YOLO

This morning, Jon teasingly invited Ruby to go to work with him. She wagged her tail. I responded by promising to take her on a run if she stayed home with me. She wagged her tail. Jon made a counter offer. To which I reminded her that she would miss her run if she went for a car ride with Daddy. She looked contemplative, torn, a little confused, but continued to wag her tail. Jon said in a Ruby voice, "Oh well, it will still be the best day ever."

It's a running joke in our home that for Ruby every day is the best day ever. We laugh about it, because maybe it's her little pea brain that lets her live every day to the fullest, maybe it's her failure to understand time in the way we humans see it, or maybe she's just the only one of us who really gets it. In every pant of her tongue and wag of her tail she exudes YOLO ("You Only Live Once" for those of you over the age of 16, without texting teenage children). 

I'd been impressed by her optimism before, but this morning when she continued to view life through such rose colored glasses in spite of such disappointment, I was in awe.

My recurring epiphany that joy is not contingent on one's circumstances appropriately resurfaces today, as it would be the 29th birthday of my dear cousin Kevin. Before his life was cut short ten days ago, Kevin, like Ruby was contagious in his happiness. It seems his outlook on life was to not waste time on the unnecessary, but to capture every moment and make it more beautiful.

Team Spears running the Crater Lake Rim Half Marathon.

As his Facebook page fills with tributes, I wish he had heard all the good he brought into the world.

 "I will forever remember the feeling of you laughing while you had me in a hug."

"Kevin was genuine before all else - he had a way of loving and accepting himself that helped me and others to do the same."

"During your short time in this reality you made lasting impressions of an old soul on many great people. I am inspired to continue living and working to create a world you would be proud of." 

"Once, years ago, Kevin stole my journal and wrote down poems for me - ones that he had memorized and kept close to his heart. Timeless as always, deep and meaningful, these words he gifted me are too beautiful to keep to myself. The last line he wrote, "written in love by Kevin Spears". But what didn't he do in love?"

"As I look at this photo, I realize I have never seen you without a smile, living life to the 

fullest each and every day."

"My dear, sweet li'l bro and best friend passed away suddenly yesterday. I had just talked to him on the phone for an hour right before it happened. For that, I feel so blessed. In that last conversation, he sounded so happy and full of love and passion for life."

Enjoying God's creation with Kevin.

Not a moment of Kevin's life was in vain if he inspired those of us who continue on, to do so with a smile. We will be better people for having loved him.

Habits of Happiness

Uncomfortably Comfortable

Through the open windows, the sweet morning sounds of the sparrows, the cicadas, and the passing train ride in on the fresh cool breeze. It is glorious, and I am oh so content. 

Did you catch the key words there? Open windows. Cool breeze. IT'S FALL!!! 

Maybe not officially as the calendar goes, but if we can't wear white anymore, and the kids are back in school, and the pumpkins are beginning to reclaim their prominent position in everything commercial, then it's fall enough for me. And it's my first fall in four years! That's right people, I haven't been in the US for this leaf-changing, cinnamon-scented, chilly-enough-for-a-jacket season since 2008! Oh, how I've missed it...

But now that we've opened up the house, and the temperature has dropped to the 60's for two nights in a row, and Angie's settling into middle school, I'm beginning to worry I'm getting a little too comfortable in this first world.

I started to get concerned when we visited Bolivia a few weeks ago. The weather wasn't nearly as miserably hot as it could have been in August, which rarely obeys the norms for the last "month of winter" that it really is, and usually creeps back into the mid-high 90s. We stayed in the guest room of some missionary friends' lovely home, so we really lacked nothing of consequence. But the buzzing mosquitoes, public transportation, smokey air, shortage of fancy plumbing, and sharing a bed with my daughter instead of my husband started to make me dream of home...

Now that we're back in the states, where autumn will soon paint the trees with the oranges and reds it has saved all year for such a time as this, and even the most humble home has so many luxuries, instead of feeling guilty about having too much, I've decided to feel grateful.

Grateful that this year I can ask the tap for cold or hot water, and it will oblige.

Thankful for the softness of clothes, sheets, and towels fresh from the dryer.

Relieved that I can flush my toilet paper.

Appreciative that I have candy corn, chocolate chips, ranch dressing, Papa John's, Chick-fil-a, and Target at my fingertips.

So glad that opportunities abound for Angie to follow in her mama's footsteps and play tennis to her heart's content.

Giddy because it's football season and my team rocks, even if I'm too cheap to buy tickets to the games now.

Content with the home we can make our own, because it is.

Overjoyed that family surrounds us in all directions.

Many of you have asked how the trip to Bolivia was for Angie. She did great. She enjoyed the things she'd missed, and was ready to return to her new home in Kentucky when our visit was over. Her weakest moment came right after we'd stopped by her old school and her friends had been so ecstatic to see her. 

"I wish we could live in Bolivia again," she thought out loud as we walked back to the house.

"No, you'd miss your grandparents, your cousins, snow, tennis, and you can barely speak Spanish anymore." I teased her. 

"Well, I wish we could have both. Like if Bolivia and the United States were side by side," she motioned with her hands just how close she desired them to be.

Don't we all wish we could have the best of both worlds. I'd prefer the changing seasons of the North mixed with the simplicity of South America. I'd choose the impossible combination of U.S. efficiency and the Latin priority of relationships. I would move all my friends and family from both continents to the same city. And I'd merge my ministries so I could take veterinary students from Santa Cruz, Bolivia and Auburn, Alabama to treat chickens together at an orphanage.

But in the meantime, since life is not a smorgasbord to order from a la carte, I'll choose to focus on all the beauty God gives me every day whether in the colors of the leaves, or the kindness of His people.