My Ditzy Self

I have a ditzy side. I like to think it’s endearing, but maybe it’s just annoying to certain people close to me. In this high-tech world, many opportunities arise for ditzy people like me to make mistakes. Several times I have intended to write a text message to my husband only to discover I have written on a previous thread that included my sons. How was I supposed to know they were listening in?? The potential for embarrassment abounds here. My husband and I were texting about a private decision he was trying to make, only to have one of our sons pipe in with a wry comment.

You never know who’s listening.

Other times, my husband and I have been sharing thoughts or concerns about a certain offspring only to realize one of us (named Linda) texted the son rather than the spouse.


I’m not the only one who makes these errors. At my job, a plethora of women named Linda exist, thanks to the fact that in a certain decade this must’ve been a very popular name. I have sent and received emails intended for other people named Linda. On occasion, the sender was quite embarrassed by the snarky content of their message, read by this unintended audience.

Be careful what you commit to writing.

When I was growing up, I had a close friend who came from a troubled, broken home. She liked to say, “Just call me stupid,” when referring to herself. She shared my ditzy side—but I don’t think she was stupid. She lived with our family for a time, needing a respite from the chaos in her home. When my father made the decision to move us all to Florida from New England, they invited her to come. She refused. But on our moving day, she sat alone in our empty house with absolutely no place to go, breaking everyone’s heart. I’ve never forgotten her, despite losing touch. When I Googled her name a couple of years ago, her picture popped up in the form of a mug shot, taken in the very city where my family had moved to in Florida all those years ago. For some reason she followed us there, but never reached out.

Abandonment can make smart people feel stupid with damaging results.

During that same time period in my life, a popular song played on the radio, the lyrics going something like this: “She was a little bit dumb and a little bit smart.” A friend remarked, “That’s YOU, Linda. You’re a little dumb and a little smart.”

I always wondered which part of me seemed smart.

Sometimes we feel less smart than we really are. To my husband, I sometimes refer to myself as “the most educated dumb person out there.” He corrects me, never letting me define myself this way for too long.  Many of us do feel more foolish than we are, often accepting false messages from others or considering mistakes to be stupidity. Other times we see the ability of others to soar into places we can’t imagine going, mistakenly attributing their rise to success (or highest office in the land) as “smarts.”

Wisdom and intelligence seem to be a different animal. Wise people are discerning, able to read a situation and make good, sacrificial choices promoting the welfare of others and themselves, sometimes at their own expense. Wise people avoid trouble, temper behavior, treat others with dignity, introducing calm in the testiest of circumstances. They speak surprising truths, refreshingly insightful. They see the craziness of someone’s behavior and refuse to engage or become complicit. They stand up to wrong, do no harm, and behave counter-culturally when behaving counter-culturally can harm their prospects at relationships, success, and promotions. In the Bible, the word “wisdom” is used 222 times. Quite an important word and something worth pursuing.

In my case, I may never be the smartest cookie in the package, (while writing this post, I just sent a personal email to the wrong recipient. Not kidding.) But I can strive to make wise choices. Hopefully those choices will be like water in a parched and dry land— and allow me to post this piece on the correct blog—the one that belongs to me.




Confessions of a Suburban Mom – Part Two

In “Confessions of a Suburban Mom – Part One”  I confess to raising our sons in a safe, secure environment, what I perceive as too sheltered of a life, blocking out a broken world. Today’s post picks up where the last post ended. As I ate dinner with a dear friend to discuss her recent trip…

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Confessions of a Suburban Mom – Part One

While writing my suburban mom confession, I need to confess to writing a long and unwieldy blog post.  Whenever you combine suburban guilt and mother guilt, things get complicated, so I’m making this a two-part post.    This is my confession:  I chose to raise my four sons in the safety of suburban life. I…

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A Small, Quiet Christmas

After a beautiful time of togetherness for a wedding in November, my husband and I will experience a very quiet Christmas. None of our family members are able to make the trip here again, and my husband and I are too spent to travel to be with others. So this year just three of us…

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Birthday Reflections: Waiting and Continuing

I turn another year older today, another year closer to a very big number that ends in zero arriving in 2018. We’ll hold off talking about that birthday until next year.  All wrapped up in my birthday package this year comes the surprise fact that getting older gets easier. In fact, these bigger birthdays are…

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A New Novel Worth Persusing

Debut author Katherine James’ discomfort with self-promotion has led her to share photos of dogs on social media promoting her new book. But some of us who deeply enjoy and respect her writing feel it’s worth helping her out with a human voice.  🙂 In her novel, Can You See Anything Now?, an eclectic group of…

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So Much Sky

An excerpt from my empty nest essay, appearing in the latest issue of “Under the Sun” literary journal. The note appears hooked to the knob of my front door, a warning. The emerald ash borer disease has ravaged the hundred-year-old stately ash trees lining our road, and our city has decided to take them all down. The forty trees…

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Spoken Blessings

Today I have the privilege of writing over at The Mudroom blog, “a place for stories emerging in the midst of the mess.” When my twin sons accidentally caught 17-acres of land on fire while filming a World War II movie with their high school friends, it wasn’t the scorched trees I remember most. Or the…

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Our family loves to drive past our old homes in  Massachusetts and Virginia, trying to catch a glimpse and a memory of the rooms we once inhabited, the place where we loved and laughed, cried and fought. We critique the changes the new owners made, wonder why they took down that tree fort built by…

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Everbloom Book

Everbloom is a collection of essays written by women of the Redbud Writers Guild. The pages are filled with their stories of living life with intentionality, purpose, and wisdom as they walk out their faith. I share Catherine McNiel’s essay here during this Easter Holy Week with her permission.  Passover, Betrayal, and Deep Redemption by…

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