The Most Lovely… …weblog about life and all it encompasses.

‘Tis The Most Lovely Season

It's been a while since my last post. Unfortunately, my life had been lacking in inspiration for the most lovely things. Three days ago, however, marked the beginning of my favorite time of year - inspiration ensued.

Snow. Yes, I know that many don't qualify the type of snow that Houston, Texas produces to be actual snow. It didn't stick much to the ground, and several hours later was just icey puddles and glimmering frost on cars, but one thing that did stick was that it got me in the holiday mood! I know, I know, I sound ridiculously cheesy. There is just something about bundling up in warmth and looking out on the gray winter days, watching your breath and steam from roofs billow through the crisp air, that makes me think "damn! i love winter!" I especially love precipitation that I can encounter without an umbrella and not be as miserable as a recently bathed cat after said encounter - even if northerners won't admit it's snow. There's something magical about this time of year for me that isn't tangible but I can appreciate none the less.

As a child Christmas was always something to look forward to. I am part of a huge family that was strong on traditions. "Was" being the operative word. When I was fourteen, two days before my birthday and four months before our typical huge family Christmas, my grandmother died of pancreatic cancer. I knew even before she passed that my family would never be the same, but still I hoped things wouldn't change. The years of gathering as many aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and cousins as possible into the same tiny, creaky house that belonged to my grandparents on Christmas eve were over. There would be no night-before family feast and gift opening. Hot chocolate drinking with siblings and cousins, while grandma read both a santa-oriented and jesus-oriented Christmas story was no more. Though the joy of those types of Christmases was sucked away with the death of my grandmother, humans are both creatures of habit and quite adaptable. I simply adapted to new, less-extended-family oriented holidays and kept my cheesy and sentimental holiday spirit alive.

Today is the 83rd birthday of my grandfather, who has survived liver cancer now for over a year past diagnosis and without treatment - an undeniable miracle (if you believe in those sorts of things). He, along with said grandmother, was always a part of the foundation that formed my love for this season. I'm not sure if this will be his last birthday, or if this Christmas will be my last with him, since his prognosis has been so poor for so long, but I am sure that I will truly cherish this winter holiday with my family. Very little could ever ruin this time of year for me once the cool weather blows in and blinking lights go up. I've had many years since I was fourteen in which Christmas, New Year, or some/all of the holiday season were tainted by disaster, yet somehow - year after year - something in my chemistry changes when I get to pull out my winter clothes from the closet and bundle up. I truly love winter, and I have a feeling I'll love this one just as much or more than all the winters of the past. Love, love, love it.

In the spirit, as I will be for at least a month or two, here's something for all the misfits out there!

Honesty: The Most Lovely Policy

Sometimes in life you need principles to follow, stand up for, and provide you guidance. As a very introverted and thoughtful youngster, I developed my set of principles at a pretty young age. I had many personal battles in figuring out my beliefs and their conflicts with my family's religious beliefs at the time. As a result I kind of formed my own idea of how I thought I should live my life outside of religion, which - at the time - was too much of an overwhelmingly complicated subject for me to base my lifestyle off of.

#1 Always be honest, and ask others to be honest with me... always. #2 Don't lie, steal, or cheat. #3 Help others as much as possible. #4 Don't hurt, injury, or kill others. ....and it goes on, et cetera et cetera....

My moral set has hardly changed or wavered since adolescence because it has never steered me wrong. However, there have been many times when I've forgotten my own values or compromised them for one reason or another. My most recent compromise was in dealing with a loved one's battle with an abusive relationship. Every resource out there tells people in dealing with loved ones involved in domestic violence situations that your job is to be supportive and not force your opinions on them. You are to let them know that you think it's an abusive situation and just let them deal with it how they may, at their own pace.

For years now I compromised my number one rule in dealing with others, honesty, in order to not seem non-supportive or unloving. I compromised rule three because she didn't want my help, she wanted to be left alone, and every resource out there tells you it's her life and you have to let her make her own decisions. I realize now that my values were never worth compromising. As selfish as it may be to tell her how I feel, she deserves the courtesy of knowing how everyone else sees her relationship and her decision-making skills.

"They" are right, though, I can't make decisions for her or give her ultimatums without alienating her, but I can help her as much as possible by telling her the truth, even if it hurts. She deserves to know the reality of her situation and how it's affecting every relationship in her life. I'm glad I finally found the clarity to realize compromising on my values never helps any situation for me, or anyone involved. I don't know what the backlash from this honesty will be or if she'll even care, but I can't base my values on hopes for someone else's willingness to accept them one day.

I said what I said out of love for her and the need to stay true to myself. I hope she can understand that.

The Most Lovely Gift

Growing up, you go through many phases of maturity. At some point or another you reach a point when you can look back and truly appreciate what it took for you to be where you are at that very moment. Usually you can attribute your life, your progress, and your ups and downs to one or a few people. For me, when thinking generally, I can attribute who I am and my life to so many people and occurrences, but when I think specifically, it's just one. You see, I think specifically about the gift I was given by my mom and the importance of her in my life. Not, of course, to exclude the importance of my father in my life, but my mother's role was something much different than his. While they both have sacrificed for my livelihood in incomparable ways, my mother's sacrifices are the gift I'm specifically speaking of, or my mother herself is.

This past May my mom, in her fifties, enrolled for the first time in Graduate School. Twenty-seven years after first being accepted to Graduate School but never attending, she has finally gotten her chance to do something for herself. Growing up I never could understand why she couldn't. Why won't she just shut us (her 5 children) off for a few hours a day and do something for herself - go to school, do her art, work a job she loves?, I would ask myself. Now that I've reached that certain level of maturity I reached, well, whenever I did, I can realize how impossible it was and is for her to be selfish. She lives her life to serve us, her most beautiful unintended masterpieces. She and my father fell head first into parenthood and hoped for the best, living each day trying to give us the best life they could. For her, that meant she couldn't bring herself to spend money on herself for school, when she felt she should be spending it on us. She felt she couldn't spend time on her art, when she had so many obligations for us. She felt she couldn't get a job she loved over one that paid better (the same sacrifice my father has made), when she wanted us so badly to have a good life.

Now that me and my four siblings are older (the youngest turning 18 this year), she is finally getting her chance at her own life. Finally getting the chance to be repaid for the gift she gave me and my siblings. Yet, it won't be the same and I can never truly repay her, because her gift won't stop being given our whole lives. She still, everyday, makes sacrifices for us. Sacrifices she shouldn't have to make. She is late to her classes to help us when we're in need. She has sleepless nights when we're in distress. She supports us financially when the recession leaves us jobless. She drives us to work and school, even if she has things she needs to do. And while nowadays I try to make it easy on her as much as possible, when you're young and dumb you feel entitled to this selflessness from your guardian. My best friend once told me that she was questioning her atheism because she thought about her mother and all she's done for her and feels there has to be something bigger, some greater force to thank for the gift that is her mom.

It's this friend who inspired  today's blog, my first blog. She found out in June that she is pregnant. At first it was distressing and devastating. She was about to turn 22, not out of college yet, and had not been dating the father very long. I look at her and I see my mom. I see her mom. I see my best friend about to give the best gift anyone can ever give to some one else, life and unconditional love. She may not see the positive side yet, but I can't help but be excited for her. I know that he'll love her like I love my mom and she loves her's. At the same time I want her to be able to succeed at this adventure, with her son, and still succeed at fulfilling her own. I can't help but want to help her in all the ways I could never help my own mom. It's a gift I can never repay my mother for, and my friend's son will never be able to repay her for, but I just wish I could make it easier for her to give.