Paradigm Shift

My favorite color has always been RED. Red is a bold color. To me, it's the color of bravery, honor, love and even strength.  Red had it all.  When planning our wedding it was easy to decide on the color red.

My least favorite color has always been yellow.  Yellow is a weak color.  To me, it's the color of sickness, mild and meek,  just blah. It seems to wash out and pale in comparison to my beloved red.

I remember my first brush with the color yellow.  My hero, my older brother, had been dating his high school sweetheart and proposed; they were planning their wedding.  She picked yellow.  Oh no!  I was only ten but I was sure this was a sign of disaster.  Yellow bridesmaids dresses and the cake lovingly baked and decorated by my mother was white and covered with daisies. Yuck and double yuck!  Somehow I made it through. (40+ years later they're still happily married with three kids and NINE grandkids!!)

Several years ago, my daughters were a part of the youth group at a local church. Of course they needed adult volunteers and I begrudgingly said yes to helping.  Somehow I found myself with a group of seventh and eighth grade girls.  One of the things I did was strive to really get to know these girls and of course I asked their favorite colors.  As we went around the room I heard many colors that were pleasing to my own personal preferances then one young lady replied with the dread "yellow." >>blech<< She was such a sweet girl with an incredible life story but she loved the color yellow.  For the life of me I just couldn't understand loving the color yellow. 

Then I found myself in 2018 & 2019. Adulting had gotten really hard. My parents were in the midst of their descent into #damndementia, Handsome was needing/having back surgery, I was traveling to DC with 27 teenagers then returning home to hernia surgery, my friend Tamara was diagnosed with and fighting a stage IV glioblastoma. One of the happiest, most perky, sassy fun loving friends was handed this dreadful diagnosis and guess what her favorite color was...that's right yucky yellow. (Imagine if you will my eyes are actually leaking as I type...) 

Visiting T in the hospital, we stopped at Walmart on the way and got shirts.
We used Duct tape to create "Team T" shirts!

Tamara was part of our group of moms lovingly known as the "Mom Squad." (This group was "legend" when I met them, they welcomed me with open hearts!) We became family because we all had kids who were members of the Ozark Youth Shooting Team.  This group is a little different than your other sports because from October through the end of July we spent our Tuesday evenings together.  In February (through the end of July) we added in spending all day together every Saturday.  We traveled together to competitions all over Arkansas and also traveled to New Mexico and Pennsylvania together.  We came to consider one another family.  When one of us hurt, we all hurt so when Tamara got sick, we all felt the sting.

The year Tamara spent fighting flew by quickly. I texted her most mornings with a "T-sky" you know those beautiful billowy white clouds on a canvas of blue...at first we would text a bit but it got to where she'd simply respond with a smile emoji, then a "y", then no response because her body wouldn't listen to her brain. I would visit with her and she would smile. I could see the love, faith and fight in her eyes. I would greet her with a gentle hand squeeze and before I would leave her another gentle hand squeeze and a kiss on her forehead. The last time I saw her, she didn't open her eyes...perhaps it was my imagination but when I told her I was going to give her a forehead kiss I believe I could see her slightly tilt her forehead toward me. A few days later, she was gone.

You know what wasn't gone?  That's right...the color yellow. I began to look at it differently. 

Yellow isn't the color of weakness, it's the color of quiet strength.

Yellow isn't the color of sickness, it's the color of fighting for health.

Yellow isn't mild, it's fierce, strong and healthy.

Yellow isn't meek, it's bold and unyielding; brave.

Yellow isn't blah, it's spirited and full of life.

I see yellow differently these days.  I've experienced a paradigm shift. When someone asks my favorite color I proudly tell them it's yellow. Not a day goes by without my thinking of our Sweet T.  When I see the beautiful clouds on that beautiful blue canvas in the sky, I know she is there.  The yellow cannas in my flowerbed and my yellow coffee mug remind me to be strong, fierce, brave and most of all full of life.  

#TeamT

#FaithOverFear

Ephesians 2:8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.

Let Your Light Shine

Today I experienced a broken heart.

It wasn't anything from a loved one.  It wasn't anything personal.

I feel strangely moved in a way I never thought possible.

 Mercy & Compassion

Those are my words for Lent 2018.  It's kind of funny because when I shared my excitement over looking at Lent through the lens of mercy & compassion that Jesus showed to us with my oldest daughter she had an interesting reply.  "So momma are you adding your name to the list you plan to show more mercy & compassion to?" I'm not necessarily strong in the area of self compassion, I tend to carry an unnecessary amount of feeling responsible for things not my fault and feeling like I don't do enough for those I love. My compassion for others generally flows freely from my heart and I thought I did pretty good until I went to the Bentonville Homeless gathering and then heard the Ash Wednesday service offered by Rev. Eric Meyer at FUMC.  Both had a similar tone about seeing others from the panhandler at your exit, the lady who is your waitress at your favorite spot, or other regular service provider. Seeing them, acknowledging their existence, a warm smile, a kind word...no one expects you to solve their problems, simply show them the same mercy and compassion that Jesus through his actions and stories strived to teach us!

Today I had a rare opportunity. I accompanied someone on a visit to the OU Medical Center Campus in Oklahoma City.  Specifically the third floor of the G. Rainey Williams Pavillion-this is the area dedicated to psychiatry and behavioral sciences for children and adults. We walked through the heavy door and I immediately felt very uneasy, I felt like I had stepped into a movie setting the walls, floors and ceilings were all white. The check-in ladies were behind glass window across from an expansive desk.  We were directed to a waiting room that was smaller than my living room with a dozen chairs, a table, a water dispenser and a coffee pot. The only decoration was a wooden hutch with glass that had some various old psychiatric medical tools and books. There were none of the comforts of the waiting rooms I have become accustomed to such as essential oils being diffused, comforting music, soothing paintings on the wall or windows with a glimpse of the outdoors. I live a very sheltered life. It was very clinical, I couldn't even find a picture online of a waiting room to compare it with. Just off the waiting room was a room where every patient had their vitals checked so the chairs were a merry go round. 

I quickly realized that I couldn't hold my head up and look at the people coming in, I was afraid I was going to burst into tears.   I kept myself involved with my coloring book and reading my book of the week.  The clients who made up at least 80% of the steady stream revolving through were kids, young kids. Kids accompanied by their parents, kids who looked like they had experienced more difficulties in their short years than I've known in 48 years! The parents were tired, frustrated, and several were short with their kids. These parents were doing their best, getting their children mental health help.  I have no idea what any of their stories were but it was a chilling and humbling experience. I didn't feel worthy to meet their eyes because I can't even comprehend the struggles in their lives. We need to quit stigmatizing those who are seeking mental health as less than or broken.  These parents are struggling, trying to help their children. We need to make mental health readily available and as socially acceptable as the "gentleman's clubs" that seem to be okay with the masses. The help must be accessible, affordable and accepted socially.

Last week I shared with you about kids needing compassion and how much my Wednesday night girls are on my heart for the burdens they carry and the struggles they face. My heart wept today with seeing so many children with struggles as part of their lives.  I beg of you-our children need mercy, they need compassion-desperately! Where you have children in your life smile at them, be patient with them and see them.  If you can volunteer with kids in your community, please do. There are so many opportunities: 4-H, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Boys & Girls Club, little league, schools, churches, the list goes on and on.  Reach out and strive to be the spark that ignites a flame. You might just make a difference in a life and prevent....darkness. God has a plan for every life, he desires nothing more than each and every life to be filled with joy and happiness-light.

As a community, let's work together for mental health changes so people whose worlds fall apart can have better things fall together!

“Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together.” ~Marilyn Monroe