Category Archives: Uncategorized

What’s so Great about the Pumpkin Anyway? (Embracing My Birthday) or I Got a Rock!

I got a rock

I tried to let it go in last year’s rant, “My Spooktacular Birthday.”  Now that I’m turning 29 for the eight time, I really should just learn to embrace my birthday being on Halloween.  Maybe I need therapy…in the form of chocolate.

Ah, yes, chocolate.  Now that is one good thing about having my birthday on Halloween.  When I was a kid, once people realized they had forgotten my birthday in the excitement of Halloween candy and costumes, I often got guilt chocolate.  Sometimes teachers would make sure I got extra cookies if we did class Halloween parties.  This part was acceptable. Here are some other acceptable byproducts of having a Halloween birthday.

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  The weather is usually quite comfortable- warmish during the day, with a slight chill in the evening.

I look good in fall colors.

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and Garfield’s Halloween Adventure specials.

One year, my mom, my oldest sister, and I had a Lethal Weapon marathon (this was when there were only three).  That has nothing to do with my birthday being on Halloween, but just shows they loved me enough to do what I wanted to do that day.

I can play dress up on my birthday and not look like an idiot.

My birthday isn’t on Christmas. I can’t imagine having to compete with baby Jesus on my birthday.

I know I can now count on Facebook to remind everyone and even suggest they all give me gifts.

This year, I vow to really let it go and embrace the day (though I really wish all calendars had “Terri’s Birthday” printed on them instead of “Halloween.”  Mine does.  My very smart husband had ours custom made.

Get a Haircut and Get a Real Job…or maybe just a bunch of hats

job

Since the time I was sixteen, which is more than half my lifetime ago, I’ve had a job, except for about a month right after I graduated from college and got married.  But I left the teaching profession in June, so now when I meet people and they ask the dreaded, “What do you do for a living?” I freeze.  I don’t have a “real” job, yet I have many jobs.  Confused yet?  Yeah, me too.

Robert and I discussed recently that I should tell people I’m an author, which I am.  That’s not exactly a huge money maker for me…yet, but I wrote a book (Memoirs and an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages) and am currently writing a sequel, so I’m an author.

I also still work for the school district as a very picky substitute.  I will only work in my former school, and I turn down the gym class, ESE, and math gigs.  I do feel a bit like since I was a teacher, I’ll always sort of be a teacher (this week I will sub a class with a majority of students I had two years ago).  The kids still think of me as a teacher and I still get contacted for letter of recommendation requests, and even the ones I’ve allowed as friends on Facebook still call me Mrs. Harper.

Then I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time and got myself into a job where I get to travel, deprive myself of sleep, lift and move heavy objects, and have a blast with some of the most interesting and joyous people I’ve ever met by working some race events for The Color Run (the happiest 5k on the planet).  It’s sort of like a contract work job though, because I work when I’m needed, so it’s not exactly a steady income for me.

I’m a horrible salesperson.  This is why I hate plugging my book and tend to be so awkward at it. I once sold Mary Kay, but not much and not for long.  Then I signed up to be a Compassion Entrepreneur with Trades of Hope because the money generated from these hand made products goes to paying the artisans (women in otherwise destitute and desperate living conditions) fair wages and empowerment.  I think my mom is my biggest customer, but I’m working on it (Thanks Mom!)

I don’t have a “real” job, and I’ve never been happier.  I’m not always sure how much money I can bring in for our household budget each month, but I leave it up to God.  He knows what we need and our needs are always met.  I’m stress free and now have time to give more of myself since I cannot just give money.  On Sunday, I signed up to volunteer at a few local outreaches and I cannot wait to get started, to give of my time, and to touch and change lives, directly or indirectly.  I always wanted to be able to do more, and now I finally can.  Serving others is a blessing in itself.  I’m not saying everybody should quit their jobs and start doing volunteer work, but if you can squeeze in time at any local charity even once a month, I’m certain you will feel gratified in what you do.

Terri’s BIG Adventure

My big adventure involved a bike.

pee wees bikeNo, not that bike.  This bike:

old school huffy

My one-speed Huffy.  I’m old school like that.  I believe in keeping it simple.  That’s why I basically stopped playing video games once they got more complicated than this.

Atari game system

Yep.  I didn’t take to the idea of a smart phone right away either.  I’m not afraid of technology, but I don’t really see my need for most of it.  I don’t have time to take classes to learn how to use these things.  Seriously, we rented a car for a recent job I had and the owner’s manual was only a few pages thicker than the manual on how to operate the in-dash navigation, music, blah, blah, blah system.  Ugh!  Not for me.  I figure out how to do the basics and leave it at that, because I’m happy with just that.

And now I have gone far down a rabbit-hole.  Back to that BIG adventure.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t so big after all, but I think there’s a lesson in it.

I am training for a half marathon, my first half marathon actually.  First of many or the one and only?  We will see when December rolls around.  I’m in week five of my twelve week training program and since I began this I have encountered what is a new obstacle in my running experience of the last three years- shin splints.  It’s really just my left shin, so I guess it’s just a shin splint, singular.  Anyway, whatever it is, it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it.  Every time it seems to vanish, it tries to sneak back up on me.  Creeper!  The last two runs I did this week were really fast for me as of late, which I was proud of, but the phantom shin splint had once again taken hold, so after the previous day’s speedwork training, I realized I probably needed to take a day off before my long run day of eight miles.  But a day off that was not scheduled felt like a wimpy cop-out, so I decided to go for a bike ride instead.

Where I live, we have many walking and riding trails that connect at various parks and such.  It’s really a beautiful area and it happily encourages the many older people of this once primarily retirement community to remain active.  And then there are the younger people like me who also get to enjoy this beautiful fall weather (in Florida that means we no longer feel as though we will melt when we walk outside further than the mailbox).

So I’m riding along, enjoying the peacefulness, smiling at and good morninging the other pedestrians and cyclers, admiring Bambi’s mom as she runs across the trail a mere ten feet ahead of me, and then I’m coasting along with a disconnected bike chain.  I pulled my bike off the trail and attempted to reattach the chain.  How hard could it be?  And it wasn’t so bad getting the chain back up on the large gear, but the little one was not cooperating.  I tend to be clueless in these matters, but I sure wanted to give it a try.  Secretly, however, I was hoping for a more Disney movie scenario, where the deer would come back and somehow be able to either help me fix the bike, or give me a lift home.  Neither occurred.  I had been riding for almost six miles and the distance between this spot and my home was probably only about three more miles or so back, and since I was capable, and I had no other choice, I began to walk my bike home.

I don’t often ask for help from strangers, and I probably wouldn’t have known how to ask the deer either, so even as I saw a few friendly faces along the way, I kept walking.  It wasn’t so bad because it was a gorgeous setting and the weather was clear and as brisk as it can be around 75 degrees.  Then thoughts began to turn to my impatience.  Some time back, while I was still a high-strung teacher, an inconvenience such as this would have been a huge dilemma and I’d be muttering under my breath because it would now take me longer to get home.  After all, it’s not like I could run…with a bike.  I had to walk.  Then I remembered a tee shirt my husband I and should have bought when we had the chance because one can no longer buy this treasure- I’ve looked.

if I stop running

Obviously the same case applied to walking, but it would just take longer.  Patience is important and it’s something I’m learning about.  Instead of growling at squirrels or stomping my feet, I figured the walking was still good cross training for my shin since it wasn’t hurting and I resolved to enjoy the beauty around me.  And so I walked 1.1 miles until an older gentleman asked if my bike was broken.  I told him my chain had come loose and I couldn’t quite get it back on.  He stepped off his bicycle, asked if he could take a look at mine, and he fixed it in about thirty seconds.  He had me test it out and I thanked him as we both went our separate ways.  In another 1.79 miles on my bike, I was home.  It was a good day.

My First Chapter Book and Some Randomly Related Thoughts

As the self-published author of Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages, I’ve written a chapter book, which is obviously an accomplishment I’m excited about.  However, when recently looking through my “box of old stuff” (most of you know what I’m talking about- old school work and creations from your past), I found the original chapter book I wrote.

It happened in second grade.  Most of the other kids in my class were terrified of the idea of writing a book, but other than the part where we also had to do our own illustrations, I was stoked!  Yes, I loved writing at least as far back as second grade.  Drawing was something I enjoyed, but I knew I was not talented in that art medium- not like the kid Jesse in my class who drew the most amazing landscapes with depth of field you ever saw by a second-grader.  But even then I was sure my writing abilities made up for my drawing inadequacies.

catsalot

The assignment: Write an illustrated chapter story beginning with, “Lucky me! I was chosen to take the first trip to the planet Cats-A-Lot.”  I threw in weird aliens, a flying cat, and chocolate covered pills for space travel.  Looking back now, I see I could have used an editor, but I was six or seven, so I’m going to let that go now.

green kangaroo

As a YA writer, I also get questions about what kind of books I liked reading when I was a kid.  The first chapter book I read was Judy Blume’s The One in the Middle is the Green Kangaroo and I think I was in third or fourth grade when I read it.  I’m also fairly certain I related to that book even if I wasn’t in the middle.  I remember feeling so mature and accomplished when I told my friends which chapter I was reading.  It was a book picked out of one of those Scholastic book papers we got back in elementary school, the ones where you could also get a free poster of some kind of cute little kitten or puppy if you ordered a certain amount.  I had those hanging all over my walls and doors.

fifth grade

From there I moved on to Cleary’s Ramona books, DeClements’ Nothing’s Fair in Fifth Grade, and then Pascal’s many Sweet Valley Twins books. I also had many hand-me-down books from my older sisters.  I always had a book in progress.  If I was home sick, I read a book.  If I had a bad day, I read a book.  If I had a good day, I read a book.  I couldn’t get enough; I constantly had to get my fix.  They were like drugs for my developing mind, only they grew my brain cells instead of killing them.  Now, more than anything, I want to see my book and future books as being a part of the readers’ memories when they look back and realize how they connected to my beloved Drew.

How to Like Everybody, Even if You Don’t Know Them Yet

friendship

It’s possible some readers may be offended by what will seem like my oversimplification of a complicated idea, but I don’t care.  Sometimes we are what screws everything up and creates complication; furthermore, wisdom can come in simple ideas, so give it a chance.

I very recently met an older, retired man, let’s call him George, who revealed to me something that revolutionized my thinking.  He was volunteering at a race I was working at and said he loved doing volunteer work because he got to meet so many interesting people.  Ok, so here comes the fortune cookie wisdom.  George said he liked everybody, even people he hadn’t met yet, until they gave him a reason not to.  Pause for a bit here, reread the simple statement, and let it rest on the tip of your mind for a bit.  Then, let it invade your more intimate thoughts.

What does it mean to like everybody, even the people you don’t know yet?

If you are truly honest with yourself you will admit that you probably do not like everybody, especially not strangers, because, well, they are strangers to you.  We fear the unknown.  It’s human nature, so don’t try to lie about it.   The only times I know of when people are automatically accepting of other human beings is when it’s a baby, a celebrity people think they know because they’ve read the check-stand tabloids, or people with common friends who may have come into the picture with a high recommendation from someone whose opinion is respected.

Strangers, true strangers, generally have to work much harder for acceptance.  Why?  Again, the fear of the unknown, personal experiences, or maybe just seeing, or thinking we see, what we don’t like in ourselves in someone else.  We may live in a country with an “innocent until proven guilty” law in the cases of possible crimes committed, but we tend to assume everyone is guilty when it comes to taking a chance and building a relationship.  If only we could get over our past hurts and consider each person a new opportunity for friendship instead of waiting for the moment they will stab us in the back, what a difference it could make. But we’re human, so we are wary; and we are human, so we hurt people.  Maybe we just need to take more chances.  Everyone you let in will hurt you in some way at some point- we cannot help ourselves, whether on purpose or accident- but think of how many more relationships could be formed and all the good that could come from it.

Remember these two things: we are meant to love one another, and to someone else, you are the stranger.

Word to my Motha!

fruitfulness

When I was growing up my mother would occasionally get “a word from God” for somebody, or a scripture she felt God wanted her to give to one of my sisters.  Stacy, my oldest sister, got Jeremiah 29:11, my favorite scripture in the entire Good Book.

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.

But Mom never had anything for me.

Then, a few months ago she called to let me know she had been reminded of a scripture God showed her when I was born.

John 12:24: I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives.

As she revealed this to me, all I could think at first was that dead kernels of wheat did not seem nearly as exciting as God giving me a future and a hope.  What was this supposed to mean?

Of course it came with a story.  I knew I wasn’t exactly a “planned pregnancy”; I’m the youngest, so my parents had planned to stop after my middle sister Lisa.  I also knew my parents had thought I would be a boy, but that’s as much as I knew.  Apparently my mom figured since I was a surprise God must be planning to give her the boy she’d always wanted and she even told people she was having a boy.  In fact, in my parents’ certainty, the name Jason had been chosen.  Then there I was…not. a. boy.

The above scripture had been brought to Mom’s attention around that time and she realized that perhaps her desire of having a boy was the kernel of wheat that had to die in order to give life to something else-me- and I’m pretty awesome, so I guess that worked out after all (I’m really only half kidding).

Also, remember my parents had not even bothered to pick out a girl’s name so when I was born, my mom said the Lord gave her my name, Terri Lynn, and she realized later that Terri actually means “to reap,” or in other words, be fruitful, just like the last part of the scripture (when I was a kid the word reap actually freaked me out, so I went with the other meaning of my name- caring one).  So, for whatever reason, my mom had to let her dream of having a boy die and produce me, the new fruitful kernels.

As my mom told me this I began to wonder how I am fruitful and what this means for me.  Robert and I have not had, nor do we plan to have children because we never felt to urge to do so, so it has to be a more of a symbolic fruitfulness.  I feel this lends itself as support that God is calling me to somehow reach out to others more, and possibly towards my passion of ending human trafficking.  The name Terri is originally derived from Teresa, and that always makes me think of Mother Teresa, a woman used by God to be fruitful, though she obviously had no children of her own either.  I’d be honored to follow in such footsteps.  I ask to be less of me and more of Him.

fruit

Go Ye into All the World

earth-hands

When you want to do world missions, local people tend to get upset.

“Why go other places when we have so much need right here?” they ask, and not often in a friendly manner either.

My simple answer: Because God said so.  Don’t believe me?  Check it out in Mark 16:15.  But seriously, I’m sure most people have heard this scripture before, even if they didn’t give it much thought; yet, words with no action often go ignored.

Honestly though, it’s also because we can do both local and world missions, but some are called more for one than the other.  Needy and hurting people exist worldwide and to all different degrees.  Needs and hurts must be addressed EVERYWHERE.  But if you think about it, not everyone is cut out to go to obscure and dangerous villages in remote locations of Africa or Central or South America, risking gruesome deaths by primitive weapons or debilitating diseases.  Not everyone can endure the frigid climate of the Arctic in order to bring God and hope to those natives who can only be reached by special snow vessels (or ice flow, if you have the time).  Even going to safer regions still often involves risk, adjustment, and facing the unknown.

For those people, there are local missions.  This could be getting involved by building a home with Habitat for Humanity, hosting a clothing or food drive for a local food pantry, or just stopping in next door to visit an elderly widow who lives alone.  Basically, whenever you take a step out of your comfort zone and sacrifice some of your personal time, expecting nothing in return but the satisfaction of knowing you were able to put a smile on someone’s face, you are showing God’s much needed love, and you CAN change the world, just one person at a time.  We all have to start somewhere.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

Dr. Seuss, The Lorax

Making an Example of My Marriage

My marriage is far from perfect, so why would God use it as an encouraging example to others?  Maybe exactly for that reason.  I am certain He is the only reason we managed to remain together, for there were a few times I think one or both of us could have walked away from the whole thing and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, the hurt, the commitment to another person with his or her own ideas and agendas. But in that dark time when Robert was unemployed and most couples would have allowed that stress to come between them, we recognized it as a time we most needed God in our lives, and we had faced some financial issues not long before that time that nearly ended our marriage and literally left me with my head between my knees just trying to breathe, so it was scary, but not entirely new.

Instead of fretting, we took that time to spend together and learn to put God in the center of our marriage.  We even took the time together to learn each others’ “love languages.”  In each of our top three lies quality time, so we learned that spending time together strengthened our love.  That seems like a “duh” revelation, I know, but people often miss these obvious points.  Just the other day I was organizing part of our office and Robert was working on the computer.  We weren’t really spending time “together” but we were together, and we found ways to involve each other or have snippets of conversation in the middle of our tasks at hand.  The simplicity of it was beautiful and encouraging.  Our time together doesn’t always have to be exciting; it just has to be together and involve one another.  Sometimes it’s the reassurance that we’re there for each other.

After a hike up a mountain (volcano), we had a lovely view of Antigua.

After a hike up a mountain (volcano), we had a lovely view of Antigua.

My mission team has been back from Guatemala for just about six weeks now and when we met on Sunday for a reunion fiesta, much of what I forgot I wanted to share, or I had just needed time to sort out in my brain, resurfaced.  One such topic is my marriage.  It’s strange that a mission trip would bring enlightenment of that area of  my life, but I guess God reveals what He wants us to know in His way, and we had to go all the way to Guatemala for me to see what a blessing my marriage is to others.  I already knew I was happy to be married to Robert, but I had no idea what an example we are to others.

On the trip, Robert and I were actually broken apart from one another for most of the first two work days, and we were fine with that.  We are both able to function without each other quite well.  The hard part was when we remained so busy during the evening that we had no time to reflect together on our days.  By the third day I think we learned to make the time.  We both recognized the importance of time shared with the group, but also being able to share with each other, especially since we both had so much on our minds during this trip.

A huge leaf, shaped like a heart?  Couldn't resist.

A huge leaf, shaped like a heart? Couldn’t resist.

Our interactions must have become evident to the rest of the group because we received compliments from various members on our marriage. We were given a homework assignment to write a little encouraging message to each member of the team, letting them know some positive way they touched the team or the individual.  One such message came from a young lady who lives with her amazing mother but comes from a broken home: “I also am deeply thankful for the example  you and Robert set as a healthy couple who has God present in their relationship.”  I’ve kept this card as a bookmark for my daily reading because it reminds me of how we can be encouraging examples without even realizing it and how important it is to always let God shine through us.

Broken homes are universal.  Where we were able to be an encouragement to this girl from the U.S., we were also able to do the same for the children in Guatemala.  Apparently there is a real need for responsible men to step up in families in the area where we worked.  The burden weighs almost entirely on the women, so our loving interactions together became examples to the local children as well.  I remember that on our last day we went to an orphanage for mostly young ladies who primarily came from abusive homes.  One little girl attached herself to Robert and then later was coloring and playing with stickers with me.  I told her Robert was mi esposo, and she thought that was great  When we were saying goodbye to the kids, the three of us had a group hug.  I’m sure this encounter left her with at least some sense of hope.

One Car Faith

jalopies

Recap.  I left the world of teaching with nothing officially lined up for after.  No big deal since everyone knows teachers don’t get paid much anyway, right?  Except my husband and I were making an equal income, so this cut our money in half.  Yikes!  Now it sounds insane, and it is.

We lived off not much more than that before when Robert went through some time of being unemployed, but we did get to collect unemployment.  Since I happily vacated my job, no unemployment can be acquired.  When we decided I would take this huge step into the void during a time of high unemployment rates, we did it with the faith that somehow it would all work out because we felt this was a needed step.  If I could find part-time work, we’d be fine.

Then we came to a wall, or a decision that needed to be made.  I was taking off the two months I would have had off as a teacher and was going to job search when school started back up because the lump of checks at the end of the year covered the summer anyway.  During this time Robert’s free car that had miraculously run for three years stopped running.  It was probably just the battery, so we could pay to replace that, and other than the gauges on the dash that rarely worked, the lack of A/C in a black car in Florida, and a number of other oddities plaguing the vehicle, we could have had it running.  However, time was coming to renew the car registration and it was another car we had to pay insurance on.  Since the school year had ended we had really only driven my car.  We began to contemplate life with only one car.  The problem at this point was the uncertainty of what I would do for income.  Having only one car might not work if I found a job with hours that conflicted with Robert’s schedule.

Maybe we should never have let the dog drive.

Maybe we should never have let the dog drive.

A conundrum.

We could save quite a bit of money if we just let the car go.  But what if we needed it later?

I would just have to find a way to make money from home or work between Robert’s hours.  It was time for a vehicular pardon of the old Jetta.  In the scary moment when we both realized this, we felt both nervous and liberated.  We would have to exercise one car faith and believe that no matter what, God was in the driver’s seat, to use a bad cliche disguised as a bad pun, and He would provide for us just as He always had.

It hasn’t been long living in this manner yet, but I have managed to find a few sources of income in which the car has not been an issue.  It feels great to have been able to simplify our lives just a little more, running on one car faith.

How Words Shape Our Perspectives

Words hold power.  We all know we’re not supposed to judge someone on appearances, so maybe we listen to someone else speak of that person, or we read about that person.  The thing is, the connotations of words still shape and color a picture in our minds.  Connotations are the emotions and nuances of words, and the English language is a tricky one that way.  A good writer knows he or she can effectively craft a character this way, and so many other points.  The problem with this is being careless with our words and creating the wrong impression.

My intention today, however, is not to give a writing or English lesson.  My intention is to nudge people to think more carefully about words already used out there and to dig beyond the words to the people the words are about.  Never judge solely on appearances or words because words can be tainted, whether intentional or not.  Keep this in mind while watching and reading the news.

Judge with your heart.

A little something I used to do to help my students understand the importance of connotation and word choice was to list some words and have them put them in order of weakest to strongest or good to bad (if I gave them a full spectrum of words) .

An example:

furious, mad, upset, miffed, enraged, angry

The result would be close to this:

upset, mad, angry, furious, enraged, and “what is miffed?”

Forget miffed.  At that point we would have had a talk about slang words and how they change from generation to generation.  It’s irrelevant here. I’m just making sure you’re still paying attention.

If I gave you a list of words to describe a person and asked you to put them in order of your personal feelings towards him or her from sympathetic to unsympathetic, what order would you put these words into?

prostitute, trafficking victim, hooker, exploited child

Your list would most likely look something like this:

exploited child, trafficking victim, prostitute, hooker

Explanation:  People tend to feel automatic sympathy toward a child; trafficking victims sound like they can be any age, and our minds would automatically want to think they were not children; prostitute sounds maybe just a little better than a hooker who is obviously lower class

Something like all that, right?

What if I said all those choices are descriptions of the same person?  Oftentimes a child becomes a victim of trafficking, and is then exploited for years as a prostitute, and because most people automatically assume a prostitute has no morals, it becomes fairly easy to tack on the stigma of the word hooker.

The problem with this is that very few children desire to grow up to sell their bodies.  They want to be doctors, veterinarians, singers, firefighters, or astronauts.  Few people would ever make such a choice.  They are either forced into it, or their weaknesses are exploited.  Most of them want out of such a lifestyle but are either trapped physically by literal chains and locks, guns, or drug dependence or in bondage by emotional chains of helplessness, dependence, self-loathing, or fear.

When we begin to think of these people as individuals instead of classifying them all the same we see them as daughters, sons, siblings, and friends who just want love and acceptance, and most likely a new life.

Human trafficking does not just cover those who are tricked, sold or kidnapped and forced to work in fields or brothels for little to no wages, but any person who becomes a commodity.  If we consider this properly, they are all exploited and they are all victims, even if we don’t see the chains that bind them.  30 million people around the world are enslaved in some way today.  Right now. In this very moment.

According to the Not For Sale Campaign

Slavery occurs when one person completely controls another person, using violence or the threat of violence, to maintain that control, exploits them economically and they cannot walk away.

Let’s all help to empower them to go beyond being victims to becoming survivors.  We need to change our perspectives and to reach out in love and show them dignity.