If you can't say something nice . . .

I haven't blogged in awhile. That's not to say I haven't been writing for myself, just that I haven't been sharing. There's been a lot going on for me in the past year, but nothing that I wanted to, or could, share outside of my own internal reflection.

I've been relatively quiet on social media as well. About a year and a half ago, I came up with my own personal motto for Facebook; if I wanted to post, it needed to be positive, humorous, encouraging, educational, joyfully reflective, or only mildly self-deprecating/ironic stories. No woe-is-me posts, no whining about first world problems, no rants, no vague attention-seeking posts. To be totally honest, I'm often vastly entertained by those types of posts on others' pages (in the way you're entertained by awkward public arguments in restaurants and train wrecks). I support everyone interpreting their lives the way they choose to (even if I surreptitiously block some of them from my news feed to avoid some of those things) and this isn't a rant on Facebook etiquette in general. It's more about my personal choice. I've definitely been in the mood to break my personal motto for FB in the last year, because I've had moments where I wanted to whine, and wanted to rant, and wanted to post vague attention-seeking posts so people would sympathize. I even slipped a few times.

It's been a rough year for me. Let me put that in context . . . in my 30 years of living and breathing in a privileged life with, currently, a steady job, excellent insurance, a comfy apartment, plenty of food, continued overall health, books/internet/Netflix, family and friends . . . it's been a rough year. My job has consumed more of my time and energy than I ever considered it would. I've become useless at remembering things that aren't work related. I barely have the energy by the end of the day/week to make time for friends. Some very valued friends have fallen completely by the wayside for me. I've started collapsing in bed instead of exercising. I've ignored my hobbies and passions. I've spent less time with family to avoid any possible drama/commitment that often comes with families. I've been spending less time relationship-building in general, because my introverted self just doesn't have the energy most days to be around people.

In short, I've been drifting, aimless, and often sad.

And so I've been quiet, because deep down I've always believed that when it comes to sharing to the world (outside of trusted friends and family), you should stick to the motto "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". Everyone has struggles. Mine are small in the context of the real struggles of the world. You have only to watch the news to put your struggles in perspective. My struggles are small, but they are real to me.

So, maybe a rant would help? Maybe a mopey blog that talks about how rough I think my life has been and requesting sympathy and suggestions? Or, I could say something nice. Thanksgiving is next week . . .

I'm thankful for The National band album I'm currently listening to, which gives me something slightly moody and ethereal to reflect and write to.

I'm thankful for my nieces, nephew, and the honorary nephews and honorary nieces/nephews that are growing healthy and strong. I'm thankful for how they remind me that time goes by quickly, and you have to get in all the hugs and love that you can before they become too cool for geeky Auntie Dacia.

I'm thankful for friends who are equally, if not more, geeky than me and who embrace all that with me. And I'm thankful for my friends who I sometimes have only a few core things in common with except that we love each other in spite of/because of our differences and mutual respect. I'm thankful for Friendsgiving with some of those friends.

I'm thankful that I was instilled with a deep obsession with books from an early age, because I will never be lonely or bored with all the thousands of stories out there in the world. There is always another adventure to embark on and another perspective to learn from.

I'm thankful for a church where I can be imperfect. I'm grateful to be a part of something flawed, beautiful, and honest. I'm thankful that my mind is still open and unformed enough to change and learn and take on new perspectives. I'm glad I'm not jaded quite yet.

I'm thankful for a digital journal, so I could get out the whiny, ranting, self-pitying thoughts out without subjecting anyone else to them.

I'm thankful for a family that loves me unconditionally. For a mother who still calls me by endearing childhood nicknames, calls enough so I know I'm loved but never smothers, and who gives me an example of how to have adventures, be goofy, and still be an introvert. For a step-dad who gives car advice, life advice, a sense of humor and adores my mom. For aunts and uncles that are close enough to parents that I just feel too blessed for words. For a grandma who prays for me every day and is such a humbling example of living a faithful life. For the memory of a grandpa that instills a sense of working hard, never giving up, and sticking up for those that can't stick up for themselves. For a brother, sister-in-law and two sweet nieces who are finally close enough for me to get a regular fix and a chance to reconnect. And for step-sisters who always include me when I visit and consider me an auntie to their kiddos. I'm so thankful for all of you.

I'm thankful for wonderful co-workers who make me laugh, talk me down from the crazy days, and are teaching me daily how to be better at my job. I'm blessed to work in a place where the mission is to demonstrate the healing ministry of Christ. I don't always succeed at the mission every day, but I do try, and the daily effort and struggle make me a better person.

I'm thankful that I worship a living God that knows all these struggles and joys and never leaves me, even when I'm apathetic, depressed, overwhelmed, frustrated, selfish, petty, and distant. I'm thankful that this same Savior takes me outside of myself when I'm at my worst and shows me all that I'm blessed with. I'm thankful to be told I'm not the center of the universe. And at the same time, I'm thankful to know that I am adored, utterly and completely, by this same Savior.

If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. It's been a rough year, but I am thankful.

Missing the music

My mom is a piano teacher. 


Let me rephrase that. My mom is a phenomenal piano teacher. She works a lot with special needs children. She teaches students that other people can't, and she doesn't have formal training. I think God gifted her with the ability to reach children through music, to work with each individual student to find the way they can learn best. I admire her hugely.


She also taught me, ungrateful wretch that I was! I took lessons from her from 1st grade till a little after I graduated from 8th. It was a fairly frustrating experience for both of us:) My poor mother, after a full day of listening to her students butcher and blunder their way through their lessons, she had to listen to my brother and I practice in the evenings. And poor us, we had to listen to her clap out the rhythm upstairs in the kitchen and yell down at us when we were doing it wrong. It was a frustrating experience for everyone.


Yet somewhere in the midst of all that, I found myself enjoying the music I was playing. Probably right around the time I could sit down and play an actual song. It was . . . relaxing. It helped me release my emotions.


I grew up with the sound of the piano almost continually in the house. It was either horrific (the little beginners), wince-inducing (intermediate), or fun (advanced students). And then there was the music when my mom practiced. I remember snickering when I'd hear her shriek in frustration over a section that wasn't coming together. I remember smiling faintly in the back of my mind when she played a song I particularly liked. But I especially remember her practicing on Sabbath morning as I dreamily woke up. It almost felt like she was welcoming the Sabbath into our home with beautiful music. I still love it when she's playing on Sabbath morning when I visit home, it feels like I've stepped back in time.


I play the piano only rarely nowadays. I don't own a piano and really only get the opportunity when I visit my mom (and her 3 piano's!). But every time my fingertips touch the keys of the piano I learned to play on, I feel transported. My fingers move in a way I can't explain, they pick up the muscle memory without complaint. I'm not particularly good, but there are certain songs I can play with ease that fill me with beauty and memories.


Tonight I'm missing the music. I wish I could sit down at the piano and get lost for awhile. I'm listening to some beautiful music and typing, but it's not quite the same. It's a gift that I'll always appreciate though, the gift of music that my mom gave me.