In the past, I have said:

I quit sharing when you quit listening.

When I felt that my story was not heard, I went silent.

When sharing my feelings and my story was met with judgment, condemnation, and unsolicited advice rather than tender loving care and Christ-like grace, I found tender loving care and Christ-like grace…elsewhere.

I have had some close people in my life who thought they were helping me by trying to offer advice. They tried to “fix” me, instead of offering to just listen to me share what it was like to walk in these “shoes.”

I have had some close people in my life who were so disappointed in me, they walked away instead of listening to my perspective, my story. A few of them wrote me letters telling me of their disappointment and hurt, feeling justified to share scripture and righteous wisdom in order to hasten my repentance.

For some people in my life whom I thought were good friends or close family, they went silent and chose to ignore the battle I faced. I understood, although I was heartbroken. They didn’t know what to say. It was easier to just go silent. I’ve done that to others…

*****

Tomorrow makes me weary. Listening to really good people make ugly comments about this candidate or that candidate is so discouraging.

I told someone the other day that I am just as guilty of thinking one way versus the opposing view, simply because I pay attention to the hate and the internet and the news…and I do not know Donald or Hillary, but God does.

Hillary is His child.

Donald is His child.

And I suspect that deep down, they are both trying to do what they believe is best for our country.

I also know that, according to what I have heard and read, they have done things in their past that they most likely regret. Me too.

Until I sit down and have a conversation with either of them, HEAR THEIR STORY, and walk one step in their shoes, I have no business spreading negativity and hatred and disgust and unkind words. Whoever is my President tomorrow, I owe them a chance, I owe them many chances, because it isn’t going to be easy, and they are going to need me and millions of other followers of Jesus to practice the fruits of the Spirit and carry out the instructions from Micah 6:8.

*****

I am grateful for a lot swimming around in my head today.

I am grateful that I am where I am, that even though it was a long hard road, I can hold my head high, knowing I am forgiven, I am loved, and I am surrounded with the friends and family who cared enough to hear my story before offering judgment.

I am grateful for my friends and my family who are interested enough to ask, and I am grateful for the reminders to be the kind of person who asks others to share their story, because sometimes I get so caught up in my own, I become one who unintentionally goes silent and ignores.

I am grateful for dreary days to appreciate a roof over my head and a warm blanket.

I am grateful for a Sunday message that continues to nudge on my heart.

I am grateful for a day without the TV on, a day without the radio on.

I am grateful for a cheese and bacon sandwich for lunch.

And I am grateful that tomorrow is a new day, a new era of possibilities for our country, and another opportunity for me to wear love everywhere I go.

Okay. So, I am spending my morning here at the computer trying to work, but I have been “put in my place” and it’s all I can think about today!

A co-worker friend has a son who lives in New York City and is a creator of all things cookbooks for the upper crust, the hoity-toity, the elegant and refined.

Her son attended a “white trash” party this past weekend and won a monetary prize for bringing the best dish/recipe. When my co-worker described the ingredients, I began laughing, realizing that is something I make and love to eat!

I don’t know what’s worse – knowing my palate is in the “white trash” category, or finding out he won $250 from the upper crusts for a recipe that “my kind” eats on a regular basis!

Co-worker and I were laughing at the irony and she then shared one of HER family recipes, complete with jello, oranges, and mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise?! Mayonnaise goes in a SANDWICH, not in a jello salad!

Which then reminded me of dinner with Mom and Dad one evening when my daughter and son-in-law were visiting. Mom got all fancy and used actual salad plates in the upper left corner –  you know, moving up a class on the social scale, rather than the usual one plate per person and food served in the pans sitting on homemade hot pads in the middle of the table.

Anyway, in the middle of these cute little miniature dinner plates other people use, Mom had swankified a piece of iceberg lettuce, added a canned pear half, and topped it off with this beautiful dollop (I love that word – it makes me sound posh) of what we thought was whipped topping, the kind that comes in the white and blue plastic containers and is stored in the freezer.

Au, contraire mon frère.

It wasn’t a white cloud of sweet heaven.

It was MIRACLE WHIP.

WHO PUTS MIRACLE WHIP ON FRUIT??? EVEN IF IT DID COME OUT OF A CAN???

I have not laughed that hard in a very long time.

It would take a miracle to whip that “salad” into something upscale and edible, and my son-in-law’s reaction was PRICELESS.

Oh, the memories.

As co-worker and I were laughing at our Miracle Whip stories of growing up on the other side of the tracks, I remembered my little Girl Scout back at St. George Episcopal School.

The population at our elementary school was definitely from the “north end of town,” if you get my drift. We assimilated only because I taught at the school, not because we also had nannies and maids and pools and vacation homes.

The Brownie troop was planning their annual camp out, and the Brownie leaders thought it would be wonderful to have each little 2^nd grade girl share their favorite meal with the troop to garner some ideas for their cookout. The girls went around the large circle sharing “Chicken Picatta” and “Marinated Beef Tips” and “Calzones with Sausage Marinara…”

And then it was Katrina’s turn to share her favorite meal that Mom makes.

My favorite meal is HAMBURGER HELPER!

So today, I am grateful for laughter on a Friday.

I am grateful for all things boxed and canned and plastic-containered and bagged and yummy-in-my-tummy on the south side ‘o town.

And I am grateful that Hamburger Helper helped my hamburger help me make an incredible-tasting meal that made a huge impression at the dinner table…and around the Brownie circle.

I could probably name more than one, but today I will name… MICHELLE. She ate suckling lamb intestines today. I cannot make this stuff up. She did. See?

Last night, I was watching that incredible Game 7 with Dad, and a commercial came on that fits my Michelle to a T.

If you taste something bad, you want someone else to try it. It’s what you do …

Michelle is the friend who initiated me into the world of waxing eyebrows and upper lip. I know. Gross. But hey, she’s a hair guru and it’s what she does. WASN’T what I do until she got ahold of me.

She is the friend who bails me out of my sister’s crazy ideas, because the two of them together are crazy+crazy. They like to go to creepy places where little men practice corporate foot massage in the dark and no one is allowed to utter a sound. I only went along because someone needed to be there to call 9-1-1 and take pictures.

She is the friend who is not afraid of anything, who lives life to its fullest, who fills every waking minute of every day with adventure and doing for others, who puts up with a lot but you’d never know it, who can do ANYTHING and does it well, who is blunt and to the point but in a good way, and who taught me to be real and own my story, no matter the chapters.

Today, I am grateful for Michelle, even if she is halfway around the world in Turkey and eating baby lamb guts.I am grateful for her friendship. I am grateful that she deflects my sister’s crazy so that I can sit back and laugh at the two of them. I am grateful for her gift of hair wonder, her gift of cinnamon roll baking, her gift of cake heaven she inherits from her Mama, her gift of four children who make life very interesting and entertaining, and her gift of admiration for her husband in the middle of the wacky life they live.

And I am so so so so grateful that she is halfway around the world and no where CLOSE to me with that Kokoreç she was eating.

THIS was enough crazy for me for a while:

This beauty is 4 years old today. Her eyes are like blue crystal, and they speak volumes and tell silent stories captivating those who listen. Ama is very grateful for this precious little granddaughter.

This beauty is not 4 years old today, but her birthday is tomorrow, and this Ama isn’t her Ama but is her friend and I’m grateful for the laughter and friendship she’s added to my life.

Birthdays are a big deal. A celebration of life, a celebration of a person and their worth and impact. I have never understood those who choose to ignore these special days. One day each year to notice and show gratitude and reJOYce that this special person is alive and inhabits a spot in our heart.

Birthdays are for eating red velvet cake. Birthdays are for Barbie doll centerpieces. Birthdays are for awful blow-up-balloons-and-then-race-to-the-chair-and-sit-on-balloon-and-pop-it-and-then-race-back races.

Birthdays are for embarrassing sombreros and bad waiter/waitress singing. Birthdays are for trick candles that won’t blow out. Birthdays are for parties at ice skating rinks and McDonalds and scavenger hunts at the mall. Birthdays are for last minute frantic shopping and stressed out Mamas trying to pull off a successful party.

Birthdays are for hamsters in yellow and orange tube cages. Birthdays are for pulling out the You Are Special birthday plate. Birthdays are for slumber parties with sleeping bags and staying up lates.

Birthdays are for silly cards with heartfelt messages and homemade coupons to redeem inside. Birthdays are for cupcake treats to take to school. Birthdays are for making wishes. Birthdays are for happy surprises and feeling very loved.

I am grateful for birthdays that are celebrated and for those in my life who put forth the effort to recognize and appreciate the day a person was born by acknowledging above and beyond.

Birthdays are for making memories. I am grateful for the memories I have of past birthdays, and I wish many years of happy memories for you, Annistan and Julie.

“I wish you lived with us.” – 5 yr old granddaughter

“Can you come back every Halloween or even every holiday, like every Christmas?” – 7 yr old granddaughter

“I was nervous about meeting you, but I like you.” – 13 yr old foster granddaughter

I am grateful for time with these two little girls and their big sister.

I am grateful for a room to sleep in, sacrificed by big sister while I visited.

I am grateful for kitchen science experiments on a Sunday afternoon.

I am grateful for book reading and silly talking before bed.

I am grateful that two girls read ME stories and this Ama learned that she has really smart granddaughters.

I am grateful for the privilege of spending lunch time with them at their school.

I am grateful for good discussion with their daddy.

I am grateful to have been invited to see my daughter teach children’s church.

I am grateful for my hearing that allowed me another opportunity to hear my daughter’s laugh as she played games with teenagers.

I am grateful to have watched a little Wonder Woman and a leopard get so excited about trick-or-treating, ring doorbells wearing little girl nervous grins, and then they dumped their candy in a big pile on the living room floor, just as I did when I was their age.

I am grateful to have witnessed a mommy and a daddy treat the holiday with care, making it a very special memory, complete with a scary story in the dark of the house and then watching Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin with generous candy allowance before bedtime.

I am grateful for my Dad, who took the time to call me in the middle of Target yesterday, because he knew.

He knew I needed to hear the words, “I love you.”

I am grateful to be loved and I am grateful for those in my life who say those words and show me. May I always reciprocate and give love freely and without strings attached.

I am so very grateful for my grandchildren and the Grace and Joy they give to their Ama.

And I am grateful for the yellow brick road back to Kansas that I am now on…there’s no place like home.