When Life Gives you Sour Milk - Make Cheese!

Sometimes you want ice cream and life gives you sour milk. Such is the case with my son, a marine stationed in a hot and dry climate. Today, it rained. Rain can be an inconvenience for people in moderate climates like Missouri, but if you live in a hot and dry climate where it rains only occasionally(and people generally freak out about wet stuff falling from the sky) rain can be a little discomforting. My son told me that initially it was nice and “felt like home”. At least until his platoon leader said, “Time to PT!” That’s physical training for all y’all non-military types. Mud + pushups = misery.

In a similar vein, a friend of mine called me today and told me about an uncomfortable situation at her place of employment. I could hear the tears in her voice as she expressed to me how some people in the workplace were making fun of her. There are few things in life I dislike more than a bully. She told me how she longs to escape the cruel comments of the people who work around her. And what do you do when your co-workers make your life a living hell every single day of your life but you need your job? Even worse, their supervisor condones the behavior. While I was listening to her, I felt the claws come out. Because I heard her tears and I wanted to defend her. Partly because I know exactly how that feels, but mostly because I love her.

Sometimes life is just hard and there is no easy escape. We are forced to walk through it. Injustice is real. Heartache runs deep. Fat won’t melt no matter how many crunches you do. So we sit there staring at the pouch on our belly and consider Roo(of Winnie the Pooh fame). Seriously, my pouch is big enough for Roo. Only my name isn’t Kanga and there isn’t a cute and cuddly baby in there. What a bummer.

When I get into that kind of funk I consider my options and well, seriously, sometimes chocolate just isn’t strong enough to numb the pain.

So what did I tell my son to help him get through the muddy days? I told him the most practical thing I could think of: he must maintain his sense of humor. I know. It’s probably not the cool mom thing to say, but I told him while he was doing pushups he should sing The Worm Song. Marines like to chant cadence while they PT and march, and so it seemed appropriate. And I really hope that one of these days I open Facebook and see a platoon of Marines singing The Worm Song.

But that seems pretty tame to what my friend is going through. Because I was a bullied child. And I remember the hateful words used against me. I remember being excluded from activities. I remember crying myself to sleep at night and dreading having to go to school. I often wish I could go back in time and punch a lot of ornery kids in the nose. But the thing that I have learned as an adult is that bullies are actually very insecure. They say and do mean things because they aren’t comfortable in their own skin. They pick on others to make themselves feel better. And it occurred to me that the only way a bully has power over a person is if that person gives the bully the power. So how does one take it back?

Courage looks good in the movies but it’s frequently difficult to live out in real life. It means believing in yourself enough to not back down when you most want to. Courage is mustering the mindset to not be defined by what other people think of you. Because what other people think really has no bearing at all on who you are. People might make fun of the clothes you wear, or your hairstyle, or your lack of hair, but there is a way to fight back. You can learn to love them right where they are.

So Margaret, are you telling me I don’t get to punch anyone in the nose?

That’s right. This blog does not condone assault and battery.

Now, I’m not saying you should be a doormat, but love begins with recognizing the great holes so many people carry around in their hearts. And once you see people as they really are–frequently sad and more than a little lost–you may find within yourself the means to feel compassion for their tired estate. And I think that’s where love starts to grow.

My friend, Donna

I have another friend at work who is one of the most brave and beautiful people I know. Her name is Donna and she is awesome. The has the best fashion sense. She has perfect hair. And she’s kind. She truly has a gentle soul. I have found in her a kindred spirit. I recognized this the other day when we were eating lunch and she pulled out a Hello Kitty sandwich container. She had placed her food in there and I thought it was totally cool and wonderfully brilliant. Donna has this independent spirit no one can break. She always puts other people before herself. She is a rock star of a mother to her children. She’s a totally cool grandma. And she is my dear friend! How lucky am I? Come to think of it, I need to introduce Donna to the friend I wrote of earlier. Because Donna has a lot to teach the world about strength and grace.

Cheese Please!

I was preparing my salad today when one of the gentlemen I work with commented on my cheese. Now you must understand that I love cheese. Cheese makes me very happy. I like muenster cheese best, but blue cheese is a close second, and I always put blue cheese on my salad. Now some people think blue cheese is weird because it has mold in it. I’m not one of those people, but I understand not everyone has the same appreciation for mold that I do(especially my husband). So as I was sprinkling the glorious green-speckled delectable dairy product onto my lettuce, I noticed that little wriggle of my co-worker’s nose as he asked me what kind of cheese I was using. And I knew what he was thinking by that peculiar purse of his lips; he thought I was a little grody. And do you know what? I didn’t care. In fact, I launched into a nice little diatribe about how cheese makes the world a better place. I waxed eloquent about cheese for several minutes while he stared at me with this confused look, as if I were perched atop a unicycle and juggling puppies. Finally he just kind of wandered off while I finished my sermon to the refrigerator. Because I was happy, and because not caring what other people think about my weirdness is absolutely the most free feeling in the world.

So here is the crux of what I’m saying, pain is a part of the human experience. Whether it be physical pain or emotional pain, we all deal with discomfort in some capacity. Sometimes it’s a platoon leader who feels it’s necessary to teach us how to exercise in the mud. Other times a person tries to steal our joy by sucking us into their black hole of misery. Here’s what I say to both situations: When life gives you sour milk, make cheese! Because cheese is awesome. Cheese is always the best response. Be the patron saint of cheese.