Tag Archive for: #clairesday

Alright, Alright, Alright

My youngest brother, Gordie, recommended we listen to Matthew McConaughey’s memoir, Greenlights on our travels. I was a bit hesitant, as I thought the actor was rather self-absorbed. I mean, what could I learn from a man who made a name for himself running on beaches and showing off his six-pack abs?

Plenty.

The timing was perfect to listen to the story, narrated by none other than Matthew himself. (We came to know each other on a first-name basis through the journey.)

Brad and I had quite a few road hours on our travels from Nashville and onto Branson. Throw in a little unplanned side trip to Red Bay, Alabama for a quick repair, and the roughly 6 1/2 hour audiobook helped pass the miles.

Our trip to Red Bay required an overnight stay where we were not intending to be. Matthew would summarize this situation by saying, “Greenlights.” In other words, green lights mean go. But sometimes in life, the green lights might change on us, causing us to redirect. And as life plays out, we end up with a Greenlight we weren’t expecting. Such was the case with our Harvest Hosts overnight stop at a little farm and orchard along the way. I’ve never camped in such a quiet, peaceful spot. Until the neighboring rooster woke us up early the next morning.

“The problems we face today eventually turn into blessings in the rearview mirror of life,” Matthew offered.

Greenlight.

Our view at Blessed Bounty orchard, an unexpected overnight.

I was surprised to learn that Matthew spent several years traversing in a van and Airstream trailer that he customized. He named the trailer Canoe, in honor of his visit to the Squamish Nation reservation in Vancouver. The tribe gave him a handmade oar, a symbol of the tribe.

Matthew said, “The oar guides the canoe, guides you through life—so I named the Airstream the Canoe. I mean, the highways are like riverways, they’re just concrete.” 

Our oar was guiding us to a place that was on both of our radars for some time; Branson, Missouri.

Branson

We stayed the week at Table Rock State Park, just fifteen minutes from the city of Branson. The lake is absolutely gorgeous, with a huge marina and a several-mile hiking trail around the perimeter. Over the weekend, a huge Bass Fishing Tournament, sponsored by Toyota happened on the lake. We’d wake up in the morning with the sounds of the National Anthem being sung to send the fishermen off for the day, and hear the announcements of the daily divisional winners in the evening. Top prize? $200,000!

The marina at Table Rock State Park, the Showboat Branson Belle and sunset at the park.

We wanted to take in a show, and at the recommendation of a friend, went to see Reza, an illusionist. Reza’s huge acts were amazing, but his smaller tricks were simply mind-boggling. I would have gotten a picture of him, but he kept disappearing.

Where did Reza go?

A huge bonus was catching up with a dear high school friend. Hannah Spotts and her husband Mike, who joined us for dinner at the campground. It was such a fun and lovely evening. Hannah recommended we visit one of her favorite places in the area…

Dogwood Canyon

Johnny Morris, owner of Bass Pro Shops and Cabela’s founded this extraordinary 10,000 acre conservation area with hiking and biking trails, trout fishing, and horseback riding. Tickets to the tram are extra, but the bonus is at the top. We enjoyed our close encounters with the herd of bison, including a rare White American Bison.

Brad and I also had a blast playing the Mountain Top 9-hole golf course, and taking in lunch at Arnie’s Barn afterwards. My drink of choice? An Arnold Palmer, of course.

Salina

Salina, Kansas was definitely a Greenlight. We stayed/played at the Salina Municipal Golf Course, which is one of the nicest muni golf courses we’ve ever played. Luna had a blast joining us during the round, and was quite chill afterwards while we had dinner on the patio at Ya Yas.  We took a nice stroll through the surprising downtown. Fun!

Rafter W Ranch

Our last stop before hitting Denver was yet another Harvest Hosts site…Rafter W. Ranch. We camped out in their field, away from their grass-fed cattle, and enjoyed hiking the property. We picked up some steaks before we left the next morning, on to our next adventures.

We finished listening to the audiobook, and could relate to this quote from Greenlights.

“We cannot fully appreciate the light without the shadows. We have to be thrown off balance to find our footing. It’s better to jump than fall. And here I am.”

Thank you, Matthew for your insights, your stories, your inspiration. We aspire to Just Keep Livin‘.

And we’re doing Alright, Alright, Alright.

 

Chosen

It was an honor and pleasure to be interviewed by Debbie Gonzalez for her podcast. Debbie inspired me through her inciting questions about love, loss, and celebrating life. More so, she suggests that I was chosen for my path, an incredible thought. Here’s to all who have guided and supported me on my journey. You were chosen as well.

Check out her debcast here: http://www.debbiegonzales.com/the-debcast-epsiodes/2019/12/29/ep34-never-deny-an-opportunity-at-first-glance-with-julie-rubini

To take heart…

I’m diving back into my memoir. Or more accurately, I’ve ditched the first draft and starting all over again. I so want to get this right. To share our journey of loss, but more so, our adventures through life, together as a family. Our daughter, their sister died, but we’ve lived.

Really lived.

In my quest to learn the art of stories involving loss, I read Mitch Albom’s the next person you meet in heaven.

In an exchange between Annie, the main character and her mother, Lorraine, they discuss forgiveness.

To offer background, when a defining moment in Annie’s life happened, Lorraine was off with her boyfriend on the beach of Ruby Pier, an amusement park they all went to. Eight-year-old Annie was left to her own devices and was about to get on a ride at the park when tragedy struck. A car came loose from the ride. It rocketed to the ground, toward Annie. Eddie, the maintenance man pushed Annie out of the way.

Annie lived. But her hand was severed in the process.

Lorraine asks Annie, “Can you break that last secret? Can you say the last reason for your resentment since Ruby Pier?”

Annie choked up. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Because you weren’t there to save me.”

Lorraine closed her eyes. “That’s right. Can you forgive me for that?”

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t need to hear me say it.”

“No, I don’t,” Lorraine said softly. “But you do.”

Mitch Albom’s words hit me, square in the chest.

Grief is a crazy thing. Sometimes it comes flying out of nowhere and smacks you in the head. Or, in this case, my heart.

The all-too-familiar pain seared through me. I set the book down, got up and mopped my floor. Yep, I literally dug in and cleaned my kitchen tile, perhaps trying to metaphorically wipe away the pain along with the dirt.

The words, “because you weren’t there to save me” kept running through my head.

My daughter Claire died of a misdiagnosed heart condition nearly nineteen years ago. While she was at camp.

I wasn’t there to save her.

The hardest part of the story is that others were, and they didn’t.

I’ve lived with this truth, this horrible, tragic reality for years.

I buried it in my soul, shoveling the last bits of earth over my nightmare, covering it up and then brushing it away to allow the light to seep through.

I chose to shut out the darkness and dance in her memory, share her love of reading and all the while hold on to the extended hands of my husband, two children, family and friends.

I learned to take heart, to look at the bright side of things and have faith that somehow everything would turn out alright.

It did.

But in little steps and big leaps. Raised voices, crushing pain, tears brushed away and smiles tucked in between. Anger so hot it seared my soul and laughter so deep it made me pee.

All the while experiencing indescribable love and unexpected gifts.

To say the last nineteen years has been a roller coaster ride is an understatement.

Once I determined my floor was clean enough and my head felt sufficiently rinsed out of bad thoughts, I went back to the book.

“Yes, yes, I forgive you Mom. Of course, I forgive you. I didn’t know. I love you,” Annie shares.

Lorraine placed her hands together.

“Grace?”

“Grace.”

“That,” Lorraine said, smiling, “is what I was here to teach you.”

Mitch Albom has taught me a thing or two through his writing.

It is my hope that I’ll be able to show what is in my heart and offer what I’ve learned through my experiences.

Maybe that’s why I’m here still…to teach.

I pray for grace as I move forward in sharing our journey through the darkness and into joy.

I ask for your hearts as I pour out mine…