Fine China & Silver

We downsized just over a year ago. We moved from a 4-bedroom house with over 2,600 SF to a 2-bedroom house with exactly 1,008 SF. This was Step 1 in a long-term plan to simplify our life. To have less to maintain and more time and money to travel the country…and even the world. I realize I have a bit of an inner gypsy who is dying to get out and so far, my husband’s OK with that.

The big house was more than what we needed after the kids moved out. It had served us well over the years and provided a place for the kids to hang out with friends and for us to host treasured family gatherings.  We have many great memories of that big house on Wickens Street…full of the space we needed for that time in our lives. The first floor was a mostly open space…the Living Room opened into the Dining Room, separated only by a half wall. This space flowed into the Dining Room and then a large, dream kitchen with an abundance of space in the cabinets and pantry. Abundance. That is what we had. We were fortunate to have enough room to be able to keep everything I brought from my kitchen and everything my new husband Jim brought from his! Abundance.

Fast Forward several years to when the Tiny House bug first bit me and Jim saw the excitement in my eyes: his first response was something like “uuummmm…..we have 3 colanders….let’s just start there.  Which colander would go into the Tiny?”  As I thought about that question for a bit, I realized the answer was “none of them….we don’t own a colander that would be right for a tiny house”. The colanders I had brought with me to our marriage were old, cheap, and plastic.  They were used for different purposes but either one of them would take up too much precious space in a tiny house. The colander Jim brought is a beautiful stainless steel model that I love….but, again, too big for tiny. This is the only colander that would make it through the downsize. We took only the one that was beautiful and well made. I’m still trying to figure out what kind of colander we will need for the Tiny but beauty, function, and quality are the most important things to consider for any ‘stuff’ that deserves a place in our lives.

As a part of the move into a much smaller kitchen, there were many decisions to be made along the way. Some were easy. Some were hard. Some hit me in the gut like a pro boxer.  So much of what filled that big house was super easy for me to let go of. In general, ‘stuff’ has a tendency to make me feel a bit claustrophobic. However, I was shocked at the physiological reaction I had to the idea of giving up some of our things. The two big ones in the kitchen were the fine china and the silver. Both given to me by women who I loved deeply and had been very important parts of my life. I realized that I was more attached to my feelings for these women than I was to the this fine china and silver that I had rarely, if ever, used. I knew that intellectually. I knew through my practice of Aparigraha (a Sanskrit word that translates to non-attachment) that holding on to things can actually cause suffering. But the gut punch I felt when I considered giving these particular things away was more than I could handle. On the other hand, I had no room to store this stuff at the new house. What was I going to do? The only times I had used the fine china Granny Annie had given me were during those family gatherings when there were only as many people coming as I had place settings for. And I couldn’t remember ever once using the silver my Grandma Lil had given me over 20 years ago. I knew we had no room for things used this infrequently. But how could I part with them. Major. Gut. Punch.

Then I remembered how my other grandma always put her new things up and save them for “good”. While she puttered around the house in her ratty nightgowns, there were several brand new ones with tags on them she had saved  for “Good”. For “Good”…..what is that, anyway??? I’ve never seen “Good” on a calendar and I’m not sure when she thought it would arrive. She died with gift boxes under her bed and in her closet of nice, new things that she was always saving for some other time. I remember thinking it was kind of crazy that she had never enjoyed these gifts her loved ones had bought for her…they just took up space in her house. And for what? “Good”? When is this “Good” time coming that she would use them? For her, it seems as if it never came.  So, if I thought she was crazy for not using these nice things…..aren’t I also crazy for not using the fine china?

And so it was: we got rid of the regular dishes…we got rid of the regular silverware. And for the past year, my husband and I have been using fine china and silver for every meal. I absolutely love it!  I think fondly of Harriet Ann and my Grandma Lil when I eat….and, surprisingly, also when I do the chore of washing these precious gifts. What a bonus that has been. Weaving memories of these important women into a time that used to feel like work has been especially transformative for me. We’ve only broken one dish….and only had to polished the silver one time in that year, so I’d say the down side to regular has been fairly negligible. I also love that it makes every meal feel a little more special. Because, in the end, each meal with a loved one is quite special….and is, in fact, “Good”.

I’d like you to consider what it is that you’ve got tucked away for “Good”. Think about unpacking it and enjoying it today.



Vegas, Stink bate, & Moonwalking

Friends and family of Harriet Ann Hyde (aka Granny Annie) gathered today to celebrate her life.  To remember her fun-loving spirit and to comfort each other as we grieve. I read this letter to Granny at the service and I’d love to share it with you. She was quite the character and I’m so fortunate to have had her in my life.

Dear Granny,

You told me years ago that you wanted me to speak at your funeral. Way before you started telling me that you weren’t “long for this world”, you unofficially appointed me to be in charge of your eulogy. You joked that your girls probably wouldn’t have anything nice to say about you. I tried to convince you otherwise but, as with any time you made your mind up, I couldn’t. It is my honor to be able to share a snapshot of who you were and what you mean to me.

I remember the first day I met you.  I was on the 8th grade cheer team with Kris and she hosted a practice for the squad.  We started out at on the lawn of the church across the street. After we practiced for a while, we went to the house, came through the back door and I stepped into the carpeted dining room while Kris was introducing us all to you.  I will never forget that moment. I will never forget your first words to me. You said ‘Girl. I will beat you like a red-headed step-child if you don’t get those shoes off my carpet right now’. I was terrified.  I wanted to go home.  I had no idea what was happening and wasn’t sure if you were serious or joking. At my house we wore our shoes inside and never really HAD to take them off inside, unless they were muddy or wet.  But apparently that was the rule in your house and you were pretty serious about it.

It would be several years later by the time I really got to know you.  Kris and I moved in together the summer after Freshman year of college and you became a regular part of my life. You were always so much fun…always the life of the party. Your quick wit…your spunk….and your sass. All of Kris’s friends loved being around you…and Kim’s too, I’m sure. You had just become a grandma and were loving the time with Lacey and your new name, ‘Granny Annie’….which my kids would eventually come  to know you as, a few years later.

Kris and I lived at several different places over the next few years, and we eventually landed at your house. It took a bit of time to adjust to living with you. There were more rules in your house than I had had growing up, or certainly ever had living with Krissie Jo.  You liked things neat and tidy at your house…super neat and super tidy. And once I figured that out, we actually had a lot of fun under that roof. And you became a mom to me…we became family.

I’m grateful for the many great memories I have of that time in my life. Memories~~like a pile of unorganized pictures within my heart. Snapshots and snippets…..we all have those of each other. Snapshots that offer a glimpse of what it was like to know you:

One of those snapshots shows a hard-working single mom… of the hardest working people I’ve ever known. Often working multiple jobs, physical jobs, to make sure the bills were paid and that your family had everything they needed and even wanted. Kris says she didn’t even know you were poor until she got to jr. high school. Paying your bills and keeping your high credit score was always important to you. It said to the world that you could be trusted…that you would pay your debts and fulfill your obligations. It said to the world that you knew how to take care of business. I took that with me into my own life and I carry that snapshot of you with me still today.

One of those snapshots shows an amazing cook and baker. You were someone who only believed in cooking from scratch and you loved to feed people. You taught me how to make chicken and noodles, apple pie, green beans and new potatoes (when I had never even heard of jowl bacon before). You taught me how to make deviled eggs (with just a BAM of sugar), potato salad, and biscuits and gravy (Bs&Gs). Your Bs&Gs were the best. You used a lot of pepper in your Bs&Gs and my kids actually refused to eat them…..not because they didn’t like pepper, though. They were convinced there were cigarette ashes in your Bs&Gs. More for the rest of us! I carry your love of cooking real food with me…and finding pleasure in feeding my ‘loved ones’. When I make your dishes for the holidays, everyone gets to enjoy a little piece of you.

Another snapshot…..maybe this one is actually several…..shows someone who loved to have fun, wherever you were.  You had fun at work, at home doing chores, or hanging out with friends and family. A snapshot of our fishing ‘tournaments’ where we bet a dollar to see who would catch the most fish….when you made homemade catfish stink bait that was apparently even too stinky for the fish! A snapshot of playing cards, when you’d lick the back of your Ace-in-the-hole, your right bower, and stick it to your forehead, right after you had warned us that it was ‘roaches last meal’…the way you would encourage your partner to call trump by saying ‘hey, Columbus took a chance’. Snapshots of birthday parties, weddings….trips to various taverns around town. Our trip to Vegas…where you had “saved your lunch money” for months so you could lose it all (and maybe even some more) in just a few days.  You had the time of your life and no regrets as you came home with empty pockets.

Mooning people was a favorite pastime for you…even teaching your granddaughter to ‘moom’ people. The students at ISU even got to see your moon from time to time (your boss had to explain why that wasn’t appropriate in that setting).

There were times when you drank too much and that wasn’t always fun for the rest of us. We would call you “Pete and Repeat” when you had too much and would tell us the same stories over and over. I remember the ketchup fight….that lead to the bleach fight…how one of us didn’t end up blind that day, I have no idea. I remember the time you dropped the cherry from your cigarette into your purse and started to yell ‘fire in the hole….fire in the hole”. I learned that drinking Regular Coke (not Diet Coke, not Sprite, not Root Beer) was the best defense against a hangover.

As you got older and less mobile, you found your enjoyment watching fishing shows and westerns on TV, speculating who would win the Voice this season, working puzzles for hours on end, and most recently, playing games on your 2 tablets….one always charging and at the ready for when the other one ran out of juice. I learned that through it all, that regardless of what’s going on, we can have a lot of fun in this life….and I take that snapshot with me.

Another snapshot shows a strong woman; a woman made out of steel. A woman who didn’t take sh*t from anybody (pardon my French). You wouldn’t let your kids, your friends or family, co-workers, or even at times your boss, give you any crap if you knew you didn’t deserve it. You knew how to stand up for yourself. You weren’t shy about letting us know when you disagreed with us or thought we shouldn’t have done what we did. “UUUUUTTTTTT”, you would say. And when you were really mad, we all knew to get the hell out of your way. Your life story contains tragedies that would impact you greatly…your strength allowed you to keep going, even as you carried the weight of heavy sadness with you. The heartbreak of some of those tragedies would never leave you.

A snapshot of a woman who loved your daughters and your grandkids dearly (although I’m not sure the same could be said about your grand-dogs). You wanted the best for your Kim, Kris, Lacey, and Deven. And you tried to instill in them the things you found important. You didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but I always knew there was an underlying deep love. I carry that snapshot of unconditional love with me.

For me, I find solace in the trees. I came across a bench in the woods the day you died. The first line of the plaque on the bench read “Peace shall fall upon you today”….so it was for you that day….and so I pray it is for all those who loved you. On more than one occasion, we talked about your faith…we talked about heaven and hell. We talked about Jesus and God…we talked about forgiving others and being forgiven. You were at peace. You were ready to leave this world behind and meet your maker. That helps us all be at peace.

I can see you mooning us all as you go.  I can see you moonwalking your way right through those pearly gates….dancing your way into eternal life, without the burden of this earthly body. I celebrate that today…I’m so glad you’re no longer suffering. Ram Dass, a spiritual teacher and author, is quoted as saying “we are all just walking each other home”. I’m so grateful I got to walk (and sometimes even moonwalk) with you, for a time.

Much love to you, Granny…you will be missed.

When Inspiration Hits

There are a few times that I’ve felt this lately….most recently in developing yoga workshops. One came while doing my own private practice at home. An idea seemed to jump on my back and somehow enter into my bones. My body seemed to take over in a way that I hadn’t experienced before. It knew what I needed to do next and showed me the way.

The idea became my yoga teacher and guide that day.

I know that my regular private practice of yoga is important not only to me but to how well I’m able to facilitate the classes I lead. I know that it helps me become a more refined practitioner and teacher. And yet, I struggle making the time to do the physical practices of yoga when there is no one there to tell me what to do next. When I have to think about what I should do next. What I love about attending someone else’s class is that they’ve already figured that out….they know the sequence and guide me through it.

I don’t have to think about it…I only have to do what comes next.

And on this day of inspiration, this idea I had WAS my teacher and led me through the movements in such a lovely way. Being on my mat was a signal to the idea that I was open and ready to receive. And it was EASY!!!!  So different than wrestling with an idea that I want to have but perhaps just isn’t really my inspiration. Not that there won’t be some struggle in my creative process but it feels so right when it’s not there. When I have enough space in my life/day/physical space to be open and to receive.

For someone who has always worked by schedules and timelines and to-do lists, I must make space in my calendar for just being. And to greedily protect that time against all the distractions that I find myself being pulled away to. It feels as if this would be a luxury and part of me feels guilty for scheduling time for what may look like nothing…..and what may some days feel like nothing. For there is so much more to do in this world. So much more work to be done and people to see and activities to do.

But what if…..what if……just for a time, I dedicate myself to this open space.

What if….

Dear Fear

I recently joined a writing class and I’d like to share some of my writings as I go.  These will be fairly short and raw writings, so keep that in mind.  This week’s exercise involved a reading about fear and considering our inner critic and all that she fears. Specifically, the fear that starts to emerge when we think about getting outside our comfort zone. I wrote a letter to my fear. Here it is:

Dear Fear, 

I want to first start by saying that I appreciate what you’re doing. I appreciate that you love me so much that you want to keep me safe and protected from the big, bad world of consequences that I so desperately want to run out into. I know that safety carries a high value for you but please recognize there is also a cost to safety. Being solely focused on safety will limit me from experiencing much of what the world has to offer.

The good, the bad, and the ugly experiences remind me that I AM ALIVE!

This life is so short and precious and deserves to be experienced. For our own benefit and maybe even as a tribute to those who aren’t fortunate to get the opportunity. 

Yes~~there are many things that could go wrong. There are also SO many things that can go right. Please give me the space I need to explore this big, beautiful world of possibilities and support me, regardless of the consequences I find. Please know that I hear your warnings, but won’t always (or hardly ever?) take your path of caution.

Much Love, 


This was a great exercise and I encourage you all to try it yourself.  What do you fear, deep down, when you think of doing something new and different….something you’re not sure you would be good at or should even bother with? What is your fear trying to say to you? Is it good advice or advice that might be better to set aside? How do you respond?

To you, I also say, Much Love,


My God Box

A few years ago, I read a lot by author Anne Lamott. She is a lovely human who has had many struggles over the years and who bravely, comically, and candidly shares her heart and her experiences through her writings. She shared that she has a God Box – something she turns to when she has no idea what to do with a situation in her life. When she’s done all she can to fix or help or soften and she hasn’t got where or what she wants, she writes the problem down on a piece of paper and puts it in her God Box.  It’s her way of turning it over to someone or something that can handle it when she no longer can. It allows her worry to lessen or disappear and it recognizes, in a very physical way, that there are many things (all things?) that are very much so out of our own control. Not everything in life can be fixed to your own liking solely through hard work and perseverance. Some things need divine intervention and even then won’t always have the outcome you hoped for. It’s a lessen that is learned more easily in theory, in our minds, in our logical thinking….but much harder to embody when it’s something that is close to our hearts.

Over the past few years, I’ve turned to my God Box (GB) so many times.  My GB is a beautiful stained glass box that one of the kids, or maybe even one of their friends, made in high school. Often, it was through tears that I wrote my concerns down, folded them up, held them in prayer, and then put them in the box. As it did for Lamott, this ritual allowed me to let go…the physical act of turning my problem over to a power that is beyond my comprehension allowed me to release being consumed with concern. It didn’t mean that I stopped caring…just that I had turned my concern into faith. I had blatantly made the statement that I recognized I didn’t have control of the outcome and put my energy toward having faith that it would work out. It took the power away from the concern…it took power away from the fear. It freed my energy up for the work that I could have impact on…the things I did have a plan for. The things that actually needed my energy at the time.

The 8-limbed path of yoga has a practice called Isvara Pranidhana. That is a Sanskrit phrase or term that translates to surrender and devotion to a higher power. Deborah Adele writes “Isvara Pranidhana, the jewel of surrender, presupposes that there is a divine force at work in our lives.” As in the ancient yogic principles, we see this faith in many (all?) formal religions. Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”  We do not know our paths or have the control we think we do and there is a peace that comes with that recognition.

fullsizerender-6-editedToday, I opened my GB and one by one, I read the concerns I had deposited. As I read them, I relived them for a moment, and then burned them symbolizing their passing as a concern of mine. Most of what was in there has worked itself out in one way or the other. Not always in the manner I would have wanted….not always without hardship and heartbreak. But one way or the other, the concerns have passed. We have come out on the other side of them and we are fine. Perhaps there were important lessons learned because of the heartbreak…perhaps the result of the situation was just what someone else needed or needed to learn. I continue to have faith, even when I don’t understand. This ritual of burning my worries and concerns was a great reminder of the life I’ve lived over the past several months. It was a reminder that I’ve been blessed with people, situations, struggles, joys of which I cared deeply. I’m honored to have had these gifts to pour my heart and soul into. I continue to pray and have faith for those things that are still working themselves out. I’m encouraged that what remains of my concern is just a small pile of ash and that my GB sits empty for now. I take all of this with me into the new year.fullsizerender-5

My wish for you in the new year is that you find your own ways of cultivating your faith. May you be reminded of that which you cared most deeply about. May you more quickly recognize when to surrender. May you find peace in the surrender.

~~Namaste – the light-love-divinity that is within me is also in you~~