Halloween

I had the pleasure of spending Halloween with my 4 year old niece, Mary Stewart and my seven year old nephew, Daniel. They dressed as Tinkerbell and PeterPan. I thought it would be fun to dress as Captain Hook.

When Saturday night arrived I found myself excited to get dressed up and enjoyed helping the kids. Pumpkins were grabbed and we were off to greet the neighborhood.

Door to door I giggled as Mary Stewart and Daniel raced to see who could ring the doorbell first. We would all chime in Trick or Treat and the neighbors seemed impressed by our costumes. I was even offered candy at several houses for my costume as well.

As the night wore on their pumpkins became more and more full. Their steps were less quick and they admitted to being tired. We had been to most houses in the neighborhood.

When the trick or treating looked to be coming to an end, the kids got a new burst of energy and asked for just one more house. As we headed home the trading of candy quickly began. I was bargaining for a few pieces of candy myself.

And I started to realize all that was gained by trick or treating with them.

I did all the adult stuff by reminding them to be gracious (which I have to brag about their sweet manners) and to keep off the grass. But by losing my inhibitions, allowing myself to paint on that fake mustache, burning up in my costume and laughing all the while, I also felt like one of them.

The one gift I was able to give Daniel and Mary Stewart was to be totally present with an evening that was important to them. The one gift I was able to give myself was the chance to be a kid again. And what we all gained were memories (and cute pictures) to last a lifetime.

A Lesson on Neediness

I spent most of my weekend remodeling and redecorating but avoided bringing the heaviest package in from my car. A nice gentleman at Target loaded this package for me as it weighed more than I thought I could carry.

I gazed at the package in my backseat when I arrived home tonight and thought I can do this. One time, two times, three times without any luck. If only a strong man, significant other or even my dad were here, the package would be sitting on my living room floor waiting to be assembled.

As I took a deep breathe, the words popped out of my mouth...I need a man.

I felt a sense of disappointment for even thinking that let alone saying it out loud. After all, I am an independent woman, hear me roar.

Women everywhere are preaching independence. And as a 28 year old single, I have been preaching that too. But the heavy lifting got me thinking maybe it is okay to need a man or any relationship for that matter.

I recently heard a quote that says "A real relationship is when your desire for each other outweighs your need for each other." So it is with all our relationships. We will face tough times where we "need" our friends, family, or significant other. And to reach out to them is not a sign of weakness.

The lesson is not to lose yourself to the relationship. Not to depend solely on the other person to get you through those times of "need." So I took that lesson and headed back to the car.

I got that package in my living room. And when this nice young gentleman asked if he could help I batted my eyes and said, "Why yes will you please hold the door."

Harvest

On my drive back from Vincennes, Indiana I couldn’t help but notice all the tractors in the fields. It was time for Harvest and I was actually sad not to be on a farm right now.

Four years ago I moved to rural Illinois and experienced the farm life for the first time. My first tractor ride involved spreading turkey manure and I was wearing high heels. I was not at all prepared for this kind of lifestyle and to say I didn’t immediately love the farm was an understatement. But the more I learned, the more I appreciated the hard work involved in farming.

And I began to look forward to harvest.

The combine was my favorite tractor and what was used to harvest. I used to joke that the snouts on the combine reminded me of giant green crayons. And I was always amazed at how the machine pulled up the whole stalk but knew to keep only the corn kernels. The yield monitor inside the combine just fed into my competitive spirit. There were times I would actually cheer it on to move the yield numbers up. And the best late night naps were spent sitting on the floorboard of the combine with my head in the buddy seat. The natural hum of the machine put me to sleep in no time and I often didn’t awake until the machine shut off.

I no longer live in rural Illinois. And I am no longer a part of the farm I grew to love. But given the opportunity – I would hop on a tractor in a heartbeat, high heels and all.