I just finished writing a blog but didn't publish it because it was about nothing.  Words on a page, some funny antidotes  but the words didn't mean anything.  In this time when there is so much shifting in our world, I can hardly find the words to capture how I feel.  The media portrays a violent, frightening world that seems very far away from my sweet Norman Rockwell neighborhood.  I know those stories are happening, atrocity, scandal, genocide, hunger, disease, financial devastation - and yet when I am walking my dog around our professionally landscaped neighborhood, people sitting on their porches sipping sweet tea, children playing soccer in the green space, birds chirping and music drifting through the air from an outdoor concert a mile down the road - I can't seem to connect with what I see on TV.  I'm not sure if that is good or bad - but its the truth.  Am I supposed to be more upset than I am?  Am I supposed to be more outraged than I feel?  Am I supposed to do something - like really DO something?


And then I remember, I am doing something.  I get on my knees every morning and ask God to direct my thoughts and actions.  I am raising two conscientious, loving boys.  I am an active member in my community.  I am of service to many.  I am aware of the world and the pain people face.  And most importantly - I pray, I believe, I have faith in the goodness that exists in the world.  I believe of the many horrible things that are reported in a day, there are more good things that go unreported that same day.


I can see my brother-in-law's face right now.  He is rolling his eyes and shaking his head like I am from planet La-La Land.  But I disagree.  My feet are planted right here on Earth.  I just choose to believe in good.  I have to believe in good.  If I don't - I am not certain I would get out of bed each day.  Believing in good isn't negating the bad.  It's a choice of where to focus my energy.  Our human experience is more than sickness and  flags and depression and war and debates and court decisions and work and exercise and money and whatever else media deems as important that day.  My human experience includes that - plus love and generosity and delicious food and laughter and hugs and fresh air and comfy beds and nature and holding hands and travel and funny emoji's and good acting and friendship and, and, and...


If I am to do more, more will be put in front of me.  If I am to do different, different will be revealed.  As an active participant in my own life, I live ready.  And living ready is a huge responsibility that I gladly accept as a resident of plant Earth.
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The boys and I were preparing for dinner the other night and I was reciting the mealtime manners mantra to them.  A run down of do's and don'ts while eating.  This recitation just flows from my lips without prior thought or intention.  Put your napkins in your lap. No elbows on the table. Don't chew with your mouth open.  No singing at the table.  etc...  The same manners list I was given as a child.

This night Miles stopped me in mid-sentence and said, what is with all of these silly rules?  I paused, ready to defend these silly rules.  I was raised with these silly rules or manners as my mother liked to call them.  Childhood rules that were passed down from generation to generation. Not yes ma'am or no ma'am like here in the South but please and thank you and your welcome were insisted upon.  Ideas that still haunt me when I violate them.  Ideas that, when challenged by my own children, don't hold up to reason.  

At the dinner table there is to be no chewing with your mouth open - which is sort of tricky because some foods taste better when eaten with your mouth open.  Like potato chips for example. Try to enjoy potato chips with your mouth closed.  Impossible.

No elbows on the table while eating - I am not sure why this is rude or who this offends but my mother went to great lengths to get me to learn this lesson.  One night she strapped my left arm to the chair because I was a habitual offender.  She broke me of that bad habit.  I am forever grateful.  

No singing at the table - I guess if you are living in an episode of Glee this would be a problem.  I can't remember this being an issue but bursting into song would definitely have been frowned upon.

At a restaurant, we were only allowed three slurps through the straw at the end of our soda.  Four slurps was considered rude...according to the official slurping rules of 1926.

I was unable to defend most of the manners my boys challenged.  We decided to keep a few and toss the rest.  So if we host you for dinner and my boys break out into song - please be kind.  If we are at a restaurant and my boys slurp their sodas four and five times - please don't judge.  If we are at your home for lunch and my boys put their elbows on the table - please forgive them.  But the napkins in your lap stays.  I mean really.  We are not barbarians.