I think it is okay to not always see eye-to-eye. This holds true for relationships with spouses, parents, friends, children, etc. Such behavior doesn’t make one party right and one party wrong. It just makes both parties different from the other. But why? Why are we different? Is there a point? I can think of a number of colloquialisms and adages that speak to variety being “the spice of life” and such but the truth to this timeless riddle is that no one truly knows. Perhaps the closest answer comes from the Arabic word taaruf – to live together. We all have strengths and weaknesses that when combined create a dynamic and strong fabric.

Lately I have been quite busy. My job is demanding and challenging. I am traveling quite a bit. Gardening season is running full speed. I am speaking more now than I ever have addressing groups on Eco-Conscious Living and ‘Going Green.’ I am writing on a regular basis for several blogs and print magazines. And I am still booking photo shoots. Granted I am not doing all of this each and every day but it still pulls me away from the leisure I sometimes wish I had. I often find myself asking if I am making enough time for Pan or if I am making enough time or God in my life. I feel like I am but when I am in their presence I find myself just not seeing eye to eye with either. It all causes a feeling of disconnect and even loneliness at times.

Mind you, I am not complaining. I am just rather throwing my thoughts out there in a fishing attempt to see if anyone can see things from my eye level right now.

We have all heard the recent reports. About 6.6 million U.S. households in 2009 had at least three generations of family members, an increase of 30 percent since 2000, according to census figures. When “multigenerational” is more broadly defined to include at least two adult generations, a record 49 million, or one in six people, live in such households, according to a study recently released Thursday by the Pew Research Center.

Pan and I moved “back home” in December 2008 for a number of reasons. I had had it with living in the big apple and longed for a simpler life. I had also recently closed a business enterprise after mounting debt and an uncertain future got the better of my team. Pan and I were preparing to get married and knew we wanted to be further south in the area we both grew up in.

Our options were few as I had no job, she only had seasonal employment, we had no worldly possessions to speak of and the economy wasn’t allowing for really any loans to help us get back on our feet. Thankfully my folks were only two years into their new home – a 3200 square foot, custom built home in rural, middle Georgia. They welcomed us with open arms and before long we had assimilated into our own semi-private part of the house.

I found a job. Pan found a little rest from the uncertainty of our previous lives. My folks enjoyed having us around. Pan took up shop in the kitchen creating amazing meals for the whole family. I made myself available to help my dad around the yard and farm area. Things were working out well for all involved.

By mid-winter though the reality started setting in. Pan and I had moved back home and began to feel like we were mooching at times. We just didn’t have a lot and most of our income went to paying down debt. We often expressed our sense of disappointment and fear to each other. She wanted to be closer to the water. Having grown up minutes from the Atlantic she felt landlocked and shell-shocked. I was working almost 60 hours a week and felt sorry for myself and like I was unable to provide for my wife. The heartache had begun to set in. “Lord,” we would pray, “show us our path. Give us some guidance. It isn’t easy and we just don’t know where we fit in.” At time the notion of being under someone else’s roof would overwhelm us and we would bicker with each other. But other problems were starting to surface.

Two couples. One house. While we had our privacy it seemed we were never alone and for newlyweds…well, that can be tough. My folks are so respecting of our privacy and our schedules but being their kid there are time when I don’t want to help my Dad. There are time when my mother does nag me. I am sure there are times when we don’t want to share our business with my folks and we don’t care what they think about a situation. But that is par for the course and right now we are putting on someone else’s green.

I am not complaining. I am not even regretful for our current position. In fact, 95% of the time I am happy living together as we do and I look forward to adding a 3rd generation to the mix. But it is not easy. I guess no one ever said it is. There are headaches. There are heartaches. There are times when we are put in the middle or we unfairly ask them to sit in the middle of our junk. But when I look around at others I think how unique this season in life is; this place God has put us. Each morning I get to share a cup of coffee with my folks, chatting about the day to come and each night I get to lay beside my wife with the promise of a new tomorrow.

So what do you think about multi-generational living? Could you do it? Do you do it? Would you like to try it? Let me hear from you!

One year ago I looked into her eyes, I squeezed her hands just a bit and I said with all authority and conviction, “I do.” She returned the affirmation and we began what I now refer to as “the great adventure.”

Before getting married and moving back to rural, middle Georgia, I lived in Brooklyn, NY. The life was fast paced and there was always so much going on. I prided myself on giving meaning to ‘ol Blue Eyes’ lyrics. With a firm handshake and a toothy grin I had said on multiple occasions to people, “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere,” and by all accounts I had made it. I had a beautiful apartment that had recently been renovated. I was just a block from the train. I had a group of supportive, fun friends. I had a job I was happy with. I was never lacking for artistic inspiration.

But at night, I went to bed alone. My other two bedrooms echoed in their emptiness and leaving the lights on did nothing to relieve my solitude. The TV offered little distraction as it became boring and I felt no more connected to the cast of ‘Law and Order’ than I did the man in the moon.

Several big decisions later though I was standing across from her promising to have and to hold until death do us part. And even those words could not adequately convey to her how much I welcomed this new part of life.

Within days we were at home on Odom’s Idle Acres figuring out how we could make it not quite so idle and how we could breathe life back into our otherwise normal existence. Our faith was strong and our determination was bursting from our beings. There was clearly room for a large garden. We could easily see ourselves with chickens. We simply knew that the life we had now formed together was going to be one that incorporated our dreams, our desires, our hopes, our learned lessons and our love for the world around us.

In short order we had planted several gardens. We had built a coop and purchased laying hens. We had reexamined our dependence on the grocery store and processed foods. We had redone our budget to live more modestly without sacrificing the fun in life. And through it all our connection to each other continued to grow.

And now one year later we still walk our land, dreaming, plotting, imagining. We look forward to being blessed with a family of our own and the opportunity to see them grow as we did; independently but with the support of our friends and family. The acres aren’t so idle anymore and we can see how God has blessed us and continues to bless us.

And now – one year later – I sit here at my keyboard thinking back to the nights that ended with smiles and even the ones that ended without such pleasure and I realize that this great adventure has all led up to this; this one moment. The moment when I can see that life is what you put into it. You plant a seed, you get a crop. And in this last year our seeds have turned to crops and now, holding each others’ hands, we wait for our harvest.

I asked my dad (a master tailor in his own right) about three months ago, “How do you make an apron?” He quickly responded, “One stitch at a time.” We both laughed and then started talking.

Fast forward three months. I am at the sewing machine putting in the last stitch of Pan’s “big” Christmas gift; a custom apron.

Pan is a gourmet cook. Not a chef, mind you, because she is not formally trained. But gourmet nonetheless in the sense that she has never met a spice she didn’t like and couldn’t use. She can turn ordinary chicken into a delicacy all its own. I marvel at her giftings in kitchen most nights. And while she has an apron already it is just like everyone else’s. I wanted to give her something personal; custom.

I contacted my dear friend Brooke Atwood in Savannah (a wonderful fashion designer and seamstress) and asked her to make me a pattern for a vintage-esque apron. She quickly delivered and I was astounded at her work. I got to work finding fabrics.

With a couple of days I was interacting with chirpandbuzz on etsy.com about some gorgeous Robert Kaufman fabrics that she seemed to have just enough of for my project! It was a painless transaction and within days I had both the pattern and fabrics in hand. I was on my way!

Thanksgiving came……and went. December 1? Flew by. December 10? Just another memory. December 14? Yeah, December 14 was the day. I had carefully preplanned that my momma would take Pan shopping and daddy would be around to help me on his machine should I have any questions. IT WAS ON!

Within about 3 hours I had finished the project. It turned out even better than I had hoped. I couldn’t believe I had to keep the secret for two more weeks almost.

The time came for Pan to open her gift. I was super excited as she tore through the paper. She saw the chicken fabric first and started to giggle. And then as she pulled it out she was torn between excitement and *surprise* at getting an apron. That was until I told her I made it. I sewed it. It was from me to her with no middleman, per se. No store clerks. No gift giving advice.

What I gave her was more than an apron though, I think. It was my time. It was my effort. It was my love for her and what she does in the kitchen that inspired me. And she received it; my love, my effort. She tied it around her waste, looked at me and curtsied at her now doting husband!

I cannot honestly say that I am excited about 2010. There is no particular reason either. I am not stuck in a 2009 holding pattern waiting rather impatiently for something big to break. I am not anticipating the best year ever wherein I will lose weight, strengthen my spiritual relationship, completely renovate my home to off-grid status, grow a record crop or even get that big promotion always taunting me from just in front of my reach. So why waste your time, my time and the typing effort to say all that? Because this year I am doing something different. This year I am celebrating a new day for 365 days AND I DARE YOU TO DO IT TOO!

That’s right. No more micro-focus or even macro-focus. I am going to focus on the task at hand, the day I am living in and the things I can change here and now.

When I can save a little money, I am going to. That means less eating out, less snacking and less frivolous spending. I think that might help me in my goal to lose a little unneeded weight. We all know less bread and less fried foods means less sugar retention and less concern over cholesterol and blood pressure.

When I can give things away I will. We often have a dozen or more eggs just “waiting” in the fridge. When there is someone who can use them they are going to get them – free of charge. I think that will go a long way in strengthening my spiritual relationship in that I worship best when in the midst of service acts or acts of giving.

I guess what I am saying is that for 365 days I am going to celebrate the new year organically allowing things to grow out of need, passion, desire and availability. With a pure heart I think each thing will flow into the next and before I know it I will have embraced what I have secretly known for several years. I am blessed. Odom’s Idle Acres is blessed. Let each new day be about pouring that blessing out!

There have been moments in life when (much like the Adam Sandler movie) I wish life had a remote control. I could fast-forward the pain; pause the tender moments. With this remote control I could make the awesome moments literally last a lifetime…or at least a few minutes longer. That moment when I was 14 and I was given my first paycheck made out to Andrew M. Odom – I could live it over and over. Or maybe that night when I told you I was going to flirt with you in the next five minutes and you giggled after responding, “who’s stopping you?”

If anyone still reads this blog, take a minute or two and describe a moment in time when you wanted to either stretch out or pause your life—the last time you walked hand and hand with a loved one; a spiritual awakening; or a perfect vacation day.

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I have recently been introduced to a new e-card company that makes cardlettes that really say what you are thinking. None of those bouncy ball sort of greetings are those lame encouraging words from other companies. These just say what…well, what I am usually thinking. Enjoy. Oh, and do check out the site and send some cards out to your loved ones.

Today is my sister Brianna’s 17th birthday. I am pretty sure I remember each of them quite well. There is little one can say about someone as special as she is. I have watched her grow up from a little redhead in hand-me-down clothes (I especially liked her little slip on rainbow shoes) to a gorgeous young woman on prom night. Although she sometimes annoys me with her seemingly poor choices, I am always reminded of just how amazing family is and how much of an impact one person can make on your life. Bri, I wish you the happiest of birthdays and I hope you have a blessed year to come.

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Feel free to leave a birthday wish for Bri here. I don’t want to give out her email ’cause I know some of you are waiting for her to turn 18…you sickos!

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