Living Happily Ever After
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Blog Articles

Bad Day

Date: May 2, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Less is more.” (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe)

My youngest is in kindergarten; six years old going on 26 (he thinks, and always has, I assume because of his older siblings.) Needless to say, with his siblings all quite a bit older than him , he knows the latest dance moves of high school and college students as well as the words to the most current, hip music but as such, he has never been that into toys; mostly he just tears all of them out of his closet into a mess on the floor and then leaves to go play outside!

Working mother that I am, I confess, most of the time it ALL stays there for several days as I risk breaking my neck each night, carefully stepping over the disaster zone to tuck him in bed, until the weekend when I muster the energy to help him clean it all up again! Not too long ago, the mess was particularly horrendous and my son decided he wanted to sack it all up and give it away to charity rather than clean it all up again. So we did.

We cleaned the toys out, put his room back in order and I had him haul the sacks out to the car to be delivered to his charity of choice. He returned from the task, crying. I asked him what was wrong. He replied, “I’m having the worst day! I’m really struggling! I don’t have any toys left!”

We had a little pep talk. I showed him that I actually had, in all of my motherly wisdom, saved a few things I knew he might want to play with in the future (despite his insistence, at the time, that he wanted every single toy gone so he wouldn’t have to ever clean his room again!) and the sacks remained in the car.

I believe that while his initial adjustment may be difficult (like me adjusting to my unexpected life) he’ll get used to it. He’ll see very quickly that less really IS more: more of what’s important; more, in that it’s all you need. Less gives you more hours in your day. Less destresses. Less frees you to appreciate the simple things and to actually have time for them. I recommend it.

I believe that “less” actually is “more” so strongly that if you don’t anticipate discovering your spouse has been leading a double life, is heading to prison and that the U.S. Marshalls are going to help you “clean out” and “declutter” your life of “things” in the very near future, I highly recommend you do it on your own— although perhaps not to the extent my life was “decluttered”! (lol)

See for yourself what I’m talking about.

“A lot of people tend to chew up the scenery. I’m a firm believer in less is more, especially on the big screen.” (Mark Wahlberg)

Especially in the unexpected life.

Blue Train

Date: April 8, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my old life, world travel was a part of the perks. Once we even rode The Blue Train in South Africa. (The Blue Train is a luxury travel experience, I’ve heard it compared to The Orient Express.) The personal butler was fun, the scenery (like watching ostriches race alongside the train during parts of the journey) is unforgettable. My children loved hanging out at the bar and having friendly bar staff in jungle-themed tuxedos prepare unlimited milkshakes and specialty non-alcoholic drinks. But mostly, The Blue Train is less about the scenery and more about the experience of the train itself. And the more I ponder that travel memory, the more I realize it’s a lot like life.

The book on my nightstand reminded me of that.

“Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the window, we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at the crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour, we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there, so many wonderful dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minute for loitering—waiting, waiting for the station.

‘When we reach the station, that will be it!’ we cry. ‘When I’m 18.’ ‘When I buy a new 450 SL Mercedes-Benz!’ ‘When I put the last kid through college.’ ‘When I get a promotion.’ ‘When I reach the age of retirement I shall live happily ever after!’

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.

‘Relish the moment’ is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24: ‘This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it…’

So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, and cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.”

(Robert J. Hastings, “A Penney’s Worth of Minced Ham: Another Look at the Great Depression,” [Carbondale, Ill.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1986], 90-91)

Keep Going

Date: January 31, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I wish I would have a real tragic love affair and get so bummed out that I’d just quit my job and become a bum for a few years, because I was thinking about doing that anyway.” (Jack Handy)

Funny, but when my love affair (called my 20-year marriage) ended, I didn’t have the luxury of quitting my job and becoming a bum. In the midst of life loss, divorce and everything else, I had to GET A JOB as well. Believe me, I wanted to lay down and die on more than one occasion, but I couldn’t. I had four children to provide for.

Not only did I have four children to feed, I had to set an example for them. I had to show them what to do when adversity strikes. Because hard times come to everyone, and it isn’t so much what happens to you, but what you do with it that counts. Quitting isn’t an option. (Even my five-year-old knows that. He runs around the house, cape flying behind him, chanting, “Never give up! Never surrender!” from, I’m told, the movie, “Galaxy Quest.” Pretty motivating if you think about it.)

I, personally, couldn’t give up because I had been raised to carry on no matter what. And then in approximately 1997, I had read a story about a pioneer woman and her husband traveling across the plains to Utah with a handcart that inspired me. Their trek was intense: long days, no comforts, no food, no shoes, just hardship; a complete and physical nightmare. The husband reached his breaking point. He lay down on the ground, told his wife he couldn’t go any further and he quit–prepared to die. But the wife didn’t quit. She didn’t even leave her husband. She put him in the handcart and she pulled him to Utah.

I hoped I would be like that woman. Although I lived in a different day and age and my hardships were different, I determined then and there to be a woman like that. I just never imagined I’d get my chance to prove it.

After all, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” (Winston Churchill) So that’s what I’ve done since my unexpected life began.

And at some point, you’ll look around and realize the scenery has changed. Your unexpected life may not be heaven (yet); it may not have metamorphosed into your paradise. But things will have improved just the same. All because you kept going. In your unexpected life.