2 Ways to Fight Envy

Sometimes, what keeps us from living with flair is a deep-rooted sin.

I've been thinking about the spiritual disease of envy today.  It creeps into the soul and causes the kind of devastation that leaves us depressed, angry, imprisoned, and lonely.  We know we're being controlled by envy when we cannot rejoice in the prosperity of others.  We know envy has taken root when we secretly feel better about ourselves when we hear of the misfortune of others. 

These are deep, ugly, honest things.  Living with flair means we expose them and live in the truth.  When we compare ourselves to others and then find ourselves wanting more, we get sucked into the powerful delusion of envy.

Envy oppresses and depresses.  It sabotages friendships.  It divides us from our true self.  It alienates us from God. It imprisons us in a world of competition, accumulation of possessions, and frenzy to prove ourselves. 

It just might be the major cause of unhappiness in American society.  As I thought about this today, I discovered two truths that help me battle this spiritual cancer:

1.  Envy cannot stand in light of the sufficiency of God.  God provides for all of our needs.  I can rejoice and claim that, "The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need." Why compare myself to others?  Why look with longing on what everyone else has?  I have everything. 

2.  Envy cannot stand in light of perceived abundance.  Perceived abundance means just that:  we choose to acknowledge every place of abundance in our lives.  Instead of perceiving scarcity, we rejoice in abundance.  My daughters have so many toys.  But guess what?  They want the one thing they don't have.  They want the one toy the other child chooses.  I've watched this dynamic for the past 5 years.  Why do children go crazy over the one toy in the playroom that somebody else has when there are hundreds of other choices?  Envy!  It blinds them to the reality of abundance. 

When we feel that resentful longing of envy, we confess it and ask God to show us the truth of His provision and abundance in our lives.   I want to be the kind of woman that truly rejoices over the prosperity of others and celebrates that abundant life that God always--always--offers to me. 

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Journal:  How do you fight envy in your own heart? 

The Best Day of Your Life

I wrote that title before the day even happened.  Did you choose to read this post because of the title?   More folks might read this if it said, "The Worst Day of Your Life," because studies report that we're attracted to pain and negativity. 

I'm teaching the power of a great title in my writing classes this week.  The title makes all the difference.  It determines whether I engage with the writing, how I engage with the writing, and why I'll keep reading.   The title gives a shape and a focus for a text, and that got me thinking about writing and living with flair. 

What if I titled my day?  What if I chose a title this morning that made me engage differently?  What if I shaped and focused this day by a title?  Here are some possible titles for a day:

The Day Everything Changed
The Day I Finally Did It
The Day I Became the Person I'm Supposed to Be
The Day I Surrendered Everything
The Day I Found Beauty in Pain
The Day I Rose Above My Circumstances
The Day I Laughed So Hard I Cried
The Day I Did the Thing I Feared the Most
The Day I Chose Happiness
The Day I Discovered How to Really Love Someone Else

Living with flair means I choose a title for my day.  And then I move forward and live it. 

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Journal:  How did you title today?

How to Blog Every Day

When you blog for almost 400 days straight, sometimes you get emails asking how to blog every day.

The average blog lasts 6 weeks (42 days), and when I started Live with Flair, I wondered if blogging would stick for me.  Would it fizzle?  Would anyone read it?  Would this whole thing continue? 

It did.  I love it, and I look forward to it every day.  Sometimes I have 10 minutes to write.  Sometimes an entire hour clears.  Either way, I write.  And along the way, I figured out three secrets to blogging every single day.

Here they are: 

1.  You have to ask yourself a good question. 

My question for each day is simple:  Where's the flair?  This question means that blogging is my commonplace book--that treasury I keep of answers to a question.

There's a genuine question to answer today, and, as you've read before, I pray for the answer (usually in the shower when I'm tempted to feel grumpy about the day).  I have to believe that the answer to the question inspires someone else as well.  That's the second secret of daily blogging:   

2.  You have to believe that what you write will be good for someone else. 

I've talked to so many bloggers who don't think their thoughts are worth anything to anybody else.  These last few years, I've seen brilliant student writers refuse to share their work in class because they think it's "worthless" and "nobody cares."

What if we did?  What if your thoughts today could inspire a whole community?  We do care, and your thoughts can inspire. 

Living with flair means we ask good questions and build a treasury of wisdom to offer to others.  Sure critics will come against you.  Sure you'll think nobody cares.  But when you learn something and pass it on to others, you're engaging in an ancient art of recording wisdom for future generations.  Why wouldn't we blog every day?  Why wouldn't we ask ourselves philosophical questions every single day and tell someone what we think?

In this way, we also build a community of readers--fellow pilgrims--who join in and contribute their own wisdom.  It's a beautiful thing.  Right now, we can say "hello" to readers in Germany, New Zealand,  Nigeria, and Australia.  We can engage with readers from Turkey, the Netherlands, Taiwan, Russia, and Italy.  (Hello friends!) 

Blogging means I'm going international every day.  That's the final secret:

3.  You blog every day because you have an appointment with your readers.

I hope this post encourages fellow bloggers and reminds you why you started blogging in the first place. 

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Journal:  What question am I trying to answer today?  Do I believe I have wisdom to share?  Do I have a community with whom I might share these thoughts?  We are all waiting to hear what you think!

This Question Might Help You Rejoice Today

During breakfast, my husband announces: "The tire man really helped me rejoice today!" 

I know that some flair is coming.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, when I dropped off the car at the tire shop, I told the man how thankful I was that this flat tire happened in a parking lot and not out on the road in traffic.  I could change it safely in that lot and not on the side of the road.  But then guess what he asked me?"

"What?"

"'Was it raining?' And I said, 'No it wasn't!  It was the only hour all week that it wasn't raining!'  I was so thankful when I remembered that."

My husband remarks that the tire man simply asked the right question to help my husband rejoice in the midst of something inconvenient. 

Living with flair means I ask the right questions to realize all the ways God is indeed protecting and providing even in the midst of trouble. 

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Journal:  Was there a time in my life that God protected and provided for me even during trouble? 

Loving the Thing You Hate

I walk outside, and hundreds of bees swarm around my ankles.  And I'm allergic!  I carry an epi-pen every day, and for me, these bees represent death.

I look closely, and I see dozens of nesting sites for bees.  They cover the side yard. I quickly call out for the girls to run inside to safety.

I phone my entomologist friend (everyone needs one of these) who comes over to help me.  Where did these bees come from?  Are they killer bees?

My friend examines the bees and proclaims how fortunate I am that they have chosen my yard.  Not only are these bees harmless and not aggressive, but in Pennsylvania, they are also considered the best early pollinators.

She picks one up, and she shows me how each female bee constructs an individual nest to lay eggs in.  I'm actually watching it happen right before my eyes.  Not one tries to sting, not one even flinches.  

I was ready to call the exterminator, and now I'm enamored with these harmless bees.   I lean down and see a mother in her little home, getting ready to lay her eggs. 

Far away, you can hardly see her, but close up, you can. 

I think about how much fear I had.  I think about how I was ready to exterminate.  But these little bees are gifts to my garden.  They are indispensable on the journey to produce fruit.

Living with flair means I stop and look more closely at the things in my life I want to exterminate.   This thing I hate, this thing that I'm running from, might be God's gift to produce great fruit in me later.

And when you look deeper, you find yourself delighted by this terrible thing that actually looks really cute.   Look at that little bee!  I'm glad they came to my garden.


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Journal:  Might I rejoice in these pesky things that God sends to produce fruit?

Cut Out the Unhappy

Today my friend sends me the results of a study that suggests older folks--in their 80's--are the happiest.  The report published in the American National Academy of Sciences claims that as we age, we "become more selective with how we use our time, focusing more on doing things we enjoy and cutting out parts of life that make us unhappy."

It seems like such a simple prescription:  Focus on what we enjoy, and cut out what makes us unhappy.

While I'm not sure it's possible to simply "cut out" what makes us unhappy, I wonder what life would look like if we did indeed focus more on doing enjoyable things.

And what if we stopped doing things that make us unhappy?  Not getting enough sleep makes me unhappy.  Drinking too much caffeine makes me unhappy (why do I keep doing this?).  Not exercising makes me unhappy. 

And what if we learned to turn unhappy circumstances (the ones we often cannot change) into moments of flair?  

So (of course), I ask my students to tell me one thing that makes them really happy.  Diet Coke, travel, musical solos, penguins, driving with the windows down on a warm night, watching Hello, Dolly!, playing the game Angry Birds. . .

It's a nice reminder to enjoy life today.  It's a challenge to stop doing what makes us unhappy.  And when we cannot change our circumstances, we learn to find the flair.  Maybe it is that simple. 


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Journal:  What makes me happy?  What thing that makes me unhappy can I stop doing? 

Waking Up with a Sore Throat

This morning, I realize immediately that I have a sore throat. 

I know what this means:  I'm getting sick (or maybe it's an allergy or just the dry air in my home or the fact that there's snow on the ground one day and daffodils blooming the next).  Whatever the cause, that irritating sore throat signals something.  It's a constant, annoying reminder to slow down, drink fluids, rest, and get better. 

I can't ignore the feeling of it.  With every swallow and every word I speak, I experience that whisper of raw pain telling me:  slow down; get better.  When I want to push through and scurry about to clean this house, the throat says: slow down; get better.  When I want to schedule a million things for the family, that throat responds: slow down; get better.

So Saturday cleaning day isn't happening.  Living with flair means you respond when something or Someone tells you to slow down and get better.   I just wish I didn't have to wait until something painful happens to realize the benefit of slowing down.   

Cat vomit, bad parking, and sore throats can teach me something about living rightly, and so far, Year Two of Live with Flair challenges me to learn from whatever negative, inconvenient, or painful thing comes my way. 
 
Thank you for inspiring me to live this way.  


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What in my life is telling me to slow down? 

Flossing and Jesus

Sometime this year, I fell out of the habit of flossing.  I'm not sure when it happened.  Maybe it was when I ran out and forgot to put it on the grocery shopping list.   Maybe it was when I decided I was too tired one night and just chose not to floss.  It was easier to "forget" the next night and the next. 

This morning, I realize I really need to floss.  I find the floss, saw it down between my teeth, and feel surprisingly good about this activity. 

It feels like I'm living with flair when I floss. 

I learn that bacteria in the mouth starts to harden into plaque within only 48 hours.  In just 10 days the plaque becomes tartar--rock hard and incredibly difficult to remove.  Tartar leads to gingivitis which leads to periodontal disease (not fun). 

I think about my week and how hardened my heart often feels.  I wake up some days and feel the weight of my own selfishness.  In just 48 hours (or less), I can turn from a spirit-controlled, loving wife and mother into a narcissistic she-devil demanding her own way.  Left unchecked, in less than 10 days, I'm off in the pursuit of false dreams and false gods.  I'm in a rage: complaining, entitled, tearing apart my family.  Who is this woman?

How do these attitudes and behaviors lodge and harden?  What could I have done to break up that bacteria and stay fresh and clean before God? I remember the Psalmist who wrote,

"Search me, God, and know my heart;
   test me and know my anxious thoughts.
 See if there is any offensive way in me,
   and lead me in the way everlasting."

Living with flair means I floss.   I apply, on a daily basis, the truth of God's word against every surface and root out even tiny--seemingly harmless--bacteria that overtakes and hardens in just hours.  

I ask God to reveal "any offensive way in me."  And when he does, I confess and know that, as 1 John 1:9 claims, "God is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

I can't forget this habit, this flossing.  
  




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Journal:  How can I build in the practice of confession on a daily basis? 

"Do Everything, Even the Insignificant Things, in a Significant Way"

Early this morning, before the chatter and patter of little girls and the swish and push of backpacks and coats, I read this quote:

"Do everything, even the insignificant things, in a significant way."  I'm reading an ancient little devotional by E. Stanley Jones, and his words hit me stronger than the aroma of the Dunkin' Donuts coffee I have brewing behind my back as I write. 

As I ask God to show me how to do this--how to make each moment truly significant--I'm interrupted by the purrs and meows of hungry kitties.  I stoop down to feed them, and as they swirl about my feet like I'm within some tornado of fur, I pause and thank God for these furry friends.  I thank Him for One-Eyed Jack and all I've learned.  I thank him for the companionship these faithful cats provide as a refuge for little girls. 

It becomes a simple moment of worship right there by the cat food bowls. 

I turn back to my question, and I already know the answer. 

I infuse each moment with a thankful heart and invite the glory of God in.  I want to amplify each moment like that.  I want to fold laundry and worship.  I want to empty this dishwasher and encounter God's glory.

I want those moments to be as powerful and symbolic as when I put my American flag out each day.  I stand on the porch as the sun rises, and I tell the girls how thankful we are to be citizens of a great nation.  I remember my friend Charity's brother who died in Iraq.  I ask God to protect our soldiers and to help my family honor their sacrifice.  I make a ridiculous bugle call sound with my mouth as if I'm raising a flag (I really do this, and it's completely ridiculous, but it's how I sanctify the moment). 

I'm moving forward today into a thousand insignificant tasks that now have monumental meaning.  I'm sanctifying mundane moments. 

Living with flair means I do everything in a significant way.


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Journal:  How can I empty my dishwasher in a significant way? 

Licking the Blender Whisk

It's a snow day in our county, and the children and I make cookies to frost.  The girls crowd around me and eagerly reach for the blender whisks after I've made the vanilla frosting. 

I hand the whisks down, and I purposefully arrange some extra frosting on each one. 

A child licking the blender whisks reminds me of Henry David Thoreau's famous quote about sucking the marrow out of life. Back in July, I wrote about how the "Live with Flair" blog was my way to "live deep and suck all the marrow out of life." 

When my daughter licks the blender whisk, I see her searching out every last drop.  When she hands it back, it's as if it's been cleaned in the dishwasher. 

I want to search out the beauty in this day, relishing every part.  God hands me the whisk, and I sit back and enjoy it. 


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Journal:  What good thing has come my way today? 

What You Stir Up

Today, for some odd reason, I think about how many times I stir throughout the day.  I stir my coffee or tea, I stir the oatmeal, I stir the batter, I stir the juice, I stir the sauce as it simmers.  Stir, stir, stir.  Maybe it's the Italian Mama rubbing off on me, but I have a spoon in my hand most of the day.

I stir because the good stuff settles at the depths, and my quick spoon riles it up and mixes it back in.  

I'm in church, praying that God would stir up good things in me.  I want passion stirred, hope stirred, and the kind of faith that moves mountains stirred.  It's in there, settled at my depths.  Stir me!

Later, I go home to look up that beautiful verb.  Unfortunately, it's often associated with negative ideas.  We stir up dissent, controversy, and drama.  We stir up anger, bitterness, and jealousy.  In the book of Proverbs, I find that every single use of the verb stir warns against rousing up these negative traits.

I don't want to be a person who stirs up the wrong sorts of things.  

I want to stir up goodness.  I want to leave a wake of peace, joy, hope, and faith.  Once you spend time with me, I want to have stirred up love and happiness in you--not conflict or anger.

Living with flair means I trust God to stir up good things, and I, too, stir my environment to mix in every wonderful element I might.



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Journal:  Am I a person who stirs up controversy or leaves a wake of peace?

Sledding in My Pearls

Our Saucer Sled

It's late afternoon, and I'm all fixed up for a night out.  I even have my pearls on. 

My youngest daughter stands by the door and says, "Mom, can we go sledding real quick?  Real quick?"  She's already pulling on her snow pants, and as I look out the window towards the sledding hill, something comes over me.  I realize I must do this; I must take a minute and live with flair.  So many moments of pure joy have come from spontaneous, ridiculous activity.  I have to go sledding. 

Of course this makes no sense at all. 

I pull on Grandpa's huge snowsuit (that fits over my outfit without messing it up), grab my husband's jacket and gloves, yank on some boots, and I'm out the door. 

Sledding in Pearls

We sled down the hill in a bright blue saucer.  I sit down first, and she plops down right on top of me.  We push off, holding on to each other for dear life. 

I'm actually late for our evening plans.  As the woman who is always ten minutes early to everything, I'm amazed with the joy I feel being late for something.  I apologize to the other couples and point to the sledding hill.  As I strip off my snow gear, I tell everyone not to worry.  I'm ready to go.  See?  I even have my pearls on. 

What We Most Want

Finally, at 6:00 AM, we agree to open presents.  This is only after the 2:00 AM squeal alert that presents had arrived under the tree.

My living room sparkles with shreds of wrapping paper, bows, and tissue paper.  By now, the little girls play happily with their new dolls, and I drink coffee--lots and lots of coffee.  

Amid the laughter, I hear my husband calling out, "Can you think of any other person's birthday party where you get the presents?"

He turns to me and says, "Isn't that the real meaning of gospel?  We celebrate Jesus, but we end up getting the gifts." 

Bring on the gifts, the shimmering joy, the peace, and the love.   May we unwrap His gifts upon gifts, in obvious and hidden forms, today and all year.  May we have the hope and the faith to see them, despite every circumstance.

May we lift our eyes and be led to what we've been waiting for all our lives.  Can it be that what we most want, we find in that manger?

Merry Christmas from Live with Flair!

A Christmas Gift to Yourself

I'm sitting around a table with other couples, all in their 30's and 40's.  As we talk about the different activities we're encouraging our children to try--voice lessons, dance, musical instruments, acting--one mother suddenly announces how much she wishes she could take ballet lessons. 

"Why don't you!?" we all exclaim just as another mother confesses her desire to learn ballet.  And then, the whole table erupts in a discussion of the classes we wish we were taking.  We go around the room and answer the question: "What class do you secretly wish you could take?" 

Painting, photography, guitar, voice, history, Spanish, piano. . . the list goes on as we share the things we still--even at our age--want to learn and do.  But is it too late?  I had just finished reading a chapter about neuroscience and the importance of novelty for brain health.  Novelty--fresh ideas, fresh experiences, fresh activities--strengthens the brain as it ages.

It's not too late.  It's never too late. 

We commit to it as a group, encouraging one another in our desires.  The gift we might give ourselves this Christmas for 2011 is novelty.  Then, by Christmas of next year, we'll have another interest to pursue.

Living with flair means I give myself the gift of novelty.  Who cares if you're the oldest ballerina in the room or if your arthritic fingers hesitate over the piano keys?   You'll inspire the rest of us with your courage, your enthusiasm, and your flair.  Is there something you secretly wish you could learn?  I'd love to hear it! 

When Your Cat Looks Like a Skunk

My Skunk Kitty

When you're sick in bed, you have a lot of time to think about your life.  You can have bizarre thoughts, brought on by fever and narcotics and the reality television shows you've been watching to pass the time. 

You start asking yourself if you're dying, and you wonder what the whole point of life is anyway.  Then you start thinking you'll never have another moment of flair again in your whole life.  You think that God has abandoned you and everything you thought was true is now untrue. 

You can't remember any of God's promises.  

And then your kitty comes up to snuggle with you, and she rolls over to show you the single white stripe on her belly.  She looks exactly like a skunk. 

But she's not a skunk.  She's a kitty.  She only looks like a skunk. 

What I see from this bed is not reality. 

There's another system, another actuality, that God knows and God sees.  Good, beautiful, right, and true.  As warm and comforting as this cat beside me. 

Layer Up

On a cold day like today, with temperatures below 20 degrees and a wind chill that takes your breath away, I have no choice but to face my day with layers.  And I'm especially cold since I've barely recovered from my illness.

With tights, long johns, knee-high pink socks, black boots, wool skirt, wool sweater, wool jacket, hat, scarf, and mittens on, I walk around campus.  I'm cozy, tucked-in, secured like a newborn swaddled in quilts.

I'm actually a little warm.

Layering is the only way to survive the winter.  In fact, layering will always keep you warmer than a single heavy coat.  Layering acts like insulation on the body and slows the transfer of heat.  Heat trapped between clothing layers works as thermal insulation, and I stay warm all day. 

Layering my clothing to regulate body temperature made me seriously consider the concept of other forms of regulation.  Hasn't my weight loss journey been about layering up my surroundings with good choices--veggies, then fruits, then whole grains, then lean proteins, then dairy?  Hasn't my mood regulation been all about layering the day with good sleep, positive relationships, spiritual practices, and exercise?

I start the day, add layers of good things,  and eventually feel the warmth of thermal insulation protecting my mind and body from whatever comes against it.   Living with flair means I layer. 

The One Word Reminder

Years ago, I read a parenting book about the power of the one word reminder.  Instead of spouting out long, elaborate directions to children, especially in times of transition (leaving for school, going to bed), you simply call out the one word reminder.

Shoes! 

The single reminder houses an entire narrative:  the child remembers now to get her jeans on, put on her socks, and find her shoes.  She doesn't need my monologue.  One word does it. 

As I thought about the power of one word to invoke a whole series of commands, and how that one word gets a child's train of thought back on the right track, I wondered about my own one word commands.

What if I used one word reminders to get my mind where it should be and to realign my heart with the truth?  If one word helps children, why can't one word help adults too?

I used a couple on myself today. 

In the slopping rain, I call out to myself: flair.  Suddenly, I remember to look for it.   Later, I use the single word gentle to remind myself to be gracious and gentle with myself and others. I've been known to call out the word "Jesus" to invoke the enormity of the gospel into whatever situation I'm in. 

One word triggers--mantras of focus and truth--can reshape the day, get my head out of a muddle, and refocus my heart. We have an entire arsenal of power here.  We can apply it right now, that one word reminder, that will change everything.  

You Cannot Contain This

My morning begins by watching children race down the street so the speed limit monitor sign records their speed.  I still haven't had enough coffee to move properly, and these kids are racing.  They know how to walk to school with flair.   I secretly want to record my own speed.  I still might, but I'm too busy trying to contain the activity. 

Turkey Masks

Then, I volunteer in the kindergarten classroom.  The teacher puts me in charge of the Turkey Masks for the feast the class will have next week.  I'm the monitor, and I can't contain this project; the children smear glue everywhere, and feathers are in their hair, on their shirts, and attached to their jeans.

Eventually, we produce these fine specimens. 

However, nobody can see anything once the mask is on.  I wonder about this, but then I see kids delighting in darkness.

Apparently, this makes the feast more fun and uncontrollable.  

Meanwhile, I monitor the purple glue sticks and question how in the world they go on purple but dry clear.  The chemistry behind this phenomenon has me stumped.

Something dries out, and the purple disappears. Who invented this great item?  Maybe the same person who, as a kid, would have raced towards the speed limit monitor sign.

Lord, let me monitor my own joy today.  Let me race down streets, wear turkey masks even when I can't see a thing, and stay vibrant purple.  Let me not be contained.  Let me have turkey feathers even on my jeans. 

I'm on my way to run in front of the speed monitor.   

Where No Pie Belongs

Getting Ready to Teach

I'm in my classroom, trying to muster up some flair. 

And then, I see a student has baked two pies to share with our class.  She made an apple pie with a lattice crust and a key lime pie with a graham cracker crust.  One student sees the pies and says, "I'm having the best day ever."

Students gather, grab forks and plates, and we feast on pies in the midst of writing lessons.  It's still morning.  This whole thing seems crazy.  

A View of Campus

We have pie where no pie should be, for no reason at all, other than a student wanted to bring the class a treat.   We can't stop talking about these pies, their crusts, and the whole experience of eating together in a college classroom when we're supposed to be writing.

We eat and write, talk and eat.

Key Lime Pie

Meanwhile, I take a picture of this beautiful crust.  In the world of baking, a crust represents the foundation and the substance that holds the filling in.  It keeps everything together. 

We did feel held in--held together--by an unexpected treat.  And the writing seemed stronger, but maybe I'm imagining things.

Living with flair means bringing a pie where no pie belongs.  

Your Most Memorable Act

Last year, my daughter's teacher asked me to provide some healthy Halloween treats for the 2nd grade party.  Everyone knows how terrible I am at anything involving baking, crafts, or decorating.  I try, but when it comes right down to it, I'm just not good at these things.

Halloween Boo Platter

I am good at words, though.  And I recalled the wisdom of my friend in Texas who says firmly, "Heather, God gave these children to you.  You are the perfect parent for them.  Your gifts are perfectly matched to their needs."  So this time last year, I arrange some vegetables in the shape of the word, "Boo."  I have no idea what I am doing.  I take some foil, make a pattern, and fill it in with vegetables.  That's about as crafty as I get.

The Boo Platter

Despite my anxiety about this platter (was it cute? would the children love it?), I bring it to the school party.  My daughter beams.  Children come over to read the word, and they laugh and eat vegetables because they are in the shape of a word.   It isn't even that beautiful as you can see by this photo. (Feel free to comment to make me feel better about this). 

Story over.  A year goes by.

This week, my daughter bursts from the school doors and calls out, "Mom, I signed you up to make treats for the Halloween party.  Everyone wants the Boo Platter!  Let's make another Boo Platter!"  She's holding my hand, staring up into my face, and talking about this Boo Platter like it's become a public school legend.  

I wake up this morning and arrange the foil in the shape of a word.  It might be the most important thing I do today, the thing that matters as the years go by.  God made me a certain way, and when I act out of that authentic self, I leave a beautiful mark.  A simple embellishment--in my style--to a platter created a memory--a tradition--that children remembered and needed.   These small acts that I think make no mark, that make no difference, that seem silly and awkward and out of place, actually embed themselves in neighborhood memory. 

Living with flair means pressing on in small embellishments that flow from my personality that help shape a family and a community. Sure, some other parents made more creative and impressive things, but what my children remembered and love was a word.  Because that's me.