Clothes-Call Tuesday

Talk about putting the cart before the horse!

In a fit of procrastination, I was cruising the net and found the perfect dress for when Rare Bird comes out in September.

Sure, it's a spring dress and the book launch is more than 4 months away, but it is so very cute, and it has birds on it! Now I just need to turn in these final edits tomorrow so I'll have an occasion to wear it!

I got it from eShakti, and I do believe I have found a website that is truly a pear-shaped woman's best friend. Instead of being all MAD that I stayed inside eating all winter, I can just go a little MAD MEN and hide some stuff under the full skirt. And by Mad Men I mean Betty Draper circa 1962 not Megan Draper circa 1969 in a miniskirt and go-go boots. Whew.

Margaret says it's too long, and I agree it could be about 2 inches shorter. I think the heels help. What do you think?

If you haven't pre-ordered a copy of Rare Bird for you and your 50 closest friends (ha!), go for it!

This dress can't languish in my closet forever, right?

I hope you had a lovely Easter and that these sunny days are putting a smile on your face.

If you need a little more of a reason to smile, please let me add a little postscript to this fashion post and present to you a photo of Tim in a baby-poop brown automotive jumpsuit handed down to him by his almost 75 year old dad. Those Donaldson men sure cut a dashing figure.

You're welcome.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose

Look what I found while cleaning our office this week. It's a note Tim wrote for Jack when Jack was 2 1/2. I don't think Jack ever saw it because it was tucked inside a notebook.

October 2001

Every night we would read books to you and say your prayers before you went to bed. Twice this month after we said your prayers, you put your hands on my face and said, "I'm filling your heart with life." I'm not sure where you learned that, or if you made it up, but it was very touching. You do, indeed, fill my heart with life.

How beautiful is that? Here's hoping your heart is full of life this weekend.

Proud Letters

While Tim and Margaret were out of town last week and I was "writing my book," I got a lot of organizing done. You know, like going through my sock drawer deciding whether it would be a big mistake to throw away my "fat underwear." I also spent a lot of time just sitting in Jack's room, and  I found something to share with you today.

I share it with a reminder that this is just one family's idea.

Tim wrote the kids one or two "Proud Letters" each year. He would tell them some of the things they did to make him proud. He would have his computer remind him when it was time to write another one, and he'd usually mail them from work so the kids could get a letter in the mail. I like how these letters are truly from "Dad." If I had written them, they would be different, because my relationship with the kids differs from his.

Here are a few I found in Jack's room:

First Day of School, Sept 9, 2009:

Dear Jack,
On your first day of school this year, I wanted to take a minute and tell you how proud I am to be your father. There are many reasons why, but I thought I would share 3 recent examples of things you have done that make me proud.

I am proud of you for:

1) Taking the time to look after and entertain Lucy at the beach.
2) Working hard at Mrs. O'Shea's house, trimming bushes and pulling vines from the house, even though it meant you had less time to play with your friends.
3) Keeping calm when one of your friends insisted on playing with your special lego set and finding a solution without losing your cool.

I hope you have an exciting year in 5th grade.
Love, Dad


Jan 18, 2010

Dear Jack,
I'm so proud of you for trying basketball this year, especially because you had never played a real basketball game before. It takes real courage to try something new and not be afraild  of making mistakes and maybe even looking or feeling uncomfortable as you learn new skills. Keep up the good work and great attitude!

And after a difficult first week or two, you have adapted quite nicely to haivng an expander and braces. I know they can be uncomfortable at times, but you will be very happy when you are older and have nice straight teeth to complement your beautiful smile. Finally, I wanted you to know that I have noticed how you have been holding the door open for other people. Keep it up! You never know when your act of kindness may be the only glimpse of God that someone might have in their day. Love, Dad

Dear Jack,
I am so thankful you are my son. I have a lot of fun playing catch with you, building puzzles, reading together, and playing games. And I love it when you express your views about things. You always have something interesting to say. I'm proud of you for many reasons. Recently, I have been proud of how independently you get ready for bed at night and ready to go to school in the morning. We don't even have to tell you to get ready-- you just do it! I am also proud of how you play with younger kids in the neighborhood like David, Amelia, and Ellie, and keep them entertained. You have a very caring heart and I love you very much.
Red, Yellow, Blue....I love you!
Dad

Hi Jack,
It has been a while since I wrote a letter to you. I wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you for so many reasons. For example, I am proud of the way you asked me for extra help with pop ups this spring. With a little extra practice you were soon catching everything I threw at you. Great job at taking the initiative to work on something that was difficult to do, making it become something that is now easy for you to do.

I'm also proud of the way that you set a good example for the younger boys on your team this fall. You helped teach them about good sportsmanship, aggressive base running and being in the right position for each play. I know your coach appreciated your veteran experience on the team. This summer at the beach I once again appreciated how you played with Lucy and kept her entertained.

More recently, I have been proud of your ability to ignore Margaret's comments, looks, jabs, etc. I know it's not always easy, but you are starting to show her who is in control of the situation-- and it's you! Only 90 more days until pitchers and catchers report for spring training.
Love you,
Dad

****
Thanks for coming by today! I hope you have a lovely weekend.

Yummy!

So, turns out I broke Tim's car.

Remember when it conked out on me during my writer's retreat earlier this month and Mike and others came to my rescue? Well, turns out even good old Southern generosity cannot heal a cracked engine, so we now have the unanticipated expense of buying a new car. Yuck.

Most people who buy new cars are a bit sad to see the old ones go. So many memories. Mix tapes wedged in a broken cassette player remind us of our carefree college days. In the case of a family car, there are macaroni necklaces hanging from a rear view mirror-- missing sippy cups found in "the way back," and the way every stain tells a story. I can remember Margaret barfing up goldfish on an Amelia Bedelia book in this car. Shadow's muddy paws on the black upholstery after we went geocaching on a soggy day. Marks from Jack's baseball cleats. The crank windows that would confuse the heck out of neighbor kids when we gave them rides.

Since our family doesn't love change-- remember this picture of Jack and Margaret saying a tearful goodbye to our old green toilet?-- I know that getting rid of Tim's Jetta will be tough. New car = no Jack memories in it. No Margaret, Jack, and Shadow wedged together in the back seat. No Jack learning how to drive stickshift in 2 years.

Getting rid of the old car is sad, but it does give me the chance to poke fun at Tim a bit by telling you a little college story. You may have noticed that Tim is a fine looking man. And by fine, I mean f-i-i-i-i-n-e stretched out to 3 syllables the way Jimmy Walker would say "Dy-no-mite!" back in the day.

Well, when we were at Wake Forest, apparently Tim caught the eye of a few gay guys on campus. We didn't hear this first-hand, so I can't vouch for its accuracy, but because I have always greatly admired the opinions of gay men (Hello early 90's equivalent of Clinton Kelly and Nate Berkus!) this only raised Tim in my esteem. Good taste in accessories, good taste in men, they were playing my song.

We also heard that these guys had bestowed upon Tim a nickname, much in the same way my sorority sisters would say, under their breath, "There goes 'Wolf Man,' 'One Nut', or 'Sparky.'"

Tim's nickname? "Yumm Yumm."

Imagine my delight, years later, when Tim, Baby Jack and I received his randomly issued plates from the DMV reading "YMM-5555." Too funny. I've gotten a lot of mileage out of this one!

Tim may miss his old car, but I don't know whether he'll miss those plates.

A Life's Design

We did it! We made it through the first year. You were praying like crazy for us over the weekend, weren't you? We could tell. THANK YOU! Still processing the hardness and the goodness of the weekend, but I have something special to share with you today.

Here's what Tim had to say on September 8th, the one year Crap-iversary of losing our Jack:

When Jack was in first grade, his teacher asked the kids draw a picture of one of their favorite things. I did not see Jack's drawing until his sweet teacher gave it to Anna and me last year. She said that all of the drawings were what you would expect from first graders: puppies, flowers, candy. And then she showed us Jack's drawing, neatly labeled "Designs." Looking at the picture filled my heart and broke it in the same instant. That's my Jack. A six-year old who dreams of designs and is thrilled by their arrangement and patterns. That's the boy who captured my heart with a fierce love that will never die.

As I have been cherishing this memory during the past week, the idea of "designs" reminded me of the imagery of the Tapestry of Life, reproduced here from a daily devotional:

The sages teach that our world is like a tapestry. Every tapestry has two
sides; the front where everything is neat and orderly, and the backside
where threads are cut and tied. Even though both sides are made with exactly
the same threads, the pictures they produce are completely different.
On the front side, there is a beautiful design. The other side, however, is a mess.

All of history is producing one enormous and gorgeous tapestry. However, at
this time, we are only able to see the backside. Nothing makes sense, and
everything seems chaotic. The picture is ugly, and we wonder, "What in the
world is the artist thinking?"

But there is another side to the tapestry, yet to be revealed. On that side,
nothing is out of place and every thread is where it ought to be. The
picture is clear and perfect. If we were to see it, we would stand in awe at
its beauty and brilliance. We would understand the artist's intention all
along.

Jack, I don't understand why you were taken from us at such a young age, leaving a permanent, gaping hole in our lives and in the plans we had for our family. But now I wait, impatiently at times, to see the other side of the tapestry. To see God's beautiful design and your smiling face.

We love you, we miss you, and we'll never forget you.

Dad.

Mariano Rivera

I thought you might like to hear from Tim again, and judging by how much Mariano Rivera of the Yankees has been in the news the past week or so, I'd like to share a letter Tim wrote to him last fall.

But first, a little background. A woman named Heather, the mom of one of Margaret's friends, attended Jack's funeral along with more than 1600 other people. In the front of the church, on the communion table, sat a photo of Jack. Next to the photo was Jack's Yankees hat. Heather didn't know Jack, but she did know a Yankee, and she wondered if he could bring a little comfort to our hurting family. On her next business trip to see one of her business associates, the Yankee, she asked if he could sign a ball for us.

What Heather didn't know was that her client, Mariano Rivera, was Jack's favorite baseball player! She didn't know the Yankees jersey Jack wore had Rivera's name and number on it, or that Tim and Jack had been following Rivera's amazing progress in setting a new record in baseball at the time of Jack's accident. She didn't know that Tim had been contemplating writing Mariano-- a talented, humble, man of faith-- a letter of appreciation for being such a good role model for our son.

Here's Tim's letter as well as pictures taken from a Yankees/Orioles game one week before our lives changed forever:

Dear Mariano,

Thank you for sending an autographed baseball to my daughter, Margaret, following the death of her brother, Jack. I was so surprised when Heather brought the ball to Margaret because Jack loved the Yankees and was a big fan of yours, as am I.

As a life-long Yankees fan, I was excited, but not surprised, that my son shared my passion for baseball and the Yankees. My favorite part of the day was having a catch with him in the yard, such a peaceful time to share together, just the two of us. Sometimes we talked and other times we just enjoyed the sound of the ball popping in our gloves and the rhythm of the catch, back and forth, back and forth.

I remember at the beginning of the 2011 season, Jack asked me if I thought you would break the save record in 2011. I told him that I thought it would probably take two years, perhaps early in the 2012 season. But you had another remarkable year and by the end of August it was becoming clear that you would break the record this year. On August 29, Jack and I went to Baltimore to watch the Yankees play the Orioles. The Yankees won 3-2, and you got the save. Jack wore his Mariano Rivera shirt that night, and we basked in the Yankees victory and the opportunity to witness history as you closed in on the record. After the game, Jack and I talked about what a remarkable player you are—not just in terms of talent and what you have accomplished on the field—but also in terms of how you play the game. We talked about your interviews, and how you always acknowledge God and your teammates. You are a picture of humility in a profession that often promotes just the opposite. I thank you for that.

As you neared the record, Jack and I would check the sports page every morning to see if you recorded another save. We were both looking forward with great anticipation to the day you would break the record.

On September 8, Jack went out in the neighborhood to play in the rain with some friends and his sister. He got too close to a swollen creek, fell in, and drowned. The loss has been devastating. We miss our Jack so much—every day. But we are comforted by our faith. Jack trusted Jesus Christ as his Lord and savior and so do we. He had even told us before the accident that he was not afraid to die because heaven is such an awesome place.

I remember the day you broke Trevor Hoffman's record, I came home early from work to watch the end of the game on TV. It was an afternoon game, and if Jack were alive he would have been home from school watching with me. Watching you record the final three outs was bittersweet. I watched with tears in my eyes as you struck out the last batter—happy for your accomplishment but filled with sadness that Jack was not there to share the moment with me.

After Jack passed away, many friends and acquaintances from school, scouts, little league, and church came to visit and share with me special memories and stories about Jack. I enjoyed hearing every one. But it struck me that it should not have taken a tragedy for people to share these stories and remembrances of Jack. I would have preferred to hear them while he was still alive. I could have shared them with Jack to encourage him and let him know the impact he was making on others.

And so I thought of people that I would like to share memories and stories with, to encourage them, to thank them, and to let them know that they are making a difference in my life or my family's life. This list of people was exclusively family and friends, except for you. I thought about writing a letter to let you know that you are impacting the lives of Yankee fans, old and young alike. You are an exemplary role model—choosing to carrying yourself with class and dignity both on the field and off and, above all, choosing to put God first in all circumstances. That is how I want to live my life and raise my children.

I thought about writing you a letter for several weeks but never did anything about it, resigning myself to the fact that even if I wrote you a letter and tried to submit it as fan mail, you would never get to read it. And then Heather visited us with the baseball you signed for Margaret. Unbelievable! It was totally unexpected and delivered with perfect timing. Given the emotions your milestone save had evoked in me, receiving your autographed ball was like receiving a sign from God and a wink from Jack in heaven. I asked Heather if she could deliver a letter to you. She graciously said she would. I could not believe I had the opportunity to have my letter hand delivered to you. But then I remembered Jack's favorite bible verse: For nothing is impossible with God. Luke 1:37. Thanks Jack. And thank you Mariano for all you do, both on the field and off.

God Bless,



Tim Donaldson