Some Days Are Letting Go, Not Giving Up

Let go.  No, do not give up and go quietly into the night .

Let go. It is not let it go, remaining frozen in apathy.

Let go.  Moving forward even when there is no sure path to follow.

Let go .  Countering the "conditioned self," the one that leads with "ya, but" or "f-you."

Let go. Rest in and act in who you were born to be.

Let Go. It is a gift I want to give myself.

She Let Go

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear. She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely,

without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a

book on how to let go… She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her day-timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

―Rev. Safire Rose

Some Days Are Meant For Pre-Election Resolutions

Today there are several mean spirited political posts on my Facebook news feed, as there have been the entire freaking past year.  Tomorrow is Election Day. Doubt that a switch will flip on Wednesday and we will start working together, lifting each other up, and singing Kumbaya.

Obviously, we are a collective hot mess.  Our hot mess has been dramatized within our political process.  Lots of shooting off at the mouth, slamming of opinions and beliefs, blaming, name calling, wailing and gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands.

Tomorrow there will be a presidential winner and a presidential loser.  There will be speeches and mean spirited posts.  Schools that are polling places will be closed and if the schools are open, some parents will keep their children home because they are uncertain of polling place safety. Not just parents are fearing violent repercussions. For many of us, it may not even matter what the winning and losing candidates say. We don't trust their words anyway.  We are so jaded.

My personal plan is to start local.  That would be my immediate family and my local community.  Be intentional. Compromise, lift others, help others be the persons they were born to be. When I disagree, I hope to agree to disagree and not return unkind words with unkind words.  Wish the other person peace beyond my own understanding. Use my defenses, not to defend my opinion but to defend the marginalized.  I want to have expectations that other people are capable of this same behavior.  I know they are because I witness it daily. I will look to those people who model this behavior.

I want to expect that elected leaders find common ground and use wisdom in their decision making. If they do not, I will use the voting booth. "Don't boo, vote."

On a positive note, the issues we are facing are not hiding. No pretending we do not have problems with trust, us vs them, racism, respect, economic insecurity, health care equity, American poverty, homelessness, mental health care, national security, inner city violence, job insecurity, and so on.  Cannot fix it if we don't know it's broken.

I cannot ask people to stop the shouting and the vitriol but I can not listen to it anymore.

Some Days Are Autism Awareness Day

Our family just returned from a trip to Brown County, Indiana. The weather was mild, so we were out and about on Saturday.  We found "Explore Brown County,"  an outdoor site with a plethora of outdoor activities.  My husband and daughter joined a group to play paintball. I set off to do some exploring.  It was truly a Holy Saturday.

I walked by a small park with a mom and her son.  They were swinging.  After Anna and I exchanged a smile and a hello, Jacob chimed in. I know their names because Jacob asked for my name and told me his.  The majority of our conversation centered on where our cars were parked. It was a fun conversation with two sweet people.

As we were saying good bye, Anna thanked me for stopping.  She told me that most people get annoyed when Jacob talks to them.  Many, she said, walk away.

I was wondering if I missed something.  I could think of no reason to walk away from this engaging boy. I sat down on a swing. Anna had a story to tell.

Anna went on to explain that Jacob had autism spectrum disorder. The degree to which my heart hurt hearing that people walked away from him could not compare to the degree to which her heart must hurt every time people turn away from her delightfully winsome child.

When we stop, we hear stories.

Today is Autism Awareness Day, kicking off Autism Awareness Month. Lamar Hardwick wrote, "Autism awareness should be about expanding people's exposure to the life of autistic people. It cannot be done with statistics; it can only be done with stories."

Anna had a story to tell about her life and the life of her son Jacob. We can say a prayer to grant a mother strength and a child a voice. We can donate to an organization or walk to raise money. We can stop and listen to the stories. If we want to find the missing puzzle pieces, they are there. In the stories.

When I first started working, I saw but one child who was most likely on the autism spectrum. To be honest, I'm not certain how well the two of us fared. Plain and simple, I did not understand autism and it was scary to me.  He was scary to me.  That is a pathetic confession but I confess often. When the incidence of autism skyrocketed, I was introduced to many families and children on the autism spectrum.  I spent many hours literally on the floor, building connections, gaining understanding, and eliminating fear.

Lamar Hardwick, the guy quoted about autism awareness, has a story.  Lamar is a pastor, scholar, husband, father and a person on the autism spectrum.

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.

Some Days I Resolve

This past year, one of my very best friends and I have been following the advice best summed up in this poem by Jenny Joseph:

Warning

By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph wrote this poem when she was twenty-nine years old. Such wisdom at such a young age! To be honest, neither my friend nor I are willing to grow fat gracefully. And I may spend my pension (or 401k Plan) on wine, not brandy. My girlfriend will probably spend it on fountain Diet Coke. But what we eat and drink is not really the point.

My dear friend and I pinky swore in 2014 to be ourselves. It sounds so elementary.  In our many chats, the kind of chats BFFs are want to have, we realized that we both - way too often - found ourselves being who people wanted us to be or who others expected us to be rather than who we really were. So this past year, we decided we needed to practice being brave. And being brave meant being real. We asked ourselves the hard questions. We fought the power of willful ignorance. We were determined to be who we were created to be.

I don't believe anyone who chooses to do this work can do it alone. We do it in our own time and in our own way with consistent support and persistent prodding. In many ways, as adult friends, we can parent each other, sometimes doing the work of re-parenting, filling in the parts that somehow got missed or messed. Sometimes we do for each other what our parents started for us.

I heard this statistic. One-third of all Americans resolve on New Year's Eve to better themselves in some way. I would have guessed it was more than that.

The statistic goes on.  In this group of "Resolutionists," less than half actually make good on their resolutions, as measured by how many are still on target in six months. I would have guessed it was less than that.

Apparently the secret to being resolute for the long haul is to pick one goal and stick with it.  But how do you pick just one ?

I have been thinking about this all day and I think I have it. I think my friend is going to like this. We have been doing this, both in our own ways, throughout 2014. Here it is, my New Year's Resolution for 2015. It is adapted from the wonderful Ann Lamott:

One step, two steps, breathe, repeat.

Happy New Year!

Wishing everyone the courage, and the support, in 2015 to be who you were created to be.

And, when in doubt, breathe.

Poster by Kathy Sprinkle, Blisshearts.com

Some Days Are Gifts

This Christmas I received the best gift. In truth, I received it many times over. It is a gift that money cannot buy. It is something I am certain many people gave and received this past week, be they young or old, rich or poor, content or grieving. It was something given and received on Christmas Day even by those who do not celebrate Christmas. It is very possible that lives were touched and changed in the giving and receiving of this gift.

This gift is pretty amazing. It can calm the nervous system and decrease blood pressure. It can relax muscles and relieve tension. It can reduce stress and induce sleep.  Plus it is 100% organic and drug-free.

Have you guessed what it is yet? Well, there is more!

This gift can immediately dissipate loneliness and anger. It can instill feelings of safety and connectedness. It can energize. It can communicate love and care.

And it costs nothing. Nada. Free. What a gift!

Our family of three gathered with the extended Shuler family in St. Louis this Christmas. When we arrived, we exchanged this gift. When a new Shuler faction arrived, we exchanged once again. It had been a long time since several of us had been together and even longer since all of us were together. So it felt good to gift each other again and again throughout our stay. My daughter gave me this gift multiple times. Sometimes her gift-giving was so intense, it took my breathe away. When we left for our separate homes this weekend, we gave this gift to each other one last time. Some of us tearfully held on to the giving and receiving for a good long time.

Have you figured out what this fabulous, healthy, emotionally uplifting, wholesome, nontaxable gift can be?

It is a hug.

There was a public service announcement back in the 80's that asked, "Have you hugged your kid today?"  Excellent public reminder.

Wimp.com posted a Free Hug video this morning. The young man in the video shared hugs with the very young and the very old, with men and woman, with the business-suit clad and the workout clad. There were group hugs and solitary hugs. It is heartwarming and fun to watch.

Many of us have seen the viral photo of a Ferguson police sergeant and a 12-year-old hugging. The 12-year-old was holding a 'Free Hugs" sign. It is being referred to as "the hug shared around the world."

There is a line of products marketed under the phrase "consider yourself hugged." The phrase started when a young student went away to college. She always signed her letters home "consider yourself hugged." Her hug led to a whole line of blankets, pillows, and t-shirts to remind the recipients to do just that, consider themselves hugged.

Then there is this: {Hug} Or this: \(*.*)/  Cyberhugs, promises of hugs waiting.

Virginia Satir, a psychologist, calculated, "We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth."  How hard could it be to advance from mere survival to growth? As hard as giving and receiving 8 hugs, it would seem. Not so hard. Soft in fact.

It is easy to forget or at least minimize the powerful, life affirming benefits of a hug. Now that I have given this some thought, I hope to never take a good hug for granted. Nor do I hope to withhold a hug when the urge to hug strikes.

Tidings of comfort and joy to all! And, until we meet again,  \(*.*)/

Some Days Are Christmas

It's Christmas!  I am up before dawn, waiting for my family to stir, waiting for the light of day. I am unexpectedly excited, feeling like a child on Christmas morning!

I believe that several weeks ago, in anticipation of this day, I wrapped my feelings in a big box and covered the box with sparkles and a bright bow. Some days my not so Christmasy emotions would slip past that box lid. But in general, the holiday busyness and the traditional and ever expanding list-of-things-to-do helped keep those emotions under wrap.

There have been some beautiful moments. Like being in the audience for the Holiday Band Concert. One of the numbers was so moving, it brought me to tears. And taking our annual family Christmas picture. Always lots of laughter and general silliness with that tradition. And sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree lights with my husband.

I have so much for which I am grateful. And now, at this moment, I am savoring this early Christmas morning. Anticipating joy. Trusting that good is possible and achievavble. Having little need for absolutes. Content to be content. Feeling swaddled in love.

I am feeling HOPE. What a gift to awaken in hope. The best gift to come out of the box.

Wake up, everybody!

It's Christmas!

Some Days Are Windy

The word is out that it is going to be a windy Christmas. Unlike snow, wind does not make everything white and new. Also unlike snow, the wind has no shape or form. Nevertheless, we can feel its presence.  And, like snow, wind can be soft and gentle or strong and constant.

I recall a Christmas story about wind. It is a children's book, Rudey's Windy Christmas, by Helen Baugh. Rudey was one of Santa's lesser known reindeer. He ate too many sprouts on Christmas Eve.  Poor Rudey, he had an issue with wind. Pretty hilarious story.

Wind is also a metaphor for Spirit.  I do not consistently think of God when it snows but I almost always think of God when I feel or hear the wind. Wind on Christmas will be a good reminder of God's love and presence.

Thomas Merton wrote "No writing...can say anything that has already been said better by the wind in the pine trees."

I will be listening.

Some Days Are Lived in a Snow Globe

Although this post is shared from my Christian perspective, I do believe that my experiences these days are universal.

My mind is all over that place. Shopping for gifts. Decorating. Planning. Seeing friends. Attending holiday programs. Sending cards. Observing Advent. Fighting depression. Figuring out which one on the strand is the dead lightbulb.

And then there is all the other stuff of living. Parenting. Working and sending paperwork to the almighty insurance companies. Fighting depression. Shopping. Cooking. Cleaning. Loving my spouse.

And blogging....There are some things I have been letting go.

Friday morning it was snowing.  It was a gentle snow, each snowflake small and light, seeming to float rather than fall. When the flakes finally reached the ground, they swirled, then scattered, then swirled again.  It was like watching constantly changing white dust patterns on the streets.

That snow was a visual of what my head has felt like all week. Scattered, swirling thoughts, never fully formed.

My head is in a snow globe.

Judging by the people I see around me, I think that visual is true for many of us. We are all walking around with snow globe heads. The holidays do a good job of mentally, emotionally, physically, or spiritually shaking us up.

As a Christian, I believe that God became fully human and lived among us.  That is an amazing thought. The more I am mindful of that thought, the more I am in awe of God.

So what do we do? We string lights and bake cookies and send cards. We display pretty Silent Night images to prettify the reality of a birth in a smelly animal shelter.

The birth of Jesus was a miracle. Over and beyond who he is and what he came to proclaim, it is rather amazing that he survived his infancy. He was born in an unsanitary barn. His family needed to escape for his life. I am certain his parents were lonely and heartsick, pushed to the margins of a ruthless society.

So what do we do? We fill our heads with so much clatter, that we forget that the world Jesus entered is our world. The message he came to share was our message.

It is obvious to me that my next step this season is to decrease my cynicism. It does not seem to be accomplishing much except to keep me swirling and swearing. How I am going to accomplish this is not as obvious.  I will keep you posted.

Some Days Are Elephants

My down time has been invaded by elephants this past week. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I read Jodi Picoult's latest novel Leaving Time. For me, there is so much that is so satisfying in a Jodi Picoult novel. She always writes in the gray. Nothing is black or white. Her novel Leaving Time is about loss and grief and elephants. Yes, elephants.

Now I am reading a book in a different genre. It is a book by Letitia Sweitzer titled Elephant in the ADHD Room. The elephant connect was totally random, if you believe in totally random.

I have elephants on my mind.  I have been thinking about elephants, talking about elephants, even googling elephants. Someone I know is traveling to Malaysia.  The first thing that came to mind is that he would probably be seeing elephants.

So naturally, I was thinking about one of my favorite cartoons.

"Elephant in the room" implies that an obvious problem or situation is being ignored. Or that people do not want to acknowledge it. Much like the situations leading to events in Ferguson and other cities in our nation.

While we all may not agree on the nature of this elephant, many of us are acknowledging there is an elephant, an enormous elephant in fact. It is walking down America's streets and entering our conversations, too big to be ignored. At the very least, we need to respect its size. And its color. Elephants are always gray, never black or white.

Some Days Are Parables

Recently I read a book review written by Richard Rohr. It was such a wonderful review, I bought the book. I may give it as a Christmas gift.

The book is a children's story.  The beauty of most children's stories is that they can include lessons for everyone, not just children.

I was thinking about the book's lesson when the Ferguson verdict was rendered.  I was thinking about this message as I read one liners on Facebook, saw memes, read blogposts and news articles, and listened to radio and T.V.

The book is Old Turtle and the Broken Truth. It was written by Douglas Wood. It is a story of how the world can became fragmented and what is needed to make it whole.

In the story, a truth falls from the sky.  As it falls, the truth breaks in two. Once piece falls to earth and the other shoots off into the sky.

A man finds the part of the truth that fell to earth.  The piece had the words "You are loved" carved into it.  The man shared it with his tribe. There was much happiness. It felt great for them to believe they held "The Truth."

Then came the problem. The people who held the truth started to fear those who did not. Those who were feared desired the truth. So wars were waged. There was fighting over who possessed The Truth. No one was able to see that what was held and what was desired was a half truth.

In the story, a little girl was very troubled by the unrest and violence. She went on a long journey in order to talk to Old Turtle.

Old Turtle was wise. He knew that "You are loved," as great as that may be, could not stand alone.  So, Old Turtle and the little girl went together to search for what was missing.

They found the missing half and the girl brought it back to her people. The people had a hard time listening. From their perspective, they knew The Truth and The Truth was not to be challenged.

Finally, the two broken pieces are joined. The people could now see the full truth. They began to understand what they had been missing....

You are loved / and so are they.

And the earth began to heal.

From The Oreganian, 11/28/14
In this photo shot by freelance photographer Johnny Nguyen, Sgt. Bret Barnum (left) hugs 12-year-old Devonte Hart during the Ferguson rally in Portland on Nov. 25, 2014. According to Sgt. Barnum, the moment took place at the beginning of the rally while speakers were addressing the crowd. He noticed a young man with tears in his eyes holding a "Free Hugs" sign among a group of people. Sgt. Barnum motioned him over and they started talking about the demonstration, life, school, and art. As the conversation ended, Sgt. Barnum pointed to his sign and asked, "Do I get one of those?" The moment following that was captured in the powerful photo above, which shows the young man tearing up again during the embrace. After the exchange, the young man rejoined his friends and Sgt. Barnum went back about his duties. Johnny Nguyen/Special to the Oregonian

Some Days Are Unabashedly Bragging

While my mom was alive, she and my daughter shared a sweet relationship. Despite my mom's cognitive decline, the two of them had a wonderful time coloring, building puzzles, and looking at picture books.  As my mom's illness advanced, my daughter loved pushing her wheelchair and brushing her hair.

My daughter was four when my mother needed nursing home assistance. In the nursing home, my daughter joined the occupational therapy games, doing things like tossing a ball in a circle of elderly people. She would boldly approach elderly people who were sitting alone. She would hold their face between her hands and say something gentle like "Hi, sweetie."  When my mom lost her ability to speak, my daughter continued to chat with her as we strolled around the floor, feeling at home and sharing a bit of home.

My mom had dementia but she taught my daughter so much.

"Beautiful people do not just happen."  This is the last line of a famous Elizabeth Kubler-Ross quote.  I have had the privilege of watching my daughter's beauty emerge from a young age.

Yesterday, my daughter, now fourteen years old, and I rode the Metra downtown. She had a photography assignment and needed to shoot a roll of film in a natural environment.

Ever since she was a toddler, my daughter loved to go downtown Chicago.  Often I would push her in a collapsable stroller to our local Metra station and we would ride the train. On cold or snowy days, we would get off at Union Station, have a hot cocoa, and hop back on again.

Just as my daughter had a gift for noticing the lonely folks in the nursing home, she has always noticed homeless people on the city streets. She would often direct me and say, "Give him money, Mommy." One time, I told her that we give money at church to help people who are homeless and hungry. My daughter's comeback was, "Did this guy get any of that church money?"  We put money in his cup.

As she grew, her compassion matured. When she saw someone who was homeless she would query, "Where do you think he will sleep tonight?" Or "What do you think she has to eat?"  When we were downtown Kansas City, she gave fruit to a homeless woman and some of her own money to a homeless man.

Yesterday, we gave money to several homeless people.  We talked with a homeless man. This man asked about her photography assignment. He told her she could be anything she wants to be - a photographer, a teacher, a doctor.  We smiled and wished him well.  We walked away and she whispered sadly, "Oh, Mom."

We saw another homeless man talking to himself which led to a discussion about the mentally ill and homelessness.  My beautiful downtown girl said that, if you hallucinate, at least you have someone to talk with. You would never be lonely even when you are alone.

This much I know is true: My daughter is one of the most beautiful persons I know.

Some Days Are Born In Our Hearts

November is National Adoption Awareness Month  In honor of this month, I will share one of my favorite adoption-related stories.

When our daughter was just barely a year old, she and I went on an amazing stroller adventure, stopping to play at a local park. The park was quiet that day. School was back in session.

There was a mom sitting on a bench and reading. Her son was playing alone but soon joined us. He told me he was five. He was friendly and so good with my little toddler. He pushed her swing. He stood at the bottom of the slide to greet her on her way down. He was an excellent playground mentor.

After a few minutes of playing, the boy nodded his head toward my daughter, lowered his voice, and asked solemnly, "Is she an adopt?"

"Wow," I said, "You are pretty smart for a five year old. Yes, we adopted our daughter."

And we continued to play.

After a while, he had another question. "Does she speak English?"

"Another great question!" I answered. "Yes, she speaks English because she has lived with us since she was born."

He nodded again, looking as if he had figured it all out.  Then he asked, "What language will she speak when she grows up?"

Happy National Adoption Awareness Month, everyone!