election eve

I totally thought this appropriate, especially on election eve. It requires laughter, so please be prepared. As with every election, we are broaching a new era of thought. While our freedom affords us the luxury of being able to think, our greatest challenge is to focus on that which is good.

abundant dreams

So, I totally went sailing today. My "life's to-do list" continues to grow with every checkmark I make. I have now lived in Texas, check. I have now lived in France, check. I have now been to Nice and Marseille, check. I have now cooked French food, check. I have now been kayaking, check. I have now been sailing, check.

I spent a lovely day waterside with some of my favorite people earth-side, slowly embracing the relaxation as it crawled all over my body, loosening stress' tight grip on my shoulders, my neck, and my legs. I steadily kept us on 'tack' and listened for orders for a 'come about' as the winds changed. As I listened to our captain sharing stories of his days upon the pirate ship, sailing out to Catalina island, I drifted into dreamworld once again, cogitating my hope of one day spending a few nights at sea. From there, my thoughts spiraled, as one dream after another made their way to the forefront of my mind. I began musing about taking a hot air balloon over the Chateau de la Loire region of France one day, playing a piano concert, finishing a triathalon, sky diving, getting paid to blog, simultaneously standing in three countries (in Europe, of course), and the list goes on. There is something about being out at sea that calls forth all dreams, both young and old.

Moral of the story: the older I get, the more I dream. The more I dream, the more I love. The more I love, the more I give. The more I give, the more I live. Life abundantly--that's what it's all about.

freedom?

Americans forget that there are other countries besides the free world. We forget that there are people who have actually never heard of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Columbus Day, Martin Luther King Day, or-my favorite forgotten holiday-July 4. We forget that we may be, in fact, the most enthusiastic country when considering what it means to celebrate. Sure, every country follows their own regulations and protocol for "throwing the biggest bash of the year," but I doubt that any other country will publicize it as much as America. I laugh at American people because we are so driven by publicity, but we are often the first to complain that we are starved for attention...at least the bills from the shrink's office will prove that. We are on a perpetual hunt for "the next big thing," a hunt that seems so foreign to so many other nations. We are obsessed with ourselves.
I have been made so aware of my own self-obsession recently, especially since I have witnessed the first Halloween of the kids in America. They loved every minute of trick-or-treating, but could not understand why they would get free candy? Just because? To understand that something can be free is to understand the principles upon which America stands. We are notably the land of the free. I loved watching the kids' excitement exponentially increasing as we went from house to house in search of "free" candy, knowing that we would walk home with a loot never before seen in their family.

So, now, I have to question: Does this idea of freedom lend to our laziness as a country? We are taught from such a young age--in church, in school, on holidays, through commercials--that we can have free things. Christianity's appeal to non-church goers is that Christ's love is free. Halloween's most cherished reward is free candy. The stores are lined with customers the day after Christmas, hoping to return their gifts, exchanging for something else--free. You can get lucky at sporting events and catch a t-shirt, baseball, or other paraphenalia--free. Store windows urgently cry out to passers-by: "Buy one, get one free!" We are surrounded by freedom.

Yet, as with everything, there is always a give-and-take. I am afraid that in the midst of our freedom, our moral and ethical focus suffers. We succumb to laziness, which succumbs to apathy, which only heightens selfishness, which contributes to the demise of America's initial moral code. A government "of the people, by the people, and for the people" was established by a group of persuant reformers bursting with passion. No, they were not lazy. They were dreamers with ideas larger than their lives. No, they probably did not attend a gala because there would be free food. They were just hoping for the next meal. And, no, they didn't break someone's arm in effort to catch the last free t-shirt at the big game. They didn't even have organized sports. Then again, their freedom depended upon their pursuit of justice.

We are such a nation of takers, simply because we don't want to give. We are already surrounded by freedom given to us in a variety of ways and do not have to wholeheartedly focus on creating it. We forget all too often that we are not the only people on planet earth simply because we are the kings and queens of "haves," rather than unfortunate members of the "have-nots." Oh, that we would use our hands and feet instead of our credit cards! Oh, that we would create a budget that builds into our spending a certain amount spent on strangers every month. Oh, that we would just look up rather than down when we walk along the street! Oh, that we would understand what it means to really be free!

You know, when you live a life that gets better everyday, it's hard to write something new, because you never get past the "in-awe" state of mind. I am perpetually launched from one dream world to another, and because I am moving with Him, I am moving at what feels like the speed of light. He's still up to something, and I'm still a part of it.

I suppose I could detail the days' events, but I fear that they lack a necessary spice one can only taste firsthand. Of course, I could write with such fervor and explosive language that you cannot help but enjoy it as if you were here with me. I mean, if I told you that I love the inside jokes that I share with these kids, or the dance parties that "la petite coquine" (the little cutie) and I attend in my little studio several times each week, I would be exposing some of my favorite memories. If I wrote to you of the intense days spent at school helping Milan and Melvil stay their respective courses in education, or the long weekend mornings I spend in my oversized bed reading or writing letters, I would be revealing some of my most enjoyable activities. If I wrote to you about how much I adore these children, their laughter, their passion, I would only be reminding you of something you already know.

So, in effort to make your read a bit more pleasant, I will, from here on out, spare you of daily details, and make every attempt to revert back to my maven-like personality that is a vault of useless information. I think you will be pleasantly intrigued.

seesaw

I am constantly in a seesaw state of mind, wondering what is coming next, loving where I am now, missing my old home. And, of course, the stress mounts. It wrinkles its way into my shoulders and expands its hold on my mind, distracting me from focusing on what I know to be true. I am of the kind who cringes at unsolved problems. No puzzle left unsolved before leaving the table, no dish sitting in the sink before leaving the house, no detail left unattended to before presenting a project. I am of the cursed perfectionist kind, and it always seems to be ever-more evident when I am stressed. Suddenly, I am picky again. Suddenly, I am not able to remember the small things. Suddenly, all I can think about is myself. How ridiculous.
There is no remedy for selfishness yet, although I have dedicated my life to the hunt for self-lessness. I can see glimpses of it squeezing its way into my character, softening my coarse, seemingly unpenetrable skin of selfishness little tiny bit by little tiny bit. It helps that I am around kids. For examplem, an interesting occurrence happened yesterday. Listen to this: I was at the park with the whole family, swinging with Domino, and two middle-school aged girls approached us and began a conversation with me about France (They obviously overheard me talking to Domino in French). As they continued exposing their dreams of visiting and living in France, I couldn't help but sigh with a bit of discouragement because all I could think was, 'So, Hannah, old maid status has hunted you down afterall. The only people that approach you now are, in fact, 13-year old girls. How lovely. You are officially off the market.' Simultaneously, I was thinking, 'How incredible that these 13-year old girls have vivid dreams of traveling. They are of the kind that are dreamers, and dreamers always live for something greater than themselves.' I can assure that the former thought superceeded the latter, and I gave way to my selfishness once again. How unfortunate.
However stretched I may feel about the future, I am still waking up with a smile every day. I am still growing more tender-hearted every day. I am still a bit more peaceful than yesterday. I am still a bit more confident than yesterday. And, I adore these kids more today than ever before. As frustrated as I can be, I still cannot shake the lingering sprinkles of their laughter in my ears, the pleasant sound of their voices, the crystal clear pictures of their smiles. Everything about them--both good and bad--is worth it. Perhaps this is what He meant by "love your neighbor as yourself." The more I love them, the more I learn how to love Him, the more confident I become, and the cycle continues, running more effectively every day. Perhaps this is what He meant by "Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." Perhaps this is what He meant when He said "leave your old life and come and follow me." Perhaps this is what He meant when He said "Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind." He intended for us to put others before ourselves so that we can learn to love Him more. He intended for us to work out His love in our everyday life, reaping eternal benefits rather than immediate benefits. These things I know. These things I am desperately clinging onto, for it is these things that are truth.

It impossible to fit my brain onto this tiny space known as the world wide web. I often feel like my brain moves much faster than my feet. For whatever reason, my body is just slow. How does that happen? Do you suffer from the same "slow-poke" syndrome? I hope so. I would feel much better even if you just lied to me and said you did.
I have never seen someone more musically talented than Andrew Bird. My brilliant friend knew that Largo at the Coronet theater in Beverly Hills had invited him to share his music with the Los Angeles area, so she recommended that I attend. After promising my Au Pair friends that the evening would be worth their $30, we headed to LA Sunday night. Not only was Andrew Bird incredibly talented, he is hilarious. It was a night to remember, for sure--especially since foreign people will now be listening to his music. For some reason, every musician is "cooler" if he/she is famous in America AND Europe. Thanks, Shelley, for the recommendation.

Avrille arrived from France Wednesday night. She's the daughter of ancient family friends and is our first international visitor here. What a delight! She has experienced the pre-Halloween festivities of Americans, as well as the "Star of the Week" status of Milan, an event where he is the featured student in his class. He brought Avrille to school for show-and-tell day. I love watching kids who are proud of their life--especially Milan.
Milan performed for his class this week. His performance was astonishing. His charming stage presence certainly contends with the presidential candidates, and his skills are unmatched by any other. I could not have been more proud of him as he softly stroked his violin, releasing the beautiful tunes of his favorite songs. We are now a family of 2 cars. We have sealed the deal on a Chevy Suburban, officially putting an American mark on the family. SUV's are a joke in southern France. The roads can't handle 8-passenger vehicles and the families certainly can't afford the petroleum costs! (Gas is nearly 1.7times more expensive in France than in America) So, the family is now sliding quickly into the American way. And, I love it. I love the excitement of the American experience, the world of opportunity.

Welcome, once again, to the United States of America.

Wednesdays

Wednesdays are my favorite days. I take Domino to the park in the morning, where my friend Jessica joins us. After we have played until we are exhausted, we load up and walk to the library for storytime. A slew of children's songs later, we head back to the house on foot, Domino sleeping soundly in the stroller and Jessica and I stopping along the way at a new restaurant every week for lunch on-the-go that we enjoy once we get back to my little studio apartment. Today, it was the Greek Cafe for a little hummus and fresh, warm pitas. We watch the dolphin pods jumping into and out of the water as we relax over a long lunch, always pleasantly interrupted with the boys racing downstairs to see us after getting home from school one hour early every Wednesday. Sometimes we head to the beach, sometimes we play downstairs on my patio. Wherever we are, we are all laughing and we are all crazy about having fun with each other. Wednesdays.

On Wednesdays, we always review for the kids' tests on Thursdays, make a run to the grocery store, try to fit in a little Yoga, and make it a point to practice skateboarding tricks out front. On Wednesdays, the kids are all mine for most of the day and I love it. On Wednesdays, I am always one day away from the next episode of "The Office," and I am usually extra excited. On Wednesdays, I make a snack for the kids to enjoy, usually chocolate chip cookies. They love them (well, who doesn't love chocolate chip cookies!?).

On Wednesdays, the days are perfect. Cheers to Wednesdays.

had I not waited

I never told you how the GRE went. Well, it went. It's over. It was exhausting, but it was worth it. I sat in that room wondering why I ever took a break between my bachelor's degree and my master's degree. Then, I quickly remembered that I am right where I am supposed to be and all thoughts of "what if" dissolved immediately.

Had I not waited to return to school I wouldn't have taken such a brilliant run this morning, beachside. I watched the sun rise on my left, the full, pregnant, hazy moon falling ever so slowly on my right, the ocean tearing the sand between the two. I would not have stood on the pier this morning and sighed with total contentment that I am standing right where He would have me stand. Had I not waited to return to school I wouldn't have been able to spend quality time with my grandparents, cozy-ing up for breakfast in bed or blueberry pancakes over a game of cards. I would not have spent time in southern France, tasting the culture and the delectable cheeses, (only to find that cheese is the source of my ailment in my legs, and thus I can no longer eat it), touring the countryside as I learned to smile once again. And, had I not waited to return to school, I would not know these kids. They are the cure to every bad day I could have, the best part of every morning, the funniest story-tellers, the cutest and most fashionably dressed, the most delightful smiles you have ever seen, the most loving hearts you have ever seen in action, the most wonderful part of any day. They make everything I thought I wanted to do seem so unimportant, and they aren't even my own kids! I am so proud to be a part of their life. I am so proud to be a part of their day. I am so honored that I get to walk down the street, to the park, to the store, or anywhere else with them alongside me. I am so thrilled every night when all of them and I go downstairs to my little studio apartment to play before bed. It's them and me, like our own secret club. I love it. I love making the bedspread forts on Saturday mornings, the Sunday morning runs with Melvil, the tennis matches with Milan, the dancing with Domino, the tender touch of Cecil. They are so worth knowing. I wish you could just see them, for all it takes is one glance and you are hooked instantaneously. I am all the better for knowing them, and all the better for letting them get to know me.
It has been a while since I have reminded you how much I adore these kids. Just thought you might like to know that graduate school is worth the wait simply because these kids are part of my life. From school projects to mornings at the Library, they are more delightful every day. I know it's not that way for all kids, but I hope you have the pleasure of spending time with little children at least a few times every week. They are a perfect reminder of the good life.

what chapter am I in?

Marriages always make you think about yourself and your love life. Well, in my case, the lack there of. I will not bore you with the depressing thoughts of the single life because I can't bring myself to put unfavorable thoughts on paper when I am surrounded by a dream in reality. My mornings are sublime, complete with a host of waves crashing every other moment as I awaken to the ever-increasingly perfect sunrise waiting for me every morning.

I spend my time with children who are full of joy, intellect, charisma, and most certainly charm. I am close enough to walk to most everywhere I need to go. I have fresh basil and mint growing in my little garden. I live in a peaceful home with a peaceful family. I do have a private place to live, but it is always open for anyone in the house who wants to join me. I have the chance of a lifetime to affect this family. I am living a dream, so I have no excuse to be thinking otherwise, wedding or not.

I sat with friends of old today, reminiscing of the days when responsibility was imminent but still a sort of option, college was still in full swing, life still in the holding tank. The free-spirit mentality of us all has sent us to all corners of the world since then and through all kinds of trials. I am sure you remember the post-college, pre-real-world life you once enjoyed. Those were the days you spent trying to piece together your worldview, solidify your bank account and whatever debt you may or may not have incurred from college. There is a certain nostalgia tied to such epic adventures lived with overwhelming passion. Yet, as hindsight is always 20/20, you begin to see that every event and most ever person was just part of the chapter. They were part of the prologue to the rest of your life, an introduction with a magnificent setting and a blended cast of characters, some complex some simple. These people began a new book of my life, a book that tells the story of my quest for truth, my quest for His face. These people tossed me a rope as I was drowning in a pool of quicksand, forced me to stand up straight in the middle of the spotlight, taught me how to laugh with everything in my body and soul, waited for me to get it right after I made a mistake, picked up every piece of my sometimes shattered heart and showed me how to take the next step forward, expecting me to take it with confidence. These people introduced me to myself.
Now, I am in chapter two, a little further into the journey on a more clearly lit path. Running into people from chapter one was just a refreshing reminder that the story continues. The storms are not so heavy, the wind is not so strong, but the solace is continuously refreshing. I am still in the beginning, but the main characters of my story are more prominent here in chapter two.

Welcome to the rest of my life. It's going to be pretty good.

art of conversation

Tone of voice is perhaps the most important aspect of conversation. To control the tone of voice is to be able to control the direction of thought. Think about it: no matter what you say, if you say it the right way--with the right tone of voice, that is--you can dictate the coming response. And, not only do you dictate the response, you dictate the entire remainder of the conversation. I am thinking of this especially today because I witnessed an argument this afternoon. From the outside, an objective observance would conclude that if one of the two would just change their tone of voice, the argument would end. And, not only would the argument end, but resolution would appear on the horizon.There are so many aspects to conversation that one must take into consideration before engaging. For instance, dress. Dress is certainly important to the tone of the overall conversation. If you are dressed casually, initial impressions are much more cordial. If you sport an evening gown or suit, greetings are typically much more formal. Body movement is also vital to the overall tone of the conversation. If you have turrets syndrome, you are out of luck. Rolling your eyes is also a surefire way to breach an exchange. As for me, I talk with my hands every time I open my mouth and it usually plays to my advantage because it distracts the listener just enough so that they make fun of me, which, oddly enough, boosts my confidence in conversation. To interrupt is to automatically insult whomever was speaking. It says "you are not important," which is another action that immediately severs good conversation. While recovery is possible, it takes recognition of the interruption in order to move forward. Let's not forget eye contact. Active eye contact is key to a brilliant listener. If you can listen well, you are three steps ahead of most people because most people are eager to talk and disinterested in listening.

While enjoying the sumptuous spread of finger foods and fruit at Ashley's shower this morning, I had the good fortune to practice these principals with complete strangers, as well as old friends. We delighted in the perfect weather outside and the sweet scent of marriage floating inside. A game of "toilet-paper bride" brought laughter and common ground to every guest, young and old. And, Ashley's extensive collection of lingerie added to her already bubbling excitement, which raised our spirits as well.

However interesting and thoroughly enjoying the morning was, it was full of concentrated conversation and exhaustion slowly overtook me this afternoon. So, to unwind, I went for a long bikeride along the coast. To say it was beautiful does not do justice to what I saw. The wind, fresh and sweet, softly pushed me along as I reflected upon the days events and looked forward to seeing the kids tonight. My attachment for them grows deeper every day and I am beginning to dread December 17. Nonetheless, that is more than two months away. For now, I will enjoy the three legged races we have in the house, the laughter we burst into every time one of us plays a joke on someone else, the hours spent down at the beach, the exclusive after-dinner time in my little studio apartment down below, and the general feel of comfort and security when I am with them.

You see, I can go anywhere by day, converse with anyone I want. But, I always look forward to coming home to these kids and relaxing as I listen to them tell me about their day. That's always the best part of my day. In fact, they are the best part of my day.