That's Not the Shaggy Dog...Just a Georgian Driver

For those of you from anywhere but the Southern United States, there is something you should know about Southern, specifically Georgian, drivers before planning your next vacation to the illustrious South: DMV laws do not apply to us. (I used to say "them," but after living in Georgia for close to ten years, I must align myself with the locals, though I pride myself on my driving skills). Sure, cities everywhere have their speed demons, weavers, and brake-checkers, but the day-to-day drivers experienced in small, rural Southern towns are an experience not to be missed nor to be witnessed by the faint of heart. 

Turn signals are obsolete here as is looking for oncoming traffic before entering a lane. Center turn lanes are just extra lanes to be used for speeding past you. While we do have drivers who pride themselves on knowing where their accelerator is and using it quite frequently, it is more often the case that one finds oneself behind an elderly, handicapped couple out to enjoy a leisurely Sunday drive on a Tuesday morning when one is running late for work. Vehicles are not always the conventional type: there are some days when I see more tractors on the road than cars. Rednecks race each other from one stop light to the next and back again as a diversion on Friday evenings; I have personally witnessed several drag races outside the local coffee shop that lasted a whole five seconds due to the close proximity of our downtown stoplights. I thought I'd seen it all until last Friday evening...

Living in the South, a common lawn decoration seen is old vehicles, particularly from the 1950s. These once-beautiful, antique vehicles are as popular a lawn decor as flamingos are to a Floridian retiree. It breaks an old car lover's heart like mine to pieces to see these cars rusted out and falling apart while being a home to raccoons, mice, birds, and God knows what other creatures who have stumbled upon their peeling paint and holey upholstery. Last Friday, I was fortunate enough to see one of these vehicles up close and personal because it was driving straight towards me as I waited to turn. At first sight, I was excited because I thought an antique car show was in town. As it came closer, I realized this car must have come straight out of someone's front yard because it was peeling, broken, cracked, and slightly leaning to one side while chugging smoke out of the exhaust pipe. Wondering how the car was even able to run, I gave a start as I saw what looked like a bear driving the car. My first thought was wondering where the circus was, my next was if they were making another Shaggy Dog re-make. 

As the car slowed to turn, my eyes took in a backseat full of bird's nests, boxes, crates, cobwebs, and leaves all blowing around (and out) of the car. My eyes traveled to the driver, and my original assumption of the car being driven by a bear was quickly explained: the driver of the vehicle was a man who must have been well over 300 pounds, had no shirt, and possessed the longest, curliest hair I have ever seen (we're talking Absalom here, folks). This quickly helped me connect the dots as to why the car was leaning so much to the driver's side as I'm sure his rear end was only a few inches off the pavement. As he turned in front of me, he gave the traditional, nonchalant, pointer finger wave. Or so I thought. As I turned behind him, I began to realize that his finger was his turn signal. At every stop sign, this man stuck his arm out the window and pointed which direction he was going as the turn signal wires were, I'm sure, currently unavailable due to being chewed by resident rats. It wouldn't have surprised me to see a raccoon sitting on the man's shoulder picking and eating fleas off of him. Who knows? Perhaps he lived in the car too. Unfortunately, his pointer finger sent him down a different road than I, so I did not get to see my hairy friend's final destination. Maybe to the happy hunting grounds of the vet clinic for a rabies shot. Possibly to a used car lot. Hopefully to Wal-Mart to buy a shirt and hair clippers. Or perhaps you may see him just as he was on your next vacation to the good ol' South. 

Happiness Is...

My mother has a large metal trunk somewhere in the basement. On all four sides as well as the lid, it is emblazoned with images of Charlie Brown, Snoopy, and the rest of the gang dancing, laughing, throwing the age-old football, and sitting at Lucy's infamous booth. Written all around the pictures is the repeated phrase, "Happiness is...Happiness is...Happiness is..." I loved that trunk as a child, but the words always bothered me. I found myself annoyed that the question was never resolved. "Happiness is what?!?" I'd ask myself over and over. I used to think if I only knew the answer to that question, everything would be solved: relationships, wars, what to wear the next day, everything! 

As an adult, I still find myself trying to fill in the blanks from that old trunk. Happiness is...Happiness is...Happiness is...Isn't that what everyone's searching for? Whether we think we can buy, create, or eat happiness, it seems to be the goal for most of the population. A pursuit of too much happiness can be blamed for many issues today: obesity, debt, disease, alcoholism, wars, failed relationships...We think that if we buy just one more cute outfit, just one more helping of dessert, just one more drink, just one more new car, just one more new diet, all our problems will be over. We will achieve nirvana, peace, and perfection. Happiness is...Happiness is...Happiness is...

The theme of the Book of Ecclesiastes is that everything is "meaningless." I don't think all those "power of positive thinking" folks would be a fan of the Book of Ecclesiastes. It took me forever to realize that the writer of Ecclesiastes is not in need of depression medication. We shouldn't look on everything as "meaningless" in that it's no use to pursue dreams or passions or desires and find ourselves in a downward spiral of depression. We shouldn't look on life as a smorgasbord of human fun and "eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die" only to wake one morning and realize we've gained the whole world but lost our souls either. Happiness is...Happiness is...Happiness is...

What a carousel life is. We go round and round and round, thinking we're learning something, only to find ourselves right back where we started from. It makes me dizzy just to think about it. I'm sure it certainly makes God's head spin. "Oh, there she goes again, thinking she's the first one to discover/say/learn/tell/go/do that. Pursuing happiness but never obtaining it." Being a Christian does not equal a life of ease and constant happiness. In fact quite the opposite. What it does give is worth so much more. Peace. Joy. Purpose. Eternal Security. Freedom. I certainly won't be "inright, outright, upright, downright happy all the time," but at least I can take joy in and find happiness in so many small things that the world might find silly. 

Happiness is...trying out a new recipe with Jon, for better or for worse. For better and we have a ball cooking, baking, frying, boiling, stewing, and eating a new-found favorite. For worse and we get Chinese takeout. How can we lose?

Happiness is...laughing with girlfriends over secrets, movies, inside jokes, and each other. 

Happiness is...stepping on that scale and seeing the numbers go down, but knowing that those numbers do not define me or who I am or what others think of me. 

Happiness is...going through photo albums and smiling, laughing, and crying over memories, good and bad. 

Happiness is...going fishing. 

Happiness is...playing Rock Band. 

Happiness is...teaching piano to someone who never thought they could succeed and watching them blossom. 

Happiness is...writing. 

Happiness is...taking a walk - at sunset and watching the sky turn pink, at dusk when the fireflies are twinkling, at break of dawn when the sun is rising and the world is still waking up. 

Happiness is...reading a great book. 

Happiness is...succeeding at something you never thought possible and the feeling of accomplishment it brings. 

Happiness is...watching children smile, play, and laugh. 

Happiness is...watching a thunderstorm and being safe and warm and dry inside. 

Happiness is...helping someone else. 

Happiness is...petting my cats and seeing the love they show me with abandon. 

Happiness is...listening to a great piece of music. 

Happiness is...sitting with my husband, talking, laughing, reading, or just sitting in companionable silence. 

Happiness is...knowing that this life is not the end, knowing that the carousel does stop, knowing that the greatest joy truly is in the simplest things, and knowing that no one can take my joy away. 

For Jon On Our Five Year Anniversary

This Thursday, May 26th, 2011, my wonderful husband Jonathan and I celebrate five incredible years of marriage. I can't believe half a decade has passed since we first said, "I do." The butterflies at the rehearsal, the worry over the guest list, the issues with caterers...it all seems like yesterday. Many of you have been married much longer than I, several for less, and some are still searching for that perfect someone. No matter what your marital status, may I encourage you? Here are just a few things I've learned in my short life as a married woman: 

1) Communication is KEY. In my family, we don't always say what we mean how we mean it or when we mean it. In fact, we are masters of the silent treatment: "If you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all." Ignore the problem long enough and it will go away. Over the years, my parents have gotten progressively better and better at communication, and it's wonderful to see. But growing up without the example of clear communication definitely made it...interesting...when Jon & I would miscommunicate in our first years together. I think I've mentioned before that when Jon & I argue or disagree, it is over the most trivial, pointless, meaningless things, but oh boy, at the time, you better watch out! Fold a towel that way?!? Are you mad?!? Were you brought up in a barn?!? Every time we would argue in our first year together, I would prep myself for three days of silence. We probably wouldn't speak to each other for a few days and then we would just have to go on as if nothing ever happened and nothing was resolved. What a shock it was to me when Jon wouldn't let me leave the room or even the sofa without resolving the issue, no matter how long it took! Communication. Say how you feel. Say how you heard it. Listen to how he feels. Listen to how he heard it. It's amazing how different that can be...

2) NEVER go to bed angry. In five years, we've done it twice, and both times, that was the crappiest night's sleep I've ever had in my life. It doesn't matter that it's midnight, and you have to get up at 6 a.m.; your spouse's feelings and the sake of your marriage is more important. Take notes if you have to. That's what I do. Jon often compares me to Dori in "Finding Nemo": Serious conversation then, "Oh! Something shiny!" and I'm gone. That's how it is when we disagree because Jon's Swiss army knife brain can handle fifty thoughts at the same time, and I fight to hold on to one. If he interrupts me, I forget, and that makes me even more angry than I was before. Take notes. It's OK. Don't get sidetracked by less important issues. Focus on the main one. And work it out as long as it takes. 

3) Date days are a gift from God. At least once a week, Jon & I have a date "day" (sometimes an afternoon if timing works out badly). This is not so much about the quantity of time spent together but the quality of it. We don't have to go anywhere or spend anything; it's time together: no cell phones, no interruptions. Sometimes it's going out to eat or to a movie, but oftentimes, it's making dinner together, watching something on TV we've been wanting to see, playing Scrabble in the park, playing Rock Band, going for a walk, ANYTHING. It's quality time with my husband. No responsibilities, no worries...just us. 

4) A spouse can also be a best friend. Think about it. You live with this person day-in, day-out. Of course, you both need quality time with other friends, but why can't your spouse be one of those friends? Find at least one thing you have in common and EXPLOIT IT! Don't have anything in common with them? Find something. Make something. Prime example: Jon loves playing card games, and I'm not a huge fan. Never have been. But it was something that was important to him. So, I made a concession: we bought a card game together, and he taught it to me. At first, I hated it. I always lost. I didn't know what I was doing. I played any old card I could find just to make the pain end quickly. But over a few days and weeks, I gradually learned the rules, started making wise plays, and now we challenge each other all the time. I even win on occasion! Did I think I would like it? Absolutely not. But I sacrificed for the love of my life and wound up enjoying myself at the same time. Find or make something you and your spouse have in common and play to that strength: gardening, cooking, games, movies, walks, antique car shows...you may surprise yourself at what begins as a "tolerance" turns into an enjoyment.

5) Be willing to SACRIFICE. Ooh...that's a toughie. But so incredibly vital. Sacrifice does not come naturally to us humans. We are selfish beings by nature. At least one person reading this right now is thinking, "Oh, sure, I can sacrifice, but will my significant other sacrifice for me??? Nope! Not a snowball's chance in you-know-where. All I do is give, give, give, and what do they do? Take, take take. More sacrificing? Girl, you must be crazy!" Maybe I am. But remember: I'm not preaching; just sharing with you what I've learned. And I've learned that the more I sacrifice, the more I love my husband. Not in a martyr, "woe is me" way, but in a genuine, loving, godly way. I enjoy sacrificing my time or sacrificing something I was doing in order to help my husband. Some days it does seem like I've sacrificed a lot, but then other days, I feel like I don't deserve him because he's sacrificing by making dinner for me or letting me decide where to go or (wonder of wonders) giving me possession of the remote control. It's a two-way street. The more he sacrifices for me, the more I want to sacrifice for him. We both focus on each other, and where is there room for selfishness then? 

So there you have it: five years, five points. Perhaps you agree, perhaps you don't. Either way is fine with me. It's really not a point of agreeing; it's my personal journey and what I've learned. I'm sure I'll learn plenty more in the next five, ten, fifteen, hopefully fifty years God grants me with my wonderful love of my life. Jon, you are my best friend, my helpmate, and the one I want to grow old with. I love you with all of my heart.

Today I Graduated From College Graduation

For whatever reason, I seem to grow in increments of four years. When I graduated from high school and came to Georgia for college, it wasn't until near the end of my college career that I began to feel as if the old things of high school were passing away: the insecurities, the inside jokes, the teen angst...all were gradually replaced with...new insecurities, new inside jokes, and college angst. 

So I suppose it's only natural that today, four years after I graduated from college, I should finally feel the departure of the college years and the dawning of the newest era of my life. Of course I haven't had to deal with late-night study sessions, dorm life, or cafeteria food for some time now, but there are always the memories. "I wonder what so-and-so is doing now." "The so-and-so's just had their second baby." "So-and-so passed away in a freak accident." One of the up-sides of living in the same town I graduated in is that occasionally, from year to year, certain so-and-so's come back for whatever reason, and I bump into them in the strangest of places: the Dollar Tree, Wal-Mart, or a stoplight downtown. And usually after these chance meetings, I am beset with memories of bygone years: dance parties in the dorms, Christmas banquets with prom dresses and no dancing allowed, Burger Nights at the guys' dorm, late night walks and talks, and the ever-changing influx of freshman who thought they were the first ones to sit outside and strum guitars. This is usually followed with a reminiscent look through photo albums and me getting all choked up as I think of all the adult responsibilities I have now and how much I wish I had taken advantage of the freedom I didn't realize I had during college life. 

But today, it changed. Today, I bumped into two girls I had known in college, and we all recognized each other immediately. There were hugs all around, and the usual "How have you been?" inquiries. But then, one girl looked at me and said, "Remind me of your name?" How funny. We had seen each other every day for four years, we had talked and laughed in the library for hours on end, prayed together, and eaten cereal in the cafeteria when the catfish nuggets and chicken patties were too horrible for consumption. Yet my name eluded her. When asked what I was doing today, I replied that I was poking around while Jon worked. The same girl looked at me and said, "Remind me who Jon is?" "Jonathan Boyd," I replied. "The guy I dated all through college." And in that instant, I saw the recognition. The memories came back to her. She hadn't forgotten; we were simply covered in the dust of years, packed away in the attic of her mind.

I made a joke about having learned that Jon & I were commonly referred to as "Jancy" in school because we were never seen apart from each other, and they both laughed. We talked for a few minutes and then went our separate ways. And for the first time, on my way home, the memories were not accompanied by the familiar ache, the choked-up feeling in the back of my throat, or the disappointment of things not said or unaccomplished. College was a special time and one I will always cherish, but I'm happy now to box up those memories and store them for viewing only occasionally. Now it is time to move into the next step of adulthood, whatever that may be. Who knows what I may learn or what may happen in the next four years? But I know that each triumph, each failure, each birthday, each holiday, and each seemingly trivial day will continue to make me the person I was destined to be.