s-o-c-k-s ~2022~ socks

It was nineteen years ago that we were preparing to move to Japan. It was a huge change for this Georgia girl who had never lived more than thirty minutes from the home she’d grown up in. Still, it was a wonderful experience, and we came home two and a half years later with another family member–our second daughter, our sweet T.

While living in Japan we adopted the custom of leaving our shoes at the door–something we still do today. As a fan of no shoes and flip flops, my children–two legged and four–know something is up when I put on socks, because, unless it is cold, I’m not wearing them. Socks on is my version of game on–about to take care of some business.

Still, I have a love-hate relationship with socks. Yes, I can even be sentimental about socks. I still have a pair given to me thirty years ago as a Christmas gift. I have a pair of Tigger socks my parents gave me before we moved to Japan. I have some I crocheted beads around when Aub was in second grade. And I have the inevitable, aggravating singles that I hesitate to get rid of because…..you just never know, do you? I used to make it a game for my littles to match up the socks when we’d collect enough to make it worthwhile. As teens, they aren’t really interested in that game much anymore. *sigh*

I was once talking about how I feel about socks with a friend of mine. I suggested (jokingly, because I’d never do that to our environment) that I wish that socks were disposable, so I wouldn’t have to deal with all the lost socks. “Socks are the bane of my existence,” I told her. She was aghast and told me so. She really, really loves her socks.

And that’s something, isn’t it? You can tell a lot about a person by their socks–the ones they wear, if they wear any at all. I have a friend who in college always matched her socks to her outfit–I loved all her colorful socks. My Fella enjoys wearing unusual socks. Sweet T delights in picking out socks for her Daddy every year. She has even found some wrapped up like a pizza and some like a burger, each in a special box. Cooter, on the other hand, likes his basic black (last Christmas) or white (this Christmas). My Daddy liked the basic whites too. He even used a Sharpie to label the matching ones–A and A, B and B, 1 and 1, 2 and 2, and so on. Y’all, I love my Daddy, but I’m not exactly sure what good that did except to know which one had mysteriously disappeared. Because that’s what socks do in my house. I think we have one of those special sock eating washing machines. PM me for the brand if you too would like your socks to spontaneously disappear. Truly, this is a great machine for that.

Recently, our sweet T came in and told me she knew how to say “It is what it is” in Spanish. “S-O-C-K-S.” (eso sí que es) Well, what do you know? Pretty cool.

In the past couple of years, I have found myself saying “It is what it is” quite a bit. I think it’s my way of verbal sighing. Or a way of shrugging with words. When things come along that just weigh heavy on my soul, things I don’t have control over…..so much of how I live these days feels out of my control.

And yet…..

I don’t want my children to grow up with S-O-C-K-S being their go to. I don’t want them to shrug or sigh and feel resigned in the midst of all that is going on around them. Are there things they can’t do anything about, things they can’t change? Oh my, yes. But are there things that people want us to believe we can’t change, but maybe just maybe we can? Good gravy, YES! We have to at least TRY.

It’s a fine line to balance–acceptance and advocacy. Some things in this life we have to accept, but some things we never should. I’m reminded of the Serenity Prayer–

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, 
courage to change the things I can, 
and wisdom to know the difference
Reinhold Niebuhr

As I was thinking about what my word for this coming year should be, I kept hearing my daughter saying S-O-C-K-S in my mind, AND all the while I’ve been moving around a stack of mismatched socks this holiday season as I’ve cleaned and decorated. So I think it is only fitting that I’ve settled on SOCKS for my word for 2022.

Maybe it’s not so important that they match. I remember a company (Little Miss Match?) who deliberately paired together socks that didn’t match, and they were adorable. (I’m sure there’s a lesson in that for making what you have work for you, but that’s a story for another time.) Maybe what I need to focus on this coming year is knowing when to say S-O-C-K-S (eso sí que es) and when to put my socks on, ready to take care of business. Because the world needs us to do both, y’all. May we all have the wisdom and the courage to know which socks to go with when.

Love to all, and may you bless and be blessed in the coming year!

TRASH

New Year’s Eve. 2018.

So much to think about and ponder upon and yet, I remember the old wives’ tale about sweeping. Don’t sweep on New Year’s Day or you’ll sweep someone out of your life. I don’t want to review memories and stories and sweep them back into my memories. And so I find myself not wanting to become all maudlin and auld lang syne-ish. I’d like tomorrow to be just another day, albeit wonderful as I will be surrounded by many of my favorite people, and make the best of it and try to leave the world a little better place at sunset than I found it at sunrise–just as I hope to do for the other 364 days of 2019.

“This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

My Mama sang these words out more days than not, challenging us to find joy in each day and not take a single one for granted. She especially loved to remind us of this when we got down in the dumps.

With four children born in a nine year period, there were a lot of those days when at least one person needed that reminder.

So as I wish you all a Happy New Year, I offer you Mama’s greeting–Happy Everyday! And in keeping with my New Year’s Eve tradition, I share with you my Word for 2019.

TRASH

When I realized this morning what today is, I realized I hadn’t chosen a word yet, and I even thought about not choosing one. It was then that the word TRASH came to me.

Ummm, say what?

I wondered if it was an acronym for something that I was supposed to learn from. Truth…..Trust…..Respect…..ummmm, I don’t know. That didn’t feel right.

I thought about the literal trash that we put out by the curb every week and how it gets picked up by people who are too often under appreciated and who show up. We don’t always notice that they show up, but we sure do if they miss us, don’t we? I want to be present and notice the folks who show up. I don’t want to take them for granted. I also want to be that person who shows up for other folks.  For the big things and the small and all those in between.

I thought about the “trash pandas.” We have quite a few around here, as we live backed up to woods. One might say, and I have, that we invaded their home. We have some who come up and snack on this or that and they seem to think cat food is some kind of fine dining. Over this holiday season, the littles and I have had a basket of water, Gatorade, seasonal snack cakes, and chips in a basket for the people who deliver packages over the year. (The world’s best elves I call them.)  One night when I was locking up rather late, I noticed the basket was still on the porch. I saw two empty plastic cellophane wrappers on the porch next to the basket. I immediately just KNEW what had happened. Some little trash panda/raccoon had come up and discovered our little treasure trove and rushed back to invite a friend to join her. And together they’d shared a little joy…..and a lot of sugar.

I want to be like that little trash panda. I want to go and find someone to share in the treasures I come across. Joy multiplied, sorrows divided–that was something else my Mama talked about a lot. And y’all knows there’s a lot of joy in some Little Debbies and Oatmeal Pies.

I thought about the trash we come across in our day to dailies–and how important it is to make sure we put it in the trash can and get rid of it. Sitting something to the side with the intention to get rid of it can create quite the mess. Every night my Mama bagged up the bag from the small trash can under the kitchen sink and toted it to the bin outside. She was always wary of the critters (ants) that might come in after it if she didn’t. Not taking out the trash just created more trouble to deal with. In the days to come I want to remember to make the effort and take the steps to get rid of refuse when I come across it–let it go. Get rid of the trash. From within and without. Everything in its place and trash out the door and out of my heart.

As I was thinking on this word, I Googled the definition. And this is what I found.

trash
/traSH/
noun
1.NORTH AMERICAN
discarded matter; refuse.
synonyms: garbage, refuse, waste, litter, junk, debris, detritus, rubbish
“the subway entrance was blocked with trash”

verb
verb: trash; 3rd person present: trashes; past tense: trashed; past participle: trashed; gerund or present participle: trashing
1.INFORMAL•NORTH AMERICAN
damage or wreck.
“my apartment’s been totally trashed”
synonyms: wreck, ruin, destroy, wreak havoc on, devastate; More
2.strip (sugar cane) of its outer leaves to ripen it faster.

I read along thinking yeah, yeah, yeah, no surprises here until I came to the second definition of trash as a verb. “Strip of its outer leaves to ripen it faster.”

Yes.

I want to strip those outer toughened layers, let go of the mask that hides authenticity, and leave myself opening to ripening, blossoming, and growing.

I am not sure why this word came to mind this morning. Maybe it was because I was out walking Miss Sophie and appreciating and breathing in the beauty of the morning and breathing out a quiet amen. Maybe it was because I was listening or because I had let go of the pressure of figuring out a word.

Whatever the reason, this is my word. It’s the word I need for the coming days. It’s the word I need for living and letting go.

And I thought I’d share it just in case you need it too.

Love to all. Don’t forget to put out the trash.

And as my Mama said, happy everyday!

raccoon in trash can

Photo by Steve from washington, dc, usa [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons