It’s that time of year again. The time when we all rush out and climb over eachother for that toy that we have to have.
This is a time for happiness. And oddly enough sometimes for lonliness. For Giving and receiving. The beauty of family and the hope of togetherness.
For me it is a time to be with the two most important people in my life. My boys. There is nothing on this earth that makes me more happy than seeing their happiness.
There are times when I think I haven’t been the best father. But this is defeatist thinking. I do my best, just the same as every parent does. We want our children to be happy, and strive to be better than us.
The other day I bought a little plastic Christmas tree. The thing was only three feet tall, and reminded me of the Charlie brown Christmas tree, before decoration.
I had the boys help me with the lights. I stood back and watched the bare tree twinkle. It was missing something. Ornaments of course! Now it would have been easy to walk down to the drug store and pick up some cheap baubles. But being me I sat down and thought. The whole time wrestling with the little ones.
It occured to me some time later that there might be a better way to make this Christmas decorating a little more fun, and memorable.
On Saturdays we often go to the farmers market together. I load up the doublewide stroller and lean back as I glide down the giant hill. This time however I made a stop at the art store. We loaded up on construction paper, glue, glitter and other implements of destructive constructionism.
When we got home we sat down and crafted our own ornaments. I asked the boys what shapes they wanted, then we cut them out. We decorated them with glue and glitter. Then attached string and violla! Ornaments.
They were jagged and runny, lopsided and bent, with all sorts of different glue glitter designs only a four year old could create. But to me they were by far the most valuable ornaments I had ever had. The expieriance itself was well worth the time and effort.
The result, much like Charlie Brown’s post decoration tree, was by far the best looking Christmas tree I had ever seen. And probably always will be.
I realize I haven’t been posting much lately. I have returned to my blue collar job after being off for many months. At present I am trying to figure out how to adjust my schedule to account for writing, editing, and blogging in my free time. Please bare with me while I attempt this reorganization. And I thank all of you who have been persistent in checking up on the blog. You are all invaluable to me.
I always find life to be full of too much negativity. Everything in the news is almost always bad news. It seems like sometimes people spend their whole lives anaylzing what is absolutely wrong with the world and everyone in it.
So this is for the positive people. Becuase frankly, they are almost always ignored. Why? Well simply because they aren’t yelling.
Positive people can find beauty in anything.
They work their ass off without complaint.
While others demand, they ask.
They try to find ways to make the world better.
They practice the smallest acts of kindness that never get noticed.
They work their fingers to the bone, and then ask “whats next?”
They give knowing they will not receive.
They succeed without bragging.
They take care of their family without expecting anything.
They don’t stop moving forward.
They hope for the best, even when the worst keeps piling up.
They know the world can be a better place, always.
They do what they love, and they love what they do.
So this is an ode to all of you positive people out there. Letting you know that I, and many others are paying attention. So keep trucking.
This is wonderful, it hits the nail right on the head.
I began writing in my most vulnerable years. I was dumb and arrogant, as most teenagers seem to be, and I did my best to pour greatness into every sentence I wrote. But I was also lying to myself, writing about what I didn’t know, pretending to know, and I got caught and people could see that I wasn’t willing to let them in – I was building this wall to protect my true self from anyone who would be searching for it behind my words. There was nothing that belonged to me in the stories I wrote.
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“If the writing is honest it cannot be separated from the man who wrote it.” Tennessee Williams
WordPress just threw this quote at me, and I think it pretty much sums it all up then.