Us and Our Excellent Adventure - part one -

First came the misplaced key fiasco, then a scare with the safe in the hotel closet, but somehow my siblings and I managed to survive night one of being on our own (thus far). Even though we had to juggle ordering food with three different gift cards and *checking into a hotel* all by ourselves, we managed to get along pretty well. 

Our hotel room had a tub/whirlpool about three feet from the bed. Even though it made for a slightly stressed out older sister, it was pretty awesome. 

The hotel itself was quite small (the 'fitness center' was a normal room but in place of a bed and dresser, there was a treadmill and exercise ball. But I noticed the staff was nicer than other hotel staff that I'd met previously. Maybe it's a small town thing. ;)

-Note- I know next to nothing about cars, so if you're like me, it may be helpful to know that the color and type of your vehicle (for example, 'blue van') is a suitable answer for the 'make/model' section of the hotel's signing in form. I don't think the man at the front desk thought I was too inept...

Also, asking for extra bedding isn't as terrifying as it sounds. 

A Very, Very, Merry Christmas to You

 

He's taller than me. What?

The first step after receiving earmuffs as a gift is to put them on and take a selfie.

Jesus Birthday Cake!

The Single Virus

Along with the common cold and the stomach flu, another illness is making its rounds at this time of year. Yes, I am referring to the dreaded Single Virus. Symptoms may include but are not limited to-

*The illusion that there are couples everywhere or that you are the only single person in your group of friends. Whenever you leave the house you see people your age or younger holding hands with a boy or girl and laughing. These are the only people you notice. The disease can spread to your eyes and block out anybody who is perfectly happy shopping by themselves. 

*Jealousy. Arguably the worst side effect of The Single Virus, jealousy can lead to more serious symptoms such as desperation, hateful words, and impulsive actions. 

*Feelings of self-doubt or worthlessness. Unfortunately, especially during the holidays, people focus on what they don't have instead of what they do. They convince themselves that the lack of something (or someone) means they are less of a person or don't hold as much value. This is a flat out lie, but The Single Virus eats away at the part of the brain that reminds people that they are children of God and therefore priceless. 

*Impatience. This is the nagging voice in the back of your mind (when am -I- going to meet someone?) that just won't give up. It wants things and it wants them immediately. Impatience is sick of waiting, and it won't take no for an answer. 

So, is there any sort of cure for The Single Virus, or are all relationship-less individuals doomed to a lifetime of misery? 

The solution is realization. And not just one realization, but a whole string of them. 

Realization that you are not the only single person in the world. To realize this, you must first remove your self-pity goggles and take a decent look at your life and those around you. When you compare the amount of single people and the people who are in a relationship or are engaged, it actually starts to balance a little bit. If you still aren't convinced, take a walk through Wal-Mart and instead of inwardly groaning at the PDA, notice all the other people suffering from TSV (The Single Virus) and let yourself accept that you are not the only person who is single, and that's okay. 

Next, the realization that it's okay that people around you are happy. It's okay that they have a significant other at this point in their lives. You need to realize that being happy for someone else's happiness is just as great as being happy yourself. Once you get into a slump of having grudges against happily unsingle friends, it's easy to stay that way and refuse to be happy for them. This is wrong. If you were happy, you would want your friends to also be happy. Don't bring your friends down simply because you're feeling sorry for yourself. 

Last, a realization that you aren't worth anything less because you don't have someone to give a Valentine to in February. Read in your Bible. Remember that you *are* loved, and you are loved deeply and powerfully. Use this time to work on your relationship with God, family, friends, random people on the street. Work on becoming the person you want to be instead of focusing on the person you want to be with. Then, and only then, can you combat TSV and live happily ever after. 

The Man in the Waiting Room

I always feel awkward knitting in public. I don't know why. Maybe I'm just an awkward person in general, but it's only been recently that I've started to feel more comfortable knitting in places where homeschoolers aren't abundant. 

Grandmas and older women tend to rush over as soon as I pull out the yarn and ask what I'm making, who it's for, etc. I don't mind this, I just feel obligated to continue the small talk after telling them what I'm making. As I said in the last post, I'm not very good at small talk. Sit me down and have a discussion about deep life issues, that's great, but I'm not talented in the area of talking to pass the time.

Yesterday, I was in a waiting room and an older man sporting a 'WWII Vets' cap was quietly sitting next to two older ladies who were happily babbling. I could see right away that he was quiet.

A few people came in and out over the next half hour, and I never heard him say a word. Finally, it was just him, Grace, and me.

"What are you making?"

"A scarf."

"I'm a crocheter. I tried knitting. I made a pair of mittens and socks (which, in case you've never tried knitting is no small feat -geddit? 'cause feet and socks? never mind...) but I never really got into it."

"Yeah, I just like knitting better."

"I make afghans and donate them. Since 1960 I've made over 300 blankets for elderly people and I never sold a one. You see, their hands get weaker and deformed, so they give me all their old yarn and I make blankets for them."

"Wow, that's really great!"

"Next time I come here, I'll have to bring my crochet. See, in my spare time I bring people who can't drive anymore to their appointments for them."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to express how awesome I thought this quiet, old man was. I said something about how that was really nice and then kept knitting. One or two more people came and went and I was still busy thinking of something to say when either he or I had to leave. Every once in a while I'd look up and smile, but when the nurse opened up the door and pushed an old lady in a wheelchair out, I didn't know what to say. I called out for him to have a Merry Christmas, but I don't think he heard.

I love finding out about people like that. The quiet people who don't do anything for glory. Who don't get recognized for the amazing things that they do and the incredible sacrifices they make.

I've been thinking a lot about that man and all the unsung heroes not only in my town but in the world. Everyone gets caught up in the stories of shootings and war. Turning on the TV (or computer) results in depressing stories that, even though it's cliche, take away my faith in humanity. But people like that restore that faith. Even if it's a little thing like a Wal-Mart greeter who has a genuine smile and 'Hello', or a random compliment from a stranger. Little things are important.

So thank you, man in the waiting room. I never asked your name, but I'm glad for the little bit of small talk we had. And thank you to anyone who has ever tried to make anyone's day a little better. 

You rock.

In Which I Learn About Myself

The past months have involved countless trips to our local theater. First, my little sister was in the summer musical and I was in the fall play. Three days after the last performance of the fall play, practice for the Christmas show began. 

Today I walked out of that theater without the intention of returning later in the week. It felt incredibly strange. The theater has begun to feel like a second home. I've learned about myself while on and off stage. 

I've learned that I'm awkward at small talk and even more awkward at accepting the backstage compliments that form a theatre family. 

I've learned that if I laugh at my own mistakes, they don't seem as bad. Opening night of the Christmas show, I was supposed to say 'Even without the tree, and the presents, we do have a lot to be thankful for...(like the) children and each other'. Instead the words 'Even without the children, we do have a lot to be thankful for..(like the) children.'

Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all weekend. (When I'm not getting rid of my children, that is.)

I learned that I am not a fan of being the only one onstage. I much prefer having someone to bounce off of. If there's someone else in a scene, I can trick myself into thinking that the whole audience is looking at *them*, not me. When I'm doing a dialogue with someone, I am talking to them and no one else is there. However, when I'm the only one on the stage, there isn't anyone to fall back on except myself. I have to put all my trust in my memory. 

I volunteered to do a reading about Good King Wenceslaus (who actually wasn't a king, he was Duke of Bohemia. In case you were wondering). My hands shake incredibly easily, so I decided instead of worrying about my hands shaking (which only results in more hand shaking) I would simply memorize the entire page. 

If you know me, then you know that I waited until less than a week before opening night to fully memorize the reading. I learned that when I do things like this to myself, I get stressed out. 

Right before dress rehearsal, the director handed me a little extra piece of the reading that she wanted me to do. It was full of dates of when churches were built and when land was donated. 

She had warned me weeks ago that she wanted that extra little bit added, she was just waiting until she got the information from other sources. Since it was just a few sentences, the addition wasn't too hard to memorize. The idea of the dates messed with my head whenever I was onstage. I didn't trust myself. I felt my face go into 'deer in headlights' mode. 

Unfortunately, the people of my town never got to hear about the church named after Good King Wenceslaus in our area. 

Fortunately, my director was incredibly nice about the whole thing and assured me it was completely fine. 

I learned that it's healthy for me to push myself. I learned that I usually need someone to help me push myself. I wanted to be in the fall show, but didn't want to actually audition. If my mom hadn't given me the nudge I needed, I probably never would have had some of the best experiences of my life. 

I learned that even though it was exhausting. Even though I missed out on other experiences. Even though it wasn't always fun, all of the trips to the theater were worth it in the end.