Arminda Lindsay

Being On Purpose

2011 is Over?!

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I’m not entirely sure where this year has gone, since I’m pretty certain it just started, but clearly some time has passed. I am apparently now the mother of an official teenager, and since there’s no need to regale anyone with those tales, we’ll focus on our favorite vacation EVER. No worries because YOU are the beneficiary of our very own . . .

 

Top Recommendations for Orlando:

If you want to sound completely in the know for an upcoming visit to Orlando, or just want to impress friends planning their visit, be sure and take our advice, or don’t. It’s a new year, what do I care? Oh, but if I could ride just one more time. . . .

In addition to Orlando, we also took a long weekend trip to Nashville, Tennessee, to celebrate L’s 13th birthday. The real highlight of that trip (other than having our picture taken with Elvis, of course) was attending a writers’ night at The Bluebird Cafe, where Taylor Swift got her start. L plans to perform some of her own original music there on an open mic night in our future.

Oh, and L was extra cool this year because she grew out her hair and then chopped it all off for Locks of Love.

We can’t wait to see what 2012 has waiting for us, and hope you’ll continue to read along as the adventures continue. Merry! Merry! to you and yours!

p.s. – What’s the greatest number of times you’ve ridden an amusement park ride during the same day visit to that park?

Dominican Spa

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I wrote this essay in December 2009 after I returned from a week of service at an all-boys’ orphanage in the Dominican Republic. My daughter and I are heading back to this same orphanage for Christmas 2010.

Christmas Eve 2009

“We’re going to have a spa for the boys!” an exuberant program director announced.
What does that mean, exactly? Spa – as in manis and pedis? Seriously? You want us to wash their feet? With our hands? Have you seen their feet?

Christmas Eve 2009 was going to be as special for these boys as the impressive Orphanage Outreach team could make it. With a group of dedicated, albeit skeptical, volunteers – anything was possible. Okay. I admit. I was probably the only skeptic in the group. Everyone else seemed really jazzed about the idea of washing and manicuring the feet and hands of 24 orphaned boys in the middle of nowhere, Jaibon, Dominican Republic.

Setup was relatively smooth – rows of white plastic lawn chairs facing each other with plastic trashcans full of soapy water between them, nail clippers and lotion at the ready. On the opposite side of the pavilion – chairs on either side of three tables lined up end to end, adorned with basins of soapy water, nail clippers and, you guessed it – lotion.

The concept: the boys would join us in the pavilion and be ushered to the beginning of either the foot station or the hand station. There were four washing stations per appendage – standing by. As soon as their respective feet and/or hands were washed, they would move down the line to a waiting – and highly trained – pedicurist or manicurist, who would trim their nails. After the nails were cleaned and trimmed, the lotioners were geared up – bring on the feet and hands. Naturally, each boy would have both his feet and his hands done before moving to the waiting area, where back massages were being offered at no additional cost!

The question of the hour had to be answered: Where was I going to position myself for this spa experience? My choice. No pressure. No requirement. No expectation. Almost instinctively, I walked to the nearest chair with a trashcan of soapy water waiting for some dirty feet. Clean toothbrush (aka: toe brush) in hand, I  contemplated my impulsive decision.

It only took the first little boy sitting across from me to get my answer – there was nothing impulsive in my decision at all, but rather inspiration. The moment I placed my hands in the water and touched the bottoms of his feet, my heart filled with such a rush of emotion I knew I would either laugh or cry. Laughter expressed itself freely then, but now – only tears.

Here I was – touching a child – someone else’s child, but mine in that moment. A child abandoned – not touched by his own mother, but so desperately in need of the love only touch can communicate.

A bit of dirt, some soapy water, but a mother’s heart, and I remembered: “Whosoever shall humble himself like one of these children, and receiveth me, ye shall receive in my name. And whosoever shall receive me, receiveth not me only, but him that sent me, even the Father” (Mark 9:37).

After a particularly poignant experience in which Jesus washed the feet of his apostles, he taught, “If I then, your Lord Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you. Verily, verily, I say unto you, the servant is not greater than his lord; neither he that is sent greater than he that sent him” (John 13:14-16).

Next? I have an available seat across from me.

Creative Genius Redefined?

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What is creative genius? How do you define it? Why do we focus on it as a culture? Do yourself a favor and invest 20 minutes watching Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) discuss her new old approach to creativity.

Thanks to my dear friend, Karen, for sharing this TED Talk with me. But I want to hear your opinions, so be sure and post a comment.

Thanks, Mom

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I woke up before my alarm this morning – thinking about my mother. Since it is Mother’s Day I decided to write down those early morning thoughts about her, and some of the unspoken gifts she’s given me throughout my life.

1. Holding Back My Hair. I always had long hair. Children are prone to catching whatever is going around, and I had my fair share of stomach viruses through the years. But Mom was always there to hold my hair back out of my face – no matter the time of day or night. Her simple act of love always made my heart feel better, even if my stomach disagreed. Thank you for the yucky times and the warm washcloths to wipe my mouth.

2. Trips to the Library. We visited the library often. Mom never discouraged the huge pile of books I took home, and frequently read my books, as well, so we could discuss them together. Thank you for instilling a love of literature that stays with me still.

3. Classic Movies. My mother and I watched so many classic movies together – usually when I stayed home sick from school, so it was just the two of us. I’d have a box of saltines, a bowl of her homemade chicken noodle soup, plenty of pillows, and Ginger Rogers as my role model for the ideal follow. I scheduled sick days around the American Movie Classics channel, so thanks, Mom, for introducing me to the good stuff.

4. Sick Days. Thanks, Mom, for letting me stay home for 1/3 of my seventh grade year just to hang out with you. Granted, there were some legitimate health issues some of the time, but not all of the time. I am grateful you knew I could keep up with the work – which I did – and that we got time together – which I needed.

5. Red Shoes. From a very early age I knew red shoes and I were destined to be together. I thank my mother for this. My Sears Catalog choice each year was always the red sneakers.

6. Swimming Lessons. I’ve never asked her why she signed us up for swimming lessons each summer, but with eight kids, what mother wouldn’t want to get rid of us for a few hours a day? It doesn’t really matter to me why, but I am so grateful to know how to swim. Thanks, Mom, for forcing me to learn more than the doggy paddle.

7. Homemade Food & Family Dinners. We ate together as a family. Every night. And Mom cooked her signature dishes we all loved – even if she wasn’t crazy about them, herself. Where else could I learn to love homemade macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes and green peas – all on top? Or the fact that the best cakes are the cakes that don’t come from a box. To this day – my favorite is Mom’s yellow cake with her chocolate icing. Thank you, Mom, for showing me how to boil water.

8. Sewing. My mother is an excellent seamstress and as a little girl there was nothing more wonderful than being in the sewing room beside my mother as she put together another dress for me or painstakingly taught me how to sew, too. Even now when I get a whiff of a hot burst of steam out of an iron I am instantly transported to our third-floor sewing room on a hot summer day. And, truthfully, nobody makes or fixes things like you, Mom – so I still prefer your work to my own, but I am grateful for the love of craft and the art of a job well-done you gifted to me.

9. I Often Go Walking. This is the title for a children’s song we learned in Primary and would typically sing as young children to our mother on Mothers’ Day during church.

I often go walking in meadows of clover, and I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue. Dear Mother, all flowers remind me of you. Oh, Mother, I give you my love with each flower, to give forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through. For if I love meadows, and springtime, and walking, I learned how to love them, dear Mother, from you.

I love this song so very much, and when I think about all the dead flowers you must have received – all the Dandelions, and Buttercups, and Bluebells, and Clover – I am grateful you always received each bouquet with a smile and a juice glass ready to grace our kitchen table.

10. Grammar and Spelling. If you think I’m bad at correcting others – I just want you to know the apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree. I still remember the day I learned to spell the word people correctly. I was reading something I wrote aloud to my grandmother and my mother, who simultaneously corrected my grammar and asked to see how I’d written that word! Thank you, Mom, for teaching me the most important sentence: “Look it up.”

11. Heritage. I am named for my third great grandmother on my mother’s side. Her name is Arminda Barringer. I have always been proud to be her namesake. Thank you, Mom, for choosing her name especially for me, and for not allowing those who would desire its shortening to do so.

While this list is certainly not comprehensive, nor does it attempt to address all the wonderful qualities so many mothers possess – it is about my own mother I wrote this. My mother gave me life and allowed me the freedom to live it. If I can just strive to be the person my mother believes me to be – I am confident I will be a good addition to this world, and perhaps do something worthwhile to honor her name.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.

Funeral Processions 101

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A few months ago I was driving on a residential street near my parents’ home, and noticed something in the road ahead of me. As my car drew nearer, I realized it was a squirrel: a dead one. Two emotions immediately overtook me – first, I felt sadness for the squirrel, for obvious reasons, but then I felt relief that I hadn’t been the one to run him down because I’ve done that once before, and trust me – it ruined my whole day. Lost in thought about running over squirrels, a sudden movement near my left front tire grabbed my attention. I slowed down to observe another squirrel circling around the lifeless body of the dead one, and pause – with inclined head toward its deceased companion. My eyes, now filled with tears, were glued to these two squirrels, and only an approaching car behind me caused me to leave the scene, but not without watching to the last in my rearview mirror.

Whenever we encountered a funeral procession, Dad always pulled off the road, turned on his own headlights, turned off the radio, and waited. We waited until the very last car in the procession passed, allowing even then a little bit of distance, watching their taillights to the last. If we were on the opposite side of the road, we returned to our normal rate of speed, but if we were traveling in the same direction, we hovered behind the last car – never urging ourselves beyond their company.

As far as I can tell, there are no hard-fast rules about what to do when you see a funeral procession. There certainly isn’t a law that requires you to do anything, but you’re not required to bathe, either. Call me old-fashioned, although I prefer southern, especially since my father’s example is deeply-rooted in the southern tradition, but I believe we should always follow those simple rules of good breeding.

Monday afternoon I was on the other side of the procession – meaning I was part of it. As pensive as I felt while contemplating the proceedings of the funeral service, a quiet inaction on the opposite side of the road brought my attention back to the present. The driver of a white mini-van had pulled off the road, and sat waiting for our procession to pass. Hers was the first of many vehicles pulled over to the side of the road while we slowly made our way, with hazards blinking and bright beams shining, to the cemetery. My eyes, for the first time since the funeral began, filled with tears of gratitude.

It never occurred to me how much my father’s quiet and simple act of respect toward others would impact me the rest of my life. Monday afternoon I finally understood what it means to “mourn with those that mourn.” On behalf of Matthew’s family, thank you to each of you who selflessly gave of your time, allowing his family to mourn their loss and to pass you by in quiet dignity.

I’ve Got Eleven to Start

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Yesterday my friend Mark Schaefer wrote about his personal eleven secrets to a happy and productive life. I felt so inspired I couldn’t finish my breakfast without scribbling some personal notes and generating my own list. I asked myself: Is there something I do consistently in my life that contributes to my personal happiness and the peace I feel in my heart? Thank you for indulging me by reading something so personal.

Keep a Happy List. One month after I graduated from college, I moved to Rostov, Russia for a year and a half to serve a full-time mission for my church. I was 21, living on the other side of the world, learning a new language, embracing a new culture, and falling in love with the most amazing people. As exciting as that was – I also didn’t know if I’d have running water every night, among other challenges! That’s when the Happy List was born. I challenged myself to take a daily inventory, and write down at least one positive thing from that day before I went to bed. It is truly amazing to me how after all these years, I can still read my original list and feel a surge of happy emotions. What better place to turn on a down day than to your own personal pick-me-up reminder that the sun will come out tomorrow?

Read for fun. Read out loud. Read together. I was the child with the flashlight underneath my pillow, reading into the night when I was supposed to be asleep. Thank you, Mom, for not minding. I want to be sure I continue to challenge my intellect, while giving myself permission to fly with Peter Pan or survive in the Belgian Congo. I love to read Dr. Seuss out loud. Some things are just meant to be heard, not seen. My daughter and I love reading together and I have made it a practice to continue reading to her – even though she is completely capable of reading to herself. And, yes, Lindsay, I know you read at night when you’re supposed to be asleep, but I don’t mind, either.

Adopt a cause and serve with purpose. Years ago I was taught we should serve at our earliest inconvenience. That has always stuck with me. Each of us has certain causes about which we are passionate. Mine happen to revolve around children.

  • I spent the final four months of my pregnancy on bed rest, and because of the March of Dimes, was able to deliver a healthy full-term baby twelve years ago. Not enough are so fortunate. I have been involved on the steering committee for our local March of Dimes Chefs Auction for many years, and this year am chairing the committee.
  • I can honestly say that St Jude’s is a sacred place and full of more hope than I thought possible, and I am grateful for all they share and give back. Lindsay and I collect for their noble cause each year for her birthday.
  • I also was privileged to spend Christmas 2009 in Jaibon, Dominican Republic, volunteering with the wonderful folks of Orphanage Outreach, and look forward to many years of serving others for the holidays.

I truly believe it is through our service to others that we serve God. How else can we possibly thank him for all that he provides us? So I hope my small contributions – whether of time, or talent, or financial support make a difference.

Smile often and laugh lots. One of the greatest compliments I ever received was from a friend I had not seen in many years. His message simply said, “You crossed my mind today and I could hear your laugh and it made me smile.” I want to be sure I communicate joy and happiness whenever possible.

I have my own personal fan club. My support network stretches from Seattle to Wilmington to Salt Lake City to Rostov to Dallas to Niceville to New York City to Toronto and back here to Greensboro, with many points in between. Making a concerted effort to surround myself with friends and family who love and support me is essential. You know who you are, and I love you back.

“Things which matter most must never be at the mercy of things which matter least” (Goethe). I was counseled as a teenager to keep my priorities in perspective. I still need to do that. It is easy to get caught up in life and be so busy that I get my priorities out of whack. I take deep breaths, usually get a loving reminder from someone in my fan club – and I’m back on track.

Enjoy being a mother. When I got divorced nine years ago, I made a conscious decision to maintain my status as a mother to my daughter. Many in similar situations try to balance both parental roles so their child will what? Not feel cheated? Nah. I just want to be the best mom I can to my daughter, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Nothing is more precious to me than holding hands with my girl, as I realize how much I have loved every age and every stage and I adore the young woman she is becoming.

Dance. Never ask whether, just where. The answer is always yes.

If you want to take a listen, here is my personal theme song:

She Just Wants to Dance

Respect others and show empathy. I once heard if we could put our trials into a hat and choose back any trial we want; we would always choose our original submissions. People come from all walks of life and from a myriad of circumstances. It is not my place to judge, nor is it my place to assume anything. It is my goal to always treat others the way I want to be treated, and to look through their lenses when mine seem out of focus. So I will continue to seek first to understand, then to be understood. It definitely works better that way.

Listen to my body. I have to listen to what my body tells me. This might mean getting more rest, making changes in my diet, going for a bike ride, or simply sitting outside and breathing deeply – I pay attention to what my body says it needs. When I am in tune with myself – when my heart and my head communicate with one another – is when I am at peace.

Believe in God. Trust. Exercise faith. He has never let me down – left me wondering and questioning at times, yes – but never let me down. I always come back to the core values my parents taught me as a child: God lives. Jesus Christ is my savior. I am a child of God and He loves me. No matter what else comes my way, being grounded in this personal testimony is a constant in my life. Peace, hope and happiness come from this source and I am grateful for this knowledge.

These are my first eleven, but there are more. I can’t wait to hear about yours and perhaps you’ll be inspired to write your own list.


Story

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Recently I had a conversation with a high school student about the movie Alice in Wonderland. We shared a moment discussing the merits of the casting and the plot and how we both highly recommend the film to others. I suggested he might be interested in reading a blog post I wrote after seeing the movie.

Here’s where the conversation got interesting. For me, at least.

He said, “Oh, so you’re a writer?!”

“Ummm. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” I responded with some obvious hesitation.

I froze. How to respond? A writer? Me? Aren’t writers people like Orson Scott Card or Debra Monroe? But me? Not so much. I only write because I have to get these thoughts inside my head outside or all the words and thoughts and ideas tripping and bumping into each other in their frenzy to get to the page keep me awake when I know – I know I should really be asleep.

I decided to reread my own blog post. The very one I recommended to him. In it, I challenged myself to explore my muchness – my personal reservoir of unlimited potential. It occurs to me that I wasn’t following my own advice. In my very hesitation I limited an opportunity to grow myself because of my denial to accept I can be whatever I choose.

Do not let the things that matter most be at the mercy of the things that matter least. Do not squander your time.

While this thought is not an Arminda original – it is one of my life mottos because each of us only has so much time to be and to create the story we want to live.

Yes. I am a writer. And I’m writing my own story because I can.

Muchness

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I couldn’t help but notice all the eyes staring out at me from the big screen last night while watching Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. I’m sure the costumes were spectacular and the set designs impressive, but those eyes. They directed the action, the dialogue, the mannerisms, the message.

Leonardo da Vinci said “The eye sees a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination awake.” What is the purpose of our eyes if not to see the world around us? Or the purpose of a dream if not to clarify in sleep what our imaginations so clumsily paint while awake?

During this second visit to Wonderland, Alice sincerely believes she is dreaming and so keeps pinching herself to wake up – only to discover that not only is she not dreaming, but she also hasn’t been seeing things for what they really are, most of all – herself.

Johnny Depp’s magnificent Mad Hatter frankly tells Alice, “You used to be much more…’muchier.’ You’ve lost your muchness.” Ultimately, Alice – like each of us – must choose to either embrace the muchness others see in her (and that is difficult at times to see in ourselves), or to walk away satisfied with the status quo.

Alice Kingsley: This is impossible.
The Mad Hatter: Only if you believe it is.

Alice Kingsley: Sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
The Mad Hatter: That is an excellent practice.

To Alice’s credit – she looks for her muchness and in the process sees herself in ways most of us never even imagine, let alone dream. And then with eyes wide open, but looking inward, she chooses: much.

How often do we limit personal growth because we fail to open our eyes and see the endless possibilities available to us?

I wonder. . . how much muchier can I become? I think I need a good night’s sleep to elucidate my potential.

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