Retail Therapy

I've never been a very girly girl.  When I was a kid, I spent most of my time with boys picking up frogs and snakes and rarely washing my hair, which flowed in lovely mats halfway down my back.  There was way too much coolness going on outside for met to notice that my church dress was on backwards.  I did notice that I didn't quite fit in with the pretty girls, and that was okay with me.  (They didn't know how to bait their own hooks, anyway.) Now that I am a full grown woman with grandkids and a mortgage, I wash my hair much more.  I usually have my dress on right. (I think.) Yet I still don't feel I fit in with the pretty girls.   

Having been pregnant or nursing for over ten full years of my life, I have struggled with my body.  I have lost and gained well over 300 pounds, if you tally it all up, I have been at odds with my body for a long time, and my Sudden Cardiac Arrest brought on a full-blown body break up.  

We stopped speaking, this horrible lump of betraying, untrustworthy chunk of flesh and I.  It abandoned me in my hour of need, and I was angry!  It has taken  years to get back on speaking terms. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say I'm quite comfortable in the skin I'm in. Now I'm ready for RETAIL THERAPY, and I've found the perfect way to do it!  

Everyone who knows me, knows what it means to me when a business steps up and makes a difference.  Lord and Taylor is one of those retailers.  I realize there is not a Lord and Taylor in scenic Climax, Michigan.  (Actually, we're doing pretty well to have a Post Office and a hair salon.)

There isn't one within 100 miles.  There is one right at my fingertips.  On the Magic Interwebs I can go on there and see the really pretty stuff that the pretty girls are wearing in New York City (which I thought was one of the coolest places I've ever been.)  I can order it, and this weekend they'll make a donation to WomenHeart to help me and other WomenHeart Champions offer support to the others who have broken up with their bodies also.  

The information can be found at the end of this blog, and I hope you'll visit their store or website to get your "shop on!" I just can't help but spread the word and share the love when companies choose to support me and show me some love.  For me, it's very personal.  I hope you'll support Lord and Taylor, and shop this weekend!  

    

On May 2^nd, Lord & Taylor is hosting a national Charity Day for women’s health. Customers can support organizations nationwide benefitting women’s health. Customers can specifically support WomenHeart in three ways:

1.     Starting today, visit www.womenheart.org/LordandTaylor, donate $5 to support WomenHeart, and in return get one 20% off storewide savings pass and two 30% off single item coupons, to use in any Lord & Taylor store on May 2, 2015.

2.     Shop at www.lordandtaylor.com on May 2, and a percentage of net proceeds from purchases will benefit WomenHeart!

3.     If you are in the New York City area on May 2, visit the Lord & Taylor flagship store at 424 Fifth Ave., New York, NY, purchase a $5 savings pass, and receive the greatest discounts of the season on your Lord & Taylor purchases that day! Proceeds from the $5 savings passes sold at the Lord & Taylor flagship store on May 2 benefit WomenHeart! 

Learn more by visiting www.womenheart.org/LordandTaylor. Shop at Lord & Taylor for that perfect Mother’s Day gift while supporting WomenHeart!

Dear Mrs. Little...

Lance Corporal Jason Little gave his life for his country in January of 2006, just as my own son was considering his post-high school choices and leaning heavily towards a military career. This letter has been 9 1/2 years in the making, and it's about time I told her what she and her son have meant to me.


Dear Mrs. Little,

I have thought to write you so many times, and I never know exactly where to start.  Being from Climax, I am certain our paths have crossed many times, but I can't really say we know each other. We probably have a lot in common, and I have prayed for you and your family many times.  I am so very sorry for the loss of your dear son.

I have tried not to imagine the pain and grief your family has endured, but it follows me.  It has been my greatest fear, ever since my oldest son joined the Army in 2006. With Jason's death having been in January, Jordan's induction in June stirred up thoughts of him and your family from the very beginning. Six years later, Jordan's younger brother Spencer would swear the same oath.  I was so proud of my sons as they swore an oath to protect this country to the point of death, and I wondered if you felt that same pride when Jason pledged the same thing. Surely, you were as afraid as I was.  I prayed for you on those days.  I prayed for all of our sons, and all the sons and daughters who take that oath, hoping they understand that it means exactly what it says.

When my Jordan deployed, I thought of Jason.  I'm sure they were both excited for an adventure, and a chance to see the world outside of the village limits. Jordan went to Germany, and my mother heart was worried. I knew his wife would be with him, so it wouldn't be as scary as being in a combat zone, but it's still awfully far away.

When Spencer told me he was being deployed to Afghanistan, I got panicky.  I wondered how you handled the news when Jason told you he was going to Iraq.  Were you in the same mixed bag of feelings I was?  Were you excited that your son would have the chance to be brave and valiant, and see the world and work to make it a better, safer place?  Were you, like me, terrified for them to be in a place where people wanted to do them harm? What a roller coaster of emotion! I took to the practice of hugging random uniformed service people, since my own son was unavailable.  (They didn't mind too much, and I asked first.)  I swear I held my breath for months, treasuring each letter and message, fearing each one would be our last. I feared that you and I would one day be standing side by side, mourning our sons together in Fort Custer. I prayed to have strength. I prayed for YOU to have strength.  I prayed that God would hold you in his arms, and you would find comfort there.

I've prayed for you so many times. I prayed for you and Jason, and the birthdays you will celebrate and remember the day he was born, without him.  Every Christmas, I think of you, and send up a prayer that somehow Jason will be present with you, smiling down on you and your husband and his siblings.  I pray that you will have so many wonderful memories of him, that his absence will not overshadow them.  I pray for his sister and brother, as I watch Jordan and Spencer's siblings rally around their brothers when they come home for a visit.

What I really want you to know is that Jason is not forgotten.  You raised a son who was brave, and willing to do all it took to protect our way of life.  He gave the ultimate sacrifice, and he gave a piece of you with it.  Your son is not forgotten. Neither are you. I wish I could carry away a piece of your pain.  In my heart, I see him when I see men in uniform.  He is honored every time the National Anthem plays and caps are removed. He is not forgotten, and neither are the others.

I saw in this week's Climax Crescent that you and your daughter are running a marathon in Washington DC in Jason's memory. It is a fundraiser for the Semper Fi Fund, which offers aid to wounded service people of all branches of the service. I will make a donation to support you and Stephanie financially at this donation website , and please know that I support you in prayer... still.

It's hard to believe it's been almost ten years.  He is still in my thoughts, and so are you.  Thank you, bless you, and stay strong.

With love and admiration from one Military Mom to another,

Amy Swager

 

The Red Boots

As I scrambled madly, up to my elbows in shoes, trying not to be late for whatever really important meeting I needed to be at next, I realized the truth.  My shoes, as well as my life, are a disorganized mess.

This blog, like my shoe closet (and my life) is a random conglomeration of the stuff I care about, the things I need, and the "shoes" that have been given to me, and I hold onto, hoping they will fit one day. My style could be called "eclectic" since my shoe closet contains an array of styles, from the black platform boots that make me at least 5 inches taller, to the slip on casual beach shoes that I wear when I want to relax, to the sparkly princess shoes that go with the blue cocktail dress that is still waiting for the right occasion to be worn. Some of my shoes are incomplete pairs.  There's probably a match to it in there, I just haven't needed it badly enough to search for it. These lonely fellows remind me of the things I will get to "some day".  Like learning to speak fluent Spanish, and knitting.  Both are on my list, and I'm not willing to throw them out.  They're just waiting their turn.

I have to admit, one of my favorite pairs of shoes are my red boots. They make me feel like I can give heart disease a kick in the pants and a run for it's money. I feel so empowered when I wear them. They remind me of my friend Stephanie, and how she survived a heart attack on Pike's Peak, waiting for hours for the helicopter to rescue her.  They make me think of Sue walking into the ER as her heart was stopping, announcing to the nurse "I think I'm having a heart attack."  They make me think of my sister doing CPR to save my life in a beauty salon, and I want to take away how scary that was. These boots make me stand tall and proud like Wonder Woman. They make me turn my fear and anger and uncertainty into strength and resolve and drive.

I wish I could give every woman living with heart disease a pair of these red boots.

They say that 1 in 4 women will die of heart disease.  When I'm wearing my red boots, I feel like I can stand up and say, "Not me." (Although, technically, I've been without a pulse, so you could say I've already died.  I didn't "stay dead", so it doesn't count.)  In my red boots, I feel like I can stand in front of my Mom and say, "You can't have her".  I can stand in front of my sisters and friends and say, "Not her either.  Move along"

If we all had our red boots on, we would stand together as an Army of  Red-Booted Warriors!  We could stand in front of every 4th woman and say, "No, Heart Disease. You can't have ANY of us."

It's a great goal, but for now, my WomenHeart sisters and I will do the next best thing.  We will educate everyone who will listen.  We will wear the boots for each other when one is having a "grippy socks in the hospital" kind of day.  We will seek out the sisters who are suffering alone and trying to pretend to their family like this isn't the scariest thing they've ever faced, and support them.  We will teach people how to save lives with CPR.

We will help others find their own pair of "red boots".  We will hold each other up, and try to help each other live long enough to make it all the way to the bottom of our lists, so I can say something in Spanish beyond "eat your beans" and someday knit a really ugly sweater.


<3

 

The Oscar Goes To...

Enjoying the Oscars with a LARGE Popcorn!

We're watching the Oscars, and thoroughly enjoying them, and will probably remember certain moments forever.  Or at least until the next award show...or tomorrow, whichever comes first.

For example, I treasured the performance of Lady Gaga singing selections from The Sound of Music.  Not just because she showcased a lovely singing voice that has been previously eclipsed by wearing a suit of meat, but because Harriett and I spent the performance cheering for Gaga to "keep it normal" and "keep the dress on!"  We were both delighted when she remained relatively normal throughout the entire performance.  Hats off to you, Gaga.

Then the REAL Julie Andrews came out!!  We love her!  Harriett was surprised to learn that she's 9 years older than Grandma!  Very Cool!

I got thinking about my own Oscars.  What would my life's story be called?  If I was giving out Oscars to the people who do the most important things in my life, The Oscars would go to:

Best Producers:  Pat and Dick Thompson (Get it, they "produced" me!)

Best Editor:  Luke Swager  (He keeps me from getting too far off the beaten path)

Best Soundtrack in a feature film: My Kids:  Jordan & Spencer Roberts  and Isaac Swager on Tuba, Lydia, Harriett, Simon and Sylvia Swager featured on a variety of vocal and background noise.

Best Screenwriter for my feature film: God (He writes ALL of my stories)

Best Set design:  Again, the Roberts/Swager kids for their constant re-design of my background (and foreground.)

Best Supporting Actress: The nominees are too numerous to mention.  If you are a woman and one of my dear friends, IT'S YOU!

Best Supporting Actor:  Again, hard to call:  If you're one of the fellas that make my life a better place, IT'S YOU!

Best Electrician: MAXIMO (My Pacemaker) and Dr. Liu (My pacemaker cardiologist)

Best Gaffer:  Joe Thompson.  Hands down.  Best. Gaffer. Ever.  (Good brother, too!)

I feel like Meryl Streep should have won something, as she's been such a lovely actress for a long time in lots of movies I've enjoyed.  However, compared to all of you, she can't hold a candle.  I've been so blessed by so many wonderful people in my life!

And the one you've all waited for:  Best Picture goes to my life story, which is called...

On our knees

Fat Tuesday was a booming success at the Swager household!  We ate paczkis, we went out to dinner, we polished off the Valentine's Day candy, and started our preparations for Lent.  We didn't have a parade, or throw beads, but we celebrated Mardi Gras in our own frozen, Michigander way.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, things went wrong.  The people in Haiti will spend the next three days weeping and mourning for the 16 people who died in a tragic Carnival float accident.  It would appear that the float hit a low power line.  As the sparks began to fly, people panicked and got trampled.  This Haitian Carnival Tragedy breaks my heart.  It brought a celebrating people to their knees.

Maybe that's what we needed today. Not the death of revelers, but the dropping to our knees.

Mardi Gras really is only important in that it precedes Ash Wednesday.  It's the last day before everything changes.

Everything is about to get stark and real.  We're about to take a good hard look at our choices and our lives, and the things that really matter to us. We'll strip away the things that distract us. We spend time in conversation and contemplation about our relationship with the one who knows us better than anyone else: Our very Creator.  Then, when we've spent time un-building the walls we've erected between us and the Lover of our Souls, we'll walk through the Passion and Crucifixion of our Lord and Savior.  We'll remember the pain he went through for us, and rejoice at his Resurrection.

We will mourn.  The time is fitting for it. But there will come a time to celebrate again.    

I will be posting Love letters to my Creator on my "Lent to Me" blog during Lent.  I hope following me will bless you.

And may God's comfort and Mercy be with those in Haiti, and everywhere that people are in mourning.

The Poor Kitty

I can't imagine what she thought when her son brought me home.

She probably had that same feeling a mother has when her son chooses the kitten with a gooey eye that doesn't open all the way, missing parts of an ear and the tip of a tail, and breathes like a heavy smoker.  He picks it up, which is fairly easy, as the poor thing limps around with one leg shorter than the other three (an old wound never properly healed) and declares this bony ball of fur and sickness "the most beautiful, perfect kitty in the whole world!" I AM that kitty!

I was broken down, used up, devalued, starved, pitiful, and hopeless.  I"d been played with for a minute, then thrown out the window of the moving car.  I was worthless and pathetic.  And sad. I was just another stray in a vast sea of strays who are lost and looking for a home. I'm sure she could see it and feel it and sense it.  I will never be good enough for her son, We both know it.

When faced with the kitty, most Mom's are thinking, "Right.  I'll give this poor wretched thing two weeks, and if it doesn't die of this respiratory infection, I'm sure it's intestinal worms will work their magic and put the poor dear out of her misery." Then, because she loves her son and her son CLEARLY loves this kitty, she helps him nurse it back to health. She may be secretly hoping he loses interest in this poor wretched thing, but his love heals this desperate, broken soul.  His love feeds her and returns the shine to her eyes, and the softness to her fur.  His love softens Mom's heart, and soon Mom sees his beloved through the son's eyes.

Mothers-in-law have a certain reputation.  For a reason.  It is the mother's job to protect the son.  This child is the fruit of her womb!  His care and protection is no small feat!  This particular son is not like any other man on the face of the earth!  He is her beloved son!  It is his mother's job to protect him.  It is the mother's job to keep away the rabble and those women who would suck the Spirit right out of him until he's a shell of the man he was intended to be.  It is the Mother's job to make certain that his lady understands how special and wonderful he is.  He deserves to be loved and appreciated for all of the wonderful things that he IS, and adored for the way he loves so completely.

And in the case of Mother Mary, it is her job to see me, her son's beloved stray kitty (me), through Jesus's filter of love.  What an incredible job for a human woman.  Even one full of Grace.

So now I have the responsibilities of a daughter-in-law, where it comes to her. I will learn the traditions, the recipes, the history of his family through her.  I will ask her to share the stories of him as a child, and learn the special language that each family has to communicate with each other. I will get to know them because I love him.  She and I will share him lovingly.  We will mourn together remembering his crucifixion, and rejoice together on Easter remembering his Resurrection.  We will each hold a beautiful and perfect place in his heart.

We will love each other. His love makes me worthy, and his love makes her accepting of me. We will love each other for love of him.  I hope that all that I do gives proof to my loving intentions towards him.  I hope that my words and actions illustrate my affection and adoration.

I hope to live up to my Mother-in-Law's expectations.


 ***Any discussion of daughters-in-law must come with a disclaimer.  I have been one, and I have some.  I've walked this path from a variety of directions, and I know that I have been blessed by both of my Mothers-in-law, and both of my Daughters-in-law.***

Best. Decision. Ever.

There are days when I'm a little jealous of others.

There are days when I look at the lives of my friends who are religious sisters or priests with envy.  I see how they have time in their lives to contemplate the depths of God's love or to sit for hours on end in Eucharistic Adoration, doing the hugely important work of spending time praying for every other person on the face of the Earth. I envy that a little. 

I see the pictures of amazing places my friends have been, and I feel a twang of envy.  There are jungles and mountains and cities all over this planet that I'd love to see with my own eyes.  It makes me just a bit jealous. It makes me question the choices I've made.       

Because I'm A MOM!!!!  I have Mom things to do.  

Twenty-seven years ago, my son was born. He had greenish-brown eyes and dark hair, and came out battleship gray. He smiled at me, then took a dump right on my stomach. I'd never loved a person so much in my whole life. Twenty-seven years ago a Mother was born.  Jordan has been a gift and a challenge.  He reminded me to check to see if soap is toxic before I wash his mouth out with it. I'm his Mom!  I'm the one he cried for, and clung to.  I fed him and clothed him and swaddled him, and did my very best to protect him.  I gave him the gift of siblings.  I came to know God through the lens of parenthood. In return, he's blessed the world with his artistic and musical talents.  He's blessed me with a daughter-in-law, and grandchildren.  He's given me a legacy and a lineage.  Best. Decision. Ever.

So I may not be available for hours of endless uninterrupted prayer, or travel to exotic places.  I praise God in each moment of being the Mom.  I adore the presence of Christ, and acknowledge it in each of my children, and see Him in their beautiful faces. I have seen the amazing sights of my children playing and singing and praising God.  I have felt the warmth of a cuddle on the couch during a snowstorm. I've been moved to tears by their smiles, and shared their tears.  I hold my children in my heart, and it has changed me, and created me into a new creation.

Happy Birthday, Jordan! You helped me find my purpose and calling.