Giving in Your Own Way

Do you ever stop to wonder what other people think about in a day? Here are the course of my thoughts today.

While getting ready for work and driving to work:

My mother pointed out a few years ago that my father's brothers each give in their own way, but that they are both very giving. One of them will always lay out food when we come to visit and is very monitarily generous. The other gives freely of his time and will drop anything to come over and help my dad around the house when things need fixing. I used to think that one uncle was more generous than the other, and my mother's observation made me realize that they both give, but they give their own way.

This morning my mother's comment turned inward. I always used to think that I am not a very giving person because...well...I don't cook. I don't remember birthdays. I am not one to give cards or gifts or thoughtful things.  I'm not one for giving people baked things, making cards, or doing thoughtful things. But I was thinking about it, my talents, are different. I may show up a person's house week after week to teach a skill. I may run with you at 6:30 in the morning because you aren't working and I recognize that it is important to get up and have something constructive to do. I may show up night after night because you are on bed rest and I know you need company to fight the boredom. I may even consciously support you in ways you didn't even realize. But I do give, just like my previously unrecognized uncle's form of giving. This realization was comforting as I learned to appreciate my own manner of contributing to the world. It's less recognizable, but it's there, in its own way.

After my morning appointment:

I got a call on my work phone from my friend Katie.



She had voluntarily promised to clean my car last month because I had paid her entrance fee to my birthday event. But selfishly I really wanted her there, and I had enjoyed the chance to payback all of the times kind friends had paid for me when I was in school. But she insisted on cleaning my car in exchange. I had never reminded her to clean my car, and never planned to take her up on it.

Yesterday, she reminded me, "I still need to come and clean your car. I have tomorrow off and I am going to go to your work, and get your car key, and bring it to my house, clean it and return it." Sounded good to me. She called me in the morning and came in to get my key. But, as it turns out, she had brought the vacuum with her, an extension chord, and just needed a place to plug it in. I checked with my boss to see if it was ok if she could use a plug from our office.

Co-worker's reactions:

Me: Hey Boss, can my friend use a plug in the office. She is going to clean out my car and needs a plug.

Boss: Astounded. Is your friend going to clean my car too? Wandered around for the next little bit in awe that a person would voluntarily come to clean my car.

Co-worker #1: I need new friends.

Co-worker #2: Did you lose a bet?

Co-worker #3: If I were her, I would have just laid low until you forgot.

Well, truthfully, I had no intention of remembering. It was all Katie. Sometimes a person feels so undeserving of their friends. The whole rest of the day I just felt so inspired by her example and her service. I wanted to be someone who serves more. And I couldn't help but realize what a sweet person she is and I was impressed that she would make it a point to remember, because she so didn't have to. And all day that pervasive feeling of bien etre was all around. I felt more patient in traffic. I had kinder feelings towards the world in general. And that ambitious part of me wanted, with all that I am, to be the best friend my friends can have. One who is loyal, kind, thoughtful, and gives in her own way, just as Katie did.

Studette of the Month - September 2010

She is a Lifer. What is a Lifer you ask? The kind of friend with whom there are no awkward pauses if you haven't seen each other for years. The kind of friend who you know loves you despite the distance and time. The kind of friend that you respect deeply. The kind of friend who you know you'll be friends with for the rest of your life. Let me introduce you to a Lifer: Jessica.



Perhaps on paper, Jessica and I would seem to have little in common. She is from California; I am from New Hampshire. Jessica is trendy and dresses adorably; I wear hand-me-downs on a daily basis. She is a photographer, a clothing designer, super crafty and talented. She tried teaching me to make a pair of pants once...I had to seam rip them more times than I should ever admit in public.



But that is on paper...



The fact of the matter is, that the qualities that make a Lifer are loyalty, sincerity, forgiveness, depth, character, and being a friend who is somehow always there when you need them. Jessica is all of these. Tested, tried, and true.

She knew me as a Freshman in college and still loves me. She mailed me Nutty Bars once because she knows how much I love them. She was the only one with me when I reported to the Missionary Training Center. She wrote me on my mission. She lived in Salt Lake City for a few months before I moved away. She always let me stay with her when I was flying out of the country through LAX...to name a few.

Now, a little story about Jess.  One day I was reading a blog and I saw this lovely wedding. 





Imagine my surprise when I later discovered that my friend Jess had designed and made all of these brides maids dresses. Check out the very last name on this link. That's my Lifer!!

A Tribute For the Bet I Lost About the "Word" Squoze

The Sobering Truth

I do bankruptcy half the time, and I've seen the truth of this. Your tax returns and wages can be garnished. This is not made up. From what I can tell, this is a great summary.

Infographic by College Scholarships.org

My Favorite Quote Ever

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

~Teddy Roosevelt, April 23, 1910

Missouri, California, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire and a Few Other Things

Well friends, the good news is I finally feel like I am turning back into me again. And I love it. Highlights as of late:

- A trip to Northern California for the 4th of July



- While there, I went paintballing



This lovely shot caused me to have to wear my hair down for two weeks because it looked undeniably like a hickey.



- San Francisco



Please note that I am wearing a fleece here that I had to buy on the pier because I was so cold. Walking out into the open air of Missouri was quite a contrast upon returning home.



Colette got married!!!



We were all soooo excited.



Look at my growing family!



- Finished Les Miserables, unabridged. Before you are too impressed, consider that it took me nine years to finish it.



- Grubfest 2010 - The annual trip to Grubville, Missouri was awesome. Wish you could have been there.



- As of Saturday all of my diplomas, certificates, etc. are hanging in my office. They take up half the wall. It was a surreal moment to see those many years of work expressed in pieces of paper that used to seem to meaningless. But there they are, bearing my name, ready to tell clients that the business card isn't lying. Please note that I have been an licensed attorney for two years and just NOW hung my diplomas on the walls. I know; I procrastinate.

The News of Today

My mother had e-mailed me and told me he wasn't doing well. I didn't think much more about it until I received an e-mail from Kristi today. Jim Duchane passed away.

Sitting in my windowless office I found my eyes misting with tears. I had work to do, but memories and thoughts were going through my mind. There were least four feet of snow on the ground in Concord, New Hamshire where I saw him last. He talked of the expense of heating his house with kerosene. It seems homeowners in New Hampshire always talk about the expense of heating their homes in the winter, just as Californians always seem to talk about money. I had asked him, as I often ask people, how he had met his wife.

Brother Duchane had fallen in love with a spunky, red-headed, Mormon woman many years ago. She was a security guard and he said she could beat the tar out of anyone. He was smitten. Even years later I could see that he was so taken by this woman who could beat up anyone.

I met Brother Duchene at church as a child. His two girls who were still children when I left for college. The summer after my mission, I visited a small branch in Northern New Hampshire where Branch President Duchene and his family are now attending. His oldest daughter is now soon leaving to attend college and wants to study forensics, and there was MG, his wife. My eyes are now misting as I think about MG.

MG was my primary teacher when I was a child. She loved being in Primary because her energy level matched ours. She never belonged in Relief Society, she belonged with us. She gave us homemade pies if we attended her class with perfect attendance each month. Month after month she delivered my pie to my home.

I remember the first time I came to know of this person called MG. I went with my mother to the Mother-Daughter Homemaking meeting. It seemed everyone would talk about this woman MG, old women, young women, everyone seemed to adore her. The first time I saw her she hugged an old woman. She is the spunky red-headed security guard who could beat anyone up, the woman who made Brother Duchane's eyes glow with the memory of first meeting her. How she must be missing him.

An hour or so later I am distracted by my phone signaling that I have a text. It is Deborah, my beautiful trainer from my mission, announcing the birth of her third child. I text back a quick congratulations and letting her know how proud I am of her accomplishment in bringing this child into the world. How happy she must be for her new daughter.