The eulogist does! I asked to give the eulogy at my mother's funeral this past weekend, and I am glad I did it. I wanted to honor my mother. I also want to remember what I said, so for this blog I am going to share what I wrote, taking out the "had to be there" moments and adding a few extra comments made from other family members who said things better than I could have.

Growing up, I had friends on more than one occasion who commented about how they wish their parents were more like mine, and I would think they were crazy. I was judging on the fact that their houses were so much nicer than our house, and also because I felt both my parents were sooo embarrassing. My mother would talk to strangers in the grocery store whether they wanted her to or not. As a kid that was horrifying. Now that I talk to strangers in grocery stores, I can also look back and see what those kids really meant. While I was seeing an old farmhouse with 1 bathroom for seven people, they were seeing a house full of laughter. They were seeing parents who were honest and straightforward. Our family certainly wasn’t perfect, because no one ever is, but there was something appealing about a dad who arm wrestled Big Jim in the living room and a mother who schooled my sister’s friends and boyfriends in Trivial Pursuit or talked sports with them out in the kitchen. We were blessed to have Ruth Wiren as our mother.

Who was Ruth Wiren? Her maiden name was Smart so that sets a tone. Our mother was unflappable, witty, stoic, and intelligent. She had friends who used to call her up to find out the meanings of words rather than going to a dictionary. She studied Greek for fun. She was somehow very humble and at the same time secretly prideful. Her smug grin and shoulder shrug were proof of that when she won a board game, which happened more often than not. As my nephew Wesley noted, it didn't matter if he was 7 or 17; she would win and then look at him as if to say, "what did you think was going to happen?"

Ruth Wiren respected a witty comeback. For example, a couple years ago she overheard some of us complimenting her about something. She made a snarky remark about not knowing we respected her. I looked at her and said, “Are you kidding? We think you’re the best. We just don’t want you to get a big head. To which my sister Becky replied, ‘yeah, cause then your wig wouldn’t fit’. Becky was her favorite child that day.

Our mother was not one to show emotion, which sometimes made people think she didn’t have them. And she definitely was not a crier. She had a way of cutting through the emotional blinders around every situation which helped us gain focus more quickly. But not shedding tears -- that didn’t mean she didn’t care. She loved her family so much that she willingly dedicated her whole life to us. She chose to honor God in her everyday tasks as a wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. God’s opinion was her only motivation.

She believed in the grace of God, and her take on our behavior growing up was, “I don’t believe my children would do that because they know better, but I also won’t be surprised when they do.” She understood human nature, so nothing could shock her. She once had an employer ask her if her children had ever acted up when they were young and Ruth replied, “sure, once.”

Our mother had great perspective and wisdom. My sister Ramona likes to share how when mom was going through her cancer and heart surgery, all while my dad was battling dementia she never cried, ‘Woe is me.” Instead, our mother often said, “Why not me?” My nephew Carter told me that if they experienced bad weather when he was driving her to doctor appointments she would say, “Never complain about the weather. The Lord knows what we need better than we ever could.” That perspective was especially helpful these last few years with the difficulty our family has gone through.

Ruth Wiren was a beacon of consistency. We never had to wonder where she stood with anything because she never faltered. Her children know the importance of reading their Bibles because we saw her do it every single morning in between making breakfast for six other people all on different schedules. We were blessed to have such a steady foundation of faithfulness.

In her wisdom, she may have been the only mother in the history of motherhood that wouldn’t tell her children what decision would be best. This is one of the traits my sister Becky admired most about my mother, frustrating as it could be in the moment. Because sometimes you just wanted her to tell you what to do. Sometimes she might go as far as to point out what the various consequences would be if you followed this path or that path, but she would never say “do this”. She wasn’t going to live our lives for us. She had the mindset that all our choices were between us and God.

Our family lost a prayer warrior in February, and it feels like the last of our foundation has been ripped out from under us. To that Ruth would say, “People can’t be your foundation. The only foundation worth building on is Jesus.”

My husband asked me the other day if I was all right and I immediately said, “Nope, half left” and that’s when I realized Ruthie Smart Wiren will be with us forever. We thank you for every sacrifice, conversation, and lesson such as my niece Erin noted, "if you don't have anything nice to say, roll your eyes instead." Life’s just not the same without you, Mommy.

I had to take a break.

I took a break from writing. I took a break from reading for fun. A lot of things were removed from my every day activities. Life had become very difficult, and the two-by-fours kept swinging into my heart. It's been a long two years.

But I am starting to feel like myself a little more each day, so I want to get back to the things that make me me. I get to coach for a living, so that feeds my competitive nature. I enjoy being married, so I wouldn't change that for anything. He's the best. What's next to bring back?

Waxing with a just a smattering of eloquence makes me smile, so I will try again here to get my thoughts out on various subjects and ideas for the five people that read my blog. Eventually, I'll get back to the fiction writing and reading, and tennis, and all the other things slowly. For now, this may be all I've got in me and that's okay. 

Here we go...
One of my players is an empath. She feels other's emotions as much as she feels her own. She's had to learn how to distinguish what her true responsibilities are when dealing with other people because her default feeling is that she is responsible to and for all of them. That's too much burden for anyone to hold. It got me thinking about emotions in general and how fickle they can be but also how integral to our nature they are. I had a father who was overly emotional and a mother who's picture shows up next to stoic in the dictionary. I'm the mixture of the worst of them. I'm all emotion with a bucket full of reality to throw on myself when I get out of hand. It's a confusing way to live.

This makes me consider what the best way to handle emotions should be. Should we listen to our emotions even though they are always changing? Can our emotions be trusted? Should they have a say in our day to day lives and choices? Do they define who we are completely or can we at least acknowledge that DNA has a bit of a say as well? Does anyone else feel like our parents had a better grip on their emotions than we do today? Or at least handled tragedy and trauma better. Why is that?????? 

There is so much that goes into this, but my simple conclusion is that I want to 'be informed by my emotions but not ruled by them'.

To ignore how we feel is to negate the reality in which we find ourselves. To ignore anger or pain or even happiness is to discredit all the things that happen in life, and that makes life a bit pitiful. Our parents kept a lot of emotions inside and many of them were stilted by that. To ignore emotions keeps a person from learning, growing, and enjoying. 

But letting ourselves to be driven by emotions is a rollercoaster that I am uncomfortable to be on. Emotions feel manipulative, and I will question anyone who tries to stir my heartstrings, so to speak. Emotions can be fickle and closed-minded. Emotions might not have all the information necessary for wise decisions, so when it comes to the serious parts of life, emotions might have to take a back seat. This might be where our parents got it right. Many were able to withstand harder times in life because their emotions weren't running rampant. Or maybe they suppressed them too much. Who knows; I can't change those who have gone before.

In the end, I've decided it's best to let my emotions inform me of how I am doing, how I am processing, how I am living in this life but not to have a loud voice in my decision making. If you disagree with me, I am sure you will have some valid points as to why. If you agree, that makes my emotional side smile. In the end, though, I can only speak to myself. So, to myself I say, be glad you had all those feelings the last two years because they were proof of lives lived well. And as I move forward, I will not be overcome by my emotions. Much.

Lastly, we miss you Robin, David, Steve, Dick, and Ruth.

I've never been good at selling myself. I am horrible in interviews and wretched during auditions. My nerves get so overwhelming to me that I never put my best self forward. Neither have I had any bigger than life dreams. There were a few accomplishments that I worked for and achieved, but nothing out of the ordinary. A meaningful career and a strong relationship. These are enough for me. 

But others pushed me to go outside my comfort zone, and they are the reason that I am able to say, "my book went into publication today". Friends and colleagues generated excitement when I couldn't conjure up my own. My students had dreams which forced me to figure out how to make their dreams come true. My family gave me a firm base that would never be shaken.

It's still surreal to realize that people will read my words. It's terrifying that people will judge my talent. But it's exciting to achieve something bigger than I ever imagined before. So, the dedication for my book After Genevieve reads as follows: "To my Father, Raymond Michael Wiren, Jr., who always dreamed more for me than I ever dreamed for myself."

And it's true. My dad always believed I was more. He assumed I was smarter, wiser, funnier and sometimes even prettier than I could ever live up to. His dreams forced me to become a writer. So while he's in heaven now, I still want to take this time on this earth to say, "Thank you, Dad."

I asked a few of my volleyball players this question and made sure they knew I didn't want an answer out loud. I just wanted them to analyze their personal philosophies to promote a team-first mentality. The question was, "would you rather play every point of every match on a losing team or play less time on a winning team?" Okay, so there may be a bit of fallacy in that question since there are probably a few more options, but the application to life might just outweigh the use of logic.

My sports journey was modest at best. Yes, I made all conference in softball for second base, but that was because our bunt coverage could not be beat, which wasn't really my doing either. Our catcher and pitcher were so on point, all I had to do was stand on first base and catch their throws. It was so stressful, but their skills helped me get an award for being where I was supposed to be.

In the sport I love the most, volleyball, I didn't get to be a starter or play very much until my junior year (thanks to Margaret for breaking her leg), and boy was that a fun season for me. But with the limited amount of actual game time I played in four years, it never once occurred to me not to be part of the team. I loved the game, I was a contributor in practice, and I had some shining moments here and there. I never considered it a waste of time because my whole purpose was to play a game I loved. More importantly through that experience, I took away knowledge. Knowledge of the game, knowledge of athletes, knowledge of people, and knowledge of how a team works. That knowledge helped shape my career.
 
When I think that if I had said no to being part of a team because I didn't get the playing time I wanted (notice I used the word 'wanted' not the word 'deserved'), I realize I would have missed out on even more special and meaningful times. Thank God I said yes.

So would you rather be on a losing team while being the star or would you rather contribute to the success of many by doing the job they ask of you? If your answer is both - you might need some more lessons on what Team is all about.

My creative writing students remember lessons with the objective of telling Bob to shut up. Yes, we use those words in my classroom, and Bob deserves it. Bob is the name chosen for the inner critic we all have within us. Often, he's good at grammar and plotlines, and thinks he's an expert on what the audience wants. But Bob is wrong, and after a few weeks of beating the inner critic down, you very easily could have witnessed students of mine mumbling the words, "Shut up, Bob" or whatever they may have called their inner critic.

Writers and many creative types fall prey to the pressure to be correct the first time. Their inner critic tells them each idea is crappy, and they probably have erased more ideas, sentences, or whole novels  than they want to admit. I didn't figure out the whole "Shut up, Bob" principle until I went to grad school. That's where I learned that I was my worst enemy; I was editing before I ever wrote anything down. I had done that my whole life. My pattern is that I need roughly three levels of crap before I find the gems on which I can work. It takes a lot of fight and perseverance to get through three layers of crap.

Writers are vulnerable to people's opinions, and that vulnerability twerks with the writer's confidence which then invites the writer to critique before it's time. There is a time for editing and there is a place for Bob, but we have to keep Bob reigned in until it's his turn to shine. And, while confidence can grow with experience and success, vulnerability is always palpable for the writer. That means Bob will always need to be told to shut up. But he's strong and can handle it because he knows he will have his day.

(Apologies to any real persons named Bob who may have taken offense.)

I'm either the smartest dumb person or the dumbest smart person ever to exist. Okay, so this might be a bit hyperbolic, but it feels very true in my life as what I am about to share with you is the type of thing that happens to me All. The. Time. Last night I decided to make a tuna casserole (please set aside your opinions on tuna or casseroles in general for the sake of the blog post). I cut up the onions and celery then began mixing all the ingredients in a large bowl. It felt familiar; until it didn't. Once I put the noodles into the bowl, the task became downright difficult to the point I started talking to myself: "Why is it so hard to mix noodles with creamed soup and cheese?" But I kept stirring and stirring, hearing the crunch of noodles against the spoon until it finally dawned on me...I had forgotten to cook the noodles.

Wanting to turn an embarrassing incident into one of meaning, I started to wonder if the uncooked noodles couldn't represent how people try to live life everyday. For 29 years now, I have watched students take shortcuts in their education almost every chance they get. Just like adults who take shortcuts with their health choices everyday. Instant gratification is a much stronger driving force than the investment into the future self.

Now, my noodles were an unintended shortcut (I just poured broth over the whole mixture, covered in foil, then baked it anyway - it turned out edible), but the principle is still evident. When we skip steps like doing homework or exercise or cooking the noodles, the next steps in life become much harder. We need to be patient with the process of the things that we know are good for us because we make life harder when we skip small but important steps - like cooking the noodles.

Or, if none of that makes sense, I also learned that taking a nap before cooking is not for me.

As I begin this blogging journey and in shoutout to my Uncle Jim, the Philadelphia-based columnist James Smart, I hope I can be half as smart and a quarter as witty as he ever was on a bad day. For my first happy rant, I'm going to use a reoccurring lecture I have used for the last twenty-eight years of teaching, mentoring, and coaching. Let's talk about the phrase, "I'm a perfectionist".

Oh really? Consider that a pianist plays the piano, a machinist works on machines, a plagiarist plagiarizes, an absurdist is characterized as being absurd, and a phlebotomist phlebots? phlebotes? phlebotomizes? Okay, so he punctures holes in people, but I think you get the point. When you add "ist" to an action you are proclaiming that that person does the thing the suffix has been added to. Need more proof? quarterfinalist (in the quarterfinals), agriculturist (dabbles in agriculture), experimentalist, (experiments), oppositionists (they oppose), and on and on it goes.

So when people claim to be perfectionists, I must draw the conclusion that they believe themselves to be perfect. But wait, no human being on earth other than Jesus has ever achieved perfection. So, how can all these perfectionists exist? I suggest an alternative adjective. Prideful. Human beings are prideful and find their identities in their accomplishments. So, when a task rears its head, whether ugly or pretty, that task is now going to be another litmus test of someone's worth. If that task goes well, the worth of the person remains intact. If that task does not go well, anxiety sets in because a person's worth is in danger of being diminished. 

If we could separate our worth from our everyday tasks, then maybe our pride wouldn't take so many hits when life proves we are not and never will be perfect. And maybe that would free us up to find something more concrete to base our worth on. Like being made in the image of God.

Just a thought.