Bloom Where You're Planted

As usual during jail ministry, the lessons we discuss with the inmates turn out to be the ones we most need to hear ourselves.

After sharing the Sunday readings, we ended up discussing the New Testament reading from Colossians the most.  As we discussed with the ladies the choice before them, to use their time in jail as preparation for their life when they get out, or to simply mark time, one of the women said, "whatever brought us here, God wills that we are here, so we kind of have to bloom where we are planted."  We talked about thanking God in all our circumstances, even the ones we don't want and even actively resist.

Boy, was THAT a cold bucket of truth to dunk in.

Wherever we find ourselves, there is a reason.  If we are trying desperately to leave, but still find ourselves there, there is a reason.

It is no secret that I feel the circumstances of my life here have changed to the point I'm practically desperate to leave.  Yet, I am still here.  Many job interviews later, I am still here.

Still.  Here.

I can mark time, or make the most of it. I can be angry and resentful, or I can thank God for having a decent job, dear friends, and many creature comforts.

What I have been doing is mostly complaining, worrying, grasping at straws, winding myself up, and feeling rather wretched rather often. That did not get me relocated any faster.

So, here I am, feeling like all I did this past year was mark time. Probably that really is what I did.  I can't see any area of my life that I improved appreciably.  I haven't gone the extra mile to improve my mind or health or finances. I have not made extra effort to develop relationships.

A year from now, even if everything goes to complete hell, I would like to look back and be able to say I Tried.  Maybe I wasn't successful, but I gave my life everything I had in me.  I did not just watch the year go by.

Bloom where I'm planted.

The Great Wall of Anger

Anger is a wall built by two people.

Everyone knows someone who seems chronically angry.  No matter what adversity they face, the go-to emotion seems to be anger.

I get that.  I was like that for a long time.  Anger made me feel powerful and in charge... unlike sadness, which made me feel pathetic, or hurt, which made me feel weak.

Most negative emotions left unchecked can build walls between people... Sadness can shove people away. The unhappy person builds a wall between herself and others.  Anger not only shoves people away, but causes the shoved person to build their side of the wall.

Let's face it, the Great Wall of China was not built to keep out the chronically depressed northerners.

Anger isn't a primary emotion. Anger is a reactive emotion.  You start with another emotion and it moves to anger.  Shock, sadness, anxiety and shame can all move quickly to anger.

The reality is that anger is no more powerful than any other emotion, but left uncontrolled it can destroy love so much faster than anything else.  I've witnessed this anger drive families apart -children from parents, spouses from each other,  best friends.

Nobody wanted it or intended it, but that is simply what that anger does.

It took some pretty intense work on my part and some divine intervention from Jesus for me to stop using anger as my default mode and just FEEL my feelings.  Learning that Feeling weak, pathetic, sad, frustrated, ashamed, or overwhelmed does not have to lead to me picking a fight or throwing a temper tantrum took a while.

I'm thinking about this today because I had an encounter yesterday with someone who also seems to struggle with anger.  He was disappointed, but what radiated from him was anger.  Since I was the focal point, I was paying attention and silently calling on God to bring calm to the situation, which He did.

But I've been fighting him in my head since then, and working on the foundation for my side of the wall.

Everything I Meant to Say

Nothing drives home the message I am a better writer than speaker than being interviewed.

I was so excited -Shannyn Caldwell from Peter and Shannyn In The Morning on Family Life Radio asked if I would be interested in chatting about my blog, particularly the post "Letter to the Upstart Blogger."  Heck yeah!!

I swear I had all kinds of beautiful thoughts right before my mind froze and I think I likely babbled. I'm not really sure.

BUT, because I am a blogger, I have this opportunity to write what I meant to say.

Our hearts are weird.  I don't mean just single people. This is the human condition.

I wanted to emphasize that as a single person, it is very important to appreciate and value the people who are in our lives.  Sometimes we can look so hard at what we want and don't have (spouse, children) that we don't recognize the love that is right there in front of us.

The people who are present in our lives are the ones we are meant to love and be present for.  No, we won't be a primary relationship for them, but that doesn't mean we aren't important, cared for, loved.  God placed us in this amazing time and place for His purposes.  I think part of that is to learn that we count, too, even if we aren't married, and that those people we have in our lives count, too, even when we aren't married to them.

It can be so hard as a single person to continually be the one reaching out to create community, but that is perhaps the burden, that God granted "that I may not seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved, as to love..."

and the Prayer of St Francis ends thusly, "for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."

And that is the irony, isn't it?  Just when you are at your most tired and lonely, the person you likely least expect will turn around and remind you that you have a space in their weird little heart. 

Thanksgiving

Last year, I wrote down one good thing that happened every day.  At the end of the year, I had hundreds of reminders of how blessed I am.

This year, I kept that up through March.  

Inconsistency, thy name is Amy.

Like most people, I get anxious about stupid stuff sometimes.  About two months ago, I decided that every time I got worried, I would stop everything and start saying, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Jesus, thank you" and intentionally counting my blessings.

Wake up in the middle of the night filled with quiet dread?  Thank you thank you thank you.

Something happened at work?  Thank you thank you thank you.

An unexpected expense?  Thank you thank you thank you.

My car had problems that took a half day to find someone to fix it... Stopped and said, thank you Jesus, that I have a car that really doesn't break down often, and it is paid for and comfortable and presentable. Thank you.

Delayed flights are an enormous part of my life... Thank you, God, that I live in an age of miracles and can cross the entire continent in hours.

Having a day where I do not want to go to work: thank you, God, that I have a job I love 99% of the time.

Sad or lonely:  God, thank you for this life that is so much bigger than I ever imagined, and please forgive me for not loving it enough sometimes.

Everything I have, everyone I know, every action I am able to take, is pure gift, unearned.  Thank you thank you thank you, Jesus.

Breakfast at DFW

I've finally been on an airplane frequently enough that I have "status" which occasionally grants me a free upgrade on a flight.

This unfortunately does not free me from any of the other aggravations of modern travel.

Yes, yes, flight is a miracle, I appreciate the fact in a few hours I can be anywhere in the world, whatever.  I am one of those rare people who does not blame the airlines for poor weather.

But it would be nice for this gypsy to be able to contract for a seat on an airplane that is equipped to take to the air.  The last several flights I have been on -rather, SUPPOSED to be on- were either cancelled or greatly delayed. This caused me to miss the last flight back to my home on more than one occasion.

Today, I was smart. I intentionally took the longer layovers to prevent just this thing.

However, the airport was one ahead of me.

This time, the Skylink at DFW was on the blink. Last time, it decided it was tired and simply did not move for about 20 minutes or so.  Today, the Skylink was moving just fine... It just didn't stop.  After watching 8 trains whip by without stopping, listening to an airport employee explaining the problem to someone on a speaker, and deciding I like to walk, anyway, I asked how to get to Terminal E from B by walking.  Turns out that is impossible, as it is a detached terminal.  So I could stick it out with the increasingly irritable crowd, or leave the terminal, take a bus, and go back through security.

That seemed rather more pleasant.

AND IT TOTALLY WAS!!

I made friends on the bus (since it was a half hour ride!) and we talked about all the places we traveled.  One woman is an avid scuba diver and she shared stories of the Great Coral Reef.  One man has been on every continent.  I decided to pretend I've  never been on a plane before.  Everyone was really nice and had lots of advice. There was an airport information worker just checking in. He wore a huge cowboy hat and had lots of fun facts about DFW... did you know that Manhattan Island would fit inside DFW?  Or that there are two 18-hole golf courses on one side of the property?

We chatted and had fun and the bus driver even chimed in.  He is from Houston originally, but likes Dallas better -moved here for a girl who eventually became his wife.

As I stepped off at my stop, the information worker sent me the wrong direction, but that's okay. He has only been doing the job for two weeks.

And I have a long layover, and I could use the walk.

Slow Food

Tubac is the kind of town that if I were the kind of person who owned second homes (rather than terrified at the thought of owning even one) I would buy a sweet little casita here and work on my homemade jewelry skills.

There is a great restaurant here called Shelby's.

About five minutes after entering the restaurant, my phone died.  I had not brought a book with me.  I didn't even have a file from work to thumb through awkwardly as I avoided the gazes of other diners.

I panicked, trying to reason with myself that being alone with my thoughts and the food would be good for me.  I spend every lunch hour hunched over a keyboard, shoving nutrients into my mouth, barely noticing what is occurring. Many dinners are spent shuffling through email or hopping around Facebook.  Every breakfast is carried throughout my house as I eat while rushing to get out of the house.

I couldn't leave. I'd already ordered.

So, having decided this could be a Growth Experience, I observed the artwork, the décor, the view.  I noticed the way the perky server said, "PuttanESca" when describing the daily special.  I noted the various colors of napkins and the accents sported by the other diners.

By nature I am a rapid eater, and since I spend a lot of time at business meals where I am basically the entertainment, I have honed this skill to an art form.  I can talk endlessly while mindlessly consuming whatever is placed in front of me. It's a talent.

When my food arrived, I forced myself to chew slowly, putting the fork down between every bite, reminding myself I'm not "on." I'm dining alone and do not have to entertain anyone.

Somewhere between poking myself to put that fork down until you swallow and deciding if I'd rather have a glass of wine or a piece of cake, I realized I was completely relaxed.  I smiled benevolently at the server who seemed obsessed with my water glass.  Since I was not hunched over my phone, I saw a local couple smile at me as they walked by, and they stopped to chat for a bit.  I was present for the entire experience.  I could even tell you exactly what I ate.

I could even tell when I was done eating, even though there was food left on the plate.

Mindful eating is something I worked on for a while, but haven't revisited in a long time.  I think it may be time for that again.

Letter to the Upstart Blogger

hi, Tyler!

My dad forwarded a column you wrote on the Catholic Exchange about the Treasure of Singlehood. He meant well.

You write beautifully, BTW,  and I "get" what you were trying to say, except, I have to say this:  You don't get it.  The fact you said you didn't get married until the (presumably ripe old age) of 28 set the tone for this article that struck me as contrived and slightly condescending.

I'm 44, never-married-no-children.  Many of my friends are in the same boat -emotionally and physically healthy, have interesting lives, wanting to find the right person to marry, and it just never happening. 

"The treasure of singleness is that it reminds all of us that our hearts are restless until they rest in God."

Honestly, that line made me want to reach across the world wide web and shake you.

I have moments when being single is pretty okay.  I do not ask for it. I do not accept it as a permanent state of being. But I have accepted this as my present truth.

Can you understand the life of a person who has to make every single decision by herself?  Do I buy a house, or a new mattress, or get involved with this project, or take that job, or contribute to that fund, or track down people to hang out with or...? 

Can you understand the sheer loneliness that accompanies the empty house, with no change in sight, accompanied by attending most events alone, including Mass?

Can you understand how it feels when your dearest friends complain about the smallest infractions of their spouses, children, in-laws... when you would sell a kidney to gain all of that?

Can you understand when few parishes have an active adult singles ministry that most of those are geared to 20-somethings, and when you want to start one yourself for the middle-aged crowd, there is rarely parish support for that?

Can you understand that almost ALL parish activities center around families, marriages and children?
Can you understand that attending a party as a single adult woman means that you are automatically assumed to be of suspect character if you don't know most of the people already?  Do a social experiment sometime.  Ask a female friend to pose as a single person, and record people's reactions as she behaves as her normal friendly self.  I believe you will find the results interesting.

Can you understand living a life where absolutely no one has you as any kind of priority in their lives?  It isn't about the love -I am BLESSED with wonderful friends and family... but I am "first place" to no-one, or second, even, except Christ.

So, please forgive me for this rant, but I could not keep quiet.

The treasure of singleness is... different for everyone.  For some of my friends, it has given them close relationships with their aging parents, as the single kid is the logical one to take on that task.  For some of us, it is being a place of safety for our nieces and nephews.  For some of us, it is being given the TIME to see the world and think the big thoughts and not be exhausted by the daily demands of spouse and children.

But I do not know any person who would not give any of that up in a heartbeat in exchange for a good marriage.

You had seven years of singlehood as an adult -actually, fewer than that, assuming you were dating and engaged for a while before you got married.  Try a 23-year hat on for size, and trust me, your perspective changes.


SO, HOW DO WE DO IT?

After I wrote the letter and hit SEND, I pondered this for a bit, because being a single mature adult sucks eggs for the most part.

It's a God thing.

I gave my life to Christ and told Him He could do whatever He wanted with it, and apparently, this is it.  I have learned to reach beyond myself to make connections, to take advantage of events and opportunities to be with people, and there for people.  I am able to be with lonely people and together our loneliness is eased. 

I have been able to make friends with people across the globe because my time and energy are not limited to the people who live in my house.

I have been able to forge beautiful relationships with my brothers' children because I am not raising any of my own.  I share the joy and pain of that with many married couples, as well.

I have been a place of refuge for friends and family needing a safe place to cry and rage and wonder, and dream big dreams, and rest and hope and pray.

I have been a testament to the healing of Christ, and at the same time, the frailty of the human condition.

I have learned to forgive, to let go, to accept, to hope.

I have been given a life much, much bigger than I ever imagined for myself.

So, I know that God is not yet done with me, and there are yet surprises and moments of jaw-dropping wonder awaiting me.  Until He sees fit to send someone to hold my hand during all of that, I'm walking this path alone.

Except, I think that the Treasure of Singleness REALLY is knowing, deep down in  a place that is reserved for True Things, I am never actually alone.

Infant Loss and Miscarriage Remembrance Day

This is perhaps the worst holiday ever.  It makes me wonder how the first people who celebrated Memorial Day felt.  It wasn't all barbeques and family gatherings then. Sorrow from the tragedies of recent war called for a collective day of mourning and gratitude.

Once one hits full adulthood, one cannot help but know people who have lost children through infant death or miscarriage.  My own mother lost her youngest son within days after birth due to birth defects from some medicine she was on. She carried that sorrow forever -which does not even mention the miscarriages.  I remember the last time she was pregnant, I asked her if she was happy.  She said, "I love our babies, but I'm scared about this one.  We are talking about it too soon."  And that wee one didn't make it to birth.

My amazing sister in law lost her first son so close to his birth, as well as others.  Her other healthy and sassy 6 heads around the table disguise the fact that pregnancy is both gamble and sacrifice.

No one wants to talk about the babies who left the world so much sooner than we dreamed they would.  This leaves too many people hanging in the shadows on different parental holidays.

Last Mother's Day, I went to Mass with my dear friend, Lori.  After the Mothers Blessing was said over all the standing women, she sat down, leaned over and said, "You have the right to stand up.  Your babies count, too."  I felt quite proud for not bursting into tears.

I am the mother of miscarried babies.  I haven't met any of them in person yet, just felt them growing under my heart until a rush of blood took them away.  I've known since I was 18 that having children isn't really in the cards for me, but even though the circumstances were never great (unmarried, not particularly stable) the hope that defied logic was always there.

Most of the women I know who have buried children have gone on to parent their rainbow babies, and I know that isn't my future, either.   My mother was told to not talk about her lost ones, put it behind her, look at the gorgeous kids she has right in front of her.  What I have that my mother did not in her day is the ability to share these sorrows with friends and people who love me.

Still, the sorrow is so personal, I have never shared this publicly before.  Part of this was not feeling that I, unmarried, practicing Catholic, had the RIGHT to feel sorrow for babies that weren't supposed to be here anyway.  This is, of course, complete nonsense, as my dearest Lori pointed out, yet so many of us think that way, even if we don't admit it.

I don't know much about my kids but I think about them.  I've woven stories in my head, and given them fanciful names that befit great adventurers.  I'm looking forward to meeting them in Heaven, where all the answers are.

So even though this is the worst holiday ever, I hope we all reach out in peace and love and tenderness today, and learn to listen with our whole hearts to words that have been unsaid too long.  My great wish for this day is that a few of these words I have written reach another woman standing in the shadows, that she knows I'm right there holding her hand.

...and even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
with nothing on my tongue
but Hallelujah...

-Leonard Cohen, Broken Hallelujah

Fair Pay Gospel

Everyone knows the Gospel from today... A guy intermittently hires various people throughout the day and at the end of the day, pays them all the same.  The folks who worked hard all day thought they deserved more pay than the folks who showed up at the end.  The guy told them to suck it, in a very Biblical way.  He can pay the same to everyone if he wants to.

Aren't we all kind of like that? I know I want to get paid more when I work harder, regardless of the deal struck at the beginning.  It Isn't Fair is my inner mantra.  We are all about merit, and forget that salvation, grace, love, are all pure gift.

In our limited view, we completely ignore the gift of being chosen early.

Think about it. Day laborer, you don't even know if you will get hired at all.  You worry about feeding your kids, keeping the roof over your heads.  Then bang, you get chosen for a job first thing!

How you rejoiced!  Fair pay negotiated, you get to work, planning what to do with that day's wages.  You spend the day thinking how you will feed your kids, and maybe even buy a new skirt for your daughter who has been oh so patient with her old one.

You are happy when the next wave of laborers arrive - more hands make work light.  It is hot, sweaty work, but there you are, earning a living, the wolves pushed back from the door one more day.

Then, your employer calls it a day and starts handing out wages.  You notice he is giving what he promised you to the folks who showed up last.  You assume you will be given even more because you were there ALL DAY.

Except, what he places in your hands is exactly what he promised you first thing in the morning. And you are mad because you MERITED more pay, at least in your own eyes.

You have completely forgotten about the joy you carried with you from that moment you were chosen all day long... The joy of security, of being able to make plans, to let go of the fear.

You forgot about that gift of peace, which the folks who showed up at the end of the day did not experience.  They sat on that corner, eaten up by fear that there will be no food or shelter because there was no work.  They weren't among the chosen until the end.

Just something to think about.

People Who Like You

So, I went home to Indiana this past week, with a quick trip to Boston after that.

I went to Indiana to be with my SIL whose mother passed away.  Her mom was a beautiful person who was so good to me, especially when I was a teenager.

In the midst of the sadness, there were a lot of funny and happy moments.  As the days went by, I found myself less anxious and sad.

Being around people who like you has that effect.  I get bursts of it here and there in normal life, but going someplace and having a wee lad shout, AUNT AMY IS HOME!! and flinging his arms around your legs has the effect of making you feel downright popular.  Lots and lots of hugs and tears and giggles and all those things that makes you feel so much less alone in the world.

Being with people who know you pretty well and want to be around you because they find so much about you positively endearing really does soothe over the rough patches of being in a tough world with people who see you as a means to an end, rather than an actual person.

There is strength in having people who remind you that you are more than a spreadsheet, or a target or Productive Contributor.  There is power in being reminded who you REALLY are -strong, resilient, honorable, true.  And there is simple joy in knowing you are loved, imperfect, but present, and real.

Broken Hallelujah

I’ve been crying a lot lately.  Crying from joy, sometimes.  Crying from relief.  Crying from stress, disappointment, sadness. Crying from the reality of betrayal. Crying from exhaustion, bewilderment, a sense of being constantly behind and overwhelmed.

On the way home from the gym this morning, I heard this:

(Cue music)*

God of Mercy, sweet love of mine

I have surrendered to your design  (my brain:  BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANY FUCKING CHOICE)

May this offering stretch across the sky  (HERE IT IS!! THIS GIANT PILE OF COMPLETE CRAP!)

and these Hallelujahs be multiplied  (MY GOD WHY HAVE YOU ABANDONED ME????)

And right there, I pulled over to the side of the road, put my head in my hands and sobbed, the WHY? detonating to the deaf heavens.  Empty fingers covering my eyes, forehead on the steering wheel, the inescapable reality of desperation.

and then:

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

and there it was... someone who actually understood that everyone has a breaking point, that everyone gets their faith shaken, that everyone reaches a point where only blind hope keeps them moving forward no matter how empty their hands or their hearts.

I started the car, and drove back into the rest of the day.



* Need To Breathe, Multiplied, and Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah

Being a Grown Up

As I felt my clothing get tighter and tighter, and watched the scale nudge higher and higher, anxiety started to creep in.

I blamed the stress in my life, which admittedly is pretty considerable.  I searched desperately for some sort of motivation to get me back on track.  What do I care about enough to make it a goal for healthy living?

Let's face it, when my choices are "drown the bad feelings in cheesecake and take a nap" or "eat the nice salad and go take a walk in the sunshine and meditate on the fact that you are making healthy choices" cheesecake and napping will win, hands down, every time.

Then I concluded that everything I had been blaming for my weight gain actually wasn't responsible.  The stress did not force feed me cookies.  The anxiety did not pour more wine.  The responsibility was all on me.

Then I concluded that there is nothing I care about enough to make it a goal... I don't care enough about climbing Mt. Humphreys, staying out of a wheelchair when I'm old, or looking hot.  My immediate personal goal has nothing whatsoever to do with anything physical, and all my energy is focused on that.

So, as a friend pointed out, sometimes, you just have to chug away.  It is a duty. It is the right thing to do.  Chug Chug Chug

In other words, be a grown up about it.  Do what needs to be done because it needs to be done.  It isn't fun, new or exciting.  There is no immediate gratification.

I was given this one body.  Scripture tells me I was bought for a price, and so am to glorify God in my body.  It isn't my toy, to discard or abuse as I feel on any given day. 

So, whether I am glorying in everything my body can do (like, dance, pick up heavy stuff, cuddle) or exasperated at its needs (healthy food, enough movement, sunscreen) it isn't about my FEELINGS.

It is about being a grown up about it.

Little Holy Places

I took a road trip this weekend to Tubac, AZ.  It is about 25 miles north of the Mexican border, and one of the prettiest places in the world.

I was visiting a dear friend and giving my brain a break from all its incessant worrying.

The church in Tubac is tiny, fitting maybe 100 people if everyone squished in and it isn't so hot you mind a bit of cuddling.  The benches are the old style must-be-5-feet-tall-or-shorter-to-ride kind. 

You can feel the Holy Spirit just glowing through.

My God Is So Big moments came during the night, staring up at a sky so dark you can see every star God made.

By complete surprise, we ran into Irene right before lunch on Saturday -one of the women who walked the Camino de Santiago when I did, only taking the Northern route. Small world!  The three of us recounting our experiences and what we learned, and reminding each other that the Camino continues at home made that deli another holy place.

I forget so easily.  I had forgotten that God just wants to be with me, that I am His beloved daughter, that none of my burdens are mine alone to carry.

I had also forgotten my own responsibility for honoring my own needs, remembering that I count, too.  I had been busy blaming the stress in my life for my weight gain, for example, rather than admitting my own responsibility... my boss certainly isn't making me eat junk food or telling me to stop exercising.

The little holy places felt like a retreat from normal life.  Sometimes it does help to leave the dishes undone and the laundry in the basket and go someplace lovely to just be.

The little holy places remind you of the things you've always known.

Be The Cool Person

It is no secret (mostly because I talk about it a lot) that my childhood had a fair number of challenges.  Every kid handles it differently.  I internalized a lot of it and felt worthless, etc., for a very long time.

One time -I forget if it was in college or my last year of high school, a few of us were talking about our career aspirations.  I was constantly changing my mind about life at that point and it seemed like everyone around me had their paths all planned out.

I said, "I think it would be so cool to be journalist*.  You'd get to meet all these cool people!"

and my brother, Robert, said, "Why don't you just BE one of the cool people and do something awesome with your life?"

(As you can see, he has always been the bigger thinker and dreamer.  When I was 4 and playing with my imaginary horse in the back yard and calculating the cost of hay, he (age 6) was building a space ship in my "meadow" and felt genuinely let down when he couldn't get it to launch.)

So, I scowled at him, but he did get me to think.  I was a bit surprised at the thought that, I, weird and awkward and bookish, with no social sense and horrid hair, could be one of the cool people and have an interesting life.  I was Luna Lovegood before she was born. 

Frankly, I think Luna Lovegood steals the Harry Potter show.

So, a lot of my life has been the ongoing realization that, Hey! I can do that!! after spending too much time thinking stuff was out of my realm of possibility.

Hey! I can have an opinion!
Hey! I can support myself!
Hey! I can go to law school!
Hey! I can buy a car on my own!
Hey! I can make mistakes and survive!
Hey! I can be an athlete!
Hey! I can go to another country alone and not speak the language and still have massive amounts of fun!
Hey! I can be different!

I did not consciously TRY to have a cool life -it came about from the slowly dawning realization that the only thing ever holding me back is me.

That is something I have to make more effort to remember.


*journalists can be cool people, too. All the ones I know are.

Enough!

I had a great disappointment last week.  The word "disappointment" isn't big enough to describe what happened.

After six months of working with another institution to shape a job that was, in fact, perfect for me, at the last minute it fell through.

In my head, I already had the job -after all, I had been living with the idea for six months.  I had a place to live and had checked out Meet-up groups and parishes.

Friday, in terms of Worst Days Ever, ranks up there with the deaths of my mother and brother, and getting kicked out of the convent.

It wasn't just a job.  It was my way out of a situation I find hopeless, without purpose, and suffocating.

This morning, I told the one work colleague I had shared this with that I was not actually going anywhere.

She smiled hugely and said, "I am so happy!  I don't want you to go. You make this place livable. I know I should be sorry for you, but really, I'm just happy for me."

I hugged her but kinda wanted to smack her.  I do not know why I am still here.  Leaving is one thing I usually do really well!

Today, I am back at work, printing off spreadsheets and prepping to make calls and doing the job I am paid pretty well to do.  Enough wallowing in self-pity.

As for the rest of it, I will have to live with the mystery.

A Simple Miracle

I had breakfast with a friend this morning as we planned out our part of a retreat we are doing with our jail ministry on Saturday.  She shared this story:

They were on a mission trip to Sudan.  Before crossing the border from Uganda, they spent the night in Arua, on the border, a small city of about 60,000 people.

One gentleman on the trip had a bit of a special hope.  He had been a refugee from Sudan, had been separated from his mother during the war, and had not seen her in many years.  He had requested a bit of time while they were in Arua to see if he could find out information on his mother and where she might be.  The trip leader, understandably hesitant to have the group split up, said, you can have three hours in the afternoon.

When the group arrived in Arua, the hotel had given their rooms away to another organization that was having a conference.  So they had to find another place to spend the night.

The search for another place to stay ate up any time the man would have had to search for his mother.

Finally, a hotel was located with enough rooms for everyone, and they drove over to that part of town.

Can you imagine how that poor man must have felt, his one chance to find out what happened to his mom leached away by a stupid mistake?

As they pulled into the hotel parking lot... there she was... his mom, just standing there.

Let that sink in.  His mom.  Standing there.  She could have been anywhere in that entire part of the world.  Standing right there.

I can only imagine what that reunion looked like -neither person expecting to see the other person, having given up hope - then BAM, a miracle.  A pure miracle.

Yup.

AWESOME

I had written a blog that was pensive and thoughtful, but I'm in a really great mood, so I'm putting that one in the fridge and just saying:

WOW IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!

There is no readily apparent reason for this. I woke up in a good mood, and it has pretty much stuck.  Nothing hurts unduly, I'm able to walk normally and I totally CRUSHED my workout this morning.

(My trainer took this photo.  This represents a LOT of squats!)

 

You wanna know why I was so thrilled?  Every single time I work out, I have to pause for a minute and think... okay, how is my back today, is it weak or unsteady, are my feet numb, blahblahblah... Is the asthma acting up, or is the breathing good?  That all plays into what I can do.  If my back feels weak, it becomes an "arm" day or just treadmill and core.  If my feet are numb, everything progresses much slower.  A bad asthma day can shut it all down completely.

 

There is no predictability.

 

Everything worked fine today.  I could do everything I wanted to do.  I worked out hard enough I got wobbly and had to drink my green shake before I even got ready for work. That hardly ever happens any more!

 

WOW IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!

 

and if you need more to smile at ... here is Roxy.

 

 

 

 

 



Just Start

I had a really strange dream, and since it is sticking with me, you get to hear about it, too.

I was house hunting, and there was a gorgeous condo on a beach.  I wanted to walk out to the beach, so left all my stuff sitting in a bundle on top of a counter, and went outside.

The beach was huge, and crowded.  I wanted to get close to the water where there were fewer people, but as I approached, realized that there was a drop-off before you got to the water.

So, I'm standing there at the ledge, looking around to see how the folks who were playing in the water got down there.  A man was right below me, and he said, "Well? Come on down!"

I said, "How? It's a straight drop."

He said, "Just start down. You'll see."

I then thought, wow, I've left my stuff alone a long time, I ought to get back and check on it. I left my iPod sitting on top.

The man said, "No one is going to mess with your stuff. Are you coming down or what?" then he turned around and ignored me and was watching the ocean.

Okay, so, I scooted to the very edge, and slid off, thinking if nothing else maybe the sand wouldn't be too hard when I hit.  Except it was like surfing down, and there I was and the guy was laughing and said, "See? How do you even describe that? You just have to do it to understand it."

As we sat there watching the ocean, I said, "Why aren't there more people here? Why are they all up there?"

He shrugged, "That's where they want to be.  Sometimes people don't want to get too close.  Sometimes they can't see the way, so they stop."

All of a sudden, I felt really weird... I looked around and all the people were so shiny and happy, and suddenly I was aware that I was not dressed right and too big and too chubby and too sad and too worried and right there in the dream, I wanted, like, all the Snickers bars in the world.

And the guy cocked his head and looked at me, "You know, the only person you are hurting with that is yourself. And you ARE hurting yourself.  Please stop that."

He was looking right at me, and he wasn't mad, he looked, well, compassionate but serious.  He wasn't upset.  He just wanted to make sure I was paying attention.

Then we watched the ocean for a long time, not speaking, just perfectly comfortable with each other.

Then I said, "I should probably go back up and finish looking around."

He nodded.

I said, "How do I get back up?"

He gave a grin like, You still don't get it, huh? and said, "Just. Start."

Happy Life

The best part of working for a university is the opportunity to develop an intellectual life.  Cultural events, lectures, exhibitions and more are all at your fingertips.  On any given day, I can learn about constellations or opera or border politics.

Last night I attended a lecture on Happiness.  What makes for a Happy Life?  How do we even begin to define Happiness?

We explored the world of the ancient Greek philosophers, moving into modern psychology.

I found it all fascinating.

The upshot is that one of the primary factors in being happy is having healthy relationships and a sense of community.  Other listed factors were physical vitality, an active life, time to do things you enjoy, and a few other things.

It struck me over the last few days that over the last year I have slipped into habits that are making me unhappy.  Once again, I find that I have pushed down everything else in my life to make room for excessive work.  I'm letting the stress get to me. The stress, now that it has taken over so much, leaves me so drained at the end of the day that I go home and veg out, playing on the computer or even just staring into space, falling asleep and doing it all again the next day.  Just like I wrote about in my manifesto about 4 years ago now.

And it doesn't have to be like that.  Not at all.

I remember how hard those baby steps were.  I remember feeling weird and stupid in a gym.  I remember having to talk myself out of eating fast food.  I remember being tired ALL the time and every small thing taking so much effort.  I remember cringing at the price of personal training and gym memberships and real food.  I remember feeling like I wasn't worth the effort.

#5 resolution in that manifesto was: Tell people who love me and will support me what my goals are, so when it all seems pointless, they can lovingly remind me that I am worth the time, effort and expense it takes to lead a healthy life.

So I am reminding MYSELF, because I love me and will support me, I am worth the time, effort and expense it takes to live a healthy life.

-and you are, too, in case you were wondering.

Looking For Jack Kerouac

I got this book for free at the American Library Association Conference.  Normally, this isn't my thing, especially since it is classified as a "young adult" novel.  The main character is a high school football player.  Not my cup of tea.

However, while trapped inside a metal box a couple miles above the Earth's surface barreling through the air for a few hours, I figured I'd give it a chance.

I was captivated from the outset.  The main character grows up in an Indiana steel town and after the death of his mom while he was a senior in high school feels disconnected with life as he knew it.  One day he takes off with a friend and hitchhikes to Florida to try to locate and meet Jack Kerouac, whose novel, "On the Road" inspired millions and is considered leading voice in the Beat generation.

Forget all that!  This novel spoke so sparingly and truthfully about figuring out how your life is meant to be different, finding your own way apart from family and friends... and then how he found the way to his own home.

Ultimately, it is about listening to the truth within you and understanding that the framework around you -your friends, family, lovers, religion, location- are pieces of the puzzle, but not the answer. People can remind you who you are, and also who you never want to be.

There were no stereotypes so common in young adult novels.  No shiny football star, no glossy cheerleader, no overbearing parents.  You were led into a very real world of flawed, loving, caring, and sometimes stupid people.

Perhaps this novel spoke to me more deeply because of the transitions in life in which I am finding myself yet again.  When I was a teenager, I wanted Out so badly I skipped a year of high school to do it.  It took me decades to figure out I was defining myself through other people.

When I finished the book, I wanted to hug all of the characters and felt a bit displaced when I reoriented to the fact I had been immersed in a work of fiction.

Those are the best kind of books of all.

No Reason Needed

"One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving." - Paul Coelho

Paul Coelho is getting a lot of traction with his various books.  I admit he isn't my fav author, but he always has thought-provoking ideas.

It's a game lovers play, isn't it?

"I love you because..."
"I love you." "Why do you love me?"

(This does beat my current fav game: I Love you More...)

Even when I was a little kid, I never really understood how to articulate reasons for love.  I just loved.  When people told me they loved me, I never asked why.  Love seemed too big a mystery.  I mean, God loved me so completely, and I had never done anything to deserve it.  Love was love.  Love stayed awake in the night to chase off the monsters.  Love shared a candy bar.  Love stood up for you on the playground.

As a grown-up, I understand more about building connections and it is fun to tell the people you love the things you enjoy about them.

But I still agree with Mr. Coelho.  There is no reason needed for loving.

25 Years and Counting

My best friend is AMAZING.

I admire her for so many things -mostly her ability to be my BFF for 25+ YEARS!  We've had rocky moments, as any relationship has, but we work through it.

We met my sophomore (her freshman) year at Purdue.  We were taking the same theatre class.  One day she had a question about a project and had seen me in the dorm, so went down to breakfast to see if she could catch up with me there.

Normally, I skipped breakfast, or grabbed a pop tart and ate it on the way. THAT day, though, they had chocolate chip coffee cake, so I was sitting down with that and a glass of milk, rejoicing in my good fortune.

We started talking that morning, kept it up that whole day and into the evening, and really, except for a few bleak moments, have been talking ever since.

Why?  Because she is AWESOME!!!

She can fix anything.  She can change spark plugs without benefit of light. She can stop an ugly spiral into darkness cold.  She is unrelentingly supportive of all my crazy dreams.  She really would let me live in her basement. (So would her mom, who is also awesome!)

She's a cool mom. She doesn't hover, has expectations, and is nice to her kids.  She loves her husband, and he loves her, and sometimes it is positively syrupy. (Her husband is really cool, too, though, so they match well.)

She has been there for me in some dark and ugly times.  She has been there during the "here, hold my beer, watch this!" moments.  She tells me exactly what she is thinking and doesn't pull punches, yet somehow makes me feel all loved and accepted while doing that.

She is fun!  I signed us up for belly dance classes 15 years ago, then told her about it, and she was all in.  I knew she would be.  She is one of the most adventurous people I know.

I would have married her 20 years ago, but for the whole Y chromosome thing.

Happy birthday, Tracy!  I will love you always and forever!

Big Jobs

Given my odd work hours, I see Reina almost every day.  Today, I ran into Steve sweeping the walk outside my office.  We chatted a bit as he went over everything they are doing to spiff up our historic building, including removing the massive spider webs that had been created over the course of the last year all the way up the north wall.

I said, "Thanks for all your work making this place look so awesome! I mean, Reina takes good care of us, but this is a big job!"

He absolutely beamed.

It doesn't take much to say thank you to the folks who clean up our messes. I realized early on that since they work on off hours, they rarely run into people -and when they do, it is for a complaint.  Just a simple thank you means a lot because they never, ever hear it.

Last fall we gave Reina a picture of all of us and we all signed it and said thank you.  She has it hanging up in her workspace and I'm pretty sure she thanked each of us individually for that small gift.

Don't we all love hearing a word or two of gratitude?

Darkling Plain

"Dover Beach" is one of my favorite poems... the language is rich and vast and captures the sense of the futility of human action perfectly.

...
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
...

This is the human world in which we live.  At the same time someone is awed by the beauty of the majestic mountains, a small child somewhere has been killed by her mom.  Land of dreams... various... beautiful.. new... really has no joy or love or light or help for pain.

When the struggle and flight has gone on too long, or when we are somehow swept up in the confusion of clashing enemies... we seek that One Person with whom we can be Real and True, and who can be Real and True with us.

It is SO TEMPTING to try to find that certitude in another human being, but being frail, no simple humans can avoid the inevitable clashing that occurs no matter how much love is involved.

So, once again I am reminded that my only real joy, love, light, certitude, peace, and help for pain come from the One who suffered and died for me.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

Panic Button

The sparkles filled my vision... Lori was talking in a calm voice but it sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel... I was gasping for air, my hands burning and thick and then everything went cold dark... and then a glass of orange juice was pressed into my hands and I spilled some while taking a gulp and slowly my vision and hearing and breath returned and all the shaking subsided.

I am not normally subject to panic attacks. I worry sometimes, fret a bit, occasionally want to pull the covers over my head and pretend nothing exists but Roxy. Until two weeks ago, I hadn't had any kind of panic attack in years.  The past two weeks has seen at least one every day.

This is not a sustainable model.

There is always the WHY -I always want to understand WHY -I haven't had a PTSD flashback in literally years... I haven't been depressed or suicidal since I went off that horrid asthma medication.. this doesn't make sense.

Except, of course, it does.  I've been running on empty for too long -work has been exceptionally stressful, my back problems have demanded a great deal of attention, I've been away from my home more than I have been home in the last five months, I'm in a lovely new relationship that forces me to face some old demons, the wildfire has made the air too thick for my lungs, and I've let go of the stabilizers in my life -eating well, regular exercise, time to decompress and process.

There is no "easy button" to counteract the "panic button."  I can't simply work harder to make it all go away.

So, I'm back to the basics... Spiritual basics... every day, set aside time for prayerful meditation, sit on the ground and breathe slowly and deeply and remind myself I am safe and loved and protected at all times by a God who loves me beyond all reason.  Physical basics... eating well, eating frequently, being aware of my body and its needs, getting enough sleep, getting enough movement.  Emotional basics... talking to my friends, hanging out with people who love me, feeling my feelings and being real, taking time to be and see and wonder at the beauty of the world.

Because when I am immersed in the beauty of the world, the fear simply floats away.

Love and Weariness and Forgiveness

I wonder if that is how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night? (Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner)

It sometimes seems funny to me how often my life circles back to this theme of forgiveness.   Forgiveness can be the very hardest thing I take on in a day...or week... or year.  Forgive, forgive, forgive, and then again, forgive.

Sometimes, I wish forgiveness was always like that quote above -one day you just wake up and voila!  Forgiveness happened and I didn't even notice.  It is like that sometimes.

For me, mostly, it is not.  Sometimes even after forgiveness, there is pain -the hurt of the injury, the hurt of wishing for something that can never be, the pain of dealing with the scars and ripple effects.

Or the pain of watching those same people make those same mistakes over and over again -maybe with me, maybe with others.  I am weary from the simple repetition.

Yet, I am so grateful for the healing that has transformed my life so significantly.  I look back sometimes and can hardly believe the weight from all that anger and fear that I carried with me ALL THE TIME.

The greatest flower of forgiveness that I have witnessed is freedom.  I still remember (probably because it only happened about two years ago) the very moment when I really and truly realized that My Life is Now My Own and I can do anything at all with it I choose without reference to anyone I do not want in it -simply because I could finally release all the pain and fear through forgiveness.

The Love of God poured through me and I understood in a way I never could before that my life was no accident, no mistake, that I am LOVED and cherished and that my entire purpose for being is to show that same love to all I encounter.  We are ALL loved that way.  In our ugliness, hate, destruction, violence, and all the inhuman things we humans do to each other, sometimes without any thought at all... we are loved, cherished, forgiven.

Those of us that really understand that are called to the highest purpose of all -spreading that news.

The Eyes Have It

Adjusting to life post Barcelona has been tough, folks.  Not only are there no croissants de xocholat to be found in my town, nor cafe con leche... I've had to accept that I am not of the idle rich meant to spend my life cavorting about Europe.

Readjusting to work was hard.  I got a bucket of cold water in the form of really rude emails that shocked me into realizing a few things I did not want to admit about my work environment.

Today one of my work friends and I were chatting and I mentioned that I'm feeling a bit pulled in different directions. She looked at me and said, Yeah, I can see that.  I see it around your eyes.  You're stressed.

When I count it all up... Of my normally 6-person small team, I have been down two people for almost one year.  This means I have been covering the work of myself and two other people for almost a year.

No wonder I'm cracking up a bit.  I'm just really freaking tired.

Well, the only person that can fix that is me.  So I'm giving it quite a bit of thought and prayer, and fingers crossed, a solution will appear.

Love and the Word No

I'm in love with a wonderful man who is in love with me.  FB friends are regularly treated to the sight of two middle-aged people swooning over each other. No dignity, I tell you.

Before I posted this, I got Rob's permission because this is super personal stuff that involves him.  But, well, it is real and possibly will help someone, somewhere, maybe.

On with the story:

One of the many things we have in common is a commitment to Jesus through our faith.  We both are rabidly Catholic, and in the course of discussing Marriage and Building a Life Together, we confronted two things that every couple has to be on the same page about:  Sex and Children.

From the Get-Go, we declared our mutual intention to Wait Until Marriage.  This is a firmly held value for both of us.  We understand that no one except possibly my overly-interested family gives a rat's fluffy behind about this.  This actually makes it more difficult.  I mean, when you are only answering to your own conscience, it is easy to flip that switch sometimes.

Given that I have the willpower of a crumbling cracker, and he has been married before, we both made the promise to try to be strong for each other.

As an aside, I knew I wanted to marry him when I realized I could tell him anything, absolutely anything, and it didn't change his love for me.

But I knew I would walk through fire for him when the following happened:

I was visiting him in Tennessee.  We were all curled up together, all cozy and happy and lovey-dovey.  He made a joke about sex.  I smiled and said, "Okay, let's go for it."

He looked at me, "I thought you wanted to wait!"

"Yeah, but we don't have to.  I love you."

I was looking right in his eyes.  I could see his thoughts spinning and his jaw sort of make that chewing motion that it does when he is thinking about something really hard.  Then he exhaled and said, "No.  I made a promise to you.  I keep my promises.  I love you too much to rush this."

Of course, then I just wanted him more.  You know how they talk about in books that your heart swells up and you feel like you are going to just burst with love and suddenly you are running through flowery meadows...?  Just like that, without the pollen.

I knew at that moment, we really belonged to each other.  I knew I could trust his integrity, that he would look out for me when I forgot to look out for myself.  I knew that I will forever be safe with him, because he carries me in his great big heart. 

This kind, supersmart, strong, loving, thoughtful man blesses my life with his presence every day.  I feel cherished and honored every single moment, and hope that I will live up to being the kind of wife such a good man deserves.

And I know what we are building together is worth the wait.

So Not Fair

"Fair" is a strongly held value for me.  I dunno if it is because I was raised a middle child or have a deep sense of justice or simply like things being all even and orderly.

I once whined to a friend about some sort of small injustice I was experiencing and he said, "What's fair anyway?  Is it fair that children die of hunger?"

I looked at him flatly and said, "No. And I intend to talk to God about that one, too."

So, while the last few days I have been focusing on all the ways life has been Not Fair to me in these ways:

Caught between two people in an ethical situation;
Various difficulties at work;
No time to do things like get my car fixed (minor problem); and
Restricted resources...

it is always in the back of mind my about the other ways life is Not Fair to me:

Meaningful, well-paying work;
Healthy body;
Mostly working brain;
Resources such that all my needs are met, and a great many of my "wants";
Wonderful friends who have my back, and really would let me live in their basements;
A boyfriend who loves me beyond all reason and leaves funny voicemails to crack me up;
Working transportation; and
really too many things to list.

It doesn't even out all nice and orderly.  I am beyond blessed, and need to remind myself of that.

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Seeing Takes Time

To see takes time, like having a friend takes time -Georgia O'Keefe

I fell in love with Georgia's work over 20 years ago, haunting the halls of the Chicago Art Institute, which has the largest collection of her work in the world.  My favorite among all my favorites is Blue and Green Music.  I want to sing and cry all at once when I am in its presence.

One time I was privileged to have a good chunk of free time and sat in front of the Chagall Centennial window for two hours straight... I wanted to sit there and just look at it until I didn't see anything new.  That took two hours.

My friend Tammy came to visit me at my hotel in STL last week, sporting pizza and salad and drinks (the salad we left pretty much untouched.)  She is a newlywed and she shared some advice that the presider at her wedding told them:  Every single day, stop and take a good look at your spouse.  Life gets busy and too often it is easy to go days without really SEEING them and seeing how they are doing.

Since she shared that with me, I have realized how true that can be. I have so many constant distractions -my cell phone, my to-do list, my own thoughts.

This past weekend I went to visit someone I care about deeply.  The greatest gift I gave to "us" was turning off my cell phone.  I wanted all of me to be THERE in the moment, grateful and happy.

The weekend was one of the best ever.

Liquor is Quicker

The old saying:

Candy is Dandy but
Liquor is Quicker
-Ogden Nash

is actually about getting a person into bed, so it is shocking they stuck that into the Willy Wonka movie. Darn insidious rhymes.

Anyway, I gave up sweets for Lent.  This lasted for three weeks and two days until stress and sleeplessness got the best of me, and I ate, like, all the doughnuts. In. The. World.  Then proceeded to turn to candy.  Then the baked goods began to disappear from store shelves.

Yes, my dear children, Auntie AmyAnne is a sugar addict.

There are no 12 step programs for this.  In a real sense, what harm does it really do?  I mean, it isn't heroin or anything.  I'm functional to drive, hold down a job, be nice to people, perform daily activities without impairment.

I just feel so uncomfortable with the real knowledge that when the going gets tough, I knee-jerk turn not to God or my friends or my painstakingly-cultivated healthy habits... but to sugar.  And the sugar is consumed until it is gone or I'm too physically sick to continue. (Then start up again once the queasy feeling passes.)  And of course, the spiral just keeps going since sugar only makes you feel better/numb/nothing for about 5 minutes.

I do not pretend to be unique.  I'm just wondering (which, when I am in the middle of it seems to be the worst time to try to figure it out!) if it is even worth the struggle?

I'll answer that once I'm done with the peanut butter cups!

Pink Ribbon Sweet Potatoes

I made these for my sis in law while she was recovering from a double mastectomy.  She loved them so much we had them three times!

So, here they are!

Ingredients

Sweet potato

Green pepper

Onion

Spinach

Feta

Bacon 

Black pepper

Garlic

Salt

 cinnamon

Avocado for garnish.

Bake the sweet potato.  Poke holes in it or it will explode.  Learn from my mistake.

Anyway, then cook the bacon, about two strips per baked potato is a good ratio.

Then do a bit of a stir fry with the chopped onion and green pepper, about a handful of each. Throw in a handful of spinach and stir until wilted a bit.

Split open the sweet potato and sprinkle black pepper, garlic, a wee bit of salt, and cinnamon.  Mix it in a bit with the sweet potato innards.  Break up the bacon into bite size pieces and sprinkle on top. Sprinkle a bit more black pepper.  Then top with the onion, green pepper and spinach. Then top with a bit of feta cheese and garnish with avocado.

So yum. 

Showing Up

Lots of ups and downs and ups and slides and climbs and trips and flights this week.

Sometimes there is too much going on to be believed -sick friends and relatives, new love, job opportunities, crazy-making colleagues.  Trying to be in several places at once -Flagstaff, Detroit, Knoxville, Evansville.

But here are bright spots from the last couple weeks:

Him:  I love you because you are beautiful and Catholic and smart and kind and sweet and... (a few other lovely things)
Me: (pause)  Wait!  Did you just say you love me???
Him: (pause)  Why yes.  Yes.  I do love you.
Me: That is awesome, because I love you, too.

(and then the heavens opened and a choir of angels sang the Hallelujah chorus while dancing on rainbows or maybe that part was just in my head)
:::

While dumping out the drainage bulbs attached to my SIL...
Me: Crap. I just spilled the drainage cup all over me.
SIL:  It's okay. I won't make you lick it up.
(barely made it to the bathroom in time to retch, SIL laughing hysterically. Score one for the patient.)
:::

My 11-yr-old nephew curling into my arms and whispering in my ear:  Aunt Amy, I miss you.  I love you. I miss you.  Wanna watch me play Minecraft?
:::

Geeking out meeting Shannyn Caldwell and she geeked out on meeting me.  That was cool.

Getting a free First Class upgrade to Detroit.

Getting to work out at a local gym for free.

Running on a treadmill at a 6 incline with no pain at all.

Lots of time to try new recipes and a SIL to try them out on.

Remembering and living that Love Means Showing Up.

The Healing Season

I admit I was a bit reluctant to read a book that was self-published by a friend, but being self-sacrificial and all (and it had a cool cover) I decided right away to take the plunge.

This was an absolutely amazing book.

One of the difficulties about writing a memoir like this is that so many authors are afraid to tell the truth and shy away from the reasons they needed healing in the first place, or they dwell so long on those reasons that you feel it is all a bit salacious.

I read a similar-genre book recently and was gravely disappointed because the author said she had needed healing, but didn't really show us why.  It is difficult to get into the story when half the story isn't told.

Shannyn Caldwell struck a perfect balance, drawing me into the fullness of her life pre-healing and explaining the baby steps made along the way, the slip ups, the tiny victories -before the magnificent conclusion.

This is a story of Christian salvation, which also factored into my reluctance to dive into her book before it was in my hands.  Many books featuring Christianity are frankly syrupy and irritating, not sharing the stories of the difficulty every Christian faces, but talking only of the sublimity of life in Christ.  All well and good, if one is a saint- but even St Theresa once said to God, "If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!"  Following Christ is not an easy choice, and it is a choice one has to make every moment, in every decision.

Shannyn's life had cracks in it before the tornado that killed her parents ever touched down.  The tornado smashed what was left, and she deftly shows that but for the saving love of Christ, the pieces would never be healed together.

As I sat at Phoenix Sky Harbor, gate A25, tears streaming down my face, I knew that this book is rare in the realm of spirituality, and a must-read for anyone seeking healing for a life too crushed to be made whole alone.

Sugar Fast

So, Lent is here, and my niece and I decided to give up sweets and be all strong for each other and stuff.  Her immediate family, being big and having so many girls in it, always has something going on, so my sugar fast is offered up for her family, for peace and love and happiness.

While my niece was here and we were playing tourist, for the most part it really wasn't hard.  I was happy and relaxed and going with the flow.

I returned to work yesterday and within two hours I was jonesing for cookies and daydreaming about salted caramel brownies.  Stress eat much?

I powered through and am not ashamed to say I basically cancelled my plans for the evening, went straight home, cried for a bit, then ate dinner.  Then I felt better.  Then I realized I had gone 7 hours from lunch to dinner with nothing.  I cry when I get too hungry.  That's why I try to eat something right after I work out.  I feel all great and on a high, and then 15 minutes later, I'm sobbing over hitting a red light.  Almonds to the rescue!

So, 7 days into the Lenten Fast and I have to say, I really don't feel all that different.  I haven't lost any weight.  My energy isn't spiking.  I haven't had any life-impacting epiphanies except to try to eat every 3-4 hours so I don't burst into tears.

Since giving up sugar for Lent wasn't about a physical transformation, I don't mind.  It was about spiritual growth, sacrificing something that isn't inherently bad just for the intention that whatever "suffering" happens is offered up for others.

I have a friend who gave up French fries, and will not eat them until abortion is made illegal.  She wasn't addicted, she didn't over eat them and she wasn't overweight.  There is inherent grace in giving up something just to keep our intentions focused -every small sacrifice done with love makes a difference.

Of course, love is always what makes the difference.

Being Me

So, one of the very hardest things to learn to do is to be oneself.  That seems a wee bit nutty, right?  I mean, who else are we if not ourselves?

Sometimes we get so tied in knots trying to be what we think other people want us to be that we forget that it does not actually MATTER what anyone else wants us to be.  The big question really is, What is God's intention for our lives?

I spent much of my life thinking I was weird and feeling a bit out of step with pretty much everyone around me.  Because I felt weird, I assumed everyone else thought that, too, and sometimes I acted in ways that reinforced that wall between me and other people.

As a full fledged grown up (when that happened, I'm not exactly sure) I've come to realize that I was pretty much way off in others' perceptions of me. I spent too much time agonizing over my shortcomings and not nearly enough time spreading the joy blooming from my talents.

Last week, during a telephone call with a friend I haven't spoken to in YEARS, she said, "I miss your optimism.  When we worked together, you saw all the problems, and then saw past them to what could be done.  You make good things happen!"

Someone I work with now said something similar a while ago, "You make things happen for us!"

At book club this weekend, I mentioned I LOVE the idea of chucking it all and heading into the wilderness or living homeless on a beach.  "The problem is, though, is that after a while, I would start organizing all the homeless people and we'd be pooling our resources and find a place to rent. And eventually we'd all have health insurance and a community garden... I suck at drifting."

A man on the beach in San Diego once told me I sparkle.  Another person here in Flagstaff (also likely homeless, I meet a lot of people who drift a bit) told me that I am fire.

Sparkles and fire are good things, but that can be scary.  I know for a fact it irritated the hell out of the nuns I lived with (You walk into a room and there are firecrackers! Dial it down!) Fire can be warm and welcoming and beautiful, or out of control, raging, frightening.  Intensity can be exhausting for everyone.

When my powers are used for good, beautiful things happen.  When used in anger, well, let's just say I light my path by the bridges I've burned.

And of course, Love is the key.  When I am a steady fire burning with God's love, there is light and love for all.  When I am a raging wildfire of fear, the scorched earth takes a long time to heal.

So my prayer for this day, and this Lent, is a fire that radiates God's love, peace and healing forgiveness.

Happy Lent, y'all! 

Taking My Own Advice

My friend just underwent a double mastectomy. Her attitude was amazing, "I'm going to just focus on being as healthy as I can be now and getting ready for the reconstruction!"

Another dear friend is staring down that same surgery next month.  Being a helpful sort, I shared my other friend's insight, "Just focus on being as healthy as you can, eat right, exercise. The better shape you are in before surgery makes for an easier recovery!"

As I was saying this, I thought, "Dang. That's just good advice.  I should follow my own advice!!"

And my trainer said something that sort of hit home today, "You know, if it weren't for the cookie thing, we would be at a whole different level.  You eat really healthy other than that."

Dang. I actually took some time to think about that.  I hate it when he is right.

Ah, this crazy sugar addiction!!!  Sometimes it feels like it is something over which I have no control.  When I'm being painfully honest, sometimes, I really don't. And I don't know what to do.  It's a crutch.  A tasty, tasty crutch.

So I had a chat with God.  He brought to my mind the recognition that when I started this weird and wonderful journey to good health that I didn't know what to do then, either, but I handed it all over to Him and asked for help.  He sent me everyone and everything I needed.

He was just waiting for me to ask for help.

In asking God for help, I had to honestly look at myself and acknowledge that a part of me doesn't WANT help -a part of me is very okay with and finds comfort and protection and safety and calmness in carrying extra weight and bingeing on sugar.

So my plea wasn't just for help overcoming this issue, but to have the actual desire to overcome it completely and do whatever it takes to give it all over to God, keeping nothing back.

So that's my first tiny, honest step.

Hope and Faith

My dear friend, Hope, has a brain tumor.  She and her husband, Rob, have been dealing with this for about 7 years now.  She has been through multiple surgeries, chemo, radiation.  Hope just received news that there is a rapidly growing tumor again.  Options are limited.

I've written about Hope before.  She was my roommate during law school, and a fast friend since then.  Actually, I just realized 2014 is our 20th anniversary of being friends.  Maybe we ought to have a party or something.

Hope reminds me to have faith.  On the phone today, I said, "Hope, I keep praying for a miracle, and it hasn't happened!" and she cut me off.

"I think I've had lots of miracles.  I've gotten all this extra time.  I could have died the first time around, lots of people do.  Besides, you know we don't really DIE, you know?  I'll still be around, just in a different way.  So no matter how this all turns out, I'm okay."

Hope has a peace with this, born out of her faith.  She shared that she and Rob take turns freaking out so they aren't both freaked out at once.  She prays for me because I am so forgetful about remembering God's goodness and mercy.  (The irony is not lost on me that the woman with a brain tumor is praying for MY memory!)

Before we hung up, we reminded each other we love each other, and she promised to give everyone hugs from me, and I promised her to keep praying and we both will wrap ourselves in Love.

Dreams and Other Beautiful Things

What does it take to build a dream?

What does it take to pull out of every day life of repetitive tasks and paying bills and addressing immediate concerns?

Sometimes a shock, or a nagging idea that wakes you up at night and makes you pull out your sketchbook, or when no other option seems open to you, because your life would not seem RIGHT without that.

I don't think most people have just one dream, either.  I think about the dreams I've had over the years:

Owning a horse (ages 4-14)

Meeting God (always in the back of my head)

Getting married (ages ? - never mind)

Having kids

Being a nun

Graduating from law school

Being a great belly dancer

Being financially stable

Having a career

Getting healthy

Going to Spain

And more.  Some of these have happened,  some not.  Some I've released (such as owning a horse!) and some remain held in hope.  Some happened without any planning at all.  Some take a great deal of structure.

I read a passage in a book I am reading in my faith sharing group that essentially says, Sometimes just as there are no sufficient answers, the questions themselves are a mystery.  Therein lies faith.

I marveled recently that my life has been pretty freakin amazing, and how did I get here?  I do not have answers, simply gratitude, and wonder, and sometimes, faith.

Love. Pray. Believe.

I'm determined to not get sick at all during 2014.  I'm eating crazy healthy, getting lots of sleep, getting a fair amount of exercise.

Of course, we are only one week in.  But, I don't make resolutions.  I make plans.

I've already sent in my vacation requests for now through April.  I'm laying groundwork for things to accomplish at work for the next two years.  I'm developing a new organizational system to be more on top of stuff there, too.

I stopped blogging for a while because I felt all I had to say was negative: My back hurts, I'm sick, I'm worried, I'm lonely...

And while that all was/is TRUE, I didn't want to make it a focal point. Dwelling solves nothing.

And whenever I start to think, "wow, has anything at all CHANGED??" a few things come along to remind me that life is ever so much different -better, happier, calmer.

I had a difficult talk with my physical therapist (not to be confused with my personal trainer, with whom talking is rarely difficult!) this morning, and this, too, underscored how much healing has been done in me.

There were a couple awkward/weird moments during my last PT session, and my first inclination in such situations is to simply move on.  But, he is really good, and it isn't about HIM, it is about me, and how I never actually communicated a few things to him, like how I find being touched by people I don't know to be an intense experience.

So, I practiced in my head what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it.  The talk went really well, and I committed to letting him know when I need some space or a break, and he committed to remembering a few things, too.

Believe it or not, this is real progress.

2013, in retrospect, was a year about learning to trust.  I was reminded over and over that I am surrounded by Love, and that God is always with me, and wants what is very best for me.

2014 seems to be a call to move forward in that trust and take some risks.  The command, "Love! Pray! Believe!" is really a reminder that those basic actions keep my life open to the will of God, and attuned to His constant call to my heart.

I really don't know what 2014 will have in store for me.  I'm kind of excited to see.