Change - Dedicated to the Hedin Family

Change, it’s the only thing we’ve been able to rely on lately. The last few months have been a whirlwind of change and renewal in the Ross household, and while I’m happy about all of the changes and satisfied with the direction our lives have taken lately, I’ll have to admit it’s all been pretty exhausting.

It started over the Summer. Jeremy enrolled online at Jacksonville State University. Since we married in 2007, he’s been working on-and-off to obtain his degree. The summer of 2012 marked the most serious and permanent jump towards this effort, and it also marked the entrance of college loans into our lives. 

I didn’t anticipate the stress these loans would add to our lives. I had been fortunate enough to have the HOPE scholarship while in college, so I hadn’t accrued mountains of student loan debt. Also, Jeremy and I had lived under pretty strict self-inflicted financial rules for the duration of our married life and were hard-core avoiders of debt that wasn’t a mortgage.

In an instant, all that changed.

Also changing was my professional life. My supervisor and mentor moved on to another job. Other factors at work started shifting; my footing became less and less sure. And it became more and more clear that it was time to move on. I spent several months in a state of unrest. I was unsatisfied with the direction of things; I felt restless and impatient.

I changed during this time. I became Katie Version 2.0. I was myself, but I was stronger. I was more confident. I was less willing to settle. I was less willing to let people walk all over me. At the time, I didn’t even recognize the shift in myself. I only felt the struggle, the frustration. I overlooked the benefits of hardship. Such is human nature.

Blessed relief came in the form of a new job in December and that’s when I noticed the difference in myself. The weight that was lifted with my new job felt nearly like a personality transplant. The stress that had driven my life for so long seemed to evaporate. The happiness that was always just below the surface bubbled up, and I was the Katie that I wanted to be again.

As my new job evolves, as I find my footing and forge my new path, my happiness seems to only grow. As scary as it was to make the first leap from comfort zone to unchartered waters, I’m so relieved that I made that dive, that I’m beginning to make a real splash in my new career.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of another change. Jeremy will be embarking on a new part-time endeavor. As usual, I feel the butterflies and uncertainties that each new challenge brings. Doubt and hesitation make my heart skip a few beats as I think about the days and weeks to come.

With work and school and new-found hobbies and all of the wonderful things we want to try and do, how will we find time for it all? How will we handle all of these changes? How will we embrace new choices and goals and dreams?

I don’t know. I do know that we have survived change before. I do know that life is change and that I better get used to it. I do know that the only thing we can rely on in the coming months and years is that the world is spinning, and we’re going to need to run to keep up.

I do know that when it’s all said and done we’ll be able to see clearly the changes in ourselves and how through hardships and strife, through love and hate, through dark days and sunny, we only become better.

Hi friends,

My blogging friend Nina and her husband Tom are facing some dark days now. Nina is the author of ArtsyNina. She is the kind, witty mother of Jack and June and the wife of Tom. On January 5th, Tom was in a horrible snowmobile accident that left him seriously injured. He sustained numerous injuries to both legs and arms, to his head, his spine, etc., and his road to recovery is going to be long and difficult. 

Unfortunately, the financial burden of this recovery is difficult as well. Because Tom just started a new job recently, he doesn't qualify for FMLA, and Tom and Nina are facing medical bills that will just keep piling up as his recovery goes on. 

So that Tom can focus on his priority, which should be his recovery, a GiveForward site has been created in his honor to assist with the medical bills. If you are able to donate even a few dollars toward the Hedin family, I can assure you they will be appreciated. This young family is just like our own families; they just happened to stumble upon a bad turn of events. Even if you are not able to give, please help to share Tom and Nina's story. 

Thanks for reading!

There is Always Some Light

I am not a parent. I am not one of the millions of people who will send my child back to school in a changed world on Monday morning. I will not experience that moment of doubt or hesitation as I send my child off to a place that should be as safe as their own home, holding on to them a little longer than usual as I wrestle with emotions that no parent should ever have to feel. I will not have to have that difficult conversation with a child of seven or of seventeen, struggling desperately to answer an earnest question of “why,” when I don’t even know the answer to that question myself.

I am not a teacher. I am not one of the millions of people who choose to care for and guide future generations, who do so with a loving and patient hand.  I won’t look into the faces of twenty or thirty kids who are as dear to me as my own, choking down that sickening feeling of “what if.” I won’t have to attend a training session on what to do if a worst case scenario, heaven forbid, ever pays visit to my own school.

I am not a lot of things, but what I am, what we all are, is human. And collectively, on Friday, December 14, we, as teachers, as parents, as aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, and as humans, mourned a great loss. A loss of twenty precious angels, aged six to seven, innocently going about their day at school. A loss of six incredibly brave adults, adults who sought to protect those angels, adults who left behind their own angels and loving families. An intangible loss of security, of confidence, of feeling safe where one should feel safest. Something, that some of us, will never get back.

As we mourned on Friday and throughout the weekend, some of us naturally turned towards anger. We shook our fists and raised our voices. We screamed questions of “why?” and “how can we prevent this from happening again?” We offered up our own solutions, citing better gun control laws, easier access to mental health resources and education, bringing religion into schools, teaching better values at home.

We pointed towards all of the usual suspects, desperately seeking resolution, desperately reaching out for some kind of tool to prevent this horror from ever touching us again.

But even in our anger, even in our frustration, confusion, and sadness, we reached out. In the days that followed that unspeakable horror, the world seemed to swallow up Newtown, Connecticut and its mourning citizens in a collective embrace of helping hands, of shoulders to cry on, of shared tears. There were teddy bear and greeting card drives, words written to ease minds and to incite change, dollars collected to provide support to a broken community.

Even in darkness, there is always some light. In this case, it glows from a million hearts from around the world, who collectively grieve for the parents, the teachers, the children, the friends, and the families of those touched by Friday’s event.

I am not a parent. I am not a teacher. But I am and, forever will be, touched by the events of Friday, December 14, 2012 and by the aftermath of love and kindness that restored faith and comforted, not just victims, not just families, but the whole of humanity. Let us not remember the evil that spurred this immeasurable loss. Let us remember the love that caused the world to reach out, the heroes who will undoubtedly continue to emerge, and the spirits of those sweet angels who are now in the arms of a loving God.

All the way down here in Georgia, my light shines for you, Newtown.

                                                                      Source: 3.bp.blogspot.com via Courtney on Pinterest

The Thankful Turkey

Source: modernhepburn.tumblr.com via Lauren on Pinterest

On our bulletin board at work, there’s a Thankful Turkey. He’s colorful and bright and has two rows of feathers making up his tail. Each feather has something written on it. The first row has a name of each person in our office and why we’re thankful for that person. The second row is made up of feathers that represent why each person is thankful to work there.

Really, he’s just a piece of clipart that was printed out and pinned to the board. Really, it is just simple words that are written on his fanned out tail. Yet, really, the Thankful Turkey is a whole lot more. He’s a reminder, a lot like the holiday he represents, to stop and remember why we care, why we love each other, why we’re so blessed.

For the entire month of November, my Facebook page has blown up with updates from friends and family of reasons why they’re thankful. Thankful for family. Thankful for friends. Thankful for the simple things. ‘Tis the season to be thankful, no doubt, and it warms your heart to see so many people counting their blessings.

I didn’t participate in the 30 days of thankful on Facebook, and the Thankful Turkey at work barely skimmed the surface of my gratitude, so I wanted to share a few of the things I’m thankful for this year with you, my readers.

Now, I could easily do the standards. I’m obviously thankful for my amazing parents, my loving husband, my wonderful sister, and darling nephew. I’m thankful for my extended family, for my cats, for having a job and a roof over my head.

But I’m also thankful for the details.

I’m thankful for waking up to warm blankets on cold mornings. I’m thankful for long, deep-into-the-night, philosophical discussions with my husband. I’m thankful for friends who are diverse and different and who bring new opinions and experiences into my life.

I’m thankful for the experience of walking on the beach in November and watching the sun set over the waves and for the sight of a Magic Kingdom stretching towards an impossibly blue sky.

I’m thankful for the memories of grandparents now gone and for the stories and hugs shared by the one still here. I’m thankful for the sticky kisses of a three-year-old nephew who lights up the world of everyone he meets.

I’m thankful for the taste and warmth of potato soup in the winter and the chills of ice cream in the summer. I’m thankful to be Southern and to know my history and to know that I live in one of the friendliest places on the planet.

I’m thankful for the words that flow easily from my fingertips and for the ones that stick and keep me up at night. I’m thankful for the storytellers who came before me and who made me love to weave a tale and to pour my heart out on paper.

I’m thankful for spending four fun and sometimes difficult years in the English Department at the University of West Georgia. I’m thankful for the lessons learned there and at Bremen High School and in the school of life. I’m thankful for the student loans that will allow my husband to earn his degree within a few short years.

I'm thankful for hard-earned experience and for an amazing team of coworkers for the last four years. I’m thankful for new beginnings and the new journey I will embark on starting December 3rd. I'm thankful for unanswered prayers and for opportunities that you don't always see coming. 

I'm thankful for so much, for the little things and for the big things that fill my heart. 

Happy Thanksgiving from Chicken Noodle Gravy!

Stormy Weather

“When it rains…”

“…It pours!” My friend finished my sentence loudly and with tons of feeling.

We’d both been having a rough couple of weeks: those types of weeks when nothing seems to go right and when everything closes in on you. The domino effect of bad luck had invaded our lives, and we were in one of those dreaded funks.

Looking back, the things that were bothering us weren’t really all that bad. They were simple things, the bumps and turbulence that life hands you sometimes…just to make sure you’re still paying attention. It’s those kinds of times, those kinds of bad days and frustrating moments, that make the good days that much better. It’s important to keep things in perspective, to not get bogged down in the bad, and to always appreciate the good.

It’s easy to say all that now, looking back, having watched a week of devastation on the East coast from Super Storm Sandy, having heard about the countless tragedies affecting those around us, tragedies much worse that the simple problems I had been facing. But even those facing tragedies and bad days today will surely have a brighter tomorrow…that’s just the ebb and flow of life.

And I sincerely hope that that’s also the ebb and flow of government and the future of our nation. Let’s face it, y’all; America is in one of those funks I described earlier. Our nation is having a “bad day.” We’re still the greatest nation in the world, but the beauty of America, the beauty of freedom and democracy, there’s been a shadow cast on it lately.

We used to be united; a country full of opinions and differences but that was ultimately cohesive: a team, a family. We’re not united anymore, though. Opinions and differences that were once respectively shared now only seem to tear us apart; the politicians leading us jump on those differences, highlighting them, driving the wedge between us further and further down.

The last few weeks have been a blood bath. Television, Facebook, Twitter: everyone’s been abuzz with election commentary and mudslinging. On Facebook and Twitter alone, I’ve witnessed countless personal attacks over whose voting for whom and whose opinion is “right.” Friends fight with friends, and the division between us is driven even further.

But like I said, maybe this is just a funk, a rough period for America. Maybe one day soon the economy will turn around and relieve some of the stresses Americans have been feeling. Maybe one day soon politicians will reach across the aisle and join together on making important changes. Maybe one day soon we’ll be a great nation united once again, with respect and love for each other and all of our freedoms.

On Tuesday, I will vote. I will exercise my right and freedom as an American citizen. I will do so among countless fellow citizens, citizens who may not be casting the same vote as I but for whom I have nothing but the utmost respect. On Tuesday, we have a chance for a new beginning, no matter who is elected. We have the opportunity to start fresh and come together once again. We will vote for different candidates; we will never see eye-to-eye. But we will always remember that we are a nation, a nation of diversity and unity that has the potential for greatness.

Stormy weather will pass, and the sun will shine once again.

Author's Note: This was written in response to The Lightning and the Lightning Bug's prompt "Storm." Hope you'll join us!!

On Halloween Past

For three years in a row, I was a black cat. With long whiskers and a little nose drawn on my face with eyeliner, a tight headband with felt ears, and a black turtleneck and leggings, I pranced around our neighborhood, meowing, hissing, and embracing my role with verve and vigor. Sure, I wasn’t the most creative at dressing up for Halloween, but it was a holiday I loved nonetheless.

I looked forward to scooping squishy handfuls of guts and seeds out of big orange pumpkins. On such occasions, Mama would cover the kitchen table in yesterday’s newspaper, preparing the work space of the family artist: Daddy. Daddy’s deft hand would then trace that year’s masterpiece onto the surface of the pumpkin. I loved to watch him, as he cut out each sliver and chunk, the spooky face of the gourd emerging before my very eyes.

After the carving was complete and as the sun was setting, we’d deliver, with much ceremony, the finished Jack O’Lantern to its rightful spot on the front porch. Mama would place a small tea-light in the bottom, light the wick, and Jack would come to life, glowing spookily in the early dusk of the October night.

These memories of early Halloweens are still treasured, and the same sort of excitement that gripped me as a child when the air would cool and pumpkins would start popping up on front porches still bubbles up every fall.

In a perfect recreation of that childhood ritual, Jeremy and I line the kitchen table with newspaper. The perfect pumpkin, which has been chosen with much consideration to carving surface, stem, and color, graces the table, as my mad scientist husband brews up a suitably unique theme. Last year was “Cannipumpkin,” in which a smaller pumpkin was affixed to the larger one as if it was being eaten. This year the theme seems to be leaning towards zombies; they’re trendy right now, and we want to be as timely as possible.

Cannipumpkin

My grown-up Halloween doesn't include the trick-or-treating of childhood days gone by, and to be honest, I sometimes miss the process of going door-to-door, smiling shyly, and receiving the fruits of my labor. I miss getting home from a hard day’s night and dumping that plastic pumpkin and all of its treasure into the living room floor. Organized child that I was, I would group my candy by type and color. The bounty of Snickers bars, Smarties, and Dum-dum pops would sustain my sweet tooth for days.

Nowadays, I have to purchase my own trick-or-treat candy for those potential ghosts and goblins that will grace my front porch on Halloween night. I wish I could attest to being one of the “good houses” with the best candy, but alas, the alarmingly high price of that “best candy” means we offer mostly off-brand fare. Nevertheless, we still get to enjoy the antics of trick-or-treaters, even though we’re a little bit too big to join them. I’m lucky enough to live in a big, friendly neighborhood with lots of families…which is an even bigger reason we have to go with the cheaper candy.

There’s just something really special about Halloween. It’s the only holiday that occurs during my favorite month. It’s at the perfect time of the year weather-wise. It’s got candy. And even more important, it’s got that special combination of mystery, spookiness, and family-time that makes for some wonderful memories.

Happy Halloween! May your trick-or-treat bag be filled with Snickers, Milk Duds, and Skittles and all the other great goodies of the "good houses."