Dear Kellie

Dear Kellie
Our family recently experienced the suicide of a young nephew. (25 years old) His parents aren't answering the phone and only want to receive email. The family is scattered across the country, we can't go to the memorial service. How can we help our family cope with this loss when they are more or less holding themselves incommunicado?
BH, Colorado

Dear BH,
My heart really goes out to you and your family for your tragic loss of your beloved nephew.
I have children of my own, having a situation where one of my kids tried to take their own life. I am one of a very lucky parents who was able to get there in time. Most times, I'm afraid, that is not the case. Your family, felt the need to close the blinds and roll up the sidewalks until they have a chance to catch their breath and take the time to grieve. I respect that. It makes it difficult for those who love them so much to try and help, but there are ways to stay in contact while respecting their privacy.
The survivors left behind from suicide face different circumstances than those of even tragic accidents. In their minds, the death of their loved one was 100% preventable. The truth is, when someone is in the very dark place of wanting to take their own life, there is no rational thought pattern. Mental illness, such as depression has altered that person's perception to the point they no longer see any light in their life. For them, often times, they view it as a mercy killing. It is heartbreaking to think of a family member so devastated, so depressed, they cannot see how loved and valued they are. They cannot see a future with hope.
The hopelessness of the victim, often causes the immediate family to feel as if they have failed that person. They may have survivors guilt. They not only feel the loss of the person they loved so very much, but the responsibility for not being able to stop the death.
I think it is imperative that you maintain contact via e-mail for now, letting them know they are loved and held close in your heart. Let them know you will allow them as much time as they need, and the moment they open up the blinds again, you will be there. For now, send cards, letters, and emails reminding them how loved they are. Do little, thoughtful gestures for the upcoming holidays, so they are reminded to live again. Time is the hero and villain in this situation; it allows for healing and distances them from their son. It truly is a double edged sword.
Be patient, they will come out of hiding, but for now, I believe, they feel the need to hole up and keep the world at bay.
By consistently sending cards, e-mails, and letters, you are respecting their wishes, while letting them know they have but to ask and you will do whatever you can. That in of itself will be priceless for them.
Hope this helps. My best to you and yours!








Dear Kellie,
I have been very impressed by your wisdom,compassion and sense of humor.Why do you think so many Americans do not get that struggling to make it/ stay afloat is exactly what our parents did every day. It seems many people believe that (want to) is sufficient qualification for high end living. Sadly Confused.
Br Az


Dear Br,
We all learn at some point in our life that there are consequences for everything we do, or don't do in some cases. The current economy took innocent people with it, but it also caught up with the folks who lived beyond their means for a very long time. I believe this is a time for learning in this country. Americans are more active in the current election than ever in my lifetime. I find that exciting. Democracy is alive and well and the American people are MOSTLY generous, intelligent and compassionate. The few fringe folks out there get the most buzz, so that is who we see in the media. Most of us are hard working people, doing good, because it is right, not because of any pay off in the end.
Maya Angelou has a quote I dearly love, "When you know better, you do better." I think most of us are doing better everyday. Most of us are learning from mistakes we and others have made and are choosing to do better to insure our future.
It would be an incredible world if we all learned at the same pace and were able to always work together. I believe that it is referred to as "Utopia".
I think for those of us who continue to work hard with ethics and patience, it is our responsibility to live by example and continually teach those who don't seem to know, that only by hard work, sacrifice and persistence is success even a remote possibility.
We, as Americans, were promised only the pursuit of happiness, not the end result. I, for one, feel grateful everyday just for the possibility that I am guaranteed true freedom with the hope of prosperity. This is what makes this country the greatest country to live in. It is the essence of what it means to be a proud American; it is a country of possibility.
Hang in there, and look to focus on the good people you know, who are doing good things. What we focus out time and attention on, only gets larger. Let's highlight the wonder of this magnificent country instead of all the negative we already know to be in existence.
Addendum: We cannot have change without dissension, and we cannot have unity without respect. I think this election season, our biggest lesson is learning, we can change and we can respectfully disagree while doing it.

Dear Kellie

Dear Kellie,
I am widowed, less than a year. We have no family in the state where we live. My husband's parents have been divorced for over 40 years. One side prepared to leave and come here on the first call when I told them it did not look good. The other side wanted to think about it.

When the results showed there was no brain activity, I contacted everyone again. I was asked if it would hurt me if they did not come. I stated no but then I found out why they did not even try. According to my spouses wishes, I had included all family members of his and mine. The ones who chose not to come, all his siblings, their families, and his Mother, did not even try because his Dad was here. There have been a couple of conversations since then but nothing to ease the pain of them making it about their feelings rather than my husband's wishes. Add to that I was told his death was at an inconvenient time for travel. None of them called for those firsts, Christmas, his birthday, anything.

With this background, here is my question - Although I do not feel I owe it to anyone to apologize, should I reach out to those who did not come for his service or should I just leave it be....forgive and move on?

Thank you Kellie for your thoughtful response.

Kind Regards,
Recently Widowed


Dear Recently Widowed,
I am so very sorry for your loss. I hope in this time you are finding your moments of peace. I fear sometimes this becomes more difficult when others behavior effects our grieving process.
Everyone grieves differently, having said that, it could be the side of the family who did not show up may have felt too vulnerable with the recent loss of their loved one to face the side who they do not have a relationship with.
As the widow, I think the mature thing would have been to put YOU first. Since that did not happen, it looks as though you have been left to be the designated adult.
My suggestion is to ask yourself a few questions- "Do I have a good relationship with these people?" "Do I want a relationship with these people?" "Are these folks making a positive addition to my life?"
If you had a good relationship before, but are struggling now, then I would say to go ahead and send them a card or letter. If you were never close to begin, then maybe it's time to let them go. As difficult as that may sound, if they are not close to you and not making any effort, then, in essence, they have already made your choice for you.
I encourage you to forgive them. We do not truly know what is in someone's heart. For those of us who want to live in love and compassion, it is best to forgive and wish people happy and peaceful. Hopefully they will come around and see that you are the remaining legacy of your husband.
I wish for you peace and happiness. Know that this time, albeit very difficult, presents the opportunity for self exploration and growth. The lessons in compassion, love and empathy are priceless. You never know when your experience will help someone in the future.

Dear Kellie

Dear Kellie,
My son was dating a girl 5 years ago and she became pregnant. Against my son's wishes she had an abortion and they broke up.

I still have feelings of anger, resentment and grief. I now have a beautiful Grandson, but instead of making these feelings subside they seem to have gotten stronger.

I find myself thinking about what sex the baby would have been, and what it would have looked like.

My question: Is this a delayed part of the grieving process, or is it starting to take on a life of it's own and becoming an obsession?

Heartbroken in Ohio


Dear Heartbroken,
I understand your grief and you have a right to feel the deep sadness that comes from the loss you have suffered. The fact that you are worried that it is becoming too overwhelming may mean it is time to try and start to let go. I do think that we sometimes grieve when we have the comfort of the shock and tragedy behind us. Give yourself a break and allow your heart to feel the pain. If this starts to consume most of your time, then maybe it is time to seek professional help in dealing with the anger. We all have times in our life when the unfairness, when situations beyond our control, haunt us and we have to find our way out. It is important to forgive others in order to save ourselves from time wasted dwelling on what we cannot change. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, what it does is allow for perspective. When you start to feel the anger take over, my suggestion is to go and spend time with your grandson, living in the now and appreciating the ability to love, teach and cherish a child.



Dear Kellie,
My company is moving to another city, and I don't want to. Should I move and be miserable for money, or stay and be poor and possibly be happy?
Jungle Boy


Dear Jungle Boy,
Since you didn't mention the time frame, I will assume you have at least some time to consider all of your options. When I was forced to change careers I felt a deep sense of loss of self, however, I also discovered a talent for what I love to do the most and am completely fulfilled doing it.
If time allows, update your resume and spend some time thinking of what you love and hidden talents you may be able to turn into a career. This may very well be an opportunity for you to work in an area that makes you happier than your current position.
If you are concerned about benefits, retirement and money, then I suggest you talk to your other co-workers and see if anyone else is in the same position, where buying real estate in the new city is not what they intend to do. Shared housing, and commuting until you can see things more clearly may be the way to go.
I will tell you that some of the most difficult experiences allow for the largest amount of growth.
Take the time while you have it to ask yourself the big questions. What makes me happy? What is the worst thing that can happen if I commute? If retire now, what talents do I have to help me financially survive?
My biggest piece of advice is- don't panic. Think things through thoroughly and ask your company for as much information as you can to make the best decision for you.



Dear Kellie
I am confused which way that toilet paper should unroll. Some folks say under and say folks say over. I once saw at one high-priced hotel that it was under so it would unroll from underneath. I am totally confused about the correct way toilet paper should unroll from the roller. Can you clear this matter up and help me to win a bet ??

Dazed & Confused in Dixieland


Dear Dazed and Confused,
We should all be so lucky to have this as our conundrum. My advice is to put the toilet paper on the roll however makes you the most comfortable. It is these little choices we get to make, that make having our very own place simply the most marvelous of things.



Dear Kellie
I'm 16 and pregnant and my parents have kicked me out and I'm living on the street. Lately I have broken back in to my parents house and stole money from my mothers purse to feed by baby. Is what I'm doing wrong? My cousin think...s it isn't wrong but then again he threatens to tell unless I give some of the stolen money to him so he can buy crack. What do you think?

Confrused in Central Arkansaw


Dear Confused,
Of course it is wrong to steal. I understand your dire circumstances, however the situation you find yourself in is due to decisions that you and you alone have made. You made an adult decision and now you have to be an adult, ready or not. There are social programs you can pursue through school and church. There are usually shelters in every major city across the country, so if you live near Little Rock, that may be your first step. Find your nearest hospital and see the social worker on staff. They may be able to direct you to immediate help in your area.
As far as your cousin, let him tell. No one trusts a drug addict anyway, so they might not believe him. If they do, then let the chips fall where they may. Good luck.




Dear Kellie I have always had trouble asking for advice, can you help me?
CW


Dear CW,
You just did.
Congratulations you are cured!

Dear Kellie,
Why do people feel it is okay to be rude and insufferable on Social Networking pages. I am often dumbstruck by the crudity and meaness.
BR Az




Dear BR,
As great as the information highway is for learning everything under the sun and connecting with old friends, I also think it can be a very cruel and dangerous place.
Without having to allow for face to face contact I believe it deceives people into a false sense of courage to make remarks they would not make if they were in person.
It seems the internet allows for thoughtlessness and abject cruelty as a means of expression. People also forget that what goes on the internet stays on the internet indefinitely.
My suggestion is to let folks know you are not OK with any nasty or mean spirited talk on any of your social pages. You have the right to "Un-friend" anyone who makes you uncomfortable with their rhetoric.
I know from personal experience that I have to had to delete certain people in order to maintain my happy homepage.




Thanks to everyone for writing in. Keep those questions coming.

Recalling Patience and Patients

Sitting in the backyard, with dogs barking, Mike on the roof disassembling a leaky chimney, I found myself smiling at absolutely nothing. I cannot describe in prose or poetic soliloquy why I feel such contentment right now. The one thing I seem to be absolutely sure of is I don't have to know the "why"s in my current state. I just have to acknowledge it, feel grateful for it and enjoy the crap out of it. I could say my happiness is hard earned, but in truth, nothing in my life has been so bad to kill me, so I am good. Every day I draw breath I realize I have one more chance to live out my dreams. Sappy, isn't it? Yet it rings in solid truth.
I used to get so embarrassed by my sappy, emoting ways. The older I get the happier I am that I can still feel that way. I run into so much cynicism, especially as a writer. Artists never get appreciated the way they want, in some ways not unlike how a child wishes their parent would love them the way they think they need to be loved rather than the only way the parents can love them. I have a little of that, but so much of me is so happy that I have the extravagant lifestyle of someone who gets to work their dream job, I ignore the initial impulses to snivel around the house as the unappreciated.
I worked jobs, that I actually miss sometimes, with crazy hectic days, blood splattered clothing, running at breakneck speed around corners only to discover another trauma.I remember how I had to go to the basement to change my clothes before the kids touched me, covered head to toe in feces, urine and ground up food. Often times, I ran down the stairs hiding from the kids the blood soaked uniform of a really bad day.
I was young then, able to leap tall wheel chairs in a single bound. I didn't call in sick unless I was dying, even working while I myself had pneumonia. I stood for 12 hours a day, sifting through doctors orders, pharmacy deliveries and combatant patients who frequently connected with my thin frame, leaving large bruises under my baggy scrubs. I did what I had to do in order to survive. I did what I had to do in order for the patients to survive too.
A friend asked me yesterday if I missed the work. I thought for a moment and said, "Yes, sometimes I miss all the crazy that happens in the land filled with the forgotten." I told him wacky stories of my patients and the absurd things that happened on a daily basis. We laughed at the picture I drew with my words telling about folks that made me laugh at days end.
Still smiling, I realized how much life I have lived so far and still have so much farther to go. I have been so lucky that I was able to work that hard. I work just hard now, but it is different. This work suits my age, my time in life, my attitude. I walked away from nursing before I got so burned out, someone would request my exit. I promised myself I wouldn't stay beyond my expiration date. I never wanted to be that old, balled up, cynical, cranky nurse who could less about what the patients needed, let alone wanted. I left my field with job offers in Ohio on my plate. I left, so a younger, enthusiastic nurse to take my place and continue on doing good work.
Writing for me is sometimes as painful as my legs after 16 hours on the floor.My head throbs as I excise large chunks of extraneous material in order to keep the better written material. I never take this work lightly. After over 20 years of facing life and death scenarios, I don't know how to do "half-assed". Being my own boss, I have no one to gripe about or blame for any short comings, except me. Like my previous career, I have the guilt around to keep me in check.

Splitting Heirs

This blog is dedicated to my sister, Kim, who to my knowledge, has NEVER known how truly beautiful she is.

Growing up I had one sister, older who had the same blond hair and blue eyes. She has a combination of my parents much like I do, only organized in a different way. Everyone, who had ever seen her, said she was beautiful. Kim had a way of lighting up a room when she entered. I on the other hand stumbled in, tripped over the carpet and plopped into my seat. Kim had a sort of grace about her, while I had, well, the opposite of that. My father innocently said we were Beauty and the Beast. I think, by the introduction you can discern who was who. While my sister had beauty, brains and athleticism, I had sheer will and brawn. It is not to say I wasn't attractive in my own right, but we were so very different, it put people in the unique position of trying to "figure" us out. If she were the beauty, then I must be something different. I got the message very early on in my life that my destiny was not to be the girlie-girl of the family.
Frequently, at school, teachers would look at the two of us and tell me I should try and be as smart as my sister. Why didn't I dress nice like Kim or why did I have to be so surly? The answer, which I learned, thanks to modern day therapy, came to me much later in life. Had I known why I was the way I was back then, I would have had a better appreciation for my sister and all of her many talents instead of running the opposite way as fast and hard as I could.
Mother, as I call her when she has done something I totally disagree with, dressed as identical twins whenever we were out in public. Being young and quite literally small minded, I thought it was to show how beautiful Kim was and how "different" I was. In my head the question became, "See? Even if they are dressed exactly alike, I can't get the little one to look as good, or behave as well."
Mom told me later the actual reason she did it was so that if one of us went missing she could point to the other and say, "She looks like that." Years later I used the idea with my own kids, dressing them in the same color, just in case.
Teachers would compare Kim and my abilities in school and be utterly disappointed that I was not the same kind of student. Kim got "A's" while I floundered getting "C's". I was average, and since Kim was obviously above average, it translated to many that I was less. I got called lazy, stupid, and eventually learning disabled. I was labeled as broken because my sister had proved, two years prior to my arrival at that particular grade, that my family had intelligence.
Boys dated me to get to my sister. This part of growing up really hurt the most. My self esteem took a direct blow to my heart when this happened. It also pushed me to date guys that were "bad boys" who took no interest in my sister or her good grades and cheer leading ways.
Most folks didn't realize that they were putting a wedge between my sister and I. They were, in fact, splitting heirs.
When high school rolled around for us, Kim went off to Panama to study for the year and I went on about the business of trying to figure out exactly who I was. As days flew by I discovered I was the band and choir geek. I love music and performing on stage was exciting for me. I discovered that not only was I never supposed to be a cheer leader, but I was destined to be a supporting player on the field, blowing the fight song during every good play. I also found out I was smart. I didn't have the kind of intelligence that Kim had, but I was smart in my own right. It had been there all along, but I had been so preoccupied with listening to what others had to say, I had stopped thinking for myself.
A million and a half years later, I was on the phone with my sister listening to her, I realized she never thought she was the Heir and I was the Spare. She had thought I was more comfortable in my skin, than she had ever been. She spoke of longing to have things I had. She had felt that she were forced to be good all the time, while I was the wild child. I couldn't help but feel very sorry for us, both mired in others expectations, unconsciously competing, while running away from the other at the same time. I will qualify that "others" did not include my parents.
When we were young, we competed in The Cherry Blossom Queen contest. Kim got first runner up. I didn't even place. I was so extraordinarily bad at the beauty contest thing, people didn't realize we were related. Once again we were pitted against each other in direct competition, but this time it was different. I knew that I had a snowballs chance in Texas of ever winning. I also knew Kim had a great chance of taking home the prize. This was her thing, where she could excel and I would flounder. If they had had a musical to audition for, I was a shoe in, but standing gracefully, smiling, while talking intelligently was not my gig. It was the first time I didn't care that she won and I flopped.
Kim, to this day, does not recognize what others see in her. She still doesn't see the light that comes from her face shooting out of her eyes, allowing for a glow when she enters the room. She doesn't understand when people feel daunted by her photogenic mind, impressive intelligence and graceful way she uses her hands to wave about as she talks to make her point. But we all, who know her, get it. I don't compete with Kim anymore. I haven't in years. There is no need to prove to others that I am equal to my older sibling. We are still very much Beauty and the Beast. I have a fierce a personality and nobody ever questions where I stand on things. Kim still owns her quiet beauty, even if she is totally unaware. We are both smart, quick, and affable.
Although, I do think I am funnier. It's my over compensation for not getting to wear a Cherry Blossom crown.

Closing the Book

This year has been really significant for me. Yes, we moved and that always has some significance, but there are much bigger issues I have been facing this year.
Back when I was a single mother, I prayed for the strength to reach my forty seventh birthday. I had neither time nor money, so all I truly wanted was to not kill or maim any of us, keeping us safe until the kids were grown, which happened to be right after I turned forty seven. I didn't know back then I would be happily married to Michael. I didn't know we would move 1200 miles away from everything we had ever known. I didn't know I would be writing full time from home, an extravagance by any means, for a woman who didn't have a college education, let alone any experience writing professionally. Back then I had simple wants, needs and wishes. My only real wish was to be an O.K. mother, so the kids would have the future they deserved. Danny was already gone by the time I started wishing to survive until I turned forty seven. Having left me alone with the singular responsibility of raising our kids, I felt there had been a cruel joke played on me and the kids. I never envisioned myself as doing a good job, I always thought surviving was the only priority.
Once Michael came on board, I then saw a different goal, of sorts. I had been married to Danny for nine years. By year seven, things had really started to fall apart. We were growing apart and had little tolerance for the very things we had thought endearing, when we first met. I had worried once Michael and I married that we might fall victim to the same failure. What if I hadn't learned all that I was supposed to? What if I had worse habits than before that would lead to the demise of another marriage, showing the world once and for all, that I was not capable of long term commitment? I had thought when I was young, I was not the marrying kind? My family and I had treated it as a joke, even putting my infamous quote on my engagement cake at Danny's and my party, "I am never getting married". What if never getting married were the best decision I had ever made and doing anything different would ruin Michael's life? The new goal was to be married to Michael longer than I had been married to Danny. That goal was ironically met in August of this year, when the sixteenth rolled around and I had officially been married to Michael longer than I had been married before. We celebrated our ninth anniversary in June; by August we had been married nine years and two months. In my pea sized brain, all I could think of was "Whew!" So I can be married to someone without wrecking things. I am capable of loving someone, long term, whom I didn't give birth to. The relief I felt from having reached my imaginary goal which was quite real to me.
The last goal or page turner for me was this month. It happened yesterday, in a quiet, unassuming kind of way. Yesterday was the anniversary of Danny's death. It has been thirteen years since he passed away. It seems like forever, yet I can recall every detail of the day I got the call. I remember that day as if it were seared into my brain like a cattle brand. Most years, I try hard not to think about it. The kids handle it different every time it rolls around. Some years we cry together, some years they go to their separate corners and mourn, and some years we act as if it never happened. Yesterday was a combination of all those things. I thought early in the day, the page on Danny had been turned for me. Yesterday marked for me the time frame where he has been dead longer than he was alive for me. I knew and loved him a shorter time than I had grieved his demise. Maybe now, finally, I can give both he and I some rest. I forgave all of his indiscretions long ago, but I still had me firmly on the hook for all the wrong I had committed. I dangle myself high in the air, watching as I continued to writhe in the pain I had caused us both. Yesterday was my goal day to let myself get off the emotional steel barb and just get on with my life. I will always love him, forever grateful for the kids and the way they have his traits, genetics and sarcastic wit. I will remember him with kindness, forgiveness and love for the rest of my days, but I will live the remainder of my life focused firmly in the here and now. It has taken all thirteen years to unwrap my fingers from the guilt, shame, mourning and regret. But now I feel the need to step out of the shadow of his death and show my gratitude at having survived this long by living fully, giving freely and loving hard.
I did not change over night. I didn't evolve in a month long reality show. It has taken years to unravel my mistakes, missteps and ego driven misconceptions of who I thought I was. This year was my pay day for years of work, finding out what my purpose was, who I should hitch my wagon to, and where my heart should go next. Every day my first thought is, "Stay in today, tomorrow will take care of itself. If I live in every moment offered, then I will have no regret." I wish I had had loftier goals for myself than survival, but the truth is I did survive, the kids survived and Michael assure me that he isn't going anywhere without me.
Every book has an end, a last page that we re-read to make the words resonate. This is the last page of the book of Daniel for me. I will cherish every word spoken and inferred, I will remember him with warmth, laughter and love, but I will not be reopening chapters that have long outlived their usefulness anymore. I will finally let both of us off the hook.

It All Started While I Was Doing the Dishes

I was doing the dishes this morning from a particularly sticky meal from last night. Yes, I waited until this morning to get my dishes done. I was scrubbing my very well used pans, scraping last night's honey glazed roasted chicken out of them when something occurred to me.
A couple of days ago I was on the phone talking to a dear friend I have recently reconnected with. She asked me about book number two and the title. We spoke for a few more minutes and then she asked me something no one else has asked me. "How do you come with the stories that make it into the book?" I thought for a minute and said this, much to my own surprise, "I think of all the times I have been influenced or changed by someone and the effect of that change. I have been fairly lucky when I think back on things."
There it was, the reason for the book, the future books and all the stories I tell. To be perfectly honest, I have never thought to ask myself that question. I had written and told stories since I was able to talk. I was that kid that, once I started talking, no one could shut me up. Believe me when I tell you, many have tried, and no one has succeeded to date. Life has always been a giant jigsaw puzzle to me. I felt compelled to take individual pieces, gazing thoughtfully at each one, trying to figure out what my big picture was going to be.
O.K., now back to the dishes. As I was scrubbing, I noticed how incredibly black, dinged and heavily used my pans are. No amount of scrubbing was going to get all the stains, dents and scratches to go away. I stress cook, by which I take all of my anxiety and throw it directly into a pot, or on a pan in order to concoct something we as a family can devour, forever making all my problems disappear. Alright, it isn't that easy, but the action of cooking soothes my savage breast. It is a win/win situation in my household. Rather than take all my frustration out on the kids, Mike or the dogs, I cook like a maniac, immersing myself in something completely unrelated to whatever problem I am dealing with. I relieve my stress, they don't get chased around being sliced and diced with my forked tongue, and everybody has good food to eat.
Years ago when I was first learning to cook, I thought I was supposed to make sure the pans I used looked brand new, as if I had never cooked anything in them before. I used every kind of scouring powder, dish soap, steel wool and scrubbing sponge I could find. I used hard bristle brushes, ice picks and wash cloths, as I stood over the sink scrubbing, scraping and shining my pans back to their original color and shape. One day I had had a friend over for a meal. She offered to help with the dishes. I began my ritual sweating, scrubbing and swearing as I tried desperately to get any reminder of the previous meal off my pans.
"Kellie, honey, you are working too hard at this. You are not supposed to scrape the discoloring off the pans."
"I'm not?" I looked at her as if she were completely mad.
"No, you need the pans to retain some of their use so they get seasoned. It will help the food from sticking later on. It takes some women years to season their pans the way they want."
"What? Are you serious? I have been washing off what others practice for years to get? Noooooo, that can't be! Why would they want dirty dishes?"
"Look, the discoloration, is supposed to be there so your food won't stick. Wash off the big mess, yes, but don't polish it back to it's original shape. You use your pans, so it's perfectly acceptable for them to look used."
After that moment I never scrubbed my pots and pans back to their original shine again. I thought of all the wasted hours I had spent scrubbing and toiling over pans, that others would have coveted for their darkened seasoned state. My pots and pans look like they have been from a war zone. Twenty-five years of use has left all the dings, dents and blackened areas they can hold. And for the record, she was right; all of my pans work better now than they did when they were new. My food doesn't stick, things taste better and I spend a lot less time in the kitchen hating the cookware.
Here comes the big epiphany, I am like my pans. I have dents, dings and usage marked all over me. There are scars from softball games, broken relationships and child birth scribbled all over this body and heart of mine. Past mistakes, missteps and failures have softened my edges, making me less judgmental of others when they too fall. I have dark spots from days in the sun, as I ran around soaking in all the joy from the day. I have pale spots marking the times I went into hiding, protecting me and my kids from hurt. Yes, Virginia, you and your pots are supposed to look used. Your face is supposed to bare wrinkles, your hair is supposed to gray, your body is supposed to sag. All the kings horses and all the kings men do not have enough botox to remove all the life you have lived. You are supposed to have lived enough, loved enough to become well seasoned.
With the dishes done, the kitchen cleaned up and the blog now written, I have but one choice, to spend the remainder of my day adding new dents to my very spicy life.