The Snuggle Inn---Snuggle up OR smuggle out!

 

Long before the internet, Yelp reviews, and social media, my mom would do intense research through AAA trip planners and through the Yellow Books Mom brought home from North Carolina.  We typically stayed at the same places when we vacationed in NC, but occasionally, events would transpire where we had to pick a new accommodation.  

Mom called and made reservations for the Snuggle Inn in Maggie Valley, just west of Asheville along the western border almost into Tennessee.  We knew the location, and we anxiously anticipated our winter vacation by packing all our winter gear, hoping for snow on Christmas.  Dad and I packed the tiny VW Rabbit, filling it to the roof inside with everything the four of us might need in a week’s time.  

So much excitement filled the car.  We spent our time on the trip singing songs, playing road games, and reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever aloud.  Kelly and I, I am sure, fought over space in the tiny back seat.  I am sure Nancy Drew accompanied me, as I rarely went anywhere without her beside me in those days.

When we opened the front door of our small studio apartment, what awaited us was nothing close to the expectations.  The bedroom with the full-sized bed Kelly and I would share was so small we had to walk sideways to get around the bed.  The room was perhaps 1 foot bigger than the bed on all 3 sides.   There was no dresser or closet.  The bathroom was only a bit bigger than an airplane bathroom, and the living room proudly hosted the location of the pull-out sofa bed and the 4-person dining room table that wobbled so badly it took wads of napkins under a leg to make it steady enough to put our belongings on it.  To open that sofa bed, the dining room table would have to be moved into the open kitchen area, making the kitchen unusable.

Worse yet, the heat had been on before we arrived, and yet, the room was so cold we could see our breath puffing out in dragon breaths before our faces.  Kelly and I sat in our winter coats with a blanket over us, and when Mom and Dad surveyed the scene before them, they asked if we were going to make it—-and with chattering teeth, Kelly and I made all efforts to say yes.  Laughing, we talked about where our suitcases would go—-and we realized it was too cold to shower in the little apartment, so we would store suitcases in the shower.

After about three hours, Mom and Dad made the executive decision that there had to be something better.   We hopped in the car and drove down the road, checking with various hotels until we found a much better accommodation that was about 3 times as big and warm as could be.  As we packed our VW Rabbit again and headed to the new place, we laughed about the Snuggle Inn where guests have to snuggle up to stay warm—or decide to smuggle out.  Snuggle Inn provided giggles for years as we passed by.

* * * * * * * * * * *

No, it is not all that exciting of a story.  It all turned out fine.  No one was hurt, and I don’t believe we even lost any money in the situation.  However, it taught me an important lesson about expectations.  

Sometimes, as Robert Burns wrote,  “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley”----or translated into an English we understand:  “The best-laid schemes of mice and men oft go awry.”  Mom had done nothing wrong with her planning.  Life just happened.

As the year 2023 comes to a close, I can promise you that this year did not turn out as anticipated for me.  It didn’t turn out as expected for many of my friends—for the friend who was attacked in the parking lot of his apartment complex and now has vision issues and PTSD, for a  friend my age whose husband died last fall and whose mother died a few weeks ago, for the friend who left her abusive husband after 35 years, or for the friend who just got diagnosed with cancer.  

Many of us have had a Snuggle Inn year.  Big plans and dreams, big hopes and expectations, excitement and joy have all been switched out for wobbly tables and unlivable circumstances.  

What happens when we are faced with a situation so different than the one expected or planned for?  What happens if the expectations have fallen apart because of someone’s deliberate actions or inactions?  What happens when those we count on fail to “show up” and fail to provide support?  How do we live with unfulfilled expectations?

I don’t have all the answers, but Snuggle Inn taught me a few lessons, including:

• The best-laid plans do not always work out.  Realizing this keeps me from blaming myself for not predicting the future.  Life happens—and the outcome is not always fair.

• A friend of mine shared this line with me to explain how she deals with humans who don’t live up to expectations:  “Expectations are premeditated resentments.”  It doesn’t mean we can let people walk all over us or that we should have no expectations at all, but often, we expect more out of people than they ever offer to provide—-or more than they can provide.
  

• Pretending that the “Snuggle Inn” is the Ritz  does not help anyone.  It is not necessary to lie with chattering teeth and say that everything is great.  It isn’t.  Be honest with yourself.  When the kids disappoint us or the doctor’s phone call is scary, it is okay to not be okay.  When you are in a Snuggle Inn situation, one important key is to admit the truth to yourself.
  

•  Staying in the “Snuggle Inns” of life if there are alternatives should not be the expectation either.  If the job or the situation is toxic or unhealthy, “smuggle out.”  (However, don’t expect everyone to understand why you are smuggling out.  No one knows the reality better than you do.)
  

•  The Snuggle Inns of life can teach us great lessons.  Those moments provide us the fodder for great laughs later on (or sometimes much later on).  OR if no laughs are available, they provide tales that then help others later on with their own Snuggle Inn situations.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

It is so easy after being in a Snuggle Inn situation to give up dreaming for something better.  It is hard to experience the heartbreak from such disappointment.  However, without a dream, without a continued desire for “adventure,” it would be easy to just settle with the bitter cold of the Snuggle Inn situation.   There is so much better out there—just down the road.

May we all find ways to smuggle out of our 2023 Snuggle Inns and find a new adventure awaiting us.   If you need someone to help you “smuggle out” or to at least share in the laughs or the tears, I am here.

Kim

Christmas Letter 2023--Spices of Life

 

Christmas 2023

We all know the story of the three men who came searching for the King, following a star with their precious gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Yes, gold is and was valuable, but since myrrh and frankincense were used in perfumes, they were equally valuable commodities then.

How fitting, then, that the “perfumes” of Christmas are some of the most powerful. My mom and grandma were big believers in multiple pies, cookies, treats, and desserts. The smells and flavors of cinnamon, sugar, apple, nutmeg, and vanilla fill my mind when I think of December.

This year has been a year of new flavors, of new smells, of new experiences. Not all the flavors and perfumes have been sweet or savory. Many were bitter and sour.

If you are not aware, my husband, Anthony disappeared on December 15, 2022; without any idea of where he was or how to reach him, I spent 3.5 weeks wondering what had happened. Christmas and New Year’s were spent alone, living with worry and concern and a broken heart. Police arrived on January 4 to give me notice. No cause of death has been determined.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As you can imagine, life lost much of its spice and flavor this past year. Life still moved forward, but much of this spring was spent in a blur. I taught my classes, and I worked at home going through items and figuring out life again at age 53. Trips to the grocery store---something Anthony and I did together—brought on panic attacks. Days alternated between feelings I might survive this only to be followed by days filled with wails and screams. Anger, grief, guilt, self-doubt, sadness, terror---all were some of the flavors of life in 2023.

Some of the other, less painful perfumes of life in 2023 involved the sweet enfolding arms of my oldest son, Andy, who hugged on his mom while I sobbed. He is living in Reno, Nevada, dedicating many more than 40 hours a week to his job as Director of New Projects at Tesla. He is camping beside mountain rivers, snowboarding at Tahoe, and loving the area around Reno.

Another sweet perfume of life was having Jonathan volunteer to help me with house projects that were too much for just me. Jonathan’s humor and passion for life were contagious; his tender heart was a salve to mine. He is finishing his senior year at Baylor University, majoring in environmental science. He is still passionate about the oceans and conservation.

Some flavors and spices this year were bitter---the loss of close friends of Anthony and me who abandoned me when grief was too much for them to bear. Some flavors were distasteful, such as making life decisions for my future by myself.

Some flavors were surprising---friends who stood in the gap for me, who held me up when I could not move forward, who checked on me when I had 2 weeks of COVID, who met me where I was for lunch or for driveway talks. I owe these people everything.

Some moments were challenging as I decided to accept the position of department chair of English and Foreign Languages at Temple College at a moment when I was not sure I was able. I am still teaching, but I enjoy my time mentoring and encouraging other faculty members. “My work family” is so loving and supportive.

Some sweet-flavored moments included me singing in the rain in my back yard a month ago, watching my 3 dogs chase the ball in the yard, laughing with my sister-in-law this summer as both of us were covered in blue cake icing, and cheering on my favorite teams in football and basketball. This year saw me in some of my strongest moments and some of my weakest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I met Anthony fifteen years ago, his personality was full of flavor. He was larger than life, and he lit up a room with a new energy. Each room in my house is a bit emptier without him.

Fifteen years ago, he introduced me to mixing spices to create homemade rubs. We spent hours over the years creating our own rubs, and he would use these to create treasures on the grill. The rubs and spices only enhanced the true flavors of the meat. Their purpose was not to overpower the original taste. They were to take the truth and bring it to the surface.

Right now, as I face the first of many anniversaries I never dreamed of facing at this stage in my life, I am looking for new recipes for life. I am looking for ways to mix the bitter and sour with the sweet.

I am hoping to mix, fold, and blend them into a new concoction.

I am searching just as the Magi did. I am searching for a new path, a new direction, and a new way to face this new life.

Much as the Magi, I am on new territory, and no one can really give me directions.


May you join me on my journey in 2024 to discover the new flavors available in life, the new ways you can be used to spread flavor among those around you. May your days be filled with smells and tastes of cinnamon and sugar, nutmeg, vanilla---or tastes of hickory, smoke, onion and garlic powder, salt and pepper. 

Merry Christmas! 

Three Little Words

 

Three Little Words.
These three little words say everything all of us ache to hear.


Perhaps every parent should say these 3 little words over every babe in their arms.
Perhaps every boss should take a vow to say this to each of their employees (oh, what a difference this would make in the workplace!)
Perhaps these three little words should be a part of every wedding vow.

“I got you.”

A parent patiently stands in the water, hands and arms upraised, saying “I got you” to the child with toes tightened around the lip of the pool edge.  The clear message for this little girl is that this parent will be there to catch her, to keep harm from happening, to keep her close and safe.

“I got you.”

A parent squats next to the child crying on the road’s pavement, blood trickling down her leg.  The parent consoles, knowing that pain cannot be taken away, but “I got you” says that the parent sees, feels the pain, and aches in every fiber to take that pain away.  The child will not face this trauma alone.  Hand in hand, both face it together.

“I got you.”

A boss faces an employee whose fear is apparent, whose fingers twitch, and whose body jumps.  “I got you,” the boss consoles.  The employee knows that the boss will stand up for her, even if the situation is due to her oversight.  The boss will stand in the fire for her.  The boss will protect her.  The boss will work for the best for her employee.

“I got you.”

Two individuals promise “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”  When we repeat these words, we honestly have no idea what we are really agreeing to.  We don’t know what the future holds, but these vows are a promise to be there for the other regardless—--these vows really express the truth of “I got you”---regardless of circumstances or time, I will be there beside you, walking through the challenges of life, no matter what.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
 

“I got you” often is a much bigger commitment than “I love you.”
We throw around “I love you” much too flippantly.  
 

As a person with a big heart, I love a whole lot of people and a whole lot of things.
I love ice cream.
I love books.
I love teaching.
I love the Baylor men’s basketball team.

However, “I got you” is not something I will say to every person I care about.
This is a much deeper commitment.

I promised each of my sons over and over, “I got you.”
And I tried to keep this promise throughout the years,
Whether they were lovable or not,
Whether their actions hurt me or their words tore little holes in my heart,
If they were here right now, I would make sure to remind them, “I got you.”

I would come running across the continent the second my oldest called.
I would drop everything the second my youngest asked for my help.
They have my support no matter what.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I had these three little words figured out when it came to being a parent.
However, I have spent my life being a complete and utter failure at saying those three little words to myself.
Until this past year, I tried to personify those 3 little words to almost anybody BUT me.
I tried to be all things to all people—except to myself.

However, a year ago, I started making promises to myself that are really summarized by three little words:
“I . . . got . . . you.”

For me, those three words mean so much.
It means that I see my hurt.
I hear what my gut says, and now that I actually listen, it speaks even louder than before.
I acknowledge my heart's passions.
I listen to the little voice that speaks to me about inner truths.
I block out the external expectations and focus on what Kim says—and If she says she is tired, I honor that.
I bear witness to my own struggles, to my own day-to-day victories, and to the little joys of life.
I reach out for help when I know I need it.
It means accepting challenges and honoring boundaries at the same time.
It means speaking up when someone has hurt me or mistreated me.
It means when life is too much, I put away the grading and sit beside the propane fire pit in my backyard with a glass of wine, a snoring dog, and a book beside me.
It means that no matter what the clock says, I honor my fatigue and go to sleep.
It means seeing my strengths and giving room for them to grow and stretch me.
It means that I make magical spaces inside my home that bring me joy.
It means that if my mind says, “Enough,” I honor that and stop whatever I am doing.
It means that I say “no” more often to things that tear me down—and “yes” much more often to the activities that remind me of the passions of life.
It means I don’t always examine all the possible consequences—and sometimes just jump when it feels right—including signing up for a writing retreat.
It means acknowledging the little girl inside this woman’s body by buying a kid’s messed-up birthday cake on huge clearance and laughing hysterically with blue icing coating my lips.
It means having my own back and protecting myself no matter the cost,
but it also means allowing myself to love—-and love big—no matter the cost because that is what my heart still wants to do.

I can now say those 3 little words to the reflection in the mirror.
I can promise myself now, “I got you” and really mean it.
Those three little words were the three words I have ached to hear from myself for half a century.
Now I promise myself daily, whispering it, and sometimes even yelling it,
 

"I got you.”