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Taking Another Look at our Goals

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There are so many techniques for keeping those goals and resolutions.

Check the list:

  • I’ve made positive, achievable, timely, exciting goals.
  • I’ve asked for support.
  • I’ve visualized, meditated, written, prayed etc.
  • I’m willing to work on my issues; I even have people in my life that hold me accountable.
  • I have cleaned my house, my desk and my car.
  • I’ve read everything I think I can and asked everyone I know.

And still, I’m not reaching my goals.

Well, let’s take another look.  This time, let’s look at what you goals you ARE reaching.  By this I mean the goals that you are not consciously aware of; the goals that some other than conscious aspect of you is holding as more important that the ones you are paying attention to.  This might seems strange to you, but until you figure out what is so important to you about what you do have in your life, nothing is likely to change.

To do this, you have to step into a slightly different frame of mind.  Take a good look at what you have in you life right now.  All the things you are doing and have, especially the ones you don’t want.  Now, what we tend to do is look at these things as though they are problems to solve, things to get rid of , habits to break.  Once we do that we’ve set up an internal battle that we are very likely to lose.  So, let’s look again, only this time, start with this assumption.  Assume that everything in your life, especially the things that are causing you stress, was chosen by you for some really good reason.  Then ask yourself what that reason is.

This can be a little difficult, so you might want to write it down, or talk it through with a friend or professional.  Keep asking yourself until you get something positive.  It might take a little digging.  So, for example:  One of my clients was having trouble reaching some financial goals.  By not reaching the goals, he was keeping himself from being able to financially help his parents.  If he had been able to help his parents, he would have ended up in a superior position to them, something that felt deeply disrespectful to him.  So, he unconsciously chose respecting his parents over having the money he wanted.

Once he understood what was going on, he was able to work on his goals from a completely different direction.  His goal shifted to being okay within himself without having to financially take care of his parents (who by the way had never asked and probably didn’t want the “help”.)  The result was that not only did he reach his goals, but his relationship with his parents shifted in a very nice way.

By looking at yourself this way, you will be starting a very important process.  You’ll be shifting from a frame that encourages self-judgment to a frame that allows you to appreciate all that you have.  Let’s be clear that appreciating what you have is not the same as wanting it.  In the example above, my client did not want to continue in his current financial situation, he could however appreciate how hard he had been working to NOT make money.  He was able change from seeing himself as a failure to seeing all the skills he had been using to maintain his current situation; so that he could preserve the respect he had for his parents.   Once he did this, then the skills he had been using to maintain his old situation became available for his new goals.  The key is to find how you’ve been using your skills to create what you don’t want, and shift them to helping you have what you do want.

So, take a new look at your life.  Ask yourself how much work you are doing to keep your life just the way it is.  Chances are that having what you want will be a whole lot easier when you understand what you you’ve been up to.

Essential Learnings

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I was looking through my computer files and found a list that was written years ago.  It was a list that I wrote down during a session with a client.  I don’t remember all the details of the session, how we got to this point, but there we were.  She was a Kindergarten teacher, and had been for a long time.

I had a sense that she was doing a pretty spectacular job, and not totally aware that she was.  What I asked her was:”What is it that you want your students to learn?”  This was her list:

  • That they are worthy of being seen and heard
  • That they feel respected
  • That they know they have gifts and the time and space to pursue and share
  • To learn to focus on what they can do
  • To have a feeling of self-improvement
  • The ability to set their own goals
  • The ability to self-evaluate (not rely on someone else)
  • To be able to speak up, in a way that will be hear, when something doesn’t feel right
  • To Know they all have something to contribute
  • To know that it wouldn’t be the same w/out them (as good)
  • To be curious about each other

I sat in awe for a couple of minutes, imagining what it must be like for a 5 or 6 year old to have their first experience in school with a teacher that was holding this list in her heart.  After all, this was the year that for most children set the tone for the rest of their education.    A child who learned all this in kindergarten would be starting their education with some powerful tools.

I asked her permission to share the list.  When I shared it with others that were teaching, in a variety of venues, they were all quite impressed.  All of us who teach want this list for our students, no matter what their age.    It is what I want for all my students, although until I asked my client the question, I hadn’t thought to make a list, to set that intention.

I learn some of my most valuable lessons talking with clients.  This was one of those moments.  This list has stayed with me, in my mind and my heart ever since that session.  It is what is most important to me in the creation of a learning environment.  I teach NLP to adults, and this list helps me keep clear on what is most important.

This list is also a roadmap for all of us.  Take a look at this list.  Have you learned all of these things for yourself?  Are you unsure about any of them?  If so, these are the places in your life that are worth paying some attention.  We are all capable of learning these things, and we all deserve to know them.  Now, take another look at the list.  Do you affirm this in your interactions with others?  Can you see and know this about anyone you interact with?  I wonder, what our lives, what the world would be like if we did.

Being Like our Parents

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One of the statements I hear so often from my clients is that they don’t want to be “like their parents”. This is usually in response to them telling me something that they are doing that is “just like their parents.” Of course, this causes great distress for them. Now I get to tread a tricky line.

There is no way that we can NOT be like our parents. We come from them, and we have learned how to be in the world from them. Even if we do the exact opposite (whatever that is) of what they do, we are still being like them. Give me 5 minutes and I can show you how, but that is another topic.

If we could manage to not be like them, doing so would not serve us. When we disrespect what we came from, we disrespect ourselves. We are, after all, half our mother and half our father, DNA wise. You can’t take the “father” half of your DNA out of you. Who would you be if you could do that?

Since there is no way to not be your parent’s child, I have the strange job of helping my client find ways to be OK with being like their parents. It sounds tricky, especially when what they are asking me for is a way to not be like them. It sounds like I am trying to get them to do something they really don’t want to do. So many things in life seem opposite of what they truly are.

One of the very basic principals in the Family Constellation work that I do is: In families, everyone has a proper place; no one can be forgotten, cast out or denied. The entire family can be put into distress when someone is not given or refuses their proper place. I’m not talking about physical details like their proper place at the dinner table. I’m talking about their “belonging” in their family. Belonging does not mean liking or getting along. Each person instinctively knows where they belong and will make adjustments in their lives to stay in their proper place. They will seek to “belong” no matter what the cost.

These are not normally conscious moves. This is why when you are trying so hard to not be a certain way, you sometimes are. The soul level desire to belong trumps the cognitive choice to do something else. The argument inside that ensues usually isn’t so pretty.

When we try to not be like one of our parents, we are trying to deny them their proper place and something in us knows this isn’t a good idea. Our unconscious then makes adjustments to set things back to where they need to be. If we understand this process, we can use it to align our cognitive wishes with the soul level need. Done properly, this is satisfying and empowering.

What’s the trick? It’s a two step process. Just because there are only two steps does not mean it is always quick and easy. Sometimes, it requires a little outside help.

The first step is to find a way to respect each parent. Respect them for who they are, even if you dislike or disagree with the way they live (or lived) their lives. Respecting is not the same as liking, approving or even forgiving them. Respect also requires that you allow them to be just as they are, and not try to emotionally take care of them. See them exactly as they are without judgment.

A small side note: respecting someone does not require that you actually interact with them. In cases where the parent is dangerous to you, you can still respect them and keep yourself safe.

The second step can only be done after you find that place of respect. In this step, you notice the qualities in your parents that you do admire; you notice their strength, love, talent, charm, tenacity. These must be things that you truly admire about them. Noticing these things about your parents, you own them as your own; you notice that you too have these qualities and that as you express these qualities; you are affirming your proper place in respect to your parents.

By doing these steps, you reaffirm your place in your family, and free yourself to be like your parents in the ways that you choose consciously. This aligns your system and feels right all the way through. When we respect and value where we came from, we can do and be what we want in the world; we are ultimately valuing and respecting ourselves. I’ve seen my clients find a peace within themselves they didn’t know was possible, and that’s really what they were asking for all along.

Rethinking New Year’s Eve Resolutions

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By Carla Camou and Bob Hoffmeyer

first published in Open Exchange magazine (2001)

How did you do with all those New Year’s resolutions of years gone by? If you are like most people, most of them got left behind around the end of January. Many became no more than a nagging memory until the next New Year rolled around.

If this sounds even a little like you, read on. You’re not wrong, you’re not alone—and you’re certainly not bad.

Resolutions are an interesting process that we put ourselves through. We use special dates to mark times for making major changes in our lives. We start into them with the best of intentions and the greatest hope and it’s exhilarating the first few days or weeks when we manage to stick to the change. But then something happens—all at once or little by little—intention wanes and hope fades.

It’s not unusual, not even unexpected. We’ve done it before. The sad part about it all is what we do to ourselves after the resolution is broken. We make some sort of a judgment about how weak or undisciplined we are. We get down on ourselves, we get discouraged and, worst of all, we lose a little faith in ourselves.

Most resolutions are hard to keep not because we lack self-discipline, not because we are weak, and certainly not because we are inherently bad. Most of the time, what makes resolutions hard to keep is how we make them.

A resolution is a decision to change our behavior, to do something different. Resolutions are generally made because we don’t like something about ourselves—we want to be different or have a different experience of life in some way. The part of us that doesn’t like something and wants to change makes the resolution. The key here is that the part that is responsible for the way we are (indeed, finds value in it) is never consulted. Most often, if that part of us is acknowledged at all, it is blamed, made wrong, and told to get lost. The result is internal conflict.

When there is internal conflict, we have set ourselves against ourselves and, as a result, we have no way to really win. Even if we manage to keep the resolution, the aspect of us that has other ideas still loses and the internal conflict begins to escalate. Eventually, the battle to keep the resolution will wear us down. We won’t feel as good inside as we’d hoped we would. It’s about here that we give up.

So, the trick is getting to a solution that doesn’t create an internal battle. Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) provides excellent tools for assisting with this process.

Present and future oriented, NLP starts with very positive assumptions about human beings and the behavior they engage in. For example, NLP assumes that people naturally make the best choice available from those they believe to be possible. Given a better choice, people will use it—automatically. Starting from these assumptions, the NLP model has developed into a very rich collection of perceptual and behavioral skills and tools for understanding and changing human behavior. Over the years, it has demonstrated an amazing ability to assist people to make the changes they want and have them last. Some call it magical.

True “re-solution” comes when you get to know yourself well enough that you see how every aspect of you is doing its best to work in your favor. It is when you come to respect all aspects of yourself that lasting change is possible and effortless. When all of you is respected, included, and engaged in contributing to what you truly want, the internal battles and self-sabotaging behavior melt away. Life begins to look more the way you want it to look. You begin to feel whole again—and isn’t that really at the heart of any resolution you make?

Caring for Kittens

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Today I sterilized the baby bottles and nipples, ran four loads of laundry with extra Clorox, and folded and sorted by size. It’s a bit of work to do all that. Why? Well, it’s kitten season, or almost kitten season. I foster for the Seattle Animal Shelter. I am in a specialized category; I am a “bottle baby” foster. This means that I get the very smallest of the orphaned kittens. There are a handful of us that do this work.

How small? Well the smallest I’ve had came in around 4 ounces. Usually, they are more like 8-10 ounces. Often their eyes are still closed or just barely open when I get them. We are talking VERY small. I like to take pictures of them next to my TV remote control, or next to a shoe, just to give my friends some perspective on their size.

As I am folding the laundry, which consists mostly of polar fleece and towels, I try to remember just how tiny these kittens are. It’s hard to keep that in perspective when it is FOUR full loads of laundry, pieces range from a square foot up to blanket sized. How can something that is less than one pound use that much stuff? And yet, they do.

Being a bottle baby foster is a huge undertaking. When they are less than a week old, they eat every two hours around the clock. Each week, as long as they are growing, you can add an hour between feedings. After the second week of waking every two-to-four hours to feed them, I start doing things like hanging up the phone and putting it in the refrigerator. By week four or five they are sleeping through the night and getting ready to be fully weaned, and I’m pretty much back to my regular sleep patterns.

Why do I do it? If you knew how many times I’ve asked myself that question…

It is the most amazing experience. Imagine holding a living being that fits in one hand, is almost asleep, purring and with a belly that is so full it is bigger than its head. When the purring stops, they are asleep. When a kitten is safe, warm and well fed, it has got to be the most satisfied being on the planet. And holding it awhile, letting it feel safe as it sleeps is a magical experience, no matter how many times you do it.

As a personal growth counselor and trainer, watching the kitten learn and grow is just natural and fun. There are developmental markers to watch for; like the day they stand, when their eyes open, when they figure out there is a larger world than just the sofa and try to figure out how to get to the floor, the first time their backs arch and hair stands up, and the next few days as they try to scare themselves to do it again, and the day they realize that they have a name. There are also the developmental markers that a foster mother dreads; the day they figure out how to escape from their pen, the day they learn that the wall hanging is actually a swing, and the day they figure out how to take Kleenex out of the box or unroll the toilet paper. It all happens in a few short weeks. Each developmental marker is a triumph for then, a triumph for life.

Every kitten is different; each has their own little quirks and preferences. How nature makes so many varieties never ceases to impress me. And yet, there are so many ways that they are alike. Each life is unique, precious and somehow connected. The kittens remind me of that constantly.

By the second day with them, they know my voice, my touch and that my presence means food and comfort. I often forget how well they know me, until they remind me. When they are a little older, and running around the house, they seek me out to take a nap on. I am part of their litter, I am momma. What species they think they are is a good question.

They come to me because they have arrived at the shelter without a mother. Sometimes, they were born to feral mothers and picked up when their mothers were trapped and spayed (the Seattle feral cat program does an amazing job.) Sometimes they come because their mother died and the owners brought them to the shelter, some come because a citizen found the nest and didn’t see a mother cat, many times, I don’t know their story, just where they were found (the corner of 52nd and 5th.) In any event, they need help.

The hardest part for me is that some don’t make it. I’ve held small kittens in my hands as they died, not being able to do anything but to stay with them in their last minutes, and I’ve sat at pet emergency rooms in the middle of the night and made the decision to put the kitten down. When I first started to foster, I swore I would never let any of my fosters die. I would be the perfect foster parent. I have learned some humility since then. It is not within my power to keep them all alive. I am only the temporary care giver. I am only human.

Each death has taught me more about life than I can describe. Each death has been a different lesson. The first lesson was the hardest. The kitten had been sick for a couple of days, and I had been working around the clock to support him. He was a very determined little guy which made tube feeding him an adventure every time. When a kitten is congested, they can’t use a bottle, so you have to feed this long, very thin tube down to their stomach, the tube is attached to a large syringe filled with kitten formula. When you fill their bellies, they start purring and fall asleep.

I thought he was getting stronger, I was still absolutely sure I could keep him alive. Kittens can die fast…very fast. I still remember the moment, I was holding him, and I suddenly knew that there was nothing I could do. This little life I was “in charge of” had just slipped out of my control. Something in me let go in that moment. I was suddenly just a small part of this bigger experience, no longer in charge of his life. I held him, and watched the life leave this little body, knowing I was witnessing something I really couldn’t comprehend.

What I let go of was a control of life that I had been unsuccessfully grasping for most of my life. There are things in this world that we don’t have control of. By letting go of what I don’t have control of, I gained control of a bit more of my life. That little guy taught me so much, he broke my heart and he made me so much stronger. And, he has made every kitten that does survive just a little more precious. I only foster them, something else keeps them alive.

Anyone Find a Wallet?

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“Anyone find a wallet? I give you a reward.”

The panic in his voice overwhelms me. I turn around to see a middle aged man, in worn clothing frantically walking around the store bellowing out “Anyone find a wallet? I give you a reward.”

I am at the Downtown Goodwill Store. I like to shop thrift stores, and this one is huge. I’ve been having fun just looking at all the stuff I don’t need to take home. Now, I am unsettled. I check my purse just to make sure my wallet is still safely inside. I have lost my purse before. I know the strange sense of loss that runs through you when you lose an object that you count on. My wallet is safe, and I feel momentary relief.

I attempt to continue shopping; he continues to wander the store begging someone to find his wallet. He is still in the store when I get ready to leave, long after I would have stayed had I lost my wallet. I would have been running home to call in all the lost credit cards and get the replacements ordered. It would have been a huge hassle for me. All it would have been was a hassle; I would have been fine.

His voice indicated that he didn’t think he would be fine. The panic in his voice made me wonder what he’d lost. How much cash did he have in that wallet? Was this his rent money, his food money, his bus pass to get home? Were there pictures of his children that he rarely gets to see? He hovered around the store, long after any real hope of finding the wallet had passed; his mind could not grasp the magnitude of his loss. He just kept repeating “Anyone find a wallet? I give you a reward.”

My mind raced through all the possible reasons for what I perceived as panic in his voice. I’ll never know what the real story is. I didn’t stop to ask. I saw myself as helpless in this situation. What could I do, really? I paid for the items I’d found and fled to the comfort and safety of my car.

As I think back, it would have been so easy to help him. I could have responded to his calls letting him know I was keeping my eyes open for his wallet. I was keeping my eyes open. I could have asked him what he’d lost. I could have offered him a little money, at least enough to take a bus home. I could have let him know that I cared that he’d lost something valuable. Who knows, my gesture might have opened up other people that would also have helped. Maybe, within that store there were enough of us that we could have helped ease his burden just enough.

Change happens in this world when we get out of our own way, when we follow the instinct to reach out to others. I wonder what opportunity for change I missed that day.

Fred and the Carnations

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It was a warm spring day, my freshman year in high school. The bus was filled with teenagers and carnations. We’d had a fundraiser at school where you could send a carnation to friend. These carnations were our proof that we had friends. The more carnations you had, the more popular you were. Maybe it was the other way around.

There was laughing and yelling and flirting. All the things you expect on a high school bus. Other than the carnations, it was a typical bus ride home.

At the first stop, the bus driver stood up. This usually meant we’d been being a little too loud. We waited to see who it was that was in trouble. Fred, our driver, was a nice old guy. He was fair, and he’d been driving most of us since elementary school, and we didn’t pay him a whole lot of attention. Fred was just part of your day. He was the first adult outside your home to greet you each morning, the guy who drove you home and wouldn’t let you get off at the wrong stop. We were rarely in trouble with Fred. When he did stand up, we listened. He had a quiet command of the bus.

Fred started to talk with us. He said it was going to be his last day driving us. Silence swept through the bus, we were not expecting this. Then, he started to cry. His cancer had come back and the doctor told him he had to stop driving. None of us had known he had cancer. If we had, our teenage minds probably would not have really thought much about it. But, here was this guy that we were just used to, that we liked, crying.

Then, he sat down and opened the door. The first group of kids started to get off the bus. At the head of the group was probably the toughest guy on the bus. He clasped Fred on the shoulder then dropped his carnation in the metal basket on the dashboard. The next kid dropped their carnation in the basket. My bus stop was the last stop; I was one of the last to get off the bus that day. Every carnation went in the basket. Not one kid failed to do this. It was our teenage way of telling Fred we loved him. It was our way of saying goodbye.

I’d never seen my peers give an adult such deep respect. Fred had touched every one of us. His quiet steady love had transported us much further than just to and from school. We never saw or heard about Fred again. I don’t remember the bus driver that replaced him. When someone says “bus driver”, I picture Fred. I plant carnations in my garden, they remind me of that bus ride and of the power love has over all of us.

Moving on in Life and Traffic

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Why is it that I find myself stuck in traffic at 10:30 PM on a Saturday? As we crawl forward at about 10 MPH, I know the answer. It is my love for someone. Someone who was at one time the person I depended on most, someone who is now focused elsewhere. I am on my way home from watching her perform. It was an honor just to be invited. To see her having such a great time and doing a fantastic job made my day.

When you run a small business, the people that work for you either are, or quickly become, your friends, your family. When one moves on, the loss is deep. Not only do you lose a valued employee, you lose the daily contact with a close friend. That was the case with me.

I love my work. I choose this life, fully and completely and sometimes I forget that the people that work with me work in my shadow. I am often startled when someone makes a decision to do something else. After all, I’m doing this because I can’t think of anything I would enjoy more.

This loss was magnified because she was there from the beginning. She was the one that helped me birth the business. There were aspects that I thought of as more hers than mine. I knew she was unhappy; I knew she needed and wanted so much more in her life. Still, I was surprised when she announced it was time to go. I was a little lost without her. It took awhile to adjust, and even today two years later, I find holes that have remained unfilled.

There will never be someone who has been with me all along. I am now the only common denominator in this business. There is strength in that fact, strength and sometimes loneliness. I have had to become stronger without her. I have had to trust myself and life little more.

Tonight, I sat in the audience and witnessed one part of her new life. I found myself smiling the whole evening. What I saw was all the strength, all the brilliance I remember working with, only bigger, stronger, happier, freer. I watched and felt the audience fall in love with her. She was in the spotlight this time, not the shadow. This was where she belonged.

My heart full, I creep up the interstate, reflecting on all the wonderful things that have come from both of us letting go.

My Uncle’s Truck

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When I was sixteen, my uncle decided that I needed to learn about car engines. He purchased a 1967 Dodge truck with a slant six engine. It was a rather old truck, red and white with a fair amount of rust. The transmission was “three on the tree”, which means it was a manual transmission with three gears, the gearshift is attached to the steering column. The engine sat between the driver and the passenger, so you can understand if I have no memory of any radio, although I’m sure there was an AM radio. On the dashboard of the truck, some previous owner had placed a label that read “thunder chicken.” I loved that truck.

We spent a lot of time rebuilding the engine, and my uncle ended up paying more for parts to fix the truck than he initially spent to purchase it. I loved the time I got to spend with him and loved having a “project” to share with him. My uncle lived three blocks away, my father lived two states away. Somehow, my uncle walked the delicate balance of filling in for some of the gaps my father’s absence left without taking over the “father” job. I knew he was always there for me.

Driving the truck was always an adventure. Once we got the engine working, we had other small obstacles to normal driving. First, the emergency brake didn’t work. The solution to this was to always leave the truck in gear when you parked and to take the railroad tie out of the bed of the truck and place it under one of the wheels. Second, the truck had a bad habit of getting stuck in first gear. This tends to limit the speed one can go.

There was a whole procedure for when the truck got stuck in first gear. You needed to pull over, turn the truck off, get out and reach into the front grill to move the tie rods. This usually worked. If you had a passenger, it was pretty quick and easy. The passenger would move to the driver seat and hold down both the brake and the clutch while you moved the tie rods around. If there was no passenger, things got interesting. You had to pull over, turn the truck off, and get the emergency brake (aka railroad tie) out of the truck bed. Then you got the long handled squeegee and wedged it between the clutch and the underside of the dashboard (so that the clutch was pressed down) then go move the tie rods. Once the rods were moving again, you had to reverse the process. Sometimes, the truck would run fine; sometimes you would have to repeat this process a few times to get to your desired destination. I got pretty fast at this procedure and pretty used to having greasy hands. When you are sixteen and have a vehicle that you can drive whenever you want, greasy hands is a small price to pay for that freedom.

It’s been almost 30 years since my uncle drove “thunder chicken” into my life. I have always loved that truck and loved that it was something I shared with my uncle. I can look back now and know that the truck was also a way for him to help his sister (my mother) deal with two teenage drivers and one family car. For me, it was the fact that he created a project for us to do together, a reason to spend time together that touched me the most. The memory of the truck is always a reminder of my connection with him.

A few weeks ago my uncle called me. He’d just bought himself a new truck. He wanted me to take his old truck. He said that his old truck had such sentimental value that he couldn’t bear to sell it. Now, how could I turn that down? I wasn’t prepared for my reaction to my new truck. As the delivery day grew nearer, I got more and more excited. When I finally got to drive the truck, I fell in love immediately. It’s a 1994 Dodge Ram truck, green with dents, rust and peeling paint. It’s a five speed with roll down windows, nothing fancy, just like a truck should be. Behind the seat I found a long handled squeegee, just like we had in the first truck. I find reasons to drive it often; it reminds me of my uncle and all the ways he has been and is there for me.

Iced Tea Spoons

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When I was growing up, we had this strange looking silverware.  The silverware didn’t look at all like the silverware I saw in my picture books.  The forks had very small tines, the knives had no sharp edges and the spoons were very shallow and not quite round.  What I loved the most were the long slender “iced tea” spoons.  I used them anytime I could.

One Christmas, I was helping my mother get extra silverware out for a party, and ran across the spoons.  I told her how I’d always loved them and how I’d never seen silverware that had spoons even remotely like them.  That is when I learned that their official name was “iced tea spoons” and that’s when she gave them to me, all four of them.

I used the spoons happily for years.  They are great for getting yogurt out of the plastic containers; they are fun to eat ice cream with; they are great for stirring tall glasses of liquid.   I always enjoy showing them to new people.  A number of my friends now covet these spoons.

That got me thinking.  I started to look up “iced tea spoons” on the internet.  I looked through so many versions of “iced tea spoons” and never found ones that looked like mine.  My four spoons became even more precious.  I told my mother about this search of mine one day.  She remembered the name of the silverware, which was a really great clue to finding them on the internet.  I tried to find a few more so that I wouldn’t worry about how awful it would be to lose one.

It was, of course, a discontinued model.  So, I started looking on e-bay.  My birthday was a few months away, and my sister is often looking for ideas.  I figured she might like to have something very specific this year, so I suggested that to my mother, the keeper of all wish lists in the family.  I had to explain to my mother what e-bay was.

By the time my birthday came around, I had forgotten all about them.  When my mother handed me a present expecting that I knew exactly what was in it, I really had no clue.  It was such a wonderful surprise to find 6 more of these precious spoons!

The spoons are special to me.  But, more than the spoons, it’s what my mother had to do to get them.  My mother who uses her computer for e-mail and games, who calls me to help her use search engines, managed to figure out e-bay.  She actually bid on and won the spoons!  Then she had to figure out how to pay for them over the internet.  My mother figured all this out because she wanted to be the one to give me the spoons.  She wanted to make sure I got them.  That was the really big surprise for me.  That meant so much to me.

I know it’s a little weird to be so happy about some spoons.  I can’t tell you which spoons are from my childhood and which ones my mother went way out of her way to find.  But that doesn’t matter.   All of them came from my mom.  When I open the silverware drawer I see the spoons and I remember that I am loved.