Boots McBlog

Meet Stinkers. Before becoming an online sensation of viral video,  Stinkers lived a life on the slopes of Telluride Colorado  where his name was Snickers or Stickers to some – depends on who you ask.    Snickers could have been an appropriate name because he came to rely on the chocolate goodness and treats skiers would provide him on the slopes.  His antics were well documented on film as he batted his big brown eyes and begged for yummy treats.   ANd because those big brown eyes don’t see so well,  he sometimes didn’t know the difference between a ladyfinger and a lady’s finger.  OUCH!    He had become dependent on hand-outs, so for his safety and the safety of others,  Stinkers now resides in an Alaska Wildlife refuge.  Take a look here — ( I’m having some difficulty with embedding the video – if you don’t see it below – click “meet stinkers” at the beginning of this post)

What struck me most when I watched this video was this:  Porcupines need hugs, too!   Well, of course they do.    Think about it.  How many times have you had a lousy day.   Your head hurts.  Your body aches.    People are getting on your very last nerve.    You’ve got a scowl  on your face.    Your mood could easily be described as “prickly”.  Then… someone you really care about says, “come here”  And wraps arms around you. Gives a BIG squeeze  and just holds you.   Things seem to get better right?
Now think about this.   How many people cross our path’s each day that the word “prickly”  would be  the NICEST thing we could say about them.  When threatened, they shoot their quills of critical words, hurtful looks, or ignore you altogether.  Of course, I may be given to oversimplification but what if you misjudge all those prickles you see.  What if those quills are there to hide their very own hurts and insecurities.  It’s true, some people are mean. They Just are.  But most of those we quickly dismiss as meanies are really  just big ol softies underneath. Sometimes I forget that and put my own stickers out in defense.   I appreciate Stinkers/ Snickers/ Stickers reminding me –   Everyone needs a hug.
Even porcupines.

Last week, The Angler sent me a link to Lemonade – the documentary movie about how unemployed creative types are making their lives sweeter.   The movie captured my interest immediately and a felt a connection to those on screen telling their stories.  The movie made me realize, in the world today, when an overachiever -perfectionist- creative type gets the pink slip,  the following  happens to that person:  he or she begins a mad networking scheme complete with charts and diagrams to find the next job, he/she throws the ultimate pity party, and eventually he /she  starts a blog.

In 2008, when a “perfect job” for me turned out to be anything but,  I made the diagrams and  threw one heck of a pity party ( you should have seen the menu!)    It was exhausting.   And I jumped at the first job that met my minimal criteria.  Then in late 2009, when the non profit where I worked (  the not-so perfect-job but fit the charts and diagrams)  closed it’s doors for good, I decided to do a 180 to my previous response.   I didn’t alert my networks.  I didn’t throw the pity party.     My husband,  bless him,  gave me the green light to take some time off from full time work  to gather my thoughts, refocus my efforts, and explore my creative side.  ( I am extremely thankful and humbled for this luxury so few can choose)    I embraced this new time in my life and created a cute name for it  - I’ve been calling it my   “creative sabbatical”.  As part of this journey,  I finally completed the third step of the unemployement cycle – I started a blog.   Seven months ago TODAY! -   I launched this site.

When I was creating this blog I had several things I wanted to achieve.  I wanted it to be a place where I would share food, flowers, fashion, music,  my latest photography projects, and my lessons in grace.    When it came to the layout I had three words that drove the design:  simple, clean, pretty.    When the blog loaded,  I didn’t want those of you who are kind enough to stop by to be bombarded with sidebars and virtual clutter.   I wanted your eyes to have a place to rest, relax and sit a spell on my virtual veranda  -  a clutter free zone.

Webster’s defines “clutter” as: (n) a crowded confused mass ;  (v)  to fill or cover with scattered or disordered things that impede movement or effectiveness.   For quite some time, my life was a crowded confused mess.  My movement and effectiveness was impeded.   It was time to make  ”Clutter free” not only a blog template theme, but a theme in my life.   Over the next 6 months through a wonderful bible study called Woman on a Mission,  I learned more about calendar clutter.   I learned to keep things off my calendar which don’t fit my personal mission for growth.  Today, I don’t say “yes” to every opportunity because it sounds like a good fit or because I could do it.  I’ve learned to let other people secure those blessings of service   I don’t have to do it all.   I schedule items to keep me accountable ( ex. must be at the gym by 8am).   It seems to be working.   I have by no means perfected the clutter- free calendar, but the dance card is far more enjoyable these days.   I am thankful.

Tole Tray and Figures from my "Touch of the Orient" Days

Once my calendar was under control,  I turned to the physical clutter that seemed to be overtaking the McCottage and sucking the life out of me.  I would stare at the blue and white ginger jars in my bookshelf and think, ” I don’t like you”  I would pass the loveseat that I owned in college and think “what are you still doing here?”    It donned on me it was time to do the unthinkable: clear the clutter and  host a yard sale.    A yard sale in your parts may be known by a different name:  a garage sale, rummage sale, moving sale, attic sale.   Martha Stewart calls hers glamorously enough – a “tag sale”    You can give it a fancy name,  but no matter what  you call it,   I loathe them.   I hosted only one in my entire married life, when we first bought our house. I swore I wouldn’t do it again.

I named mine the McCottage Sale.  It was scheduled for July 3.

One thing the McCottage sale was ever called was a ” junk sale”.  I  hear the word “junk” and am reminded of a poster that hung in my home town drug store.  The pouty little boy, chin in hand, which read ” I know I”m special because God don’t make junk”.  That’s how I felt about my stuff.  It was “special”, ’cause I don’t buy junk.   The sale included pieces of furniture, pillows, rugs,  decor accessories that until the morning of the sale adorned my home.   When I began to post pics on facebook of the McCottage Sale wares,   I was struck by the concern my friends began to express.   They knew this was quite uncharacteristic for one as sentimental as me to let go.  One of my closest friends even stopped by  admist the pre-sale choas, to check on me.  Her voice was quiet and sad, “why are you DOING this?”  as she picked up the tasseled needle point pillows priced at $10 each.    She eyed my grandfather’s writing desk,  ”That’s your grandfather’s!  Seriously, why are you doing this?”    My answer was clear cut.  ” I want to be free of all this clutter.    The Angler and I have never moved.  This is our first home.  We’ve not had the natural purging changing homes allows.   Several of the pieces of furniture I have are hand-me-downs and not what I would choose.  It’s my grandmothers stuff, not my stuff.   With a can of paint, I attempted to make them fit my style.   Other things I bought just to ‘make do”, to fill space, or felt the need to have it to feather my nest.  My twenty-something self wanted stuff.   My thirty something self wants a cleaner slate.  Its that simple.”       The answer sufficed,  she bought my needle point pillows.

The amount of “stuff” that made it out to my driveway early on Saturday morning was uncanny.   The sale scheduled to begin at 7 am had those stalking professional early -birding patrons arriving at 6 am.   My prices, as I was told by a dealer, were way “too cheap”   I knew this.   The sale wasn’t about making money,  it was about clearing the clutter and improving my effectiveness.

As I lay in bed that night, exhausted and spent from the sale.  I thought about the new places my porcelain china men were now standing. I wondered what spot my cute tole tulip lamp was illuminating. Then, because I can’t be simple in my thinking –  I started comparing those things to the last few years of my life and my job status.    You see,   for awhile,  I thought it was me that caused the job chaos in my life.   I wasn’t  smart enough, creative enough,  or gifted enough to succeed in my last ventures.   (I’ve had girlfriends express the same thoughts about their job woes to me, and I dismissed them knowing full well they were good enough, smart enough) – the thing is, sometimes jobs don’t fit.     Just as much as it’s not the needlepoint pillows fault that they no longer work in my design scheme, it’s not my fault I didn’t fit the job(s) I had chosen.   Those jobs were – like my grandfather’s desk –  fitting the niche for the time being.  My grandfather’s desk happened to fit in our home office. It wasn’t a french writing desk I had eyed for years, it was a small desk. With a can of paint, I tried to make it fit my style.    Those weren’t my dream jobs.   I gave the titles a fancy make over and I tried to make them fit, knowing full well, it’s not what I had originally envisioned for my career.   Maybe you are struggling with these same self doubts right now with a job,  or maybe it’s a a volunteer role that appears good in the society pages but you have no passion whatsoever for the cause.   Maybe it’s  a habit you picked up along the way because it was “cool”.   Maybe it’s a friendship, or even a serious love relationship and it’s just not working.    After soul searching, asking tough questions, and thoughtful prayer maybe you, like me, realize it’s not personal.  Sometimes, things just don’t fit.

Styles come and go.   Jobs come and go.   Sadly, some relationships must come and go.   If we are open to those comings and goings,  we realize they are true blessings which afford us the opportunity to clean house and start all over with what it is God has called us to do.   If you acknowledge Him he will make your paths straight.  ( Prov 3:5-6).   It’s up to us to keep them free of clutter.

Now, please excuse me,  this McCottage sale money is buring a hole in my pocketbook.  If I’m going to be sashaying down a clutter free path, I’m going to need a fab new pair of heels.

Cheers, Y’all!

As seniors in High School our very last writing assignment for Mrs. Cantrell’s AP English class was to write a “Prediction Paper”.  In this narrative, each student had the opportunity to tell the story of where we thought each and every one of our classmates would be in life – May 2012.     A dangerous assignment – to say the least.   We could write what we really thought about each other.  Would this be the ultimate payback for years of teen anguish or would we play nice?     We all sat with bated breath waiting to hear what pursuits our classmates would assign us.

An airplane bound for Los Angeles was the opening setting of my paper.  I was a world renowned Pediatrician on my way to speak at a medical convention.  (Obviously, most all of us wrote that we were at the top of our high paying fields).  My story continued to tell about my fellow students who happened to be on the plane,  a few appearing on the in-flight movie, and one was the author of the book I was reading.  For the most part, I was kind to my cohorts who all lived wildly successful lives graduating from the college they planned to attend –  with the major they hoped to pursue…except for the poor fellow who I made the stewardess on the plane.   Yes,  stewardess.  It wasn’t intentionally against him.  I did want the shock value.    He didn’t find it funny.   (I’ve spent years regretting it.   I’m sorry Lee wherever you are. )

Lee’s payback was a prediction paper based on the 1980′s television hit M.A.S.H. He made me…not Hot Lips Houlihan…but Colonel Potter!!  I deserved it.  I haven’t forgotten it either.  Thankfully, my closest friends played along  with my daydreams and wrote my bit part as the pediatrician, living in a big white southern house.  My friend Jessica predicted  I would marry a certain curly haired boy.   (Smart girl! – no wonder she went to Northwestern)   One of the last readings came from this beloved hippie/ granola/ goth type of the studious preppy class. (Think Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast Club).  She stood  at the front of the room to read.  There it was. Her prediction of me.  I was more furious than being called Colonel Potter.    Erin had made me ….an interior designer.   My character was Sugarbaker-esque!    I even had a motto  - “everything looks better with a bow”.   The class laughed.    I didn’t.   I had yet to appreciate the “me”,  they all could see.

Years later,  I can finally admit I love ribbons more than science….and everything DOES look better with a bow.  Especially life lessons.    I like it when God wraps my  lessons like the satin strands across a tiffany blue box.  a simple bow.  There you go.  That’s what I needed to learn.   Thanks, God.

However –  Most of the time life is more complicated.  ”This lesson” crosses “that lesson”.  The shears come out to prune this ribbon  and then make that ribbon curl tighter.   In the midst, it appears as a big colorful mess with loose ends everywhere.  However, from a grander perspective –  God is creating a festive -curly ribbon- bow.

Lots of things have been going “this way” and “that way” for me the last couple of years.    I’ve been pruned here.  Wound tighter there.  Loose ends everywhere.   I confess I wondered  to God, “Why are you doing this to me?”  versus ” how are you going to use this for YOU?”  more times than I should have.     My time in Woman on a Mission has helped me to focus on the latter question.   I have developed my personal mission statement.

“ I  am uniquely gifted and empowered by God to creatively inspire women to live beautiful, gracious, strong lives in Christ”

Originally,  I thought this blog would be part of fulfilling that mission.   It may be.   However now,  I feel the need to set it aside for the next month or two.  My energies and efforts will be focused elsewhere.

Yesterday, God took one of those curly strands of ribbons in my life that looked like a loose end and made a big ol loop de loop.   It was a meeting for which I’d been waiting to have for sixteen months!   SIXTEEN MONTHS!!!!  Now,  I finally see the bow He is so beautifully creating.    I will be part of the team devising a roadmap of programs designed to help women of all ages connect in  mentoring relationships.   If you are the praying kind, pray for me  and my teammates on this big audacious journey.   In the tangled ribbons of life,  this project is far more than the big pretty bow for which I’ve prayed.  It is a gift.

Grace to you, my friends.

This weekend tornadoes blew across the state and continued their destructive dance across the south. Many were hurt.  Many lost their lives.  Even more lost all their worldy belongings. My prayers are with them.

As for my family, we spent the evening glued to the TV, the laptop, and Twitter for updates – ready for the moment we should seek shelter. The storms were brewing and we needed a place to hide. As we waited for the “take cover” warning to fall, I couldn’t help but think of the parallel to life.

I’ve been in a whirlwind the last few years. You may have found yourself in one, too.  Just like tornadoes,  these storms of life seem to form on the sunniest days- without warning.   For me in the midst of it, it was exhausting.  At times, I will admit…I was very very scared. Scared of failing and scared of the next steps in life.  Where does one find shelter in these times?   In a busy calendar?  In keeping up with the Jones family?  ( By the way – who are these infamous Jones people?)   In achievement at work?   In shopping?   In food?   In your children?

When I was in 5th grade, I went to summer camp for the first time.  I learned to sing songs to God that weren’t in a hymnal.  Beautiful love songs.  One – in particular – became my heart song. “You are my Hiding Place”. I never heard it anywhere except each summer at camp.  Throughout the year I would sing it to myself- whenever I was afraid – afraid of not fitting in, not being perfect, not being loved, and when the clouds began to roll in.  I must have sung it a million times in high school alone. I’ve spent my life finding refuge and strength in the words this song. (you can listen to Selah’s version by hitting the mini player above)

While the winds of my life have stilled for the moment, I know the storms will blow again.  I will seek shelter.  I will hide in the words of this song.  To be honest – I sometimes take the long winding road to this refuge. But when I  finally arrive, I always find God’s unfailing strength.   You will too.

You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance – Psalms 32:7

In November, the doors to the nonprofit organization where I had been employed as Director of Marketing closed. Truthfully, even at the very moment the decision was made, I exhaled a sigh of relief. God had given me a graceful exit and much needed time to rest and regroup from a very tough year. I recognized I had the rare gift of time to search, seek, and pray honest, raw prayers for God’s guidance for my life. I knew I couldn’t waste it. I began taking tiny steps of faith, not forcing anything by my own efforts. I wholly trusted Him and not my abilities, my contacts, my make-things-happen energy. Immediately, I found GOD putting solid ground beneath my feet EVERY step I took.

One of those steps was a blurb in a church bulletin listing the spring Bible Studies available. I have always envied the ladies who had their Wednesday morning studies. I was finally going to be part of that group. I chose Woman on a Mission led by Linda Slaton – a study devoted to helping women find their life’s purpose. I was out of work…or the more PR savvy term “transitioning”. I dare say -the timing was perfect – a divine coincidence.

Participating in Woman on a Mission is one of the very best decisions I have ever made. Not only did Woman on a Mission give me reason to put pen to paper for those ever nagging questions: What are my talents? What are my dreams, wants, passions? Why did I have these life experiences? God, why did you make me? It gave me concrete answers through the evaluation tools used of my gifts, strengths, personality. ( I LOVE me some personality tests) I have learned now how to focus my time, efforts, talents, treasure in a way that I may experience my greatest joy and God’s heart would smile. I have found significance for which my heart has longed. In the next few weeks, I will tell you more about my “mission” and I hope to share the incredible work God is doing in my life and the lives of my classmates/ new friends. Tomorrow night we will celebrate our accomplishments and each share our personal mission statements. I couldn’t be more inspired by our teacher and the study author Linda Slaton…and by my small group. Linda, Jennifer, Ginny, Deborah, Laura, Leigh Anne, Lou Anne, and Stephanie – You are women who have changed my life. I can’t wait to see the difference you will make in the world. You have already made such difference to me.

So, dear readers, consider yourself warned – there are several of us…and we are Women on a Mission.

If you would like more information about participating or hosting this Bible study, please contact Linda Slaton at at 501-224-7171 or click here.