Some Days Are Loss to New Life

This past weekend we traveled to Galena, Illinois. It was a wonderful opportunity to get away, enjoy nature, have a few adventures, and - most of all - enjoy being with each other. Bryan (Jay's brother) and Diane joined us on Saturday and we laughed ourselves silly. It was the kind of silliness that, if we shared what got us to laughing, you would think our senses of humor were warped. Which they may well be.

On Friday evening, I drove back from the Inn where my daughter and friend had been swimming. I got lost! If you know the Galena Territory, the roads wind and dip through gorgeous bluffs, hills, and valleys. Since it was amazingly dark despite a full moon, we more sensed than saw the winds and dips.

So I drove back and forth, around and about as the girls chatted and enjoyed the ride. As for me, I was thankful my passengers were somewhat oblivious. I realized that I was very use to the feeling of being lost. Lost is familiar territory.

Driving and thinking about being lost, I was reminded of the first couple of lines from a quote by Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk. The quote is a prayer and begins, “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me."

Having this quote come to mind served a couple of purposes, not the least of which was preventing me when I once again realized a wrong turn from using a couple of choice words in front of teens who more than likely never heard such language before...When I finally made my way back to "our new life," I found the ending of the quote that had been keeping me company.

For me, the trip from the Inn, the loss and then found, was in keeping with the faith theme for the weekend: loss to new life.

Some Days Are Courageously Different

A beautiful friend told me to be sure to catch Angelina Jolie's acceptance speech. The speech was at the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards.  Ms. Jolie won "best villain" for her role in Maleficent. My friend thought I would love the message.

It was easy to find the video online. By the time I checked it out, it was viral.

Her message was to young people. Ms Jolie said "different is good." She went on to share that, when she was young, she was told she was different. This was not said to her as a compliment. Quite the contrary. She explained that she was "too loud, too full of fire, never good at sitting still, never good at fitting in." Sounds like several children I know and love.  These are very amazing children.

Ms. Jolie's advice to kids was to not try to fit in. "Don't ever try to be less than you are, and when someone tells you are different, smile and hold your head up and be proud."

Such an inspiring message for children. It seems almost uncanny, the developmental need for most children to be the same as everyone else. A minor example: if your hair is curly, you want it straight. And then, if children are different due to physical, mental, emotional, racial, economic reasons, they struggle and hurt and hide and fear. Or they learn to be brave and dare to live into their differences. Such courage.

Such an inspiring message for us big children as well. We all struggle in some ways and to varying degrees with differences. We gravitate to our own "tribe." We fear differences we do not understand. We call differences flaws or even worse we call differences sin, giving us permission to live in willful ignorance and judgment.

God grant me the courage to accept differences in others, the love to work to understand those differences, and the wisdom to stand up and speak out.

From the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards 2015

Some Days We Take A Break

There were so many memorable episodes in the series Friends. Today I am thinking about "The One Where Ross and Rachel Take A Break." After senseless argument after senseless argument, Rachel finally suggests to Ross, "Maybe we should just take a break...a break from us."

I suppose that is what I have been doing. Taking a break...a break from blogging. Truth be told, over the past several weeks, I have not felt particularly inspired. Or at least until this moment, I have not been willing to share my lack of inspiration.

In my professional life, I often go to the homes of young children. It is quite a privilege to enter into a family's home. I hear the hopes and dreams parents have for their children. I listen as they struggle with their children's struggles, seeking advise and sometimes comfort, sometimes longing for a crystal ball. Most days I believe I can be a source of information, advise, and hope. And then there are the other days when I think, "Oh dear God, what the heck do I know? It is humbling.

It is also humbling to blog about lack of inspiration when life around me is chock-full-of beauty and grace. Makes me want to scream to myself, "Snap out of it!" But I would not do that to anyone else, so I cannot see any reason to do it to myself.

So, when the words come, I hope to write. Accent on the word hope. Because even days when there are no words, there is always hope.

I just looked out the window. It is snowing. It is as though the crocuses are silently, beautifully sharing this same message of hope.

Some Days You Can't Hurry Love

Diana Ross and the Supremes belted out the best Mama-advice. They told us that Mama said you can't hurry love, you just have to wait. You gotta trust, give it time, no matter how long it takes. Great song, great lyrics, and you can dance to it.

My life is a testimony to the truth in Mama's words. I waited, gave it time before I found someone to call my own.  Somewhere in that time, instead of waiting, I accepted my life as a single woman. Single life was good. I had extended family, a profession that gave me meaning and passion, and close friends whom I loved and who loved me; friends with whom I could be openly weird, no judgment.

However...I always had my own place to go. I had a place with my own stuff and my own shoes. Lots of shoes. A place where I could metaphorically dance because no one was looking. A place where no one needed me to be anything other than what I needed to be for myself.

When I met Jay and we started to develop feelings for each other, I was confused. My path was that of a single, professional woman. I had to slowly let go of what I had thought I was because my life was going in a new direction. My path took a soft right and merged with Jay's path.

I am happy to say that I chose the right person to travel beside.  I am also happy to say that I no longer need to wait until I am completely alone in order to be completely myself. Because I have learned what it means to be completely myself with another person. My spouse has seen my soul. He has shown me his and I have shown him mine.

This morning I texted our daughter to say Happy Valentine's Day. In the text, I told her, "You are so loved."  Her response? "I know." It fills me with so much emotion to know that her soul knows love. We have grown into a trio of soulmates.

Today is all about hearts and flowers and chocolates. When I was single, I always had this tiny sense that I was missing out on something on February 14. Truth be told, it kind of aggravated me. Now I know that, yes, I may have been missing out on Fannie May, mushy Hallmark cards, and red floral bouquets given to you by another person. But those things are romance. The things that are good for your soul...that is love.

Some Days Are Predictable

Some things are predictable. Like catching a cold in February. Which I, predictably, have done. I find the predictability of this cold strangely reassuring.

Predictable can be good. The longer I live, the more I know this to be true. There is a certain level of comfort knowing what is coming next.

Predictable can also be boring. This is especially true when things are just a little bit too predicable. Like a movie on Lifetime Movie Network. I say this from recent experience. I watched several of these movies this past weekend. With a cold, it is hard to do anything that takes too much physical or cognitive energy. I really did not worry about being out of breath or needing to connect any dots with a LMN movie.

Unpredictable can also be good. Like a bouquet of flowers delivered at work, reminding you - and all of your colleagues - how loved you are. Like a daughter who announces she would like to change her hair to a color not found in nature. Unpredictable is definitely not boring.

Unpredictable, along with uncertainty and ambiguity, can be not so good. Really not so good. Bad. Times when it feels like the floor has dropped out from under us. Times so unpredicted that it is not possible to be prepared, to feel at all ready to take on the challenge.

I find I am not surprised when something predicable happens. So why is it so unbelievable when something unpredictable happens?

I cannot really go any further with this thought because of this predictable, February cold. I hope this cold is over soon. Best to be healthy - physically, emotionally, spiritually - when the next wave of unpredictable comes knocking. Because it always does.

Some Days Are Not Flip Flop Days

February is coming. I was born and raised in the Chicago area, so I will be blunt and tell you honestly: February sucks. I say this in full recognition of some very important dates in February. Like Groundhog's Day. And Valentine's Day. Then there are important birthdays. Along with the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, 3/5 of my family of origin celebrate birthdays in February. So there are cakes, candles, and a day off from school.

That is all she wrote for February.

February in my estimation is the antithesis of July. July is blue sky, sunshine, long days fading into mild evenings. July is t-shirts, short pants, and flip flops.  February is short days, gray skies, and cold weather. If you are wise, February involves layers of clothing. February is SAD, as in Seasonal Affective Disorder.  On a positive note, February is the shortest month of the year.

It is best to prepare for February. So, here is a blist (blog list) of the top ten things I hope to keep in mind during the deep, dark days of this approaching Chicagoland February.

Appreciate the snow

It snowed here this morning and it really lightened things, including my mood. Even though it makes for slow travel and shoveling, snow brightens everything. It covers the dead, ugly muck. 

Get outside

Despite the cold and gray, it can feel so good to move. If you have kids, sledding or building something in the snow can be fun. Walking can be invigorating, looking down for tracks in the snow or up for snow in the branches.   

Take your time

Driving can be crazy. I remember purchasing my first cell phone in February. It was very calming to be able to phone to say the roads are a bitch and I am on the way.  

Use your crockpot

February is our time to simmer soups in the crockpot. It warms us at the end of the day and we come home to a good-smelling home. If I was a baker, I would bake breads. I am not a baker.

Cuddle

This is where family and pets are important home accoutrements.  

Vicks on your feet

To add insult to injury, most of us get a upper respiratory some thing some time in February. Vicks on your feet is crazily inexplicable, but many swear by its therapeutic effects. We are Vicks-ready.

Open the curtains and shades

When it is dark, I tend to think "why bother" when it comes to this. But I force myself and, if and when the sun comes out, it can be glorious and well worth the effort.

Get out of town

If possible, it is good to get to a spot that is above 50 degrees. Even a long weekend of sun accompanied by a warm, caressing breeze can be therapeutic.

Don't bitch about it.

It is February. It sucks. Accept it. Spring is just beyond the horizon.

Get a heated toilet seat.

I have been fantasizing about this since visiting my friend Roger.

In closing, I recommend you stay warm, use antidepressants as needed, and have a tolerable February.

Some Days Are Legacies

"Hope is subversive precisely because it dares to admit that all is not as it should be."

I read these words last week. They were blogged by Sarah Bessey at sarahbessey.com. Her words leaped off the screen and have been in my thoughts all week.

At first glance, these words do not image hope as a lit candle. Yet hope is about seeking light. It is not an image of that time before dawn, with the sun about to rise again. Yet it is about waiting. It is not about smiling and putting on a brave but false front. It seems impossible to simultaneously pretend all is fine and admit all is not as it should be.

Everything in life is often not okay. When we hope, we are admitting that things are not okay. When we hope, we believe that a different future is possible. Even when we cannot see exactly what that future is, hope gives us the courage, and the agency, to live into what is possible.

I find that it is not easy to be hopeful. In painful moments, I tend towards abandoning all hope, rather than staring pain straight in the face and admitting that everything is not as it should be.

Today we remember the life and legacy of Martin Luther King Jr.  Dr. King spoke eloquently about hope. He spoke of his Dream, of what could be possible. He also struggled with the harsh realities. He shared in a poignant sermon how his dream had turned to a nightmare, how life was a series of shattered dreams. His hope was subversive because he dared to admit that all was not as it should be.

Walter Brueggeman wrote in The Prophetic Imagination, "Only if we have tasted despair, only if we have known the deep sadness of unfulfilled dreams and promises, only if we can dare to look reality in the face and name it for what it is, can we dare to begin to imagine a better way."

Such is the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Some Days Are Distractions

It is freezing outside.
It is the week before high school finals.
Several new children and families have been added to my work week.
During this past week alone, I have misplaced my credit card, a giftcard, and my terrycloth duck puppet.
And Juliana Yabuku remains on our kitchen whiteboard.

Eight months ago, Boko Haram militants stormed a high school in the village of Chibok in Nigeria and abducted more than 200 teenage girls. Juliana Yabuku was one of these girls

We know about Juliana Yabuku and the other girls because of Ibrahim Abdullahi.  Ibrahim Abdullahi, a Nigerian lawyer, began the hashtag Bring Back Our Girls campaign, bringing international attention to the abductions. Without this campaign, we may have never known.

Despite international attention and international efforts, the kidnapped girls remain missing. In the meantime, Boko Haram has continued a reign of terror, striking again this week in the northeast area of Nigeria.

And it is freezing outside.
And it is the week before high school finals.
During this week alone, there have been so many distractions.

In Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, hundreds of people continue to gather daily. These people include families and neighbors of the missing girls. They carry signs and chant "Bring Back Our Girls." They do this daily. 272 days since the girls went missing.

Juliana Yabuka's name remains on our whiteboard. Her name is there to remind us of her life, to ask that light shine upon her, to keep hope alive that she be returned to her home and family.

It is so amazingly cold and finals week cometh. I am meeting new children and families as well as devoting time to lost and misplaced objects. The weekend is full. Lots going on in our lives. Lots of distractions. That is why Juliana Yabuka needs to stay on our whiteboard.