My friend Tim always has the most interesting and thought provoking things to say.  And he's always doing something interesting, active, or outrageous -- or all three.  "Doing" is something I really respect in life.  Not to mention, if you get a wild hair and just really need to do something spur of the moment like snow skiing or boating (you know, a TRUE emergency!), he's always game.  In short, he's the most reliable friend I have when action is required, along with his fabulously energetic and thoughtful wife, Adele. 

In his latest blog, he mentions an acquaintance going through a particular set of difficulties.  It really took me back.  And not necessarily to a place I wanted to go.  But no, I've never suffered from domestic abuse.  I've been uncommonly blessed in the domestic department -- on all fronts.  My parents are the best parents on the planet earth, for starters.  My husband is somewhere up there in the top percentile of everything a girl could ever dream of.  But still, aside from these permanent fixtures in my life, I've had some disappointments and some periods of deep, dark grief.  I was transported by what Tim said. 

I've often thought I should write a book about overcoming grief, but the way I accomplished it in my life when it became necessary sounds soooo shallow and stupid and ridiculous and 3,000 other things that do not add up to a New York Times Best Seller.  So I'm going to post my response to Tim's blog here and ask you to help me articulate it better.  I've thought of it so many times, I'm no longer objective enough to know how to say it.  I do know that it works:

"I have watched a similar cycle unfold for people near to me. It is so painful to see. And having been in a place a couple of times in my life where it is nearly impossible to get out of bed for sheer grief, I can feel your friend’s pain.

An approach that has worked for me in the past sounds so silly now, but I’ll put it out there anyway: Set attainable goals. If necessary, choose something you can’t possibly lose at. I kid you not, my “attainable goal” was to get a tan. Noone on earth can avoid getting a tan if they sit outside enough, so it’s a good example of an extreme baby step. I lived in California at the time, so it was a given. Nothing salves the soul like accomplishment, no matter how fish-in-a-barrel-esque. But there are other things one can set out to do that are difficult to fail at: Whenever they ask you at Krogers to give one dollar for Muscular Dystrophy research, give a dollar. I bet you can think of a million attainable goals. And that, I believe, is the secret to overcoming grief."

So, can you help me restate that in a way that makes sense?  Do you have any questions about it, like "gee, what did you do when you WEREN'T laying out in the sun and skipping classes in college?"  And most of all, when you have experienced the sort of grief that makes waking up in the morning a nightmare worthy of the movie "Groundhog Day," how have you worked your way through it?

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...and one of the many reasons God provided them. 

I was just telling Mrs. Partyoffive the other night (during our Lost Party) how fortunate I am in the friendship department.  I have a number of people I'm just darned lucky to count as friends because, well, frankly, I don't deserve them.  They are people who make extraordinary friends of themselves, whereas I'm really not even a mediocre friend.  It just isn't my gift.

1. I do not remember birthdays.  And even when I do, I can never seem to pull off anything magnificent.  On the other hand, I have friends who actually send greeting cards to my pets, my children, my extended family, plus remember to throw a soiree to mark every single event in my life.
2. I forget to call.  Sometimes, I even forget to call back. 
3. I just don't notice subtle changes in the countenance of my friends, nor do I thoughtfully inquire what I can do to help.  On the other hand, I have friends who offer the most outrageous gifts of service to me at all times of the day and night.
4. I actually forget to do things I've promised.  And even when I remember my promises, I forget whether or not I've fulfilled my obligation and have to ask... or worse, forget to ask.  (What's up with that?  Maybe I need some Gingko Biloba.)  On the other hand, I have a number of fabulous friends who are like clockwork and highly dependable. 

So what has one of my glorious, undeserved friends done for me now?? 

A year or so ago, I mentioned in a blog that I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).   While the hubby recently disappeared on a very, very, very (have I said "very" enough?) extended trip overseas, I really struggled to cope.  And "coping" and "coping gracefully" are two very different things to begin with!  It was 2 weeks -- weekend and all.  I really survived fairly well until about 3 days prior to his return.  The single parenting thing finally got to me and I sincerely wanted to lock myself in a quiet closet and hide from my beloved children.  I also said and did some other pretty weird things, like turn down a snow skiing trip for next weekend that the king offered because I wanted to go to the Dominican Republic instead.  That should have been the first clue.

BUT, before I could do any one of the 5 or 10 things that it occurred to me to do, my good friend Mrs. MonkeyParade proclaimed "I know what's wrong with you!  You need your lights!" 

"Lights?" I asked, totally perplexed. 

"Yes, you are having Seasonal Affective Disorder!  Shall I go get you some of those light bulbs? I can bring them by." 

And suddenly, it all made sense.  What a relief. 

So, I really didn't need to:

1. Hide in the aforementioned closet.
2. Pack it all up and go join the circus.  I'm certain I would have been hired into the high wire act.
3. Drop the kids off at Mom's and move to Tuscany, where I could learn to mash grapes with my toes.
4. Move to Bali.
5. Keep reading so many Clive Cussler books -- it just felt so good to be a marine biologist out on the deck of a NUMA ship, even if only in my head.

It has been much cheaper to fill my Ipod with my old favorites and hit the sunny road with Sally-the-Golden-Pyrenees, my cell phone, a bottle of water and all the boys in the groups Yes and U2.  Yes, I know -- they are very OLD boys, by now!  (All the Queen's boys must stay home, or the whole purpose is defeated.)  Of course, I can't have this little micro-getaway when the king isn't home, so I'm still going to need some very cheerful lightbulbs for when that time comes, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.  Spring is on its way, for sure.

But if not for the blessing of friends, I'd probably still be swirling around the bowl of depression and not-quite-knowing-what's-wrong. 

And Tim will be happy to know that I kept the TV off all day and not one child over two years of age even noticed or commented.  All the kids were very amused to dance around to tunes from such winners as Def Leppard, Toad-the-Wet-Sprocket, The Cure, Nickelback, and Matchbox Twenty.  Did anyone get a little blast from the past, there, or am I just the oldest person I know??

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We have had quite a number of warm, fuzzy family moments lately.  Since all the classes, lessons, clubs, and activities have been suspended for the holidays, as well as the king's travels, I find myself caught up.  It's weird.  I scarcely recognized my family, so beautiful they look in the candlelight of a clean kitchen, wearing clean laundry that they did not find on the floor of the masterbedroom, or how fun they can be when chasing the baby around the den or collaborating to carry him around; one holding him by the legs, the other by the hands.  I had forgotten that cooking dinner can be a pleasant chore and the dishes really can get done right afterward.  I had no idea that teaching could be so incredibly pleasant, humorous, and effective done in a clean classroom, with only one big boy in it (or at least no baby boys...).

Much to my chagrin, starting this week, our activity level will pick back up again, baby nap schedules will be interrupted, laundry will be a scarce commodity and dinner will be a rush-rush affair and probably involve a whole grain tortilla and some cheese.  My dream of a wonderful, peaceful family life will be just that, once again.

But Middle Son, age 8, gave me this to cling to, the other night.  I'll set the scene for you.  It is after a nice dinner, and he was painting his rocket for Cub Scouts at the kitchen island.  Oldest Son is studying Spelling Bee words in the dining room, supervised by daddy with his laptop.  Baby is running in between.  I think I sat down in the den to catch my breath (read:  switched on "House Hunters" on HGTV!) and he turned to me and said:  "Mommy, I've been thinking."  "Oh," I said,  fully expecting a long list of  "I wantas" related to the new Nintendo DS.

He said, "If you add an 'O' to the word 'God,' you get the word "good." 

"Nice thinking!" I exclaim. 

"And," he went on to say, "If you take away the 'D' from Devil, you get the word 'evil.'" 

Wow!  I was taken aback,  to tell the truth.   But he wasn't finished. 

He said, "Isn't it interesting that you add something to 'God' to get 'good,' just like how God adds things to us?  And that you take away from 'Devil,' just like the devil takes away from us?"

'Nuff said.

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Today, it was actually hot.  Walking outside, it hit me that it was much warmer outside my house than inside.  That's downright weird for December 11th. 

 So I let my oldest boys take me on a little walking tour while baby was napping.  We are blessed to live in a place that you CAN walk for quite a while and never see another human being.  The land does tend to be straight up and down, though.  Dramatic ravines and steep hillsides -- all forested and largely undisturbed.  We saw many trees of impressive size.  We trailblazed on down to a creek they like to play in and saw many lovely little scenes covered in ferns and moss.  It pleased them to show me a place I had never been and it pleased me to see their confidence and interest in wild things.  Oldest Son carried a book the whole time to help identify wildflowers (it didn't come in handy this time, all flowers being pretty much dead!), if he should come upon any.  The unexpected heat made me pine for spring, and all the beauty that pops from the ground then. 

 We came home all sweaty and tired and really feeling terrific -- but wondering if we'll ever have the chance to use that "new" sled I bought 3 years ago and which has still never had its maiden voyage.

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I'm answering the call of Mrs. Sixredheads, to list 5 things per week that I'm thankful for in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving.  Given my recent crabbiness, impatience, and general all-around crotchiness, I should probably really list 5 things per day.  But here goes:

1.  I'm so grateful that I have a vehicle that runs and is safe more family -- even though it is the dirtiest thing you have ever seen, inside and out.

2.  I'm so grateful to live in a place where I can just COUNT on seeing someone I know at the grocery store (or most any store).  Whether or not I'm feeling presentable.

3.  I'm so glad that Baby is so healthy and happy and so full of life that he rolls all over the bed, giggling, trying to escape as I try to change his diaper and put on his Dr. Denton's.

4.  I'm so thankful that I have the option and means to buy organic food as much as I do.   I wish I could do more.

5.  I'm so thankful that it is our legal right to homeschool in America.

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