Twilight: Let me explain myself

So before you go and jump to wild conclusions about me due to my fondness of the Twilight Saga, let me first explain why I am so fond of it.  While the books themselves will not stack up against the classics, they are a decent read.  The author makes it easy to imagine the characters and does a great job of bringing them to life.  The hook:  she also captures what any girl would want to capture if she were to write a story about the most interesting love story, with the most out of the ordinary characters.   She allows the reader to use their imagination and stretches that imagination in so many ways!

Edward Cullen isn’t quite Mr. Darcy, but there are similarities.

He’s not mysteriously enchanting like Gatsby, but Bella could be compared in some ways to Gatsby's Daisy.

He lacks the boyish desperation of Romeo.  I guess a 100+ years of life helps one mature a bit.

And  he pales in comparison to the southern charms of the dashing Rhett Butler.  Imagine a vampire raised in the high society such as that of the Butlers of Charleston, SC.

However, Edward Cullen offers something distinct that these fine gentlemen do not.  He is a vampire and his not your average, run-of-the-mill vampire.  He can read minds, he sparkles in the sunlight, he’s there when you need him, he knows exactly what to say, and he practices a great deal of self-control.  And… he’s a vegetarian.  This sparkling vampire does not kill humans.  


Take all your favorite leading men and roll them into one and I think you'll come pretty close to Edward Cullen.

Doesn’t do much for you?  Well, that’s okay—he’s not for everyone.

The Twilight Saga, when I read it, gave this “Thirty-something” a chance to feel young again!  It took me back to some of those “Cinderella” happenings and those “Romeo & Juliet” moments of my youth.  Reading the story of Bella and Edward (and even Jacob) brought back so many breathtaking and unpleasant memories of my adolescence.    Surely you remember?  So no, none of us literally fell in love with vampires (or werewolves), but you must remember your first love. 

You must remember the butterflies in your stomach.  The lump in your throat when you’d try to have a conversation but the right words never came out and you just sounded so stupid every time you spoke.  Or the moment you realized your guy friend could be more than a friend? Or how you’d bite your lip when you got nervous because, much like pinching yourself, you wanted to be sure you were alive and really experiencing every single second of what was happening and you promised yourself you’d never forget it.  Oh come on, you have to remember!    And let’s not forget the feeling when your love left you.  How you literally struggled for breath when Mr. Right walked away, leaving you standing in the school hallway fighting back tears AND everyone knew what happened???  Ugh.

It seems that the Twilight Saga could be a modern day Romeo & Juliet.  No, it doesn’t stand next to it and there is no literary comparison—but that’s not the point.  It’s still a heart wrenching love story and face it: chicks dig it.  We love a great love story.  Period.

Girls want to be pursued, to be wanted, desired; we love to know that we are everything—your life, your breath.   We even enjoy a little adventure and just enough danger to feel alive, all the while, knowing you will protect us.  We still want our Knight in Shining Armor full of honor and devotion. 

So I’m admitting that I cannot wait to see New Moon.   Think what you’d like of me, but sometimes I enjoy feeling like a 16 year old again- just for a moment- and take pleasure in a good little love story.   [Lovely background music comes to a screeching halt.] But be sure to know that I don’t care to go back to age 16.  Stupid boys breaking my fragile little heart, no Edward or Jacob to be found…

…I’m off to see New Moon.

hope is fading

Dear hope,

I am holding you in my hand, but I’m afraid I’m going to lose you. I’ve tried so hard to hang on to you, to believe even when the odds were stacked high against you! There was a time I believed you were invincible and unbreakable. Now you appear so fragile. It seems as if you could break at any moment, shatter into millions of little pieces. Oh if you were to break, I don’t know if I could put you back together again. Please don’t leave me, hope. Without you, I am nothing. I need you! You keep my eyes open, my heart open, my hands and feet moving—you are air and without you I will surely die. Hang on to me, hope. Hang on tight… please don’t let me go!  ~Melissa

hope: hoped, hop•ing, hopes
1. To wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment.
2. Archaic To have confidence; trust.
v.tr.
1. To look forward to with confidence or expectation: 2. To expect and desire.
n.
1. A wish or desire accompanied by confident expectation of its fulfillment.
2. Something that is hoped for or desired: Success is our hope.
3. One that is a source of or reason for hope: the team's only hope for victory.
4. often Hope Christianity The theological virtue defined as the desire and search for a future good, difficult but not impossible to attain with God's help.
5. Archaic Trust; confidence.
Idiom:
hope against hope
To hope with little reason or justification.

Peter 1:6-8
So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though the going is rough for a while down here… You love God even though you have never seen him; though not seeing him, you trust him; and even now you are happy with the inexpressible joy that comes from heaven itself. 1 Peter 1:6, 8 [TLB]
6-7I know how great this makes you feel, even though you have to put up with every kind of aggravation in the meantime. Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of his victory.
8-9You never saw him, yet you love him. You still don't see him, yet you trust him—with laughter and singing. Because you kept on believing, you'll get what you're looking forward to: total salvation. [The Message]

A Kiss Makes Everything All Better

I recently spent some time with a dear friend and her daughter. It is always enlightening to watch other parents interact with their children. I really learn a lot just by watching and listening.

On this particular evening, it was late and my little friend was being a normal two-year old. She was off in her own little world playing in her own adventure, paying little attention to her mother and me. Of course, she’d come over intermittently to ask a question or give an update, but for the most part, she was in her own little world. Thankfully, we practically had the little café all to ourselves, which is nice when you’re balancing coffee time and mommy time.

Inevitably, as it happens when a child grows weary and no longer wishes to do as you ask them to do, my little friend started “arguing” in two year old fashion with her mother. I watched as my mommy friend practiced lovely patience and kindness. I watched as my two-year old friend practiced independence and defiance. My mommy friend tried, but to no avail, her little girl was just not listening. So, a firm swat to the rear end was handed down from mommy to daughter.

Heartbroken, my little friend faked a pitiful cry. She looked up at her mommy, eyes wide with the sweetest countenance on her face.

“Kiss it,” she said.

“I don’t kiss spankings,” said my mommy friend.

I could see the wheels of thought turning in her head.

“Can you kiss I’m sorry’s?” asked my little friend.

My mommy friend looked over to me, hiding a huge smile from her precious daughter. Of course, my littlest friend received a kiss on the head and a hug and with that-- she was off to continue playing. Our evening was over shortly after that, as our coffee time and mommy time would have ended badly had we tried to make my little friend stay out much later.

Ever since then, I’ve been thinking about the question.

“Can you kiss I’m sorry’s?”

I don’t know. Can you?

Thank You, Daddy

Veteran’s Day 2009

Dear Daddy,

I’m guessing today may be a difficult day for you.  Your mind is probably flooded with memories—faces, names, places—people that I’ll never meet, names I’ll never know and places I’ll never see…

Standing in the darkness of evening, I approached The Three Soldiers.  Naturally, my eyes fell on the wall. The sight their eyes are forever fixed upon.  My heart sank and I was overwhelmed with deep sadness.  It was quiet and calm there—somber.  I sat down for a moment, crying and trying to catch my breath.  It was as if I was overcome by memories that were not my own. 

Eventually, I made my way towards the wall.  It was beautiful, but I felt horrible thinking that.  How could a memorial with names of thousands of dead soldiers be beautiful?  I imagined these soldiers all around me and the spirits of the memories.  So many lives represented there- directly and indirectly.  I wondered what names you would recognize and how many you knew.  How that must pain your heart to remember.  I hesitated to touch the wall, but I reached out for one brush against the cool, black granite.  In that moment, I felt connected to you in a way I had never felt before.  I leaned in close to the wall and breathed an almost inaudible whisper into the ears of the soldiers, “you have not been forgotten- thank you.” 

Daddy, you served your country well and I'll be forever proud.  You did what your country asked of you and there is great honor in that.   I don’t know how you feel or what you think, I simply have a vivid imagination.  But I know there is great sadness in your eyes when you talk about Vietnam.  I don’t know much about your experience there.  You’ve told me to ask, but I hesitate for I don’t want to unhinge memories that are better left quiet and still. 

I remember wanting so desperately to enlist in the Army or even the Marines—anything to make you proud and follow in your footsteps of service to our country.  But you sternly refused and gently encouraged me in other directions.  I remember you telling me through laughter, “you’ll mouth off to the wrong person and get in a lot of trouble!”  (The same reasons you encouraged me NOT to pursue a career as a server at a restaurant.  You had visions of me pouring drinks in laps of incredibly rude customers!)  You were definitely right.  I didn’t have it in me to be a soldier—or a waitress.

Daddy, I love you and I’m proud of you.   When you think that no one remembers, know that I do.  And while my memories are very different from yours, I’m so grateful that you and so many men and women have sacrificed much for my freedom.  

I Love You,

Melissa Gail

In the Eye of the Beholder

I have a vile repulsion to the act of staring. Anyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that staring is on the top of my "Do Not Like" list.  I have never had an ounce of patience for staring!  Maybe its because I heard my mom tell me over and over "Don't stare, dear".   Watching my children, I know they are almost mesmerized by some people.  Whether we're in line at the grocery store or seated at a restaurant table, the little eyes always seem to wander.  You know, they find the lady with purple hair or the man dressed like a lady... or the tattoos or piercings.  Kid's stare.  Adults stare-- this is what I have no patience for.

Sometimes she just stares at me. She watches me doing the most mundane to the magnificent.  I mean, she stares without blinking sometimes!  When I do the mundane chores like dishes or folding laundry... okay, well, she spends less time staring in those moments and more time getting into whatever it is I don't want her to get into.  Then, when I attempt the magnificent chores like putting on make-up or brushing my hair. You know, I take the scary and make it a little more presentable.  She is fascinated with these chores!

I remember the very first time I caught her staring. It's amazing really, as she was only a few hours old. There she lay, in the hospital bassinet...  My eyes were closed and I was trying to sleep in the semi-quiet hospital room so tired from the events that took place just hours before. With my eyes closed and sleep so close I could taste it... I sensed she was looking at me. I opened my eyes to find her little blue eyes fixed right on me. Our eyes locked. My baby girl was staring right at me! It was a moment I'll never forget.  It was startling, actually.  I just laid there, afraid to move.  And she just stared.  Naturally, I had to pick her up and hold her.  Her eyes drew me in like I was under a spell. I just had to hold her!

I felt it again yesterday. I could sense her eyes on me. When I turned around, there those baby blues were just looking at me so intently. It's  less like a staring and more like watching.  A smile crept across her face and then a little giggle came out! I smiled to as we shared our moment.

It's a feeling like nothing else. There aren't words to describe what it does to me when our eyes meet like that. And no, I don't get angry. It's quite the opposite, really. I'm overwhelmed and almost forget to breathe when our eyes lock.  There is a mixture of emotions.  I feel the pressure, slightly panicked.  I mean, what if I mess up while she's watching?

Mostly, I wonder what she's thinking. And what does she think of me? Thankfully, she's unaware of the internal list of "dislikes" I see when I look at myself. She doesn't know that my hair is in need of a trim and I need to decide which color it is going to be. She can't see that my eyebrows are uneven because I decided to wax them myself or that I hide behind poorly blended make-up. She can't see that I'm 50 pounds over weight or that my teeth are crooked or that I have permanent dark circles under my eyes. Thankfully, she can't see these things.

Looking in her eyes, in that moment, I feel beautiful and strong.  In her eyes, I see happiness, love, and kindness.  When we share these moments, I am comfortable in my skin and confident in my role as "momma".   It's almost as if her faith and love literally gives me a sense of real confidence, void of insecurities-- pure and lovely.

Oh my darling little girl, in these moments... It is important that you know how much you are loved. You are lacking nothing.  Your hair, your nose, your legs, feet, hands, arms... ALL of you is perfect just the way you are and always will be. I'm proud of who you are and I don't want you to change one single thing.

I pray I can be the mother and friend that you need in your life.  I pray I can show you beauty and grace;  Love and kindness.  I pray that I can show you quiet confidence and just how valuable you are.  I pray that God completes the sentences that I am unable to complete. 

Abigail, may your love change the world. May you laugh endlessly! When the tears fall, and I know they will, I pray those tears journey to your heart, as if watering a blooming flower, giving your beautiful heart strength as it grows in love. Oh my darling daughter, when your reflection you see, I pray you will smile and know that you are wonderfully made-- crafted by an amazing God. Be fearless, my daughter, humble, patient, kind, gentle, loving... and never be afraid to be the girl God created you to be.