New website info…

Please see the new site at www.janetmorrisgrimes.com

Lightbulb Management 101

Maybe it’s just me, but has anyone else attempted to purchase a light bulb recently?

If not, be forewarned.  It’s time for a crash course in Lightbulb Management 101. 

A few things you need to know in advance:

• Squiggly is the new oval.

• Flourescent = good.

• Incandescent = bad.

• White is in. Yellow is out.

• Bright is frowned upon.

• The EPA has cameras on the light bulb aisles, and scowlers will be dispatched to your area, should you make the wrong choice.

• 60 watts = 7 – 15 replacement watts in LED form, though it does not provide the same lightage. (probably not a recognized word in the English language, yet…)

• These new bulbs d0 conserve energy, which is good.  You will need an extra dose for standing in the aisle for long periods of time.

• Know your Luminar Effeciency Rating.

• Ten dollars will buy one bulb.  Choose carefully.  

• Your bulb will outlive you.  Do not name it and get too attached. 

Take note, and go light your world…

 

Downsizing the American Dream…

Change. 

It’s in the air. It’s in the media. It’s on the front page of every newspaper.

It’s true, but not for the reasons you may have been told.

As Americans, we have changed. We were forced to do so, in order to survive.

Within a few short weeks, economies around the world collapsed all around us. Most of us have yet to understand what was behind it all. We just know that things are different now.

 

The news of gloom and doom really hit a few months before gas prices reached $4 a gallon. As we were told by the media how expensive it would be to fill up the vehicles we drove - the world then marveled that vehicles sales were dropping.

And then, finally, we reached a point that we suspected the media was creating the news, instead of simply reporting it.

For example, in Nashville, just as Hurricane Gustav was about to hit the Louisiana Coast in August of 2008, I clearly remember all the news channels telling us on a Wednesday evening that gas prices were about to shoot up and we should all go out and fill up our tanks as soon as possible . By the next day, prices were over $3 a gallon, and there were long lines all over town. And, oddly enough, the hurricane had not yet hit the coast.

By that weekend, gas was almost $5 a gallon, and there was none to be found in Nashville. It seems that everyone did as they were told; taking their boats, vehicles and extra gas cans to be filled.  In essence, it seems that our actions created the very gas shortage that we were warned against. 

As Gustav came and went, becoming much less of a factor than anyone anticipated, Nashville continued to be in a “disaster area” of its own because of the gas shortage. When gas was finally delivered to any station, it was gone within an hour.  The police were called in to direct traffic and stop the fighting because of people cutting in line.

Within a few months, we were hearing reports of banks collapsing, there was a mortgage crisis, and no one was buying goods of any kind. 

As it turns out, panic serves no one well. But maybe, if the media stops reporting it, they might also stop creating it.

 

Last November started the five weeks of news that basically, Christmas had been ruined for everyone.

 

But as a nation, as an American, as a family, this gave us time to think – to reevaluate what happened and to turn off our TV’s long enough to figure it out for ourselves.

It was all a vicious cycle. In the past, we bought houses that were too expensive for us. We used money we didn’t have to buy things we didn’t need. We tried for years to ‘keep up with the Joneses.’ But later, when we watched as the Joneses lost their house, we determined that we didn’t want to go where they were headed after all.

So, yes, things have changed. But, I dare say that if you were to take a look into most of our living rooms, what you would find is not “gloom and doom.”

We eat at home, together. We discuss what’s happening in the world, and then decide what we should do about it, without being told. We realize that celebrities are just people with flaws, and that their opinions are no more important than our own. 

And we understand that the economy will eventually improve, but even when it does, we will be content with less than before – from this point forward, all we need is just enough.  And this is something decided on our own. 

 

Along the way, it seems, we discovered a need to know the truth. And truth is something we can only determine for ourselves. 

This is our nation. These are our families. And America has to play by our rules. This is our future, and we are willing to fight for it. 

So Attention all media:

The reason no one is watching your news- it’s because we no longer trust you to tell us the truth.

 

As a matter of fact, we are telling you the truth, and you refuse to report it.

The truth is that our country is not in as bad shape as you think; and the voices that matter are not your own. The American dream is still alive and well, and it’s time for us to reclaim it, on our own terms.

We still believe in God. We still believe in Christmas. We still believe in each other. We are the greatest country in the world. We owe no one an apology. We stand for what is right. We work hard to provide for ourselves. And these are the beliefs that unify us, regardless of our color.

Change. It’s in the air, and it would be wise for the world to listen.

It’s in the silver lining…

 

August 25, 1984.

Twenty-five years? How is this even possible?

Still, somehow, here we are today.

Looking back over our wedding pictures, just after being introduced as husband and wife, as we tiptoed down the aisle into a world we were in no way prepared for, I have to stop and wonder what we would have done if we had known then what our future would hold. We were as clueless as we appeared to be, but maybe that is the only way it could have worked.

We soon found that life has a way of taking you to places that you never thought you would go. Difficult places. Rocky places. Places that leave scars. Places where your only goal can be to get through it. Places that don’t leave room to worry about what everyone else is thinking. Places that run like a roaring river and you are tossed in, leaving you to crash against the rocks and hold on until you can find each other on the other side.

Yes, life has a way of taking you through places where the odds are stacked against you, but these are the kind of places that lead you to your knees, and then later, back to each other.

But the opposite is also true.

Just when you least expect it, life has a way of bringing you through places that are much more wonderful than anything you could have ever dreamed.

It really is a perfect balance between the two extremes. Along the way, the path is filled with good days and bad days; gut wrenchingly painful days and deliriously happy days; proud moments and moments filled with shame; questioning your existence moments and defining your purpose moments; keeping your head above water moments and flying like an eagle moments.

It’s impossible to put into words all that we’ve shared, but that won’t stop me from trying – job changes; hard work; promotions; budget cuts; stranded vehicles; buying our first house; broken refrigerators, and really anything else electronic that you can think of; new roofs that no one noticed; the birth of our three miraculous, yet unexpected, children; bad financial decisions; stolen purses; the heartbreaking divorce of a few close “couple” friends; seasons of change – always before we were ready; yard sales that forced us to come face to face with a lifetime of accumulated junk and wondered if this was all we had to show for our years of hard work; baby steps that led to driving teenagers way before we could afford them; vacations we couldn’t afford; rarely used kitchens and eating out way too much; not enough time around the table; being the proudest, and sometimes loudest, spectators at our kids basketball or soccer games/dance recitals/cheerleading competitions/Disney parades; job transfers to states that are too far away; the loss of all four of our grandmothers (who can be seen standing together in one of our wedding pictures); graduations and the wide open choices that follow; way too many car wrecks, followed by way too many insurance adjustments; first pet – Pickles the Pug; the death of Pickles the Pug; do-it-yourself home improvements that always seemed to make it worse; birthday parties; slumber parties; airsoft gun parties; illegal fireworks; bicycles with flat tires; dangerous neighborhoods; church cookouts; crazy VBS skits; mission trips; sunrises and sunsets; autumn leaves falling over kids on shaky bikes; the baptism of all three kids at Fall Creek Falls, performed by their Daddy; tear-jerking phone calls from our kids; watching them make choices and then live with the consequences; too many surgeries; eleven days in ICU; malignant tumor; waiting for test results; and finally, learning to live each day to the fullest anyway, in spite of it all.

For us, the past twenty-five years have been just that – day to day living and finding a way to come out on top, but somehow still together. I guess the only real secret to finding true happiness is to know that it’s a daily choice that we make, and can only come when we realize that God lies in both the good and the bad.

It’s not about arriving at a destination, but rather in recognizing that if you missed the journey, you missed it all.

So bring on the next twenty-five years – slowly, one day at a time, filled with these people and as many God-designed moments as possible.

If 25 years is the silver anniversary, then ‘happily ever after’ must be discovered in the silver lining…

Gatlinburg-ers Vacation 2009

Such a strange family we are.

This was a short and quick vacation for us – a chance to spend a few days with Crystal and Andrew, who were last seen moving home to TN while we were in the process of moving to Michigan. It was designed to be relaxed, cheap, and filled with huge blocks of time meant for doing nothing more than hanging out at the pool or sitting out on the patio. Our neice, Leah, was able to go with us, which is just as it should be, and as it has been for most of her life.

I won’t bore you wth the details, and I’m sure Malloree will post the pictures she deems “good enough for Facebook,” but in reality, the story is told most in our silly conversations along the way.

So, to further confirm that we make no sense to anyone other than ourselves, (and even that gives me reason to lie  awake at night and ask God what He was thinking at times), here are a few things overheard on the Grimes Family Vacation 2009 Edition:

1) Fear is in the nose of the be-smeller.
2) You have to sign this waiver saying you won’t complain when you die of boredom.
3) Help! I’m in the back.
4) I think they made this a lighted foot path so that the bears could find us easily.
5) I need to take a shower so I can get ready to go to the pool.
6) I’ll bet this is what that sign meant when it said “Road Closed.”
7) Remember that Alfred Hitchcock movie called “Rear Window?” Well, I think I see a leg on that patio without a person attached. I suspect foul play.
8) That sign says you can make a friend disappear. Hey Crystal, come here. (spoken by Andrew)
9) I’ve got to wash Andrew’s hair off my teeth.
10) Now that I’ve lost my whole toenail, if I put it under my pillow, do you think the Toenail Fairy will come?
11) Please stop driving down the stairs.
12) Andrew lost his tubing.
13) When I don’t have my contacts in, and I see you sleeping but can’t tell which one of you it is, it’s OK because I know that you are cute no matter which one you turn out to be.
14) Dad, I think that guy is trying to impress you.
15) I put it in my phone and scanned Crystal, and she tested positive.
16) Life seems bearable from the jacuzzi.
17) Life is pretty funny, unless you are the one living it.

Ahhh yes, Grimes Family Memories. And the truth is that I wouldn’t have it any other way…

Opening my Eyes…

I have this wonderful new friend named Alison.  She is the kind of person who tells it like it is; and with just a few words, she can literally stop me in my tracks.  I’ve learned more from her in the short time that I’ve known her than I take the time to learn from most of my lifelong friends.  She has taught me everything from how not to take things for granted to how to laugh at myself.   She isn’t afraid to dive right in and try new things, and lets nothing stand in the way if her mind is made up to do something.

Alison is a lot like my own kids, who are now wonderful adults.  They are young, single, and trying to figure out what paths to take next in their lives.  They have big questions, and have figured out that the answers must be discovered within them.  They are beginning to grasp that they are much tougher than they ever realized.   

There is one small difference, however. 

Alison is totally blind, and has been her entire life.  But, she would never let her blindness define her.  As a matter of fact, what defines her is the way she has overcome it.

The more I get to know her, the more she makes me stop and think.  One time, we were discussing clouds, when it dawned on me that she had never seen them.  The harder I tried to describe them, the more I realized that my words most likely meant nothing to her. 

The sky is blue, but what is blue?  The clouds are white and fluffy, but what does that mean? They float across the sky like they are in a hurry to get somewhere.  The sun peeks out from time to time and you can see the rays reaching all the way down to the earth, almost as if you could reach out and touch them. 

My descriptive words meant nothing to her since she had never seen it before.  Of course, that doesn’t stop me from weak attempts to portray our surroundings for her, but I have yet to figure out how to describe a color without using other colors. 

Now I understand that old line to the song, ‘If a picture’s worth a thousand words…’ because if the truth is known, no amount of words can replace the pictures that Alison hasn’t seen.  But that won’t stop her from enjoying the beautiful world around her.  She can still feel the breeze, or the sun shining on her face, or the rain on her skin.  

Alison tells me stories of calling a cab and then waiting outside for two hours for its arrival.  When she called back, she was told that the cab driver had been circling the parking lot, and saw Alison standing against the wall, but didn’t realize she was blind and couldn’t see the cab.   

Nashville has a program called AccessRide, which will transport Alison just about anywhere she needs to go.  This works well for her, as long as she stays within the parameters, which require her to make an appointment at least 24 hours in advance, and then she is given a window in which they will arrive.  This usually means that she is very early, or very late; neither of which she has any control.

Alison has applied for a Seeing Eye dog.  Her first application was denied, as they told her that she needed to improve her ‘crossing the street’ skills before she could give commands to a dog.  She has worked nonstop to improve in this area, even though the streets in her neighborhood are quite busy.  She will try again next year, and I’m sure she will be bringing home a dog meant just for her very soon.

As I think of all she does, I continue to be amazed by the things I do with ease every day.  Though simple to me, they become more difficult in her situation, but you never hear her complain. To do laundry, she has to go downstairs in her apartments.  With a smirk, she admits to washing all of her clothes together, but what twenty-something person doesn’t?  She says she cleans only when she knows she will have company.  Not only does that sound familiar, it causes me to marvel at how she can clean when she can’t see the dirt.

She is a whiz with her cell phone and computer.  Though she has a feature on both that read her messages out loud to her, the keyboards are regular keyboards and she types much faster than I do. She multi-tasks like no one I’ve ever met, and gets very excited when she receives a message from someone. 

She attends college, and has an instructor that helps her at the beginning of the year to find the best path from class to class, as well as where to meet the bus and more importantly, where the vending machines can be found.  She isn’t sure what she wants to do with her life, but longs to work where she has lots of contact with people.

When we are together, Alison gently holds my elbow and lets me lead her.  I am still learning to do this well, as I steer her around the obstacles in our path.  I finally recognized that she doesn’t know when we have a lot of room to get by, and when we need to squeeze it in a little.  Sometimes, we now even bump into people just for fun. 

I hope my Alison stories continue forever, but this is the most valuable lesson I’ve learned so far.

Alison has no choice but to find someone who knows where they are going and to follow them as closely as possible.

I would give this same advice to my own kids, and anyone else who is willing to listen. 

God places people in our lives to help steer us in the right direction.  We would all end up in a better place if we would find those people headed where we want to be, and hold on for dear life. 

Alison was never meant to face this life alone. 

And the truth is that neither are we.

The Problem with Warning Lights…

 Have you ever noticed that warning lights on the dashboard of your car are somewhat ineffective? 

Perhaps we are to blame for this.  It seems that we either choose to ignore them, (i.e. running out of gas when your gas symbol has been shining brightly for miles) or by the time they are illuminated, it is already too late. 

For this reason, my oldest daughter, Crystal, refers to them as “Already Broken” lights, a term we have grown to hate since it usually costs us greatly.

Such is the recent case of my right rear blinker light, which burned out during a terrible storm, while I was driving down a very busy, and extremely dark road. The power was out in the area because of the storm, so I didn’t need the happy ‘lightbulb’ signal on my dashboard to let me know I was in trouble.  The blasting of horns and sound of screeching tires served that purpose well, proclaiming my problem to my fellow, somewhat angry travelers.   

And this proves my point. If anything should give you a warning light before it goes out, shouldn’t it be a lightbulb?

In most cases, though, by the time your warning light reveals itself, it is usually a culmination of the many ways we may have been ignoring the obvious.  Oil in thecar?  Antifreeze? Squealing brakes? Now that I think of it, squealing anything is usually a cry for help.  But, I guess if we turn our radios up and sing loud enough maybe we won’t ever notice, right?  

Wrong.  Eventually, everyone will notice, usually when we are stranded on the side of the road, where no one can overlook us.

The same is true with life.  What if our relationships, our jobs, our families, and our lives came with warning lights?  Would we disregard them at first, causing our small problems to explode into something much bigger?  Aren’t we always trying to be the last one across the railroad tracks, in spite of the warnings,  before the train slams through? 

I heard a story once about the sinking of the Titanic, and the number of warnings that went unnoticed.  Days earlier, a warning went out about glaciers in the area.  The ship’s Captain altered his course because of this, but other ships were transmitting warnings to the Titanic; warnings that were ignored.  Again later that night, other ships were signaling that huge glaciers lay directly in the path of the Titanic. 

At that time, the wireless operators were employed to interpret incoming signals and deliver them to passengers.  So, these messages were deemed unimportant, and never made it to the Captain.  Early that next morning, as the Titanic was sinking and those same wireless operators were desperately sending  signals to other ships in the area for help, the messages didn’t get through because their relay equipment had been turned off for the night.  

The Titanic sank in two and a half hours, but their problems didn’t start with the impact with the glacier.  It started when the warning signals were ignored.  

I keep thinking about this when I reflect on the loss of both Michael Jackson and Steve McNair. Both of their deaths could have been prevented, if they had only paid attention to the warnings. The same is true for those who loved and surrounded them.  I’m sure now they all wish they had done something to change the path of those two legends.

Sadly, they are now more legendary than ever before, just like the Titanic. They too were on a path that led to trouble. They were sinking and no one did anything to help.   

Our society tells us to “mind our own business.”  But doing nothing never helped anyone.

I think it would serve us well to recognize our own inability to pay attention to the warning signals in our lives.   We would do much better not to leave room for error, to make time to do the right thing, and to care enough about the people in our lives to help them do the same.  We should depend on each other, and not the warning lights.

We all need some accountability, and I would rather be hated for trying to do too much, than to later live with regrets. So consider yourself warned – if you matter to me in anyway, and I see you headed down a road that goes nowhere, I plan to stand in your way.  We have to love each other enough to at least try to make a difference, right?

You see, the problem with warning lights is twofold.  We can’t trust them, nor can we trust ourselves to notice them. 

Besides, by the time the warning lights come on, it may already be too late.

Life in 140 characters or less . . .

From what I understand, the latest Twitter craze works like this – people “tweet” throughout the day, summarizing whatever they are doing at that moment in 140 characters or less.   It’s like texting to a friend x 20 million people; basically removing all guesswork out of the stalking business, and giving us all a license to do so. 

On the surface, perhaps it serves it’s purpose.  But whatever happened to getting to know someone a little deeper, going beneath the surface?   

Everything is so immediately accessible these days that sometimes I wonder if we’ve taken the magic out of everyday life.

When I was a teen, we wrote notes on plain notebook paper, folding them in creative shapes to add to their mystique.  The key, of course, was to get the assistance of the entire class to deliver the note, leaving them to wonder for the rest of the day what it could have said. 

We found out someone was “in a relationship” by seeing them hold hands for the first time at the mall on Friday nights, where we all went to just to be with our friends.   Not once did we have the fear of getting shot, or witnessing a fight, unless it was at the video arcade. 

If we found a song we liked, we called the radio station repeatedly to request that song, until we could save up enough money to buy the album.  And then, sometimes we would get together just to listen to music.

Summers were left for us to fill with tender moments; baseball games and bike rides, giggling sleepovers and borrowing each others clothes, pool parties and sunburns, walks to the store for cherry icees, and and maybe even a few secret hugs or kisses under the moonlight. 

We talked for hours on the phone about the events of the day and the possibilities of tomorrow, changing our plans as quickly as we did our outfits.  But in extreme situations, when a heartbreak had slipped through and taken one of our friends, nothing worked better than a face to face encounter and a comforting hug.

Today we would call this a “status update,”  but give me a sweet memory and a hug from a friend any day.

Some moments just can’t be summarized in 140 characters or less.  Thank goodness. . .

42% Complete. . .

Birthdays.  They become our way of measuring life, or so it seems.  The world tells me that I’m middle aged, and that I should be feeling older with each step I take.

Whatever.   Though the mirror tells me a few things have changed, I refuse to let the mirror have the last word.  I will just look at it less often, so it won’t have all the power in our relationship.

Same thing with the bathroom scale.  Don’t ask.  Don’t tell. 

The truth is that on the inside, I still feel like the same girl I used to be when I would sit on the hood of my Mom’s car and watch the moon at night.  The moon always knew what to do with itself, and I wanted to be just like it when I grew up.    I wanted the world to notice what I did.  But, even if they didn’t, I would still  show up and do my job every night.

As a young girl, I couldn’t wait to find my calling and spend the rest of my life doing whatever it was God had planned just for me.   

But here I sit, just past my 42nd birthday, still wondering those same things.  I now realize that life is more about recreating yourself as needed and taking leaps of faith along the way.  It’s about the journey; not the destination.

The way I figure it, I’m just getting started.  My kids have grown up before my very eyes, and have become amazing adults.   The world is a better place because they are in it.   I love my husband and can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us.  After some major changes in our lives, it seems that all doors are wide open.  And that is a great feeling.

So, I prefer to look at it like this.  I’m not a ‘has been,’ but rather a ‘gonna be.’

So look out world!  I’m 42% complete and  have a long way to go. 

Guess I’d better get started.

The Storm . . .

Another one from the archives. I’m so glad I found it – like a long lost friend. . .

It is a beautiful, cool, autumn day. The sun is shining.  The sky is blue, and the breeze is blowing gently.

But I find myself in the midst of a terrible storm.

There is thunder and lightning all around me.  The rain is falling in turrents.  Ferocious winds have blown through the doors and windows of my house and are now tossing me about.  I used to feel so safe here, but now it seems that this is where the storm is strongest.  The very foundation of my house  is being tested for its strength.

The rain has soaked through my clothes and continues beating hard against my back.  I hold my head down because it is too painful for me to look up.  The water hurts my eyes and I am unable to see clearly.

The storm has altered everything in my life.  Everything that once had a place no longer fits there.  Everything that has happened to me before is now insignificant, because this is a new storm and it is stronger than any of the others.

It is totally out of my control.  Just when I think the winds are finally subsiding, I get knocked down once again by the fierce crosswinds.  I feel so helpless.  I silently wonder if I will survive.

There was no warning for this storm.  Even if there had been some sort of signal, there would have been no way to prepare for the magnitude of it.  There was no emergency newsflash.  No one told me I should evacuate.  No one can even tell me now what to do in order to survive.  And I’m not even sure how long this will last.  Will it ever blow over?  And if it does, will there be anything left?

The only thing I know for sure is that my life after this storm will never be the same. I will be changed forever, and so will my surroundings.

When I turn on the radio to see how others are dealing with it, I realize that this storm is not affecting their lives.  For some reason, this one has only hit my family, my house, and my life.

I have fought to survive for as long as I possibly can.  There is no shelter; no safe place for me to go.  I am exhausted from the fight.  My eyes are weary.  I realize that the only thing I can do is to give in to the power of this storm.  It is so much stronger than me, and it has lasted so long that I don’t think it will ever end. 

Just when the storm has reached it’s strongest point, I am at my weakest.  I have nothing left within me to get through.  I can go no further.  I am ready to admit defeat.

I gently lay on the foor and drop my head.  With what little strength I have left, I faintly mumble these three words.

“Hold me, Jesus.”

From deep inside of me, I recall His words.  “Never will I leave or forsake you. “

I look up to see his shadow walking towards me.  The thunder and lightning are still crashing about us.  He kneels beside me and reaches for my hand.

Through my tears, and squinting against the rain, I tell him I don’t know what to do.

He answers, “Don’t do anything.  Let me do it.” 

He tells me that he had been with me all along, but was waiting for me to admit that I couldn’t face it alone.

I tell him how scared I am.

He sighs.  “I know.  I’ve been afraid for my life before too.”

I had planned on asking him why this was happening to me, but suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.  All that was important was that I was no longer alone. 

He pulls me closer to him and turns my face toward his.  Gazing into my eyes, and waiting for my soul to answer his gaze, he says the two most powerful words I have ever heard.

“Trust me.”

I lean my head against his shoulder, and let the tears roll down my face.  Tears of relief. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of letting go. Tears of fear. Tears of anger. Tears of surrender. And finally, tears of faith.  One at a time, I released all of them.  I feel  a calm inside of me that I had never noticed before.

 

The winds are still blowing fiercely, and the rain is falling stronger than ever. The walls are beginning to crumble around me.  My house is in ruins.

I still don’t know what to do, nor when it will end.  I still wonder what the future holds.

But I rest, and know that with Jesus holding my hand, we will overcome this storm, and any others that may be waiting for me down the road.

Its true.  I will never be the same.  Maybe, because of the storm, I will be stronger.

I squeeze his hand tightly.  “I love you,” I whisper.

“I know,” he answers.

“What would I ever do without you?”

By now, his eyes were twinkling. “That is something you will never have to find out.”

I smile, take a deep breath, and wait out the rest of the storm.

Janet Morris Grimes

September 11, 1992