Tag: Moms

Don’t Compare Run Your Race

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Comparison is dangerous.

Last weekend I went to a triathlon event with multiple races. I watched. Some took all day and others were less than an hour.

As participants finished a short race I noticed … tall, short, stout, skinny, young, old, moms and dads, some striving hard and others just surviving. A few had artificial limbs, most didn’t know anybody except for a friend or family member.

They just ran their race and they finished. Each one had their reason for running. If they had tried to copy someone else they would have been miserable and failed.

With over 500 participants I’m sure a few were disappointed in their outcome, but most have started telling the story of a completed race.

I can image the Monday morning stories of big waves and oppressive heat and the challenges they faced … but they lived to tell the story.

Leave a good legacy … run your race.

Mug or Cup?

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Do you want a cup or a mug?

That was the question I often heard when ‘company’ came to our home. That’s another name for friends or family. When company came over the carpet was vacuumed with those triangle designs and coffee was made.

We just put out our Christmas mugs, but I like to reach in the back of the cabinet for a cup. I think they hold the heat better, but there may be another reason I like them.

This morning I used the first cup of the season. As I held it for one last sip, there was no coffee left, but there were the few drops swishing around the bottom. That’s when I thought of my mom.

Growing up, every time I saw a coffee cup it had those few drops at the bottom and there was red lipstick slightly smeared on the edge of the cup. Mom’s trademark.

Your kids or grandkids know your habits and the marks you leave. Make good marks. Have good habits. Tell good stories. Do new things. Still pursue dreams.

You are leaving a legacy a few drops at a time.

One Blade of Grass at a Time

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Azaleas and dogwoods graced the landscape of my childhood homes. In the spring time the colors were breathtaking.

One of my regular chores as a teenager was weeding the flower beds. I learned how to get the roots out and always felt pride when the job was done.

When I became a homeowner I tried to keep up the tradition. And …like my mom … I have made our kids take their turn with the lawnmower and edger.

When one of my sons moved into his first home, one of the first things he bought was a lawnmower. “Dad, I just love the smell of fresh cut grass.”

Leaving a legacy for the next generation … one blade of grass at a time.

Pecans

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When I eat roasted pecans, lightly coated in butter and salt, I think of my mom.

During the holidays she would make them for me. I make them now and I think of mom.

My kids and grandkids think the pecans are the best thing they have ever eaten. And then I tell them how mom made them.

Leaving a legacy … one pecan at a time.

The House with the Red Door

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My dad was a veteran of the US Army. I never remember him talking about WWII, but when I helped my mom downsize I found boxes of photographs of his life in the war.

He was a master sergeant and in charge of the logistics for his group. They traveled through Europe tracking and shooting down buzz bombs. He photographed every city and country they were stationed.

There were newspaper clippings from his home town in the boxes. My dad was one of four brothers. One of the articles stated that all four son’s of his mom, my grandmother, were serving overseas. The article spoke of my grandmother’s sacrifice, and it also mentioned that all of her daughter-in-laws lived with her while their husbands served.

60 years later my oldest daughter found the house they lived in and took pictures of it. It was for sale and there was a property description attached to a sign in the yard. It also had a red door. Imagine the conversations of a mom waiting for her sons and wives waiting for their husbands that took place behind that red door.

That is part of my legacy. The sacrifices of war for those who waited behind. All four sons returned safely back home. Today we thank and honor our veterans who served our country. Tell their stories of sacrifice.

A Printed Note

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My mom wrote many notes to her grandchildren. They loved the card and the note, but they could never read it because the writing was in a flowing cursive style. It looked beautiful. Eventually, but the grandkids could never read it.

I told mom that we all loved the card and then I would ask if she would please print. This is not a cursive / print debate. I write notes in cursive, but it was for her grandchildren to enjoy the note themselves without translation.

As far as I know, I never remember a printed note. When our family sees that style of writing today, we often say it is a Mimi note. It is part of my mom’s legacy. She wrote beautiful cursive notes.

But, it is also part of how I am learning to communicate. Not only do I want an attractive style, but I also want to be understood.

Communicate to be understood, regardless of how simple you need to express your thoughts, even if you have to print. Your kids and grandkids will enjoy.

A Hidden Legacy

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After discovering my mom’s dementia and Alzheimer’s, my wife and I moved her into our home. It took a couple of months to downsize her belongings.

The closet on her porch was the last place I cleaned out. Buried on the floor, surrounded by gardening tools, were four large brown cardboard boxes full of newspaper clippings. I had never seen them.

The clippings and photos were mostly from the 1930’s through the 1950’s. Dating, WWII (extensive), civic clubs, family, banking, there was even a picture that looked like the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

I was stunned. No one ever shared these stories….at least to me.

There are several reasons for this blog. I’m still working on the ultimate clarifying theme, but here is what I’m thinking.

I want to write as many stories as I can so that my children and grandchildren know what mattered to me. And I want them to pass these stories (the good ones) to the next generation. I want to leave an intentional legacy that is not left in cardboard boxes or with the thousands of social media pictures that will be deleted when the storage is full.

I want to help you ….. yes you… the reader of this blog…. to have a healthy relationship with your children or your parents. It’s hard. You will need to be intentional. You may need to reconnect. You will need to listen and learn and love and show grace and forgive.

I want to help you leave a good legacy. I want it to be remembered for the next generation. Don’t be silent. Don’t hide your legacy. Tell it!

And I want to help you tell your parents legacy!

Encouraging Words

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I was a young teenager running down the stairs of my home. My grandmother sat on her rocker and my dad was stretched out on the sofa. He was exhausted from chemotherapy and they were watching the Lawrence Welk Show.

As made it to the bottom of the steps I heard my dad tell my grandmother as I ran outside to play, “He’s a good kid.” I’m sure there were other conversations with my dad, but those are the last words I remember.

Those words were a gift that not everyone receives, but those words are a gift that everyone can give. Maybe the words that your parents or children hear today are the words that they will remember. Encourage them.

Braves Win!

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I stayed up last night to watch the final out of the World Series. Though there were two naps and a shove by my wife to wake up, I saw it live. I’ll pay for this all day.

In 1966 my dad gave me a model car, a Chevrolet Super Sport, that had a transistor radio inside. It was the first year that the Braves played in Atlanta. I would listen to Milo Hamilton and Ernie Johnson Sr call the game. I would put the radio by my pillow and awake with the car radio on my nightstand.

That radio reminds me of baseball, but it especially reminds me of my dad. I have told many stories to my children and grandchildren about listening to games, going to games, but I also tell a few stories of their grandfather and great grandfather.

Baseball is not the one constant in life (Field of Dreams), but stories are. We tell stories and they shape legacies.

The car radio is on the right side of my desk at home. I’m looking at it now and remembering a great legacy.

Still a Child at Heart

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Last night I watched children walking around our neighborhood collecting candy from a few neighbors, but mostly strangers. What was so interesting is that most of the adults were more dressed up in costumes than their children.

I also watched a football game, my team lost. I also watched a baseball game. When I looked at the score this morning my team lost.

Aren’t we all just little kids at heart, just watching and playing games in the street?

So are your parents and grandparents. They are still kids at heart too. Play some games, have some fun… eat some chocolate.