Mindful Monday- The Stories of Our Marriage

   This month I set out to become more mindful of my husband and then each Monday write about what I am learning. I knew I was often dismissive of his ideas. I often tune him out which causes him to repeat many stories over and over again because eventually I hear all the parts and recall the whole. These stories are not fiction. They are history lessons and economic lectures which he tells in massive detail. I am a global learner and if I can't see the whole picture quickly I get bogged down by the detail. My goal this month has been to hear him more. I know I can't be perfect but I want to be more present with him.

    Yesterday I watched him dish out food, which he had prepared, around the table of friends. Instead of just bringing dinner he decided we should bring the dinner to their home and eat with them. Our friend was just home from the hospital and they had a kitchen under renovation. I listened as my husband described the ingredients, apologizing for the smallness of the roast. (I purchased the roast for two.) He was enjoying the details of the meal. Our friends saw his service and showed deep appreciation. It was a lovely dinner and we had good conversation, history topics, of course. 
   Being at ease in conversation attracted me to Mark. I was dating his roommate when we met. While my date was studying or talking on the phone, I talked to Mark. He challenged me to think more logically and in more depth. Soon I realized that I was spending more time with Mark than with his roommate. After we got married we often spent the day in long conversations. The children would come and go from our bedroom, asking questions, and complaining that we were still talking. Much of the change I have made in myself came from recalling information from our conversations. He is my anchor and I take him for granted. There is wisdom in my taking more time to be attentive of our relationship. Mindfullness, in general, is making me a better wife, mother and grandmother. 


      This month I am being more mindful of my husband. It is part of my year long exploration of mindfulness. You can read more about my Year of Mindfulness here.

Eight Minute Memoir- Games

                        A Game of Strategy and Skill

     Chinese checkers did not originate in China. It originated from the German game "Stern Halma" in 1892. Stern means star and refers to the layout of the board. My aunt Hanni was a master Halma player. She knew exactly what moves were required to win the game. I played with her often and always lost. Her fingers would pick up the marbles in the most agile way and hover slightly over the hole making me wonder if she was rethinking the move.     Obviously, it was the most fun to play the game with six players but most often my aunt and I played three colors each. In the middle of the game, when all the colors are moving in the middle of the board it is so visually confusing. 

   Later as the players bring their marbles into the opposing triangle the moves are easier to see but by then it is too late to win the game. One must be thinking three or more moves ahead. As a child I thought my aunt was so smart. I channel her spirit when I pull out the game to play with my grandchildren. Right now, I always win but soon I may have serious competition.

      I am joining Ann Dee Ellis and other writers in using a prompt                        to record some memoir moments.

Eight Minute Memoir- Small Things

          Small Things Can Connect Us To The Past

     My mother had very few things that came with her from Germany. Coming by ship gave us a limit to the poundage we could take. She did bring her feather beds which I find amusing. Sleeping accessories were different in the United States. We never used a top sheet because our feather beds had a cover. There were down feather beds for winter and damask comforters for summer. 

     I inherited the pictured bracelet. Mother wore it on Sundays along with a spritz of 4711 Cologne. I can't really tell if it was expensive, but is does need polishing now and then. Tiny, thin flowers with vines are etched into the metal and are worn smooth. When I wear the bracelet I feel dressed up. I was an adult before I realized that my mother was a wee bit vain. She was the only sister who got her hair cut short regularly. Actually, she cut it herself, as she removed the bristly rollers from her hair. She would hold the hair just pulled free from the roller and cut it just a tiny bit. I can see her before my eyes. Feeling the little gold thing on my arm makes that happen.

I am joining Ann Dee Ellis and other writers in using a prompt to record some memoir moments.

Loyal

           Can we really be part of a loyal opposition?

           Every institution made by man is somewhat flawed. It just is that way. Governments, political parties, churches, businesses, committees, families; I could go on. Even when God sanctions and gives his authority to a group, failings of correct action, improper governing, and of character will and always do arise. 

    Can I still be loyal and feel "all in" if I have questions? What if my questions move me to oppose certain decisions? Can I remain loyal if I am in opposition? 

  "Some who use personal reasoning or wisdom to resist prophetic direction give themselves a label borrowed from elected bodies--“the loyal opposition.” However appropriate for a democracy, there is no warrant for this concept in the government of God’s kingdom, where questions are honored but opposition is not"
      Dallin H. Oaks

   I think of Judas who, for whatever reason, made a decision to betray Jesus. Perhaps he believed that Jesus could save himself at the last minute, or perhaps his greed set him against a master who he shared supper with and for whom he pledged loyalty.
  What happens inside us when we move against something we love? I ask questions because the word "loyal" has been diluted in a society where virtues are fewer every year. I believe I am allowed to ask questions. Many of my questions don't receive answers but I burn inside with a faith based not on man but on a God who I have experienced. May I always feel "all in" and loyal to Him and to those humble servants who may stumble along a vulnerable path in mortality but who desire Him more than the good opinion of the world.

I have been writing with the Five Minute Friday Group for two years and I really enjoy the talented writers who share their work. Would you like to join? 

Eight Minute Memoir- Adventure

                                    July 20, 1969

     While Neil Armstrong was walking on the moon, I was traveling through the Oregon desert on my own adventure. We took a potty break in the middle of the night and looked up at the bright orb of diffused light and thought we saw their footsteps. I was fifteen and traveling with my brother and sister-in-law to their home in Eugene. I was going to see the ocean for the first time.

   My brother enjoyed showing me around but a series of unfortunate events took some of his enthusiasm. I was very eager. While helping them make french toast I tossed a carton of eggs into the trash. Oops, they said put them back into the fridge. 

   Browsing for books one morning at the University Bookstore, I pushed a large, oversized book back onto the shelf, when suddenly the shelf started swaying. I desperately clawed at the falling shelf but to no avail. It hit a ashtray holder on the way down. Kneeling on the floor scooping up sand, I was politely asked to leave. I looked around and noticed my sister-in-law had vanished.

   In the parking lot of the park, where I would see the Pacific Ocean, I broke the car key in the trunk lock. My brother's face indicated that I might have ruined their trip. 
   I talked to a coast guard man at the Heceta Head Lighthouse and promptly fell in love. He was white washing the outside and volunteered to take us up into the prism  I asked my brother if we could get his address from the local coast guard office. He looked dismayed. Hmm......

     Needless to say, when they escorted me to the airport for my flight home, my brother mentioned to the flight attendant that I needed some watchful care. He winked at me and I wondered if I would survive the flight.

I am joining Ann Dee Ellis and other writers in using a prompt to record some memoir moments.

Eight Minute Memoir- Billboards (and Signs)

   My daughter sent me this picture from Germany and I loved it. There it is. My name on a sign, in the country of my birth. There are four vowels in my name and they are lovely to roll around the tongue if you are familiar with the German vowel sounds. GAH-BREE- A- LEH, harder to say with an American tongue. My German mother loved to say my name. She had no idea that when we emigrated to the US no one would be able to say it the way she did.

   When I was a teenager Roman Gabriel was a famous football player. I used the pronunciation of his last name to identify myself because it was familiar. Along the way GA-BREE-ELLE became popular and I tried using that but it seemed wrong somehow. I say my name sometimes aloud, just to bring my mother back. She did say it with so much romance.

   I am joining Ann Dee Ellis and other writers in using a prompt to record some memoir moments.

Mindful Monday- Attentiveness

   This month I am being more mindful of my husband. It is part of my year long exploration of mindfulness. You can read more about my Year of Mindfulness here.


   When I picked my husband as my focus this month I knew I would feel awkward. The awkwardness would start when I wrote about how attentive he is to me. He really is! And, has been for years. It is one of his best characteristics but I have not been mindful, paying close attention, to this trait because I want to be the object of his attention but I don't, at the same time. What is it with women? We want to be desired but we feel pressured when we are the center of a man's attention. 

    "Because, even though the world is full of normal and pretty women, the world we see – the world of television, films, magazines and websites – is full of women who are top-of-the-scale beauties. 

And right now, in the second decade of the 21st century, the situation is more extreme than ever. If you're a woman, a huge proportion of your role models are beautiful. So if you’re normal looking, you feel ugly. And if you’re merely pretty, men feel free to comment on how un-beautiful you are."

     William Leith, "The Telegraph" 

     My husband thinks I'm beautiful. There I said it. I believe him but, I think he is biased. What? Who cares what any other person thinks? At this point I must confess this post is becoming more about me than him. To his credit, I am becoming more aware that my husband is really wonderful in giving me feedback about his attraction to me. And I am opening up to the idea that that is pretty great.