Reclaiming a Beloved City
Written by Deborah Brauser

I came home earlier this month from a business trip to Orlando, Florida – a location billed as, according to the PR folks at Walt Disney World, “the happiest place on earth.” But I have to admit I had been excited yet worried about returning to the town I had lived in for 7 years.

From: Orlando/Orange County Convention & Visitors Bureau, Inc.

You see, this was my first visit back since moving away from there after someone very important to me passed away in a car accident 4 years ago. And my memories of the last few weeks before the move were full of sadness.

So I was a little nervous about seeing sites again that we had often visited together. Would this be a trip full of tears or one that was ultimately uplifting? After all this time, I was ready to find out.

“B.B. King’s at Pointe Orlando on I-Drive”

And… it ended up being wonderful! I walked around areas that I had enjoyed before, including the whole touristy-but-fun International Drive area full of themed restaurants, souvenir shops, and crazy attractions; rode by the convention center and business hotels where we had often worked together; and watched the fun at SeaWorld, which was located right across from the hotel where I was staying this time and which houses Manta — our favorite roller-coaster ever.

I also decided to check out some new-to-me places, to make some new memories. This might sound surprising coming from someone who now lives in a land-locked state, but I LOVE the ocean and spending time on a beach. And because I had never been to Clearwater Beach, on Florida’s Gulf Coast, I booked Gray Line’s “Beach Bus” for transportation service from Orlando and back.

I made the reservation for Tuesday morning and of course it began to rain furiously starting on Monday afternoon. All day Monday I was miserable. My work conference ended early that day, I had to change hotels to one that was over-run with young kids full of pent-up energy because they couldn’t really get outside or to the theme parks, and all of the things I had wanted to do would have involved sloshing through flooding lots. So I felt stuck in my very noisy room watching dark skies and angry, sideways rain.

“No hotel is much fun in the rain, even if it is Disney’s Pop Century Resort”

Oh, and we were alerted at one point that there was a tornado watch! I of course did the sensible thing and went to bed early, pulling the covers over my head and wishing for better weather the next day. And you know what? That’s not what I woke up to.

The rain was still coming down in the morning and the skies were still dark. But I was determined to make my beach trip anyway, throwing an umbrella and rain poncho into my bag along with flip-flops and a towel.

I then caught the Beach Bus (actually a mini-van packed with 15 passengers) and promptly slept for most of the 2 hour trip over to Clearwater Beach. I woke up when I heard the driver laugh and holler out, “well, look at that! It’s gonna be a nice day after all.” Yep, blue skies and sunshine were starting to break through the clouds and the rain had stopped completely.

By the time we were let out at Clearwater Beach’s Pier 60 area, it was a gorgeous yet chilly day. The chill eventually burned off and the rest of the time was full of warm sand, the sound of the ocean’s roar, and happy voices of other tourists around me.

The capper to what ended up being a lovely day was a meet-up that night at Jeff’s favorite restaurant with friends who knew us both. And instead of being sad, it was an easy evening of laughter, good food, and fun.

Overall, I left Orlando feeling lighter – like it’s okay for me to reclaim this wonderful city I used to love. It’s no longer just a place full of sad memories but of memories of a time that was very special to me. And it’s a place ready to provide more adventures the next time I visit.

Is there a place you’ve dreaded re-visiting? What would it take to get you to go back there?

Deborah Brauser is a full-time freelance medical and travel writer. Clients and publications include Medscape Medical News, WebMD, The Oncology Nurse, Southern Hospitality, Traveler, and Orlando Attractions Magazine. Her travel blog is located at: http://TravelBrowsingWithDeb.com .

by Dorothy Johnson of Reflections from Dorothy’s Ridge

Recently while traveling, a friend pointed out the car window at a rainbow in the distance. To the east, I caught a glimpse of its colors arching against a backdrop of dark clouds. I had seen water standing in the fields beside the highway and hoped the folks in the locale of the rainbow were happy about getting precipitation.

Poets and songwriters have long associated rain with disappointment and pain, and rainbows with happier times. Remember Judy Garland belting out “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in The Wizard of Oz?

Even though it was written way back in 1921, everyone seems to know the lyrics to “April Showers.” Maybe that’s because it’s a hopeful song, admonishing us to expect good things to follow the inevitable rain. I think its author must have been familiar with Longfellow’s poem “The Rainy Day.”

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining / Behind the clouds is the sun still shining / Thy fate is the common fate of all, / Into each life some rain must fall, / Some days must be dark and dreary.

Those lines remind me of a tune from my youth, “Baby, the Rain Must Fall” by Glenn Yarbrough. It was the theme song for a 1965 movie of the same title starring Lee Remick and Steve McQueen that told the age-old story of a woman disappointed by an irresponsible man.

I lived my own version of that show. The details were different and don’t really matter. What does is that when I left, I managed to work through the hurt and not become bitter. It was a process, for sure. But I always seemed to have hope for a better life.

My husband experienced his own set of disappointments, but we eventually found each other. In July, we’ll celebrate 40 years of marriage. Maybe we’ve worked harder at our relationship because we both knew what we didn’t want. Loyalty and commitment haven’t hurt either. Whatever the case, I sometimes feel like I’ve been living under a double rainbow because our life has been so good.

Heartbreak knows no age. It can happen at any time of life. But happiness can come along, too, and doesn’t always involve another relationship. If you or someone you know is picking up the pieces from any kind of loss, take heart. Better days are sure to follow. Watch for them.

Sometimes it’s not a major heartbreak that gets us down as much as facing the dullness and sameness of difficult circumstances or embracing change over which we have no control. If you’re in that place, order the movie Singing in the Rain and watch Gene Kelley, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor sing and dance their way through pouring showers. They were amazing dancers. Their energy and enthusiasm always makes me smile.

Whatever your circumstances, today I wish you hope and joy and the conviction that the sun will surely come out again.

As I wrote this, an amazing number of songs about rain and pain that have been popular through the years played through my mind—too many to list. So I’ll leave that to you. Which ones do you remember?

I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten… Joel 2:25a

Dorothy Johnson is an Arkansas girl who has rediscovered the joys of the written word. She writes from a ridge overlooking the Arkansas River and feels blessed to wake up to that view every day.  She says she’s lived long enough to understand the importance of exercising good judgment and the pain that comes when we don’t. She’s enjoying having a place to share her reflections on life and hopes you’ll join her, be encouraged and share your thoughts along the way.
twitter: @dorothysridge

Our Deep Dark Secret – We Eat Brains!
Just kidding! We participate in the Eureka Springs Zombie Crawl every year because even I need to get my silly on once in a while!

Pictured Paige Lorrabeth and Jacqueline Wolven.

Decorating A Perfectly Shaped Thoroughly Fake Tree
Written by Dorothy Hill of Dorothy’s Desk

Some traditions are intentionally established. Sometimes it’s to carry on something from one’s childhood; sometimes it’s to do things in a uniquely individual way. My tradition of decorating the tree evolved over a rather short time and it’s entirely my own fault. It came to be known as Mom’s Annual Christmas Fit.

Tree decorating and perfectionism are a terrible combination. I didn’t know how to disarm the need for perfection so things just continued to escalate and irritate.

My first Christmas tree as a young married was, in a word, ugly. The shape, the trunk, one bare side, and scraggly looking limbs. I don’t know who bought that tree, I certainly have no memory of it. I rather suspect Jerry found it tossed out on the curb and decided that this should work fine with enough lights and tinsel. It didn’t. We had been married about 7 weeks and it was probably time for him to see what he was in for.

The trunk wouldn’t fit in the tree stand. We didn’t own an axe. Really, what newly wed couple who doesn’t live in the forest gets an axe for a wedding present? If we ever wanted to see our deposit, we knew better than to put a couple of eye-bolts in the wall to support this wretched tree as it tried to stand up in a bucket of sand. So we leaned the tree into the only empty corner of our tiny apartment. It took 2 extension cords to reach the outlet for the lights. My frustration level escalated and Jerry tried to diffuse the situation before I threw the tree back out the door. He put all the lights on the side of the tree that was visible, laid down a healthy sheet of individual tinsel strands then he plugged it in. We agreed that the tree would be okay as long as the room lights were turned off and we stood as far back from the tree as we could and squinted as we looked at it.

Those were the days before LED cool lights. Our lights burned hot and bright, and as the tree dried out, somewhat scary as well. Memories of that tree of ugly undoubtedly fueled the determination to have the perfect tree. If people in the stores can decorate a lovely tree, why can’t I? I’ve decided there must be something amiss in my DNA. Yeah, that’s it. DNA

The trees that have been attempted over the years span the fads of time. I have had real trees that were just as hard to take down as they were to put up. The thing that drove me to fake trees was the dried and poky-sharp needles that defied vacuuming and had to be individually picked out of the carpet.

My tree collection that resides in my attic includes a 7’ fake pine that has 100 limbs or so. 100. They are color coded for each layer. If the dab of color has worn off we just have to guess. Even now I just shake my head at even the idea of this tree. Of course wire limbs have to gently bent and massaged into the right shape to make the tree resemble a tree. I have been known to toss a few of those limbs back into the box while mumbling that the person who had the original manufacturing idea for this ‘some assembly needed’ tree, needs to be fired. I can’t believe that tree is still in our attic.

Our 6’ skinny tree was purchased to fit into a much smaller space. Just because it was skinny didn’t make it easier to decorate. Even writing about this tradition signals the internal stress-o-meter that there is a tree to decorate and preemptive stress hormones begin to increase.

My ceramic, tabletop size, permanently decorated tree that sits on a music box base is a no brainer. Set it on the table, plug it in, done. But it just doesn’t measure up to the actual Christmas Tree picture in my head. That, and there are 3 light bulb missing that cannot be replaced,

The fiber optic tree is 5.5 feet tall. It’s another plug and play thing. It’s okay, but doesn’t speak Christmas to my soul. One year the actual optic thingy didn’t work and I was, well, unhappy.

The 3 foot tree is a miniature pine tree whose wire limbs need to be twisted back into the shape of a tree. Evidently, my shaping got a bit enthusiastic and some of the limbs broke. That and it was missing one of the legs for the base.

The self-lit 6 foot, lovely shaped tree had a layer of lights that simply would not work. This tree inspired my husband to take the kids to Wendy’s for burgers just to avoid my mumbling and threats of tree ejection. He also took the instructions that included manufacturer contact information. Good job.

This year I have 6 days to get the tree up and presentable. On day 8 it will come right back down. I have expanded my perfect tree picture to include a Polar Express model train that has a remote control. It will run in a circle around the tree and puff little puffs of smoke and make train sounds. While talking to my husband about this his eyes got bigger and bigger and I just knew he was agreeing with the whole idea. I just knew he would love putting the train together and making it run properly. And Ave-the-Wonderful, our 2 year old granddaughter would clap with delight and say, “Good job, Papa!” when she saw it round the corner and come out from between the perfectly wrapped presents. So I was puzzled and dismayed when he very calmly said, ‘Absolutely not. There is not enough room for a train.” I saw the tension in his face dissipate when I agreed that he was probably right.

I’ve tried to tone the Tree drama down over the years, and I think I’ve been improving. My Annual Christmas Fit is not pretty, but my family has come to expect it. Evidently DNA changes slowly.

I am new, painfully new, to the blogging world. I write and second guess myself, reread until nothing makes sense and then, in an act of desperation I hit the delete key. I write about nature, poems, and things I observe. My oldest daughter, Terri, and I have co-written a book that will be published soon. I’m married and we have 4 grown children, 2 grown grandsons, a teenage granddaughter and a 2 year old granddaughter. I’m a follower of Jesus, and that is the most important relationship in my life.

Our Tradition of ‘Gift Opening Fun’
(Or: Not Unwrapping Gifts Like a Pack of Wild Hyenas…)
Written by Deborah Brauser of Travel Browsing with Deb
 
My Mom loves Christmas. I mean, we all do. But my Mom? She really, really loves everything about it from the decorations and the music, to special food items and even all the shopping and planning that goes into coordinating several different big get-togethers. Her favorite thing about Christmas (and really all holidays) is tradition. And the big one that has always made me smile is the way my immediate family approaches opening presents…

I remember being shocked the first time I went to a boyfriend’s house and saw the chaotic free-for-all that was their idea of a great way to unwrap gifts. As soon as each present was handed out, it was instantly opened and then tossed to the side without even a thank you, as the recipient looked for the next shiny package.

I was stunned because, although that family was clearly having a great time, it was completely alien to me. And it was the first time I wondered, were we the strange ones??

Here’s how it has always worked in my family: we all sit in a big circle in the room with the Christmas tree. Each gift is passed out, and then we go around 1 at a time as each participant opens 1 gift at a time before the next person takes a turn. This continues until everything has been opened.

Now, that’s not to say there haven’t been a few mishaps over the years. Once, I had 3 wrapped gifts from my brother and sister-in-law. When I opened the first item, it was a DVD for a movie I’d never heard of before. “Oh, this looks really interesting! Can’t wait to see what this is about,” I told him at the time (and meant). But I noticed a look of worry creep over my brother’s face.

When I opened their second gift, I couldn’t help myself from saying, “Really? A Madonna CD?” before adding, “You know, maybe I should give her old songs another listen.” But as I reached for their third gift, my sister-in-law stopped me. “I knew these things didn’t sound like her!”

We finally figured out that my brother had stumbled upon my Amazon Wish List, which shows items I’d like to buy for myself. But he had then clicked on a different link showing someone else’s actual wants. Yikes! We were all giggling at that point, with the laughter growing even louder when I finally unwrapped their last gift — a child’s size small Johnny Depp t-shirt.

Still, it didn’t really matter. We laughed the rest of the night, joked about whether someone else had “my gifts” and took pictures of me with all of the wrong items.

Of course, the whole time my Mom was laughing in delight. And why shouldn’t she? This is her tradition, passed down from her Mother’s side. She loves to tell the story about splitting up a pair of house-slippers for her twin sister when they were kids, putting each one in a separate, differently-shaped box. Or about how her older sister once wrapped up different coin amounts, with a few dimes in 1 package, some pennies in another, etc.

I’ve now learned through the years that our gift unwrapping process really is pretty unusual and the “open in a wild frenzy” style is far more common. But I don’t care. This particular tradition always means we’re going to have a fun time… together. And really, isn’t that a lovely thing to get for Christmas?

Shown here with her favorite gift last year (a model of a brain!), Deborah Brauser is a freelance medical and travel writer. Clients and publications include Medscape Medical News, WebMD, The Oncology Nurse, Southern Hospitality, Traveler, and Orlando Attractions Magazine. Her travel blog is located at http://TravelBrowsingWithDeb.com .

Our family traditions are still in the making, but some are already near and dear to my heart. My daughter decorates our Christmas tree, we always find a Santa, we bundle up to go look for Christmas lights, and I always get a photo ornament with the kids’ pictures on them.

Karen Weido is a full time wife, full time mom, and works full time in Healthcare Marketing & Public Relations. She and her family live in Southwest Arkansas. She has been sharing her family’s stories and activities on Ting’s Mom Blog since 2010. In her spare minutes she tries to read, is learning to cook, and runs around in the backyard with her kids.

Is Santa Claus Christian?
By Kelcie Huffstickler, Blogger of the Month

The thing about being involved in blogging and social media is that sometimes you get overloaded with the opinions of others. Sometimes you nod your head (and click “Like”); other timesyou roll your eyes and keep scrolling. And sometimes you scrunch your eyebrows together and think about an issue in a way you haven’t before.

Sometimes though – if I’m honest – I read things and wonder if we’re all just splitting hairs and over-analyzing and wasting time writing blog posts about our perspective on the issue (whatever the issue may be) when we should just be enjoying life. In fact, sometimes I don’t even realize an issue is controversial until social media explodes. And then I must decide which side I’m on.

Case in point: Santa Claus.

Now if you don’t run in very particular social media circles, you may not even realize this is up for debate. You think, “Everyone loves Santa Claus, right?” Wrong.

This Christmas season I have read post after post about why Christians should (or should not) “do Santa Claus” with their children. And it seems like more Christians than ever are running in the opposite direction from the jolly man with the white beard. Or maybe social media has just made them more vocal. Either way, it made me ponder where I stood on this issue, and here’s what I concluded.

• Christmas is not about Santa. It’s about Jesus. He is truly the “reason for the season.” God Almighty came to Earth as an infant, in a dirty stable, to a teenage girl. He became poor so that we could become rich through a relationship with Him. That is worth celebrating!
• Not everyone is Jesus followers. Santa Claus is a huge part of our largely secular culture, and he is everywhere. Not only is he at the mall, on TV, and in catalogs, but he’s in conversation at the super-market and at family get-togethers. “Have you been good little girl? What’s Santa Claus going to bring you?” Personally, I would not feel right about cutting off well-meaning family members and other adults with a “We don’t believe in Santa Claus.” And I certainly wouldn’t want my kids to be the ones who burst the bubbles of their friends and classmates. My fear would be that our family might appear “holier than thou,” and as Jesus-followers, that is not the image I want to present.
• Childhood is magical. I see the magic every day through the eyes of my four and two-year-olds, who light up at the smallest inkling of snow or fairies or sea monsters orprincesses. And the story of Santa Claus is just anotherway we fan the flames of their imaginations. I don’t want to put out the light before it’s hardly had a chance to glow.
• We’ll keep the emphasis where it should be. We’ll let them believe, at least while they’re very young, but we won’t make Christmas “all about Santa.” I make sure to remind my girls very often that Christmas is about Jesus. We regularly read the nativity story. And we do service projects together, trying our best to teach them that giving is better than receiving. I recently read this post on Kelly’sKorner and felt like she spoke straight from my heart: “Balance is the key. With a heavy emphasis on faith for us.”

So that’s where we stand for now. Of course, things are subject to change from year to year. And don’t think for a second I’m judging you if your view is different from mine. I’m thankful God looks at the heart, and He knows, as Christians, we’re all just trying to do what’s right for our families.