More than a mug

December of 1998 he and I were in the Disney store. We were preparing to move in together and getting odds and ends done before our wedding coming up in April.  We both loved coffee and Disney--and Disney mugs are just huge!
I was admiring this burgundy one with Eeyore on it.  We paid for some ornaments and Christmas gifts and went on our way.

Christmas that year was was stressful-trying to get two completely separate traditions merged was a feat and that is putting it lightly.   My family is huge and gets together-loud and joyful and very very IRISH.  Aunts, uncles, cousins--it is a gaggle of joy and love. His family was literally just his mom and dad-his siblings lived far spread and even though my parents invited his parents to Christmas none of the three of them knew what to do amongst the chaos.

Late that night I opened my gift--inside were the two mugs--mine of Eeyore and his of Goofy. Those mugs have followed us and now follow me.  They have been filled with coffee and cocoa and tea-and his with cereal--he liked his cereal in a mug and declared it the perfect size.

Through the years we had two more sets of "normal size" Disney mugs-but one of each of those pairs has broken over time.  His Goofy mug is still in use.  It fits in my hand warm and familiar.  There are times in the wee hours of the morning that holding his mug I swear makes my body remember him.  I can hold it in two hands and look out the window and take a sip of coffee.  I can almost feel his arms around my waist and his warm lips kissing my neck.   When my eyes open, I remember that I will never feel that again--but I can still hold his mug.  It is a poor substitute for him-but for now, for now it will have to do.

Happy Heart

Robert LOVED woodworking.  He learned from his grandfather and used to tell me how sad he was when his grandfather died.  One of his early memories was putting a thing that he made into the coffin at his funeral and then seeing the funeral director remove it and throw it away (he did go rescue it from the trash at the tender age of 6). 

Given his love—I had kept most of his woodworking tools—the power newer ones and the hand tools (mostly his grandfather’s) that he used.  

Munchkin is 8—and wanted to build his own pinewood derby car.  I decided that it was the right time to pull out the tools. 

I hauled the big bins out to the garage—and we looked at what he had.  Munchkin had drawn the model for his car and then carefully marked the cuts. I only had one minor issue that I needed to call my brother to figure out—but other than that everything is still in working order!

Munchkin is big enough to reach the work bench.  I used the scroll saw to make the big cuts and Munchkin carefully and meticulously used the hand tools to shape and sand his car.    He has earned his whittling chip in Scouts so he knows how to safely use tools and cut away from himself.  I was relegated to a space outside of his safety circle. 

I stood there and watched him.  He was careful and smiley and did things the way that he wanted to do them.  He carefully touched the wood to ensure that it was smooth enough and sanded away any rough spots his little finger found.   As I watched, I realized that the connection to Robert is starting to come full circle.  That even though he wasn’t here to teach Munchkin himself, by using his tools and answering his questions, that was connection between them.

It is nearly eight years since the accident, and Munchkin was a baby-so it sometimes hurts my heart on all that they missed together.  Today—instead of hurt, I was able to see the joy of a young boy using his father’s tools.  That joy—that joy makes my heart happy.  

Counting my blessings

Last night, a company that I have been doing business with decided to close.  I have full belief that they did everything that they could to prevent it and are even looking to place those that worked with them with other companies. 

There are some really great women that work with Gigi Hill and countless that relied on them for the sole support of their family.  Last year when I went to the convention with my best friend, I had the privilege of meeting some pretty amazing people.   Even though I was not selling the purses and just went for a vacation, I had an amazing time and was welcomed with open arms.  

My heart breaks for all of these women.  There are people left with a ton of inventory. Investment into inventory for a company that as of last night no longer exists.   There are families left with no income. 

Let that sink in.  NO INCOME. 

Wow.

Here is the thing, on all of the facebook groups, these women are being positive and inspiring and offering prayers for the two owners of the company who were in tears as they made their announcement last night. 

I have yet to see a "poor me" post or even any anger.   I realize this is less than 24 hours into the process and Gigi Hill asked for 24 hours for a plan to present to everyone.  But still.  No one has been anything but super supportive to each other. 

Nothing negative at all.  Nada, zip, zilch.

If that is not the epitome of grace, I am not quite sure what is.  

I know I am lucky.  I have a great job that I really love and even though it is a new job, it provides for my family.   I did sell Gigi Hill on the side, but literally only because I really loved their purses.  I do have some inventory here at my house, but honestly not all that much.  I am blessed.   I am lucky.  But far more than that I am grateful for all of the women that I have met in the past year that are truly are graceful, caring and amazing.  I am inspired by the Grace and Faith that I am witnessing as we speak. 

I too offer my prayers to everyone that other doors open and that everyone lands on their feet in a place that will be perfect for what they need for their families.   Please join me in that prayer!