Into the Briar Patch

The universe has a funny sense of humor. I think I've done a fine job this past year making lemonade out of lemons, getting tough when the tough got going and any other adage suggesting we should made the best of what we have. Maybe it's my competitive spirit, but when my oven quit working on the cusp of holiday baking season I decided to make it my lemonade and see what I could do without an oven. I have made five holiday treats without as much as glance as the oven that is currently on Santa's naughty list. Scott said it was like throwing me in the briar patch.

Maybe so, maybe sometimes I choose the briar patch. Maybe I like to see what I'm made of, surprise people or surprise myself. Maybe the poke of a sharp thorn now and again reminds me to feel alive and makes me appreciate the comfortable times when there are no thorns. Maybe people who don't choose the briar patch are the ones missing something. Maybe playing it safe, always do the 'right thing', coloring inside the lines, pleasing your parents, being appropriate, holding your tongue, not taking a risk, going with the crowd, having 2.5 children, being normal isn't where we plant the seeds of a truly joyful life. What would happen if you took a risk, led from your heart, went against the grain, spoke your truth when no one wanted to hear it or just did a great big cannon ball into the briar patch? What would you learn? You would learn that the thorns were good back scratchers and that hidden within the thorns are beautiful flowers you can only see when your in the thick of it. You would learn that the people who really care about you will never leave, but rather they will cheer loudly for you to succeed and they will pull you out of the bushes when you've had enough. You would learn how thick your skin really is and how sometimes a tender touch is the best way through the tough stuff. And most of all you would feel alive because you will have proven to yourself, the only person who really matters, that there is so much to you that is waiting to be explored.

What did I learn from entering the briar patch this past week? Are you waiting for me to reveal what amazing 'a-ha' moment enlightened me, that took my personal life journey to the next level?  Wait for it....

I learned that I have a deep endearing, passionate love for Beer Pretzel Caramels! I do!  I have honestly eaten about 10-1" squares of the chewy, sweet yet salty, decadent little morsels of heaven. You say 10 isn't that many? You could do better. That was just today. I made them yesterday and they had to sit over night or that number would be much higher. 

Beer Pretzel Caramels made with Tommy Knocker Cocoa Porter

 

 

If you are still waiting for my deep thoughts on personal growth you're not going to find it in this post. Really, I do like the BPC's that much! The simple thing I learned it that I do seek out the briar patch, I always have. Sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose and I have raised boys that do the same. And how it pains me when I see them winding up for big double back flip into the thorns. I find a comfortable spot on the banks of the thicket, bring my bull horn and cheer from the edge so they know where to find me if they need anything. And now I will pack a bag of Beer Pretzel Carmels, but I'm not sharing. These are the same boys who have suffered through their parents divorce and the loss of their brother and they are deep souls that see the value in not judging people because they don't fit the mold. They own character traits that no GPA, ACT or SAT scores will ever be able to measure. They follow their hearts, and have the scars to show for it (both physical and otherwise). Their thorny adventures are often the thorns in my sides, but I wouldn't trade them for anything...except maybe Beer Pretzel Caramels.

Not everything in our lives are catastrophic opportunities to learn more about ourselves, sometimes we simply learn a new recipe that makes our hearts sing with joy. I now know that really good caramels are made with butter, sugar and heavy whipping cream (and beer in this case)... and it is sooooo good! So, just like signing up for a half-marathon keeps me logging the miles, this too will force me out the door for a few more miles in exchange for enjoying my new found melt in your mouth love. And to think, if my oven had kept working I would never had learned this and thrown myself into the briar patch (again). Here's to launching yourself into the briar patch with abandon and excitement about what you will learn, how your will grow and what you will learn to love.

Wishing You a Beautiful New Kaleidoscope!

The nerve of those Whos. Inviting me down there - on such short notice! Even if I wanted to go my schedule wouldn't allow it. 4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no one; 5:30, jazzercize; 6:30, dinner with me - I can't cancel that again; 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing... I'm booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear?  

 ~The Grinch

Someone has to play the role of the Grinch, but this year it's not me! Well, at least not that anyone will notice and I will still have my moments (lots of them) and I will still miss Brandon and my Dad and I will still wish my Christmas was a Norman Rockwell painting. As those close to me will tell you, I am historically a Grinch. It goes back to my Dad passing away on Christmas Eve when I was 16. Those who don't know me, expect me to be the Grinch after Brandon's passing. Ha, this year I will fool you all! Yes,  I have been known not put up a tree, no lights on the house, gone somewhere topical or not shopped until December 23rd. But, like each event in our kaleidoscope lives we choose what we see when we look into the viewer at our lives and we choose how we move with it.  And just like a kaleidoscope, if you twist even the smallest amount it changes everything. So again this year, I am twisting it to get a better view.

My Dad had been fighting cancer for years before he passed away. I vividly remember the scar that went 180 degrees around his torso where they removed half of one of his lungs. I remember watching his hair fall out and grow back; Seeing the radiation burns on his neck and staying at my Grandmas when I was sick so that he wouldn't get sick because the chemotherapy wrecked his immune system. So on Christmas Eve 1985 when we got a call from the hospital that he wouldn't make it through the day, I felt a huge sense of relief. Not that anyone ever talked about the fact that he might die, but it buzzed around us like in uninvited mosquito at a backyard BBQ. No, I didn't want to lose my father, but I had maxed out my 16 years of grieving skills and it was evident in my radically unhealthy social behavior. For years before my Dad died I always wished on the first star of the night.... Starlight, star bright first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, the first wish I wish tonight..... I never wished for him to be magically healed, even as a kid I knew better, I wished for my Dad not to suffer. And for years after he died I believed that his passing was the slap of reality I needed to pull me out of an abyss of bad teenage behavior. But then, I chose to look into my Kaleidoscope and believe that I had been ripped off. Other people heard Christmas carols and it made them happy and reminiscence of cheerful kaleidoscope colors. I heard Christmas Carols and remembered sitting next to my Dad's hospital bed watching the seconds tick by between his breathes wondering if each one would be the last as the seconds between each breath became longer.  Then, 15 years after my Dad passed away, my son Jason's kaleidoscope would clash with my own in a way that would require me to re-arrange what I was saw. When hearing that my father died on Christmas Eve, eight year old Jason exclaimed, "That is Awesome!!!!". Really, Awesome? He followed with even more glee and excitment, "How many people get to go to heaven ON Jesus' birthday!?".  And it clicked, my Dad was a spiritual man and according to the hospital staff he requested to be let go that day (for which my Mom is still angry about). So there you have it! What I saw as sad and taking away from the joy in my life, Jason saw (and helped me see) that my Dad, not the cancer, got to choose the vibrant colors of his kaleidoscope in those last hours.

Last year when I looked into my Christmas Kaleidoscope once again what I saw was a deep sadness of losing Brandon. No glistening bright colors, no twinkling shifts of the beautiful hues of the season. We didn't spend Christmas Eve at home. I rented a hotel room in downtown Denver and we all spent the night in an unfamiliar place and did things we had never done before. The big boys long boarded down the 16th street Mall beneath the bright lights of down town. We ate seafood and got takeout desserts from the Cheesecake Factory to eat in our room. We toasted Brandon with champagne after opening our presents on the 23rd floor of the Marriot Downtown. I hated it all and I hated my new Christmas Kaleidoscope...it wasn't fair.

Imagine my dismay when retailers started putting up Christmas decor even before Halloween this year. Apparently the Holiday Season would return again this year.  I shot back with...4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no one; 5:30, jazzercize; 6:30, dinner with me - I can't cancel that again; 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing...  But, somehow this year that didn't fit. It would be too easy to double up on the self-loathing and take seconds of self-pity. No, this year I devised a better plan... 4:00, pick myself up by my bootstraps; 4:30, fake-it til I make-it; 5:00, adjust the Kaleidoscope, 5:30 Run; 6:30, Appreciate ALL the colors in my Kaleidoscope; 7:00, Run (again) while wrestling with self-loathing (again) but win this time... Repeat as needed.

I have to admit that my change in disposition this year is made possible by a heaping serving of denial (not healthy, but necessary this year). I am careful to navigate the twists of my Kaleidoscope.  Knowing that there is a delicate balance of the hues I can tolerate without back sliding into the darkness of how much I miss Brandon. Navigating this new found boundary is a work in progress. I am always just a breath away from being crushed by it's weight. It will always be with me, missing my Dad and wishing for more time with Brandon.

None of us can take colors out of our Kaleidoscopes and often we don't get to choose what colors are created as a result of the twists and turns in life. But, I am grateful for all of them and I am grateful that they are all there for me to revisit, relish in, remember, turn back to and occasionally turn away from so that the other colors can shine more brightly.  Happy Holidays and I hope your kaleidoscope is full of twinkling shades of your perfect season blessed with all the things that soothe your soul and create peace in the New Year!