I see the headline all the time, "No Regrets". It's very common and I'm sure we've all said it at one point in our lives. Yet I find it hard to imagine living...with no regrets, and often wonder what it says about the people who have none.
What would it be like to not regret eating half a roast chicken all by myself because it was so moist and yummy that I couldn't pull myself away from it? What would it be like to not regret NOT making better grades in school...not finishing college? What would it be like to not regret the fact that I went a full Mother's Day one year not telling my mom Happy Mother's Day? To not regret the time I yelled at my kids when my nerves were shot and I sent them off to bed without a kiss goodnight or a story to tuck them in? To not regret blasting a friend in a nasty blog that everyone read and picked apart? To not regret the fact that I didn't hug my brother goodbye the last time I saw him? To not regret telling my dad that I was moving out because he didn't agree with the choices I was making at the time?
To not regret telling half truths to my family and to others that I love when we first moved to Florida? To not regret going for almost a year not talking to my dad? To not regret losing touch with my cousins and not sticking to the plan we had for raising our kids to be as close as we were? To not regret listening to my instincts when they were telling me...to wait....to run? To not regret trusting my heart when it was telling me not to trust someone else? To not regret going 10 miles over the speed limit and being pulled over by a cop....another 180 bucks wasted! To not regret making more time to talk to my sister as she's grown up....here she is 16 and I still think of her as a little girl? To not regret....so many things that I still can hardly admit to myself.
While I don't believe that one can live without regrets....
saying that you live with no regret....isn't really about living with NO regrets. It's about living with the knowledge that you can forgive yourself when you mess up. Knowing that things happen in life that are out of your control. Knowing that you can forgive yourself..and learn from that regret.
Thank God that I have a heart that can recognize my wrong, regret it, ask forgiveness...or forgive myself....and in turn, gain a little wisdom to help prevent creating a new regret tomorrow.
11.30.2007
11.25.2007
Fantasmic~~
If you've ever been to MGM and stayed for the Fantasmic show, chances are you've been witness to one of the greatest tidal waves ever. We had perfect seats....way in the back and near dead center, so we had a perfect view of this fantasmic wave. As is the norm for me.....my mind took a turn for the philosophical and analytical.
Inside this stadium sat thousands of people. Black, white, red, yellow.....rich, poor, those of us somewhere in between.....old, young, and again, those of us somewhere in between. Boy, girl, woman, man. Each has a different story to tell....each has a different life that they are heading back to once they leave the confining magical comforts that Disney has to offer.
Yet in a space of about five minutes.....all were united for one purpose.
The perfect wave....
It took a bit of catching on.....starting from the far right. A spattering of hands here and there, with a crowd in the middle doing hand signals to encourage the other half of the stadium to join in. After a few tries....it caught on and everyone rode the wave. Starting as a slow sweeping motion....and spread to a great wave that made it's way across the crowd. Once it reached it's end....it was tossed back to the other side....and everyone laughed and cheered in unison.
One common goal....simple, yet complex....accomplished in a crowd of people who didn't know one from Adam's house cat....a mammoth sized laugh that erupted from each mouth once a wave reached its appex.
A lesson for me here......
to stop trying so hard to fight misconceptions. To stop trying so hard to make others try to see why I do things that I do, to stop defending my every action to those whom I shouldn't have to defend them to. If I can just ride the wave.....of life and everyday living in general...then maybe I can prove my worth.....to myself:) Because it doesn't have to be so hard.....to go with the flow, yet still live what I believe in. Maybe that is the key to happiness? To my happiness? Accepting that varying opinions of me....and my varying opinions of others....are a passing thing. A thing that can change with growth, and understanding.
To ride this wave.....life.....a belly laugh when the wave runs its course......and to join in again when the wave is pushed my way:)
That the wave doesn't end until I breathe my last.....is truly....Fantasmic***
Inside this stadium sat thousands of people. Black, white, red, yellow.....rich, poor, those of us somewhere in between.....old, young, and again, those of us somewhere in between. Boy, girl, woman, man. Each has a different story to tell....each has a different life that they are heading back to once they leave the confining magical comforts that Disney has to offer.
Yet in a space of about five minutes.....all were united for one purpose.
The perfect wave....
It took a bit of catching on.....starting from the far right. A spattering of hands here and there, with a crowd in the middle doing hand signals to encourage the other half of the stadium to join in. After a few tries....it caught on and everyone rode the wave. Starting as a slow sweeping motion....and spread to a great wave that made it's way across the crowd. Once it reached it's end....it was tossed back to the other side....and everyone laughed and cheered in unison.
One common goal....simple, yet complex....accomplished in a crowd of people who didn't know one from Adam's house cat....a mammoth sized laugh that erupted from each mouth once a wave reached its appex.
A lesson for me here......
to stop trying so hard to fight misconceptions. To stop trying so hard to make others try to see why I do things that I do, to stop defending my every action to those whom I shouldn't have to defend them to. If I can just ride the wave.....of life and everyday living in general...then maybe I can prove my worth.....to myself:) Because it doesn't have to be so hard.....to go with the flow, yet still live what I believe in. Maybe that is the key to happiness? To my happiness? Accepting that varying opinions of me....and my varying opinions of others....are a passing thing. A thing that can change with growth, and understanding.
To ride this wave.....life.....a belly laugh when the wave runs its course......and to join in again when the wave is pushed my way:)
That the wave doesn't end until I breathe my last.....is truly....Fantasmic***
11.08.2007
Halloween
Nort, Brooke, and Bub
Brooke, Riley, Taylor
Bub and Mason stuck together most of the night....until Bub got tired and Brandon had to carry him!
Me and my gurrrrls:)
Kids posing in the backyard....impatiently waiting to trick or treat!
I am just now getting around to posting these.....sorry!!!
This year it was decided that the Halloween party would be held at our house this year...something about Lake Carolina doing good candy?? I dunno....LOL! We had quite a crowd here and everyone had a great time. Brooke was Cinderella this year and Bub was Yoda for the second year in a row! Bub originally wanted to be a ghost....sheet with holes for eyes and all....but once he realized that he could see everyone else through the holes but no one could see him....he decided he wanted a change:) Carrie, Lori, and I did our annual "faux flip off" which LOOKS like we are flipping each other off....but we're not because we are using our ring fingers. This tradition started on our first Halloween together....TOTALLY by accident! Lori snapped a pic of me pointing at Carrie, but it looked like I was flipping her off. The pic was pretty funny....so the following year Carrie insisted on returning the favor. This year, to round it out...Carrie and I both faux flipped Lori:) What a way to send her off, eh?
Annual Faux Flip off!
If you read the blog above, you'll know what the annual faux flip off is already....so no description is needed here. I can't find the pic from our first year doing this. Hopefully Lori will have a copy on her computer and I will get her to email it to me when she gets settled.
Year 2
Year 3
Carrie and Lori.....Halloween simply will never be the same for me without you guys. I've had so much fun the past few years....between Moes and drooling over unattainable TV guys....the time we've had together is priceless to me! Always remember that you'll ALWAYS have a crazy fast talking friend way down here in the South:) Luv you guys!!!
Year 2
Year 3
Carrie and Lori.....Halloween simply will never be the same for me without you guys. I've had so much fun the past few years....between Moes and drooling over unattainable TV guys....the time we've had together is priceless to me! Always remember that you'll ALWAYS have a crazy fast talking friend way down here in the South:) Luv you guys!!!
boxes
The past few weeks of my life have been crazy. Rush here and there....shovel a bit of food in my mouth....shower...sleep....rush rush again. I finally have this day free to catch up on some much needed housework!
Cleaning is a chore that most people do only occasionally....when it becomes impossible to lay on the bed or walk across the floor without stepping on something. I've been that housekeeper for the past two weeks! Piles of....stuff....laying around and I just haven't had time or energy to focus enough to do something with it all. Now when I clean house....I really clean house. My closets are emptied of anything that is out of place, I get rid of more toys from the kids room, get rid of more clothes, rearrange drawers and straighten linen closets. Sounds like spring cleaning, eh? But this is what I do each time I clean my house. On less busier months, I do it twice a month. Crazy maybe, but it is what makes me happy:)
Today I was pulling things down from the highest shelf in my closet and I came across my little box of special things. I am not one to save much....not a pack rat by any means. But this box that sits in the top of my closet holds things that might look like junk to others....but is precious to me. I know I've blogged about some of it's contents....those that jump out and poke me in the eye on the occasions that I open the box. Today a card was the culprit.
"Happy Birthday to a Terrific Sister. We cannot pick our sisters like an apple or a pear, we cannot pick and choose them like we do the hat we wear...To think of all the other ones I might have gotten---whew! Wasn't I the lucky one to get one just like you!
Happy Birthday Alisha. I love you and am very glad I have sich a unique sister! Love, Ricky Tipton Jr"
This was the last birthday card my brother ever bought for me. Most people don't save cards...but I do for this simple reason. I never know if it will be the last that someone I love buys for me. A card is something simple....there are hundreds to choose from. Takes a mere minute or two to pick one out...especially if you're a man! But I remember standing in front of the card aisle at Walmart with Ricky, picking Mother's Day/Father's Day/birthday cards. He wasn't one to pick the first one that popped into his hand. He was like me....standing there laughing over a funny card, tearing up over a sappy one....he took care in picking them, and I witnessed this many times. Even on this card he scribbled a cute note about a picture of one of the cartoon girls that were printed inside.So I know he read it before he bought it...and I know he bought it for a reason that stretched beyond convieience.
The best part of this card is his hand writing. That is the real reason I am writing this blog. I can still close my eyes and see him practicing his signature. He was proud of his name.....he was a Junior and dern proud of it. Ricky Wayne Tipton Jr. It wasn't odd to find his name scribble across any empty surface....he was very proud of it and he worked so hard to mimic my dad's signature. Small sloppy letters. A longer cross on the T. Even his Jr resembles the S that my dad makes on his Sr. He wore his name with a pride that I don't see too often anymore. Maybe it's because so many people think that making your son a Jr is over-rated? I don't know. What I do know is that in MY family....carrying on your dad's name was an honor.
I love to look at his handwriting....it reminds me that he was a real person and not someone that existed only in memories. His handwriting immortalizes him in a way. The handwriting never changes....his senior picture sits on the shelf beside my phone and his smile never changes. This December marks 10 years since his death. 10 years. A blink and a breath.
Time loves to sneak up and steal the days from us. On one hand it's good....these past ten years don't seem so long ago. I can close my eyes and see him waving goodbye to me as walked out the bank doors that day. That memory is as fresh as it was on the day it happened. I can still see him chewing...his mouth too full of food...trying to cover a laugh with his hand, a habit he picked up from being self conscience of having big front teeth that he finally grew into only a year before he died. I can see him so vividly in my mind.
I miss him beyond belief....that is something that time can't change. I wonder what kind of person he'd be today. I wonder if he'd be married...and who he would be married to. I wonder if he'd have any kids yet...what would their names be? I am 100% certain that his first boy would be a third. Would he be living in Mississippi or would he have ventured off somewhere else? So many questions that I will never know the answers to...because he was never given the time to fill in the blanks.
Reading this card today and thinking about Ricky...remembering him and the little quirks that made him....HIM made me realize....
Time is a thief....but memory is it's antonym.
Cleaning is a chore that most people do only occasionally....when it becomes impossible to lay on the bed or walk across the floor without stepping on something. I've been that housekeeper for the past two weeks! Piles of....stuff....laying around and I just haven't had time or energy to focus enough to do something with it all. Now when I clean house....I really clean house. My closets are emptied of anything that is out of place, I get rid of more toys from the kids room, get rid of more clothes, rearrange drawers and straighten linen closets. Sounds like spring cleaning, eh? But this is what I do each time I clean my house. On less busier months, I do it twice a month. Crazy maybe, but it is what makes me happy:)
Today I was pulling things down from the highest shelf in my closet and I came across my little box of special things. I am not one to save much....not a pack rat by any means. But this box that sits in the top of my closet holds things that might look like junk to others....but is precious to me. I know I've blogged about some of it's contents....those that jump out and poke me in the eye on the occasions that I open the box. Today a card was the culprit.
"Happy Birthday to a Terrific Sister. We cannot pick our sisters like an apple or a pear, we cannot pick and choose them like we do the hat we wear...To think of all the other ones I might have gotten---whew! Wasn't I the lucky one to get one just like you!
Happy Birthday Alisha. I love you and am very glad I have sich a unique sister! Love, Ricky Tipton Jr"
This was the last birthday card my brother ever bought for me. Most people don't save cards...but I do for this simple reason. I never know if it will be the last that someone I love buys for me. A card is something simple....there are hundreds to choose from. Takes a mere minute or two to pick one out...especially if you're a man! But I remember standing in front of the card aisle at Walmart with Ricky, picking Mother's Day/Father's Day/birthday cards. He wasn't one to pick the first one that popped into his hand. He was like me....standing there laughing over a funny card, tearing up over a sappy one....he took care in picking them, and I witnessed this many times. Even on this card he scribbled a cute note about a picture of one of the cartoon girls that were printed inside.So I know he read it before he bought it...and I know he bought it for a reason that stretched beyond convieience.
The best part of this card is his hand writing. That is the real reason I am writing this blog. I can still close my eyes and see him practicing his signature. He was proud of his name.....he was a Junior and dern proud of it. Ricky Wayne Tipton Jr. It wasn't odd to find his name scribble across any empty surface....he was very proud of it and he worked so hard to mimic my dad's signature. Small sloppy letters. A longer cross on the T. Even his Jr resembles the S that my dad makes on his Sr. He wore his name with a pride that I don't see too often anymore. Maybe it's because so many people think that making your son a Jr is over-rated? I don't know. What I do know is that in MY family....carrying on your dad's name was an honor.
I love to look at his handwriting....it reminds me that he was a real person and not someone that existed only in memories. His handwriting immortalizes him in a way. The handwriting never changes....his senior picture sits on the shelf beside my phone and his smile never changes. This December marks 10 years since his death. 10 years. A blink and a breath.
Time loves to sneak up and steal the days from us. On one hand it's good....these past ten years don't seem so long ago. I can close my eyes and see him waving goodbye to me as walked out the bank doors that day. That memory is as fresh as it was on the day it happened. I can still see him chewing...his mouth too full of food...trying to cover a laugh with his hand, a habit he picked up from being self conscience of having big front teeth that he finally grew into only a year before he died. I can see him so vividly in my mind.
I miss him beyond belief....that is something that time can't change. I wonder what kind of person he'd be today. I wonder if he'd be married...and who he would be married to. I wonder if he'd have any kids yet...what would their names be? I am 100% certain that his first boy would be a third. Would he be living in Mississippi or would he have ventured off somewhere else? So many questions that I will never know the answers to...because he was never given the time to fill in the blanks.
Reading this card today and thinking about Ricky...remembering him and the little quirks that made him....HIM made me realize....
Time is a thief....but memory is it's antonym.
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