Living Happily Ever After
test123

Blog Articles

Even If It’s In Flames

Date: May 3, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?” (T.S. Eliot)

No. Not in my garden. Here’s why.

Three years ago, when I lost my life (and pretty much everything else) in the aftermath of a Ponzi scheme, I moved to Utah. Along with my four children, I brought three peony plants from my Colorado yard I had uprooted and hauled several hundred miles in orange Home Depot buckets to transplant in our new yard. I’ve written about them before: one didn’t survive the journey, one made the journey and survived the first winter only to be uprooted by my youngest in his “chop down the new fruit trees and many other thriving plants with a plastic sword” phase, and the third, and final peony, bit the dust last week.

Not totally of its own volition, I confess. I just realized we’re entering the fourth growing season in our new life and while that peony has turned green every year, it has never bloomed. So last week I finally let my husband dig it up and remove it. We’re going to try something else in its place. Why?

Because life is too short to waste time NOT blooming.

I believe life isn’t meant to simply be “endured.”  I believe, instead, that life is a garden and we’ve all been given a patch of ground to do with it, to make of our life, what we will. Admittedly, all ground is NOT created equal. Some of us have a pretty easy, carefree row to till. Some have sandy soil; some are blessed with a rainforest (which has its own challenges); some have been planted in very difficult, rocky soil. And a few of us may not even be in any soil at all–but instead, like I found myself a few years ago, thrust into a pile of the absolute worst manure I’d never imagined! But regardless of the garden, or life, you’ve been transplanted to, you’ve got to bloom. Blossom. Achieve your dreams. Burst forth into something great. Let the soil of your experiences help you grow into something better than you’d have otherwise been. No matter what happens to you.

“I advise you to say your dream is possible and then overcome all inconveniences, ignore all the hassles and take a running leap through the hoop, even if it is in flames.” (Les Brown)

Dandelion Death

Date: April 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” (Charles Darwin)

While doing yard work and weeding a few weeks ago, my middle son surprised me with a bouquet of dandelions. I was thrilled, delighted and quickly rushed to put them in water to preserve them for as long as possible. For that day, they sat in a vase on my kitchen windowsill. Soft, puffy, cushions of yellow sunshine. The next day they were dead.

I confess, I was a little surprised. It has always seemed to me that dandelions, creeping into grass, springing up unbidden, are hardy plants. And although I’m not a weed, flower or gardening expert by any means (as evidenced by the many plants and flowers I’ve managed to kill), I think there’s a life lesson somewhere in their short life span.

From my perspective, dandelions have it pretty easy. They bloom into being uninvited and there they stay. Cheery, yellow, WEEDY; rain or shine. They don’t need water, they don’t need fertilizer and it seems like lawn mowers even have difficulty making an impact on them! It’s an easy life, as long as they remain in their expected and “natural” habitat—outside. But pluck a few, put them in a vase full of water, and they’re dead by nightfall (or at the very latest, the next morning.) I expected them to last at least as long as flowers do in a vase of water!

With such an easy existence, dandelions haven’t had to learn to be hardy, to adapt to change or to challenge. They don’t appear to have ever had to “hang on” when times get tough. They haven’t had to develop roots. Hand them an unexpected new life—indoors, in a vase of water—and they wither and die faster than anything I’ve seen.

Makes you grateful for the unexpected life, YOUR unexpected life of growth opportunities, doesn’t it? Because it’s through our trials that we become stronger. Our challenges strengthen us (if we let them) and by triumphing over them, we become stronger. Better. More than we would otherwise have been. Draught, hardship, the unexpected life…cause us to develop roots and to sink those roots deep to survive. The character-conditioning program called life, especially the unexpected one, makes us more than we ever could have become on our own. And in the end, we master not just surviving new circumstances or new challenges, but blooming wherever we’re planted.

We can find happiness and joy in whatever garden, or yard, or patch of dirt, or pile of manure we’ve had the good fortune (or misfortune!) to land in. Life is good regardless of where life transplants you to. Sink your roots into the soil of your unexpected life, look for the beauties of it, count your blessings and strive not just to survive but to bloom.

“I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and you laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.” (Clarissa Pinkola Estes)

What I Miss

Date: June 9, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Dogs need to sniff the ground; it’s how they keep abreast of current events. The ground is a giant dog newspaper, containing all kinds of late-breaking news items, which, if they are especially urgent, are often continued in the next yard.” (Dave Barry)

Speaking of yards, I had a yard sale last weekend. A neighbor perused my junk, pulled me aside, and said, “Tell me. You’ve had a lot in your life and now you have a little. Is there anything about the old life that you miss?”

I didn’t even have to think about it.

Yes, I miss something. I know what it is and it crosses my mind every single day try as I might to not dwell on the past or think about my losses.

It’s true. I used to enjoy a lot, materially, in life: a decent-sized home with custom travertine stone floors, granite counters, custom cabinetry, Rembrandts and other fine art and etchings adorning its walls; art sculptures in the yard along with a Sportcourt, a swimming pool, ponds filled with expensive and unique Koi fish and water lilies, tetherball, a in-ground trampoline; world travel; cruises; fine dining; luxury cars; a boat; ATVs of all types; a motorhome (although I never loved that one!); shopping at Nordstrom; a house cleaner; a gardener; money in the bank and absolutely NO financial worries or concerns; and a plethora of other privileges, to name a few that quickly come to mind. All of it was once mine—or so I thought.

But do you know, out of all of it, what I miss? (And this is the answer I gave to my neighbor.)

Just one thing.

And it’s actually not a “thing.”

The only thing about the old life that I miss is…being a stay-at-home mom focused on raising my children and taking care of the home they live in full-time. Being there when they are sick. Greeting them when they arrive home from work or school. Allowing my little one to sleep in if he is tired.

That’s it.

“I’m a very lazy, stay-at-home kind of girl.” (Jerry Hall)

Except now I’m a full-time working one, grateful for a job that allows me to provide for my children.

“Not only is women’s work never done, the definition keeps changing.” (Bill Copeland)

Such is the unexpected life.