Your Life As A NASCAR Race

The NASCAR Busch Series field at Texas Motor Speedway in April 2007 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You know your life resembles NASCAR. You race at incredible speeds, near misses, exhilarating moments, crashes, boredom, re-starts.

It's exhausting. Then the race ends and what do you have?

That's been my life lately. Family visited my new home in Jacksboro, Tennessee. We still hadn't adjusted to our new Southern home--we're transplanted from the Canadian border in NY.

English: Jacksboro, Tennessee, USA, viewed from the Cumberland Trail atop Cumberland Mountain. Cross Mountain dominates the horizon. US-25W approaches Cove Lake on the extreme right. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Long Island from a plane

Days began early. Ended late. Entertainment, tourism, visiting filled each day. Then I needed to travel north for my brother Alan's memorial. He died a year ago, was cremated, and we were going to bury him in the LI Sound.

To make things cheaper, I left with my Long Island family. Because I was so near Salem, MA I got to visit with my daughter and grandbabies. Returning to Long Island I had to hang around until we could gather on our family boat and celebrate Alan's life.

Did I mention? I had a publishing deadline to meet, critiques to make, blogs to write, bills to pay--all while entertaining family.

It all failed. Not the the family--the work.

Almost completely failed. I did meet my deadline, but my editor didn't get my manuscript. In the morass of her own NASCAR life, the file got buried. So maybe you can say all my busyness failed.

And the moral? How does my life concern yours?

We all hit these moments. Life piles up like a line of NASCAR drivers. Someone's on your tail. There's a wreck, the tedium seeps in when nothing's happening, then the race begins again.

But what really matters? The chores or the family?

Every time something cried out for me to complete, my family needed something. I chose them. I worked the essentials (my deadline, my blog) into the vortex, and celebrated my family.

My mother's 86. How much longer will I have her with me? My brother died at the age of 52. A good friend's baby died at age 2. We're not promised forever.

My husband called me every night, and I ached for him. No longer did I remember the little quirks that drive me nuts--like his insatiable corn on the cob eating or, well, I think I still have forgotten the quirks. Instead, I longed for the man. The one who keeps me company, tends to my concerns, adores me and needs my adoration. Although on hold for nearly two weeks, our reunion delighted us.

Stuff will always pile up. Do what you must to keep afloat. The rest is junk

Cherish the times with your family. They are the only things that matter.

I Fell In Love: Sarah

     Thirty-four years ago I met the most wonderful person I've ever known. She lay on my belly, her beautiful round face staring up at me. Eyes bluer than any robin's egg held mine. I fell in love with the child who would become my closest friend.
     She's a faithful friend. Once the bond had been made, Sarah will not abandon those she loves. I've seen her hurt and listened to her tears over a friend who would no longer return her love. Sarah has a plethora of good friends, but she grieves over the one lost one just as Jesus mourned the one lost sheep. She continued seeking the connection that broke and her love an persistence restored it.
     No mother could be so devoted. All who meet her children acclaim their goodness. One couple decided to have children because of the example set by Caroline and David. Why are these children good? Because my daughter pours love and discipline into them.
     Sarah will sacrifice time on holidays--and her own family time to travel to be with family. As most live on Long Island, the few vacation days she has are spent catering to the needs of those she loves. She drove 300 miles one way, on a weekend, just to attend my surprise party (and surprise retirement fete). She couldn't dream of missing it.
     Her talent amazes me: look at her photography, photoshop skills, scrapbook pages. She plays the flute and oboe and designs amazing rooms in her house.
     She adores Jesus, loves her family and Neil and me. My best friend and kindred spirit.

Happy Birthday, Vera DeFord Rau

Picking the defining trait of my mother daunts me. Could it be her generosity? She is, without doubt the most generous person I know. The quintessential example would be the time she took the whole family—22? of us—to Punta Cana for a Club Med vacation. It took place in 1992, and to this day, we relive the memories.

Yet, her love extends beyond her financial generosity. If any of us needed help, she’d give it, regardless of her personal situation. When cancer struck me, she drove the four hundred miles up her, took care of me for weeks, bought me clothes and yard furniture and brought me roses every day. She does the same for each of her six children.

Her devotion to her family and friends is unparalleled. As I write these words my mind says the phrase sounds cliché. But it’s not when it comes to my mother. She is easy going, gives in to other people’s desires, wishes to please above all things. But don’t mess with her family. We WILL celebrate Christmas together. When I make my summer trek to Long Island, we WILL have a get together. She’s happiest surrounded by her children (despite their ages—and I’m aged).

Adventure intrigues her. She’s scuba dived with my family, traveled to Russia and Egypt and Turkey. She’s seen Europe—both alone and with family.

And her art work is beautiful. Whether in oil, pastels or watercolor, my mother knows art. We spent hours in the Metropolitan Museum of Art studying the masters. Our homes are decorated with her “cast offs” which intrigue friends who see them.

She’s been married three times and widowed twice. Sometimes her husbands created difficulties hard to bear. However, she never speaks ill of any. She understands human nature, sees the good through the bad and loves unconditionally.

Today, July 27, she turns 80. I can’t imagine life without her, so she better last at least another twenty years. Happy birthday, Mom.