The End of an Era. But not the beauty.

There are no photos but I very much wish you could see the three little girls swinging on the swing set they found behind the little shop their parents were working every single night to turn into a beauty shop.

We didn't know then the enormity of our parents' undertaking. We pumped our little legs to go higher and higher but didn't understand it was our mothers taking the real risk. And we certainly didn't understand how long lasting and far reaching their business would be.

49 years. It lasted 49 years.

This week, my sweet mom and her dear sister have announced that they are closing the doors next month of the shop that has been Claudia and Carolyn's Beauty Shop for almost 50 years.  (And trust me, they would have continued beyond 50 were if not for a landlord who made the decision for them -- without them -- after 20 years! I have thoughts and emotions about this but it is not the point here.)

The original shop started as an unattached garage in a sweet little residential area. Layout was planned, rock was brought in to make a parking lot, hairdryers, sinks, and chairs that could spin were added to the little building, and after a ton of work by our families the shop was born.

I grew up there. I spent my days begging my mother to let me brush out her client's hair before she washed it. I cleaned brushes. I took the wraps off the permanent rods. I rinsed those papers and straightened them back out. I emptied the garbage and I swept the hair. 

And I no doubt talked the ears off women coming in for my mom to work her magic. And she did make absolute magic there. I was astounded as a little girl by the transformation that occurred every time someone walked in the door.

I spent summers curling up in the empty hairdryers, reading every single book and magazine left behind by those dear ladies. And it was in the middle of that shop that I was told repeatedly how to dream, how to set goals for my future, and reach for them. The love poured out to me as I grew up led me to always plan trips home with my babies on my Mother's busiest days at the shop. I knew I had to take them in so that the women who had helped raise me could get to know them -- and more importantly so my children could know them!

My mother and her sister started so much more than a beauty shop in 1974. So much more.

My Claire and Aunt Claudia's first granddaughter, Meri Scott!

Mason hiding.

Mom and Aunt Claudia kept their shop in that little building for almost thirty years. I will never forget the day mom called to tell me a fire had destroyed their shop. I was devastated then.  The place I grew up -- the house of my childhood memories -- was gone. And while I was sad and wishing I had more photos, more time there, Mom and Aunt Claudia were looking for a new home for the business that still had years left to go! We all gathered, there was painting to be done, decorating to do and a grand opening for the business that was absolutely necessary to sustain our hopes, our dreams, and some amazing hair! Never once did these two ladies consider letting their dreams die. Never once.

Grand Opening!!

I will tell you that the shop -- smack dab in the middle of a strip mall -- was not nearly as romantic as the original. Three little girls (and eventually the two boys and girl who joined the cousin pack) were grown and didn't have lemonade stands out front. Grown me didn't curl up in empty dryers and read whatever books were left behind (appropriate or no.). And the novelty of the coke machine being filled on a hot summer day was not quite as big a deal.

But do you know what happened? Mom's and Aunt Claudia's grandchildren made memories there:

And women were made beautiful. Friendships were forged and fed. Livelihoods were supported.

But this month, the doors will close. Mom and her sister will continue to do hair in a booth down the road. But the era that has been Claudia and Carolyn's Beauty Shop -- the era that has lasted almost 50 years -- will come to a close.

And I keep hearing Kathleen Kelly from You've Got Mail in my head discussing her business being personal: "Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal."  I am sad that decisions beyond her control -- decisions I can only assume were more business than personal --  have forced my mom's hand. 

I am sad we can't all gather and bid farewell to the shop that supported us through high school, ensured we could go to college, dressed triplets born while we were in medical school, and sustained my precious mother as she navigated life as a widow for the last 30 years. 

But I am grateful. I am grateful for so much beauty.

We still remember.

It is hard to believe today, but in 2001 accessing news required actually turning on a tv, radio, or computer. You couldn't just roll over in bed and check your phone for news of the world the minute you opened your eyes. And for me, well, the minute I opened my eyes there were three four-year-olds waiting to be dressed and fed and on Tuesdays rushed out the door to physical therapy at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.

We can blame the triplet-thing -- I was basically herding cats through long corridors of a hospital on therapy days --  but I usually came barreling into our therapy appointments with no seconds to spare. That Tuesday was no different.

The difference would be evident immediately however. There were no therapists in the therapy room. Not one. We waited for several minutes, no one showed up. I am embarrassed to say that I was losing my patience. We had rushed through our morning to be somewhat on time and now our physical therapists were no where to be found. 

And then Linda -- Mason's PT -- rushed in with the strangest look on her face. 

"Another plane just hit the towers," she panted. "A second plane!"

She might has well have been speaking a completely different language. I had absolutely no idea what she was referring to. No idea.

Kim -- Benjamin's PT -- had entered right behind her and though they looked distracted, they began in earnest to work with the boys on their therapy.

We left Mayo and drove home. The process of therapy always exhausted my crew. I turned on PBS and settled them for an episode of "Arthur" -- we loved Marc Brown's aardvark and his friends! And while they rested, I snuck into the back room where the second TV was located and turned on the news in an effort to find out what Linda was referring to. Within minutes, I watched as the World Trade Center collapsed. As I tried to comprehend what was happening, I was overwhelmed with the realization that the world had just been changed forever.

19 years later, we still remember the lives lost that day. We remember the families torn apart. We remember the first responders who rushed in to help and lost their lives. We remember the clergy who rushed to the scene and blessed those going in. We remember the weeks after when volunteers went to NYC from all over the country to help.

And we remember the way this country came together in churches, in homes, in schools, in parks and held hands and grieved, and loved, and supported.

19 years later, I am praying that in the remembering, we will find out a way to unite our country again.

The triplets in the park in Rochester releasing balloons as prayers
 for the victims, their families, and our country two days after 9/11/2001.

Picture Perfect -- or not.

We live in a put-your-best-foot-forward society. Oh, I don't mean, try your best, do your best, work hard, etc. I mean we live in a world where we can erase blemishes, dark circles, wrinkles and even pounds with the wave of a Photoshop brush stroke. Through social media we can connect -- and re-connect -- with friends far and wide and let them see our very best side. And only our very best side.

And I am as guilty as the next person. I love to share my family through photos. It is the heart of who I am. I love to capture moments to relive for always. And yet, I don't particularly care for moments where you can see the extra pounds I need to lose. Or the not-so-subtle laugh lines forming around my eyes. Or where one or more of my children doesn't look angelic. I want perfect photos. I might take four hundred and find four worthy of printing or sharing on Facebook.

When my husband and I married, my grandmother stood behind the photographer: "Carol," she said, "Don't squint your eyes so much when you smile."

And so for a couple of shots I tried my very best to open my eyes as wide as I can...right up until my groom leaned in close and whispered, "If I can see your eyes when the pictures come back to us, I am going to think you weren't happy today. When you are happy, your eyes disappear. I want you happy. I want you real."

Even today, 20-something years later, I know he is right. When I see photos of myself with eyes opened wide, I look posed, less-than-joyful. But when you can only see little slits, you know I was overflowing with joy when the photo was taken.

Last week, I kidnapped my children and took them for a lunch date at Lake Pleasant. We had already been laughing a lot when I asked them to pose for some photos. I had not intended to get in the shots -- and therefore didn't have my tripod -- but we couldn't resist trying to get some Mom-and-her-crew pictures. The results made some memories we won't soon forget:

Me and my girls...unsure of how low we need to be for the table-resting camera to catch us.

Clearly not low enough.

I knew I had to share these immediately. So perfect in their imperfections that they spoke to me: See, I know that I don't have to share them. I know that with one touch of "delete" I could prevent anyone from knowing that we are not picture-perfect. My little circle of friends on various forms of social media could go on thinking that every time I pull out my camera everyone smiles contagiously and I can capture beautiful moments. (I am giggling as I type that because I am fairly certain no one really thinks that!)

Three out of four happy faces...

But the reality is, that we are not perfect (shocking, right?). The reality is that sometimes we grumble, complain and whine about mom pulling her camera out -- again.

When I jumped in the photo and put my hand on Mason's waist....it tickled and he started to fall...

The reality is that we fall. We make bad choices. We bicker and fight and insist on having things our own way. Oh goodness, suddenly I feel like I am not just talking about photos anymore. Far too often, I live begging God for things to go my way. Begging. A toddler stomping in a candy store could not describe me more accurately. Honestly, I want the picture-perfect life that it seems so many have in my little social media world. And I have pounded my fists in demand of just such.

And four out of five had happy faces this time....

And then some days, some days, I  figure things out and get my heart in the right place...

Claire tried to pull Mason closer to her...and he lost his balance. I tried to stop the fall -- and failed. I might have to frame this one.

Only to fall again. And again into the pit of selfishness, pride, greed....sin.

Oh, we can put our best forward on social media, my friends. But it is in the living life, in the fellowship of being real together that joy is found. 

Mason is bleeding in this shot. But we have laughed so hard at the photo of the fall that we are joy-filled. Not in the perfection of the shot...but in the reality of finding fun in the hard stuff!

It is in being transparent with one another -- seeking friends who sharpen us and make us stretch, grow, learn and yes, try to catch us when we fall -- that we find the squinty-eyed delight in God.

My prayer for you today is not that you will put your best foot forward -- my prayer is that you will take all your imperfections to the One who can do far more than photoshop them away. Jesus can heal, repair and forgive. He is not interested in your Facebook best. No, he wants the real you. Jesus wants us with all our flaws.

Isn't that such a relief?

Dr. King, Steamboat Willie and a much better world!

The triplets were in kindergarten the first time I thought I should explain the importance of Martin Luther King Day. Through tears, I explained how this amazing man's fight for civil rights made the world a better place for everybody. Their little puzzled faces told me they did not understand.

So I began again to explain about the horrors that African American people had endured. I explained that Dr. King fought for black people to have equal rights.

When I was done with what I thought was a thorough explanation, young Benjamin looked at me with the most thoughtful face, and said, "Mom, I have thought and thought. The only black person I know is Steamboat Willie."

And I couldn't help but smile, imagining that Dr. King would be pleased to know a generation of children growing up completely blind to color differences! (Except of course when it concerns black and white cartoons!)

Thank you, Dr. King, for knocking down walls and making our world a much much better place!

Happy Father's Day!

It is my 19th Father's Day without mine.

Today's is not any easier than the first one was. I miss you, Daddy.

Thank you for loving me with unconditional love. When I was sassy and bossy and thought I knew so much, you listened to every one of my little fits and loved me anyway. When I was scared and unsure, you held me and convinced me I could do anything. When I struggled in my teenage years with the goody-two-shoes label, you looked me in the eyes and told me how you had prayed mightily for God to use me in big ways the day I was born. You assured me He was...and would continue (I hope you are right.).

You gave me a safe place to see the world -- and attempt to tackle it!  You drove me to college. You painted dorm rooms and made them my own. You packed apartments and cleaned carpets. You made each and every transition in my life easier than I could have imagined. Assuring me the entire time that I could tackle the next milestone, and so I did.

You were proud of me. I miss you being proud of me so much. In your eyes I saw my potential. In your love, I felt able to tackle the world. You were the definition of what a Daddy should be. And while I miss you so much, I know you are being rewarded in heaven -- I just hope it is with cake and ice cream that is just the perfect softness!

Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for making me the woman I am. 

Happy Father's Day!

The meaning of LOVE...

This is what love is....love serves, love cares, love gives without expectation...

And my favorite thing of all....love hugs!

I pray you know the blessing of this kind of sweet sweet love.

Bloggaversary. Or something to that effect!

Five years ago today, my amazing then 10-year-old Mason decided I needed to blog. Needed to.

My four when my blog began....so very little.

He created The Blessing Counter and told me to get busy.

Well, something like that.

Cate's Strawberry Shortcake Birthday #3!

I had no idea what I was doing. And five years later, I really still do not know. 

First family mission trip to Rocky Point, Mexico.

Except that this -- this space so lovingly set up by my son -- has become a safe place for me.

With Uncle Todd and Aunt Marti in California!

A place to share the wonder that is my little family.

A place to share the joy, the fear and the unknown of parenting two children with special needs.

A place to share the joy, the fear and the unknown of parenting two children who DON'T have special needs. (Smile)

Cate's 4th Birthday.

A place to chronicle life -- so that on the hard days we can look back and smile.

And yes, on the easier days, we can look back and see how far we have come.

I have used this little space to rally prayer warriors as my boys have been through five surgeries in the years since I began cyber-sharing.

I have used it to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries and life-moments.

The Masons celebrating Len's graduation from Arizona State University!

Meeting and welcoming baby Moriah to our crazy family!

And in my musings, I have made new friends and been able to re-connect with some not-so-new (see, how carefully I did not say old?).

And above all, I pray I have encouraged, educated and helped my readers (even on days when there are only three -- thank you, Mother, Marsha and Claire!) understand a little bit of what it means to be a family impacted by special needs.

I pray that my little ramblings have encouraged even one Mama to celebrate the small things and find her way to bless the little ones God has placed in her nest.

Because if there is one thing I KNOW, it is this: five years goes by in the blink of an eye. I am shocked at the photos from this blog in the early days. My kids were so little. And now...they are not.

Five years goes by fast, my friends. And the next five, well those will not slow down either.

Today. Today is the time to be with our kids. Today is the time to speak truth to them. Today is the time to set aside the worry and fears of tomorrow (even if a major surgery looms on the horizon) and celebrate the wonder of TODAY!

 Thank you for five years of indulging my ramblings. You are a blessing!