that money?")

I'm average.   I'm not beautiful (even though Tim tries to convince me i am), I'm not amazingly smart, I'm not incredibly talented, I i don't have an amazing singing voice, even though i do have friends that fit in each category.

I am perfectly average.

And i'm so very blessed to have you as my friend.

I love you.








 

Does their opinon really matter?

Over the weekend, i was blessed with witnessing the wedding of a girl that i've known for 15 years.  While walking in between tables, another guest stopped me, saying she loved my hair, she'd always wanted to add a little color to her hair.

I asked "Why don't you?" and she told me that people have told her she's too old.  She only wanted to do like i have, just a little color up front, maybe a streak down the side, but she was told she was too old.

So I asked "Does their opinion matter so much that you won't do something that will make you happy?"

That caused her to pause and then she smiled.  No, it didn't matter that much and she was going to do it, she was going to add some color to her and we then started talking colors.

I've had people make some rude comments about my hair, including a few who decided at the ripe old age of 52, i'm too old for dabs of color.

And i don't care.  

I've finally gotten past the point in my life that someone's opinion about something that makes me happy no longer matters.   My hair makes me happy.  I love looking in the mirror and seeing the pop of color, i enjoy the way it makes my face look....and if you don't like it....oh well.

And it took me a long time to get this way, and i still have little hiccups along the way. 

There are still times when someone makes a comment about me, and i hunch my shoulders and turn inside myself, wondering what i need to do to fix that persons opinion of me.

But then i look in the mirror. 

There's a lot of pressure on us to fit the mold, to meet the standards of others, to fit in.

Well, forget that.

Be you.  There's enough of those and that and the others walking around.  But there's only one you.

And i love that about you.

A Letter To God

Hi God,

Normally i tweet messages to you, but today, the 144 characters won't do.

I have a lot of questions for you.

Let's first discuss the election...can it get anymore terrifying?  People are arguing that their candidate is the best...and to be honest, i can't see any candidate making America great.

And about America....Lord, it's terrifying.  Racial tensions, cop shootings and cops being attacked, mass shootings.   You can't feel safe anymore, i get scared walking out the door, sending my husband and son to school is terrifying. 

I can't think of anyone who isn't worried about their financial stability.   If they're stable now, they still worry about what happens in their future,  Everyone around me is just trying to pay bills.   Jobs are scarce and those found are stressful and require long hours and stressful commutes.  Many know their jobs are in jeopardy and are desperately trying to find another one.

I know so many that are struggling emotionally, and can barely get through the day.  Kids are being bullied, kids are being abused, kids are being ignored.   Adults are suffering from depression, and wondering why it's important they stay on earth. 

Families dealing with the empty nest are wondering if their marriage is strong enough to survive with just the two of them.

Couples are done, and are looking to divorce.

One spouse is cheating, the other is trying desperately to save the marriage.

Kids are caught in the middle.

Lord, i spend so much time in prayer, so worried about my friends.   I sometimes think You want to put cotton in Your ears because i talk too much. 

I'm putting my stress in YOUR STRONG HANDS.   I know YOU have a plan, YOU know what my prayers are.  

Please help me with my health, my job, my security.

Help my kids stay safe and help my husband come home every night.

If my friends need help, please let me know and thank YOU for the friends that have been there for me in amazing ways.

You are my Father, my Savior, and i am putting my trust in You.

Sharon

yeah, criticism, that'll work...not.

I admit, i used to be one of "those" people, who used to look at other people who had kids misbehaving in the store and think "oh my kid would never do that."  My kid would never scream or shout in the aisle.  My kid would never hide in the rack of clothes and quietly snicker as i went insane trying to find them.

My kids would never accidentally pull the one cord that would release all the balls all over the kids department in walmart.  My child would never cross his arms, stomp his feet and refuse to move from the freezing frozen aisle because i refused to buy his beloved strawberry ice cream.

Nope, never.

Then i had kids.

Jenn is the one that hid, Talina is the one that screamed, Nate is the one that pulled the balls down, Ben is the strawberry ice cream child.

Each and every time, I had a parent looking at me, like i was the worst parent on earth, that i had no control and my children were bound to be juvenile delinquents.  

I actually had one lady who stood in front of me, crossed her arms and proceeded to call me several unflattering names.

Now, if you know me, you'll know whenever my kids pull stunts, i usually end up muttering "I love my children, i love my children, i love my children...." as i clean up, fix up, grab up, do whatever to get the child back in line.

This lady told me my child needed nothing but a good beating and he would get in line.  Spare the rod, spoil the child and i obviously was raising the next Charles Manson.

What that person didn't know is that my son was tired.  We'd just come home from a funeral, after watching a close friend slowly waste away over a month.  His life had been topsy turvy while mom and dad dealt not only with the death of a friend, but the needs of our friends children while their mother never left her husbands beside.   A little guy who was used to be the youngest in the house, alone while all his siblings went to school, he was suddenly surrounded by their kids who were older, louder and bigger than he was. 

All my little boy wanted was some ice cream, which i had promised him, and had been too tired to remember...and he was reminding me in his famous red headed temper way.   The fault was with me, not my child, and he certainly didn't need a beating.  He needed a hug, and his carton of ice cream.

My first reaction was to smack the lady.

My second reaction was to burst into tears.

My third reaction, which actually happened, was me looking at the lady, barking a huge laugh in her face, opening the freezer door, grabbing 2 boxes of ice cream, and throwing them into my cart.  I then continued to laugh in a very annoying way, and said "Come on Charlie, let's go grab some whipped cream!"

(To which Ben responded "I not charlie!  cream!!!")

That taught me a very valuable lesson.   You just never know....you just never know what that person has just gone through.

Last week, I was in Wallyworld, and a little boy was crying and crying and crying.  He was miserable, and the mother was looking tired, scared and ready to run.    I went over, and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

She turned to me and literally burst into tears.  She had just found out her little boy was autistic and had no idea why the child was crying at the top of his lungs.  

I did.  The music in Walmart is horrible, it is often just low enough for most people not to hear, but loud enough to cause misery for someone with auditory issues, which most autistic kids have.  I took her hands and placed them over her sons hears...after a few quick shakes of his head, he stopped crying.  I was told her i, too, had an autistic child, and it was the noise.  I explained what i knew about noises and how i solved it with my child. Just that morning, i had asked a friend where she bought the headset her child wore, who also had auditory sensory issues, so she and i went into the gun section, found a kids headset, ripped open the box and plopped them on his head.  It took him a few minutes to adjust, but he had stopped crying. 

If i didn't have a child with autism, i might never have known what was wrong.  What i did wasn't wonderful, i don't deserve a pat on the back.   It was reminder to me that we are so often too quick to judge. 

Criticizing some one for what we feel is their flaw or their error or their mistake or whatever....that's not our job.   Unless we have been with that person all day, we don't know what they've gone through.

But, we are supposed to lend a helping hand to those in need. 

Mark 12.31  The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

I love you.
 

Little Blondie no more.

Last night i got smacked in the face with a woooooooooooooow moment. in 1991, i was blessed to meet who would become my soul sister - the person so much like me, it was like having a blonde twin. She had two kids, I had one, she was married, i was a single mother...and we set out to laugh at the world. We had shopping trips that lasted from 5am to 2am, we got kicked out of Perkins, we were girl scout leaders. Steffie was there when i had kidney stones. Our girls were in first grade together, and she was at my side when i met Tim, and was my maid of honor. Our girls, Ashley Lightner Jenn Aliotta and Talina Walters were in the 1st grade class together with Francine Greene Lutman. The girls grew up with each other until we moved to VA. I went back down to FL when she graduated as a nurse, and we went to Disney with her young son Joshua James Porter (and he kissed a mermaid). She came up with her whole family when i had ben 8 weeks early, a few days after 9/11 and we saw the damage on the Pentagon and mourned as one family and oh, huh, she discovered she was pregnant after leaving our home...we like to believe Zach was a blessing created at our home) They moved to Vermont, on the way there, they stopped by and longer stop was cancelled when she knew in her heart that something was wrong with her young son. She said he changed colors, i didn't see it, but i knew she saw something and they headed up to their new life. A few days later, Zach was diagnosed with Leukemia. At that time, while Jim and Steffie prayed and began the battle of keeping her son alive, i contacted the camping ground where their trailer was at, they waived their fees. I called every church and the support was amazing, including a home rent free. Praise the Lord, Zach is fine. Now, she is in VT, we are here and there have been times when we've been too busy to chat. But last night, they were driving from FL to VT again...and stopped by. And i got to see my best friend as a grandmother. Her daughter had 2 adorable children, and i got to snuggle and love on her son, while my sons got to entertain the very active 3 year old. Seeing Steffie as a grandmother and Ashley as a mom...wow. Time continues to fly. This mom was the little girl that Steffie and i bought Easter dresses for. She looked like a mom, knowing where her active little girl was at all times, smiling at her young son as he fell asleep in my arms...

Time flies....treasure every minute. I love you.

A staple serves as a reminder.

This morning, during the normal insane moments of the Corner Clan, i was pulling a fundraiser envelope off a calendar and ripped my finger on the staple.  

My first thought was "Ouch."

My second thought was "I wonder how many others did that and are thinking of suing the Holocaust Museum for pain and suffering."

Then, while sucking on my finger, i stopped and thought "Well, that put my life in perspective today."

Here i was, sucking on a sore index finger, from a calendar that reminds us one of one the worst times in our history.  

A time that highlights the horrors, and the greed of humans.  People without a heart made money off of human hair, gold ripped from the mouths of others, from art that was stolen from homes as the owners were thrown into camps and gas chambers.  It also highlights the strength in those who lost everything, but fought to survive and go on.  People who lost everything, their loved ones, their homes, their everything, but lived on.

Looking around my house, i see furniture and yarn, and pictures of kids who make my life whole.  I have plants, i have food in the fridge, i have clean clothes on my back.   We don't have the best of everything, but we have enough to get us through the day comfortably.

I think of times i think "I wish i had..." and feel ashamed as i look through the calendar, being reminded of all the indignities suffered by Jews and others in Europe over 75 years ago.  I am reminded of a neighbor on Mgr. v/d Wetering Straat, who had a milk pitcher on her window sill, with a picture of lovely woman and her son next to it.   The pitcher hadn't been moved since the mother had come over to ask for some milk, then saw the soldiers at her front door, ran out to be with her family, and was never seen again.  The couple on the next street over that always wore long sleeves, ashamed even 30 years later, of the numbers tattooed on their arms.  

It's so easy to want more.  It's so easy to think we deserve more.

Then, with something as simple as a staple, one is reminded of all we have, all we have been given, all we are blessed with.

Matthew 6.26:  Look  at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barnds, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not worth much more than they ?

There are times, we may not have enough food to feed our children, but we can reach out to friends, and they can reach out to us, and food is shared among the families.  Because it always seems, when you don't have something, a friend is blessed with extra.

When a car breaks down, someone is home for the day and hands you the keys to their car.

When you need long black pants, when you need a lunch box, when you a hug, someone is always there, because He put them there.

God carries us in more ways than we realize.  We take so much for granted, we don't think of all the times God put His coat over the puddle so we don't get wet, we don't suffer, we don't lack in what we need.

Life isn't perfect, we have pain, we lack, we feel loss, we suffer hunger in more ways than one...but compared to what others have suffered, we got it okay.

I love you.