I don't make New Year's resolutions. The only one I have ever been able to keep is one that involved drinking more heavily.
I decided this year to think a bit about what I would really like 2013 to look like, and what I would like to let go of.
There are a few places I would like to go... Paris, Madrid, hike the GC rim2rim, hike the Camino de Santiago ... And back to San Francisco, I love SF!
I want to see more of my friends and family -not pictures of them on Facebook, but actually see them live and in person.
And I can't hide this... I would like to meet The One. That is not entirely under my control, but I thought I ought to say it out loud just in case anyone was wondering.
I would like to accomplish one thing physically I could not do in 2012. Not sure what that is yet. I'm signed up to run a 5k in February and a 10k in March, which are both new things to me, but those aren't quite the right answer. Of course, with my back misbehaving lately, I would be thrilled to be able to tie my shoes without crying right now.
No matter what actually happens in 2013, I pray to remember the true things: that I have so much love in my life that I am blessed, again and over again... To remember no matter how dark it gets, the Spirit is my light, that I am a child of the Trinity, who loves me beyond all reason, and that St. Michael always has my back.
Blessings on your 2013. Seize the Truth.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
The Inn Keeper -another Story
Seriously, I don't know what they were thinking. The whole town was packed with people coming in for the census and most people weren't even bothering if they couldn't stay with relatives.
Then they show up practically in the middle of the night, waking us both up and scaring one of our PAYING guests half to death. I had half a mind to shut the door in their faces but my husband, Abram, had much too soft a heart for a businessman. As I hissed at him to shut the door against the cold, he turned and shook his head at me, sighed, and said to the strangers, "There aren't any free beds in here, but if you need shelter, there is still room in the stable."
I made a disagreeing sound in the back of my throat. (Who knows which animals would "go missing" if we let strangers in there?) That sound usually makes him back down from whatever statement he had just made, but he hissed back, "The woman is going to have a BABY!" and left me to stew.
I threw a few pots and pans around, muttering to myself, "With my luck, she will go into labor tonight and then NONE of us will get any sleep! And they'll have to stay for DAYS while she recovers! And guess who will get to wait on them then??" I had caught a glimpse of that girl's belly, and she looked ready to pop. And her husband certainly looked old enough to know better than to take a woman that far along in a pregnancy on a trip, donkey to ride or no. I consoled myself that since they had a donkey, they probably had enough funds to buy breakfast the next day so it wouldn't be a total loss. Although, given their general foolishness so far, maybe they just expected some long lost relatives to show up and rescue them.
Abram came back inside a bit later. All I did was open my mouth and he held up a hand and said in a tone I've never heard before, "Don't start. It's done. Thank the Lord there wasn't anyone else who needed to sleep in there tonight!"
I set my jaw as he turned to go to bed, thinking, if he thinks that's the end of this conversation, he is in for a surprise in a few hours!
Our daughter, Michaela, peeked around a corner. She looked so young, I remember thinking, and then realizing she was probably about the age of that girl sleeping in our stable.
"Amma, should I bring them something to eat?" she asked a bit too timidly for my liking. This is a hard world and that girl needed to toughen up, I thought.
I was about to say no when it occurred to me that if they died from starvation in our stable, it might be bad for business. I also was not about to send my youngest daughter out to the stable where a strange man was bedding down.
"Come on," I shrugged. "Grab the leftovers."
The stars were bright as we made our way to the stable door. I knocked to make sure everyone was decent, then bustled in, hoping my irritation at their general inconvenience to me was evident.
The man thanked us quietly for the food, his concern for his wife evident on his face. The girl smiled and nodded, but didn't say anything. I could tell by the look on her face she knew the baby was coming soon. I wondered if I could by sheer mental force of will cause the baby to wait a few days until these people were no longer my problem.
As we walked back to the house, Michaela remarked, "Wasn't she beautiful?"
"I didn't notice," I stated flatly, and she fell silent.
It seemed only a few minutes later, but was actually several hours, I heard another commotion that made both Abram and I sit bolt upright in bed. Men were shouting and laughing and it felt like the inn itself was shaking.
As Abram grabbed a stick and ran out, I followed with a heavy iron pan.
Outside the stable door were the shepherds, carrying on like they were drunk! Laughing, slapping each other on the back, each elbowing the others out of the way to look into our stable door! A few were even crying! Grown men! Crying!!
Abram and I just gaped at the sight for a moment, then Abram called out, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you out in the fields?"
Okam, a normally sensible man about our age, yelled back only, "Glory to God in the highest! The Savior has been born to us!!"
Okay, they ARE drunk, I remember thinking. As we pushed our way to our own stable, the shepherds barely understandable in their excited gibberish, I noticed a very bright star seemingly hanging right over our heads.
Michaela had followed us out. She tugged on my sleeve, "Amma, don't you hear? It's beautiful!" The look on her face scared me a bit -it seemed too other-worldly.
Finally we pressed inside. Was every shepherd within 50 miles in our stable?
Then I saw Him.
I could not breathe. We must have dropped our "weapons" because I found myself gripping Abram and Michaela's hand so tightly my joints hurt.
And then I could hear it. The singing. I cannot even call it singing because there wasn't music but it was more beautiful than the most beautiful lyre or harp.
This joy and sorrow and something unnameable washed over me, and I fell to my knees and simply whispered, "I am so sorry. I didn't know."
I did not realize I had spoken aloud, but His mother, who until that moment had never lifted her gaze from Him, looked at me gently and smiled and I felt pure peace wash through me. All she said was, "His name is Jesus. Would you like to hold him?"
No matter how old or forgetful I have grown in the 40 years since that night, I will never forget that moment, when Love was born, and the whole world changed.
Then they show up practically in the middle of the night, waking us both up and scaring one of our PAYING guests half to death. I had half a mind to shut the door in their faces but my husband, Abram, had much too soft a heart for a businessman. As I hissed at him to shut the door against the cold, he turned and shook his head at me, sighed, and said to the strangers, "There aren't any free beds in here, but if you need shelter, there is still room in the stable."
I made a disagreeing sound in the back of my throat. (Who knows which animals would "go missing" if we let strangers in there?) That sound usually makes him back down from whatever statement he had just made, but he hissed back, "The woman is going to have a BABY!" and left me to stew.
I threw a few pots and pans around, muttering to myself, "With my luck, she will go into labor tonight and then NONE of us will get any sleep! And they'll have to stay for DAYS while she recovers! And guess who will get to wait on them then??" I had caught a glimpse of that girl's belly, and she looked ready to pop. And her husband certainly looked old enough to know better than to take a woman that far along in a pregnancy on a trip, donkey to ride or no. I consoled myself that since they had a donkey, they probably had enough funds to buy breakfast the next day so it wouldn't be a total loss. Although, given their general foolishness so far, maybe they just expected some long lost relatives to show up and rescue them.
Abram came back inside a bit later. All I did was open my mouth and he held up a hand and said in a tone I've never heard before, "Don't start. It's done. Thank the Lord there wasn't anyone else who needed to sleep in there tonight!"
I set my jaw as he turned to go to bed, thinking, if he thinks that's the end of this conversation, he is in for a surprise in a few hours!
Our daughter, Michaela, peeked around a corner. She looked so young, I remember thinking, and then realizing she was probably about the age of that girl sleeping in our stable.
"Amma, should I bring them something to eat?" she asked a bit too timidly for my liking. This is a hard world and that girl needed to toughen up, I thought.
I was about to say no when it occurred to me that if they died from starvation in our stable, it might be bad for business. I also was not about to send my youngest daughter out to the stable where a strange man was bedding down.
"Come on," I shrugged. "Grab the leftovers."
The stars were bright as we made our way to the stable door. I knocked to make sure everyone was decent, then bustled in, hoping my irritation at their general inconvenience to me was evident.
The man thanked us quietly for the food, his concern for his wife evident on his face. The girl smiled and nodded, but didn't say anything. I could tell by the look on her face she knew the baby was coming soon. I wondered if I could by sheer mental force of will cause the baby to wait a few days until these people were no longer my problem.
As we walked back to the house, Michaela remarked, "Wasn't she beautiful?"
"I didn't notice," I stated flatly, and she fell silent.
It seemed only a few minutes later, but was actually several hours, I heard another commotion that made both Abram and I sit bolt upright in bed. Men were shouting and laughing and it felt like the inn itself was shaking.
As Abram grabbed a stick and ran out, I followed with a heavy iron pan.
Outside the stable door were the shepherds, carrying on like they were drunk! Laughing, slapping each other on the back, each elbowing the others out of the way to look into our stable door! A few were even crying! Grown men! Crying!!
Abram and I just gaped at the sight for a moment, then Abram called out, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you out in the fields?"
Okam, a normally sensible man about our age, yelled back only, "Glory to God in the highest! The Savior has been born to us!!"
Okay, they ARE drunk, I remember thinking. As we pushed our way to our own stable, the shepherds barely understandable in their excited gibberish, I noticed a very bright star seemingly hanging right over our heads.
Michaela had followed us out. She tugged on my sleeve, "Amma, don't you hear? It's beautiful!" The look on her face scared me a bit -it seemed too other-worldly.
Finally we pressed inside. Was every shepherd within 50 miles in our stable?
Then I saw Him.
I could not breathe. We must have dropped our "weapons" because I found myself gripping Abram and Michaela's hand so tightly my joints hurt.
And then I could hear it. The singing. I cannot even call it singing because there wasn't music but it was more beautiful than the most beautiful lyre or harp.
This joy and sorrow and something unnameable washed over me, and I fell to my knees and simply whispered, "I am so sorry. I didn't know."
I did not realize I had spoken aloud, but His mother, who until that moment had never lifted her gaze from Him, looked at me gently and smiled and I felt pure peace wash through me. All she said was, "His name is Jesus. Would you like to hold him?"
No matter how old or forgetful I have grown in the 40 years since that night, I will never forget that moment, when Love was born, and the whole world changed.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
A Christmas Story
Just a present! Merry Christmas!
I prefer to work on Christmas Day. The phones are utterly silent. There is no one else there. Since I rarely-to-never have holiday plans, it seems like a nice time to be leisurely about getting a few things done I normally put off for these quiet days. My dog, Roxy, comes with me, and we take a lot of breaks to let her play in the snow.
This last Christmas was no exception. I smiled to myself as I let myself in, coded in the alarm and headed up the steps. Pure, blissful silence.
Once I let Roxy off her leash for her to run freely, she took off flying up the steps. I followed rather more slowly. Suddenly, I heard something that made my heart stop. Someone was talking to Roxy. I did not recognize the voice.
I peeked around the corner to see a figure hunched over my dog, who had flopped on her back and was accepting a good belly rub from this stranger.
I was Very Aware that I was alone in an old building -no one within shouting distance and probably not a single soul within a half mile, actually. As I assessed the situation, it seemed that he was rather thin, dressed in several layers against the cold, and obviously fond of animals.
I stepped out from behind the corner. Quietly and in my friendliest voice, I said, "Hello. This is a surprise. Can I help you?"
He must have realized a small fluffy dog would soon be followed by its owner, because he simply smiled and said, "Hello! Merry Christmas!" like he had a perfect right to be standing in the lobby of my office.
"Merry Christmas," I responded, a bit of caution creeping into my voice. "I'm Amy. What's your name?" (In such situations, it is best to gather evidence in case something goes horribly awry.)
"I'm Joe," his eyes crinkled with his smile. "This is Roxy, right?"
"Yes," I was puzzled until I realized she has a name tag he obviously paid attention to.
We stood there for a minute, me wondering what to do and a million thoughts whirling through my head, him just squatting there, scratching Roxy's belly and grinning at me. Roxy is so not picky about her friends.
My mind finally settled on one thing, "Joe, I'm sorry, but you just can't stay here."
He nodded ruefully and said, "I figured you'd say that" and simply did not move.
Well. Crud. Now what?
"Soooo..." I started slowly, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
He nodded, and still just scratched Roxy while I wondered if campus police worked on Christmas Day.
Out of patience, I snapped, "Okay, Joe, please leave now. I know it is cold outside, but you have to go. How did you get in in the first place?"
He shrugged, Roxy pawing at him when he paused in his attention to her, "Angels? Why are you here on Christmas Day? Escaping relatives?"
I certainly was not going to discuss my family status with a stranger, so I simply stood there and stared at him, arms crossed, trying to look all authoritarian. My eyes lit on his small pack of God-Knows-What laying next to the sofa, a few coarse blankets draped on it. I guessed he had probably been here for a few days.
He grinned again at my glare, "Okay, fine, touchy subject. Still I'd think you'd have a better place to be on Christmas Day."
"You have a lot of opinions for someone sleeping in a closed office building," I growled and immediately regretted it. Being reactive has never solved anything.
Joe grinned again and said, "Well, that's probably true. But Merry Christmas, anyway!" and took something from his pocket and held it out for me.
Curious, I drew nearer and carefully took it out of his hands. It was a tiny carved wood Nativity scene. I recognized it as olive wood because my BFF had been working in Tel Aviv a few years ago and gave me a pair of olive wood candlesticks she picked up at a bazaar there.
"Where did you get this?" I asked more quietly. The work was so beautiful -and warm from being in his pocket.
Joe smiled and shrugged, "I have a lot of time on my hands right now. It didn't take long."
"You MADE this?" I was all astonishment. "Where did you find the wood? That's olive, right?"
He shrugged again, grinning that I was so pleased, "It seems appropriate, given the subject."
A pregnant pause later, he added, "You know, right before Jesus was born, you have to imagine that Mary and Joseph probably felt pretty alone, too. I mean, its not like the Wise Men or shepherds or anyone showed up beforehand to help out."
I laughed, a little cynically, I admit, "Hey, at least they had each other! And a donkey!"
He laughed, "I suppose that is true. And you know, God was there. And when the baby came, everything had to change, everywhere."
I just nodded. I mean, what can you say after a statement like that?
Joe looked rather thoughtful, "It seems to me, there are a lot of people who have no choice but to be alone today... but you choose to be here, and you don't have to be."
"It's less complicated." It was my turn to shrug but he just roared with laughter. I felt rather put out, actually.
"Child of Grace, I can just imagine. It's always easier to just stay away! But you know, today, second only to Easter, is a day to be about being present to others!" he just shook his head and smiled at me affectionately.
I could not help but smile back.
I held out the Nativity scene, still warm in the palm of my hand, "This is beautiful -I can't take it, it's too much of a treasure. But thank you for being kind."
Joe shook his head, "It's yours. I made it for you. Just remember that even when you feel completely alone, its just a feeling. You are never alone, and you are more of a treasure than you can ever imagine."
Just then, Roxy barked, lept out from under his hand and shot toward the staircase. Startled, I turned to chase her, then whipped my head back to see if Joe was okay.
He was gone. The blankets, the pack, all gone.
Roxy trotted back to me, obviously pleased with herself.
I sat right down there on the lobby floor.
"Hello?" I whispered, my eyes wide open and looking everywhere.
Roxy crawled into my lap and nudged me to pick up where Joe had left off.
I held the small wooden carving up to my cheek, feeling its warmth.
Then I walked outside with Roxy, got in my car and called my dad as I drove home.
The little wooden Nativity scene still sits on my desk. And it is still warm.
I prefer to work on Christmas Day. The phones are utterly silent. There is no one else there. Since I rarely-to-never have holiday plans, it seems like a nice time to be leisurely about getting a few things done I normally put off for these quiet days. My dog, Roxy, comes with me, and we take a lot of breaks to let her play in the snow.
This last Christmas was no exception. I smiled to myself as I let myself in, coded in the alarm and headed up the steps. Pure, blissful silence.
Once I let Roxy off her leash for her to run freely, she took off flying up the steps. I followed rather more slowly. Suddenly, I heard something that made my heart stop. Someone was talking to Roxy. I did not recognize the voice.
I peeked around the corner to see a figure hunched over my dog, who had flopped on her back and was accepting a good belly rub from this stranger.
I was Very Aware that I was alone in an old building -no one within shouting distance and probably not a single soul within a half mile, actually. As I assessed the situation, it seemed that he was rather thin, dressed in several layers against the cold, and obviously fond of animals.
I stepped out from behind the corner. Quietly and in my friendliest voice, I said, "Hello. This is a surprise. Can I help you?"
He must have realized a small fluffy dog would soon be followed by its owner, because he simply smiled and said, "Hello! Merry Christmas!" like he had a perfect right to be standing in the lobby of my office.
"Merry Christmas," I responded, a bit of caution creeping into my voice. "I'm Amy. What's your name?" (In such situations, it is best to gather evidence in case something goes horribly awry.)
"I'm Joe," his eyes crinkled with his smile. "This is Roxy, right?"
"Yes," I was puzzled until I realized she has a name tag he obviously paid attention to.
We stood there for a minute, me wondering what to do and a million thoughts whirling through my head, him just squatting there, scratching Roxy's belly and grinning at me. Roxy is so not picky about her friends.
My mind finally settled on one thing, "Joe, I'm sorry, but you just can't stay here."
He nodded ruefully and said, "I figured you'd say that" and simply did not move.
Well. Crud. Now what?
"Soooo..." I started slowly, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
He nodded, and still just scratched Roxy while I wondered if campus police worked on Christmas Day.
Out of patience, I snapped, "Okay, Joe, please leave now. I know it is cold outside, but you have to go. How did you get in in the first place?"
He shrugged, Roxy pawing at him when he paused in his attention to her, "Angels? Why are you here on Christmas Day? Escaping relatives?"
I certainly was not going to discuss my family status with a stranger, so I simply stood there and stared at him, arms crossed, trying to look all authoritarian. My eyes lit on his small pack of God-Knows-What laying next to the sofa, a few coarse blankets draped on it. I guessed he had probably been here for a few days.
He grinned again at my glare, "Okay, fine, touchy subject. Still I'd think you'd have a better place to be on Christmas Day."
"You have a lot of opinions for someone sleeping in a closed office building," I growled and immediately regretted it. Being reactive has never solved anything.
Joe grinned again and said, "Well, that's probably true. But Merry Christmas, anyway!" and took something from his pocket and held it out for me.
Curious, I drew nearer and carefully took it out of his hands. It was a tiny carved wood Nativity scene. I recognized it as olive wood because my BFF had been working in Tel Aviv a few years ago and gave me a pair of olive wood candlesticks she picked up at a bazaar there.
"Where did you get this?" I asked more quietly. The work was so beautiful -and warm from being in his pocket.
Joe smiled and shrugged, "I have a lot of time on my hands right now. It didn't take long."
"You MADE this?" I was all astonishment. "Where did you find the wood? That's olive, right?"
He shrugged again, grinning that I was so pleased, "It seems appropriate, given the subject."
A pregnant pause later, he added, "You know, right before Jesus was born, you have to imagine that Mary and Joseph probably felt pretty alone, too. I mean, its not like the Wise Men or shepherds or anyone showed up beforehand to help out."
I laughed, a little cynically, I admit, "Hey, at least they had each other! And a donkey!"
He laughed, "I suppose that is true. And you know, God was there. And when the baby came, everything had to change, everywhere."
I just nodded. I mean, what can you say after a statement like that?
Joe looked rather thoughtful, "It seems to me, there are a lot of people who have no choice but to be alone today... but you choose to be here, and you don't have to be."
"It's less complicated." It was my turn to shrug but he just roared with laughter. I felt rather put out, actually.
"Child of Grace, I can just imagine. It's always easier to just stay away! But you know, today, second only to Easter, is a day to be about being present to others!" he just shook his head and smiled at me affectionately.
I could not help but smile back.
I held out the Nativity scene, still warm in the palm of my hand, "This is beautiful -I can't take it, it's too much of a treasure. But thank you for being kind."
Joe shook his head, "It's yours. I made it for you. Just remember that even when you feel completely alone, its just a feeling. You are never alone, and you are more of a treasure than you can ever imagine."
Just then, Roxy barked, lept out from under his hand and shot toward the staircase. Startled, I turned to chase her, then whipped my head back to see if Joe was okay.
He was gone. The blankets, the pack, all gone.
Roxy trotted back to me, obviously pleased with herself.
I sat right down there on the lobby floor.
"Hello?" I whispered, my eyes wide open and looking everywhere.
Roxy crawled into my lap and nudged me to pick up where Joe had left off.
I held the small wooden carving up to my cheek, feeling its warmth.
Then I walked outside with Roxy, got in my car and called my dad as I drove home.
The little wooden Nativity scene still sits on my desk. And it is still warm.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Trapped!
Expecting to shovel snow this morning, I got out of bed early, chugged some coffee and headed to the driveway. Roxy reluctantly followed me, staying in the garage and then being careful to stick to the shoveled parts. I knew she wouldn't wander far in the snow, but as a precaution any time there is a chance a stray cat might appear, I hooked her onto the long yellow lead. I did not attach the other end to anything, since its sole purpose is to give me a chance to catch her when she decides to make a break for it.
As I shovelled the walkway to my door, I lost track of her a moment, then realized she had wandered into the neighbor's yard. As I went to fetch her (she had apparently forgotten her name in the wonderment of the snow!) she dashed under their porch. I grabbed the lead and tried to pull her out, but by that point the Damn Dog had burrowed under the f'ing house and wrapped the lead around a pipe.
Well, Hmmm.
As I prayedprayedprayed the homeowner would not wake up to the sound of some human scrambling around under his house, I crawled under, swearing under my breath, while Roxy glared at me, communicating this was all MY fault, since if she had not been on a lead to begin with, we would not be in this mess!
I heard, from my quiet spot nestled below his home, his three big dogs starting to bark and whine. I heard a sleepy, very, very grumpy voice yell out for the dogs to shut up. Roxy and I both froze, me imagining how to explain why I was under the house and BTW how come I never shovel the sidewalk?? Roxy was probably wondering if they had anything edible.
After we were safely back in our own yard, I looked over and realized there was absolutely no way to hide what had happened... once the sun comes up, tracks, dug out snow, and the obvious path from my house to UNDER HIS HOUSE will be shining for the whole world to see.
I just wish with all my heart, this hadn't been the home of the neighbor I dated a few times.
I shall await the call from the detectives.
As I shovelled the walkway to my door, I lost track of her a moment, then realized she had wandered into the neighbor's yard. As I went to fetch her (she had apparently forgotten her name in the wonderment of the snow!) she dashed under their porch. I grabbed the lead and tried to pull her out, but by that point the Damn Dog had burrowed under the f'ing house and wrapped the lead around a pipe.
Well, Hmmm.
As I prayedprayedprayed the homeowner would not wake up to the sound of some human scrambling around under his house, I crawled under, swearing under my breath, while Roxy glared at me, communicating this was all MY fault, since if she had not been on a lead to begin with, we would not be in this mess!
I heard, from my quiet spot nestled below his home, his three big dogs starting to bark and whine. I heard a sleepy, very, very grumpy voice yell out for the dogs to shut up. Roxy and I both froze, me imagining how to explain why I was under the house and BTW how come I never shovel the sidewalk?? Roxy was probably wondering if they had anything edible.
After we were safely back in our own yard, I looked over and realized there was absolutely no way to hide what had happened... once the sun comes up, tracks, dug out snow, and the obvious path from my house to UNDER HIS HOUSE will be shining for the whole world to see.
I just wish with all my heart, this hadn't been the home of the neighbor I dated a few times.
I shall await the call from the detectives.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Being Badass
I'm feeling rather triumphant this week. Maybe it was having a lot of friends gathering at various times over the weekend, or pulling off a couple awesome parties despite 2 feet of snow falling, or getting in good workouts, or eating well, or having hit a major milestone, or just feeling lighthearted for the most part. I dunno.
But this morning, I woke up angry and weepy for no apparent reason. I ran late due to time spent simmering over petty stuff. I almost skipped my workout, even though I had decided the night before to go for three miles on the treadmill since I committed to a 5K in early February and would like to reduce my time it takes to run that.
Still, I showed up, texting my assistant I would be late for work and hoping I could sweat out the grouchy.
I fell behind immediately as I ran into a friend and we chatted for about the first ten minutes I was on the treadmill. As I started running, 5 minutes in had a full blown asthma attack such that I had to stop completely, be more angry and unhappy, regain my ability to breathe, think about just giving up and going home, deciding that no matter how f-ing long it took I was by all that is holy going to finish three miles, restart the treadmill and hit my 2012 theme song on my ipod and reboot. I forwarded past any song that didn't make me want to dance.
Self care this morning meant paying attention to what was going on with me, doing what was possible, and not letting my own attitude defeat me.
I walked much of the rest of it. With about a 3/4 mile to go I burst into a run because I wanted to run, not because I felt I had to or felt bad about walking so much. In the process of just moving my feet and listening to happy music, I felt happier and calmer. I finished the three miles in a much different mental space than I started with. I actually grinned at people as I walked toward the locker room.
I felt pretty badass not because I conquered a task. I conquered myself.
But this morning, I woke up angry and weepy for no apparent reason. I ran late due to time spent simmering over petty stuff. I almost skipped my workout, even though I had decided the night before to go for three miles on the treadmill since I committed to a 5K in early February and would like to reduce my time it takes to run that.
Still, I showed up, texting my assistant I would be late for work and hoping I could sweat out the grouchy.
I fell behind immediately as I ran into a friend and we chatted for about the first ten minutes I was on the treadmill. As I started running, 5 minutes in had a full blown asthma attack such that I had to stop completely, be more angry and unhappy, regain my ability to breathe, think about just giving up and going home, deciding that no matter how f-ing long it took I was by all that is holy going to finish three miles, restart the treadmill and hit my 2012 theme song on my ipod and reboot. I forwarded past any song that didn't make me want to dance.
Self care this morning meant paying attention to what was going on with me, doing what was possible, and not letting my own attitude defeat me.
I walked much of the rest of it. With about a 3/4 mile to go I burst into a run because I wanted to run, not because I felt I had to or felt bad about walking so much. In the process of just moving my feet and listening to happy music, I felt happier and calmer. I finished the three miles in a much different mental space than I started with. I actually grinned at people as I walked toward the locker room.
I felt pretty badass not because I conquered a task. I conquered myself.
Monday, December 17, 2012
A Baking Story
It all started out innocently enough. I was throwing a party and it turned out that was the same day as my friend S_______'s birthday! So I ordered a sheet cake with Happy Birthday, S_____ on it.
Then it came to pass that she was not feeling well on the day of the party and so stayed home. When I texted her the next day to see if I could drop by (with the surprise cake, of course!) she wasn't up for company. So I checked to see if she was going to work on Monday, and she said she wouldn't be in until Wednesday. She said she had something for me for Christmas, and I said I had something for her as well, but it was perishable and I would see if I could freeze it.
A few hours passed and I heard nothing further, so I stared at the cake and decided that keeping an entire cake around until Wednesday would be asking for problems with my food plan, so I cut it in half and gave a bunch away, scraping off the lettering and planning to bring the rest in to work.
So, this is what the cake looked like when I got the next text:
The text said, You know what, I WILL come in tomorrow!
Well, hmm.
So I cast about the house, digging out ingredients to MAKE a cake, since there was no time to order another one. My eyes lit onto the batch of sugar cookie dough I had made in anticipation of making Christmas cookies.
An idea sprung to mind!
First, I made a crust out of the cookie dough:
Then I added chocolate chips, walnuts and another layer of of cookie dough:
Then I rolled out some cookie cutouts and baked everything:
Then came the REALLY fun part! FROSTING!!! I made a basic buttercream, and lettered out Happy Birthday S_____ onto the cookie cutouts:
I sprinkled some colored sugar on the pink frosting but didn't love how it turned out so didn't do it on the rest of the cookies.
Then I assembled the entire thing and put one candle in the middle:
I am actually so, so grateful it worked out this way. I had such a BLAST being creative and having fun with frosting -the sugar headache was totally worth it!! (I mean, I had to taste everything to make sure it was right!!)
It is very rare that enough time and enough inclination converge for me to have this kind of fun. So, Happy Birthday, Miss S!! You are awesome!!
Then it came to pass that she was not feeling well on the day of the party and so stayed home. When I texted her the next day to see if I could drop by (with the surprise cake, of course!) she wasn't up for company. So I checked to see if she was going to work on Monday, and she said she wouldn't be in until Wednesday. She said she had something for me for Christmas, and I said I had something for her as well, but it was perishable and I would see if I could freeze it.
A few hours passed and I heard nothing further, so I stared at the cake and decided that keeping an entire cake around until Wednesday would be asking for problems with my food plan, so I cut it in half and gave a bunch away, scraping off the lettering and planning to bring the rest in to work.
So, this is what the cake looked like when I got the next text:
The text said, You know what, I WILL come in tomorrow!
Well, hmm.
So I cast about the house, digging out ingredients to MAKE a cake, since there was no time to order another one. My eyes lit onto the batch of sugar cookie dough I had made in anticipation of making Christmas cookies.
An idea sprung to mind!
First, I made a crust out of the cookie dough:
Then I added chocolate chips, walnuts and another layer of of cookie dough:
Then I rolled out some cookie cutouts and baked everything:
Then came the REALLY fun part! FROSTING!!! I made a basic buttercream, and lettered out Happy Birthday S_____ onto the cookie cutouts:
I sprinkled some colored sugar on the pink frosting but didn't love how it turned out so didn't do it on the rest of the cookies.
Then I assembled the entire thing and put one candle in the middle:
Yes, it is quite gaudy, but aren't birthday desserts SUPPOSED to be???
I brought it in this morning, and Katrina and I sang to her and she blew out the candle:
I am actually so, so grateful it worked out this way. I had such a BLAST being creative and having fun with frosting -the sugar headache was totally worth it!! (I mean, I had to taste everything to make sure it was right!!)
It is very rare that enough time and enough inclination converge for me to have this kind of fun. So, Happy Birthday, Miss S!! You are awesome!!
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Rejoice!
Today is Gaudete Sunday... Gaudete means Rejoice! It is the pink candle lit on an Advent wreath, symbolizing that the coming of Christ is near.
Oddly enough, today is an anniversary for me ... It's a thing important only to me, so I shan't bore you with it here, but it makes me reflect on how much learning and growing I did this past year, and how much I have in my life worth rejoicing over.
This has been a tragic week for our nation and already people are trying to politicize a tragedy and as usual everyone wants to find a way to be bubble wrapped against evil. As if there is a political solution for evil. As if there is a bubble wrap for every possible contingency.
Rejoice in The Lord always. Again, I say Rejoice! Phil 4:4
Followers of Christ are a people of hope. The crucifixion was not the end of the story. This tragedy is not the end of their story. The person I had become until a few short years ago from too many years of too much dysfunction... was not the end of my story.
Christ redeems and saves and heals all.
There is an ear worm of a song where the lyrics make my heart sing: As long as I shall live, I will testify to Love. I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough...
My life is a testament to the power of love: messy, disconcerting, unexpected, unseen, sacrificial, transcendent, blessed, blessed love. For some of us it takes being at the bottom of a well to see the tiny sparks of light offered to us.
Those tiny sparks of light are almost like little luminaries that take us someplace we never knew we needed to go. I have been led blindly to this outcome of joy I never saw coming and had given up hope for.
Yet, even with this joy I can now call my own, I know this, too, is not the end of my story. A year ago or so, a dear friend asked me to imagine the possibilities of joy. I remember wanting to know what she was talking about, but it honestly seemed too big and scary... What WOULD it mean to live a life free from fear and anger?
So, I don't know how my story ends, if it ever actually does. I do know, I never face my perils alone, that fear and anger do not produce anything worthwhile, and that I am loved.
For now, that is enough to know and reason enough to rejoice.
Oddly enough, today is an anniversary for me ... It's a thing important only to me, so I shan't bore you with it here, but it makes me reflect on how much learning and growing I did this past year, and how much I have in my life worth rejoicing over.
This has been a tragic week for our nation and already people are trying to politicize a tragedy and as usual everyone wants to find a way to be bubble wrapped against evil. As if there is a political solution for evil. As if there is a bubble wrap for every possible contingency.
Rejoice in The Lord always. Again, I say Rejoice! Phil 4:4
Followers of Christ are a people of hope. The crucifixion was not the end of the story. This tragedy is not the end of their story. The person I had become until a few short years ago from too many years of too much dysfunction... was not the end of my story.
Christ redeems and saves and heals all.
There is an ear worm of a song where the lyrics make my heart sing: As long as I shall live, I will testify to Love. I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough...
My life is a testament to the power of love: messy, disconcerting, unexpected, unseen, sacrificial, transcendent, blessed, blessed love. For some of us it takes being at the bottom of a well to see the tiny sparks of light offered to us.
Those tiny sparks of light are almost like little luminaries that take us someplace we never knew we needed to go. I have been led blindly to this outcome of joy I never saw coming and had given up hope for.
Yet, even with this joy I can now call my own, I know this, too, is not the end of my story. A year ago or so, a dear friend asked me to imagine the possibilities of joy. I remember wanting to know what she was talking about, but it honestly seemed too big and scary... What WOULD it mean to live a life free from fear and anger?
So, I don't know how my story ends, if it ever actually does. I do know, I never face my perils alone, that fear and anger do not produce anything worthwhile, and that I am loved.
For now, that is enough to know and reason enough to rejoice.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Shout Out to My Trainer
It's weird how you have different aspects of your personality show at different times. At work, I am described as calm, level headed, a soothing presence, the person who encourages others.
I really doubt Jesse-the-Trainer ever actually gets to see that side of me. I count on him for all those things, and he always comes through.
I'm thinking a lot lately about the blessings in my life, and he really is one of the biggest blessings of the last two years. This last weekend, he ran his first-ever long race, and it was a 50K, and he came in 12th out of 73. I'm really proud of him, not because he did so well, but because parts of it sucked eggs, and he finished anyway, and did his absolute best.
I think that might be why he is such a good trainer. He gets that sometimes, pushing yourself physically and mentally is absolutely horrible. Sometimes you have to dig deep into some well inside you you did not even know existed to find the strength to tackle what is in front of you -especially when you could so easily just stop, and everyone would understand and no one would judge you, and probably half the people aren't sure why you are doing it in the first place, including yourself. And every time you face such things, in life or in the gym or on the trail, you are the only who can decide whether to "call it" or keep going.
He has been such an example of patience and kindness and simple acceptance these past almost-two-years that he has taught me a lot about those things, especially when applying it to myself and my given circumstances. He reminds me when I am frustrated or feeling defeated to look to Christ and remember Love. And to breathe. Breathing is important.
His web site needs some updating: http://www.newrootspersonaltraining.com/New_Roots_Personal_Training/Welcome.html
But that's him. And he is awesome.
I really doubt Jesse-the-Trainer ever actually gets to see that side of me. I count on him for all those things, and he always comes through.
I'm thinking a lot lately about the blessings in my life, and he really is one of the biggest blessings of the last two years. This last weekend, he ran his first-ever long race, and it was a 50K, and he came in 12th out of 73. I'm really proud of him, not because he did so well, but because parts of it sucked eggs, and he finished anyway, and did his absolute best.
I think that might be why he is such a good trainer. He gets that sometimes, pushing yourself physically and mentally is absolutely horrible. Sometimes you have to dig deep into some well inside you you did not even know existed to find the strength to tackle what is in front of you -especially when you could so easily just stop, and everyone would understand and no one would judge you, and probably half the people aren't sure why you are doing it in the first place, including yourself. And every time you face such things, in life or in the gym or on the trail, you are the only who can decide whether to "call it" or keep going.
He has been such an example of patience and kindness and simple acceptance these past almost-two-years that he has taught me a lot about those things, especially when applying it to myself and my given circumstances. He reminds me when I am frustrated or feeling defeated to look to Christ and remember Love. And to breathe. Breathing is important.
His web site needs some updating: http://www.newrootspersonaltraining.com/New_Roots_Personal_Training/Welcome.html
But that's him. And he is awesome.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Holy Ground
I used to work at a Catholic university where we started every meeting with, "Let us recall we are in the presence of God." I really liked that... although recently in the tumult of ADHD, I forgot where I was and opened a meeting with, "Let us recall we are in the presence of God..." to a chorus of laughter. I work for a state-run university now. We open meetings with, "Hey, according to the Naval Atomic Clock, it is 8AM... here are the activities the late folks are assigned to attend..." The only mention of God in such meetings is usually an exclamation of which I'm not sure He approves.
A few Advents ago, I joined with a few other ladies in head-covering during Mass. I wore a rather subtle black hair scarf, so no one actually knew I was covering my head, and that was fine with me. Lace mantillas don't have the cache they once carried. Still I knew, which was the whole point. I am in the presence of the Eucharist, and it reminds me to focus, that things are special, to sit up and take notice.
A few times when I was in a particularly low place, I would wear that head scarf around doing daily stuff... my own quiet reminder to myself that every moment of every day, I am in the presence of God.
Sometimes, we all need little tangible remainders that we are not alone. I keep pics of my peeps on my desk to remind me that no matter how rotten a day can turn out, there are people who love me despite knowing my flaws and who will let me live in their basements if everything goes pear-shaped. Some people wear rings to remind them or carry locks of hair or prayer books or Bibles, or maybe like me, carry a rosary in my purse or pocket.
We are human. We need something solid to hold on to sometimes just to remind us of what we know already, and it can't always be someone else's hand.
I do know, and all these things remind me, when I hold God's hand, everywhere I step is Holy and Sacred and in His Presence.
A few Advents ago, I joined with a few other ladies in head-covering during Mass. I wore a rather subtle black hair scarf, so no one actually knew I was covering my head, and that was fine with me. Lace mantillas don't have the cache they once carried. Still I knew, which was the whole point. I am in the presence of the Eucharist, and it reminds me to focus, that things are special, to sit up and take notice.
A few times when I was in a particularly low place, I would wear that head scarf around doing daily stuff... my own quiet reminder to myself that every moment of every day, I am in the presence of God.
Sometimes, we all need little tangible remainders that we are not alone. I keep pics of my peeps on my desk to remind me that no matter how rotten a day can turn out, there are people who love me despite knowing my flaws and who will let me live in their basements if everything goes pear-shaped. Some people wear rings to remind them or carry locks of hair or prayer books or Bibles, or maybe like me, carry a rosary in my purse or pocket.
We are human. We need something solid to hold on to sometimes just to remind us of what we know already, and it can't always be someone else's hand.
I do know, and all these things remind me, when I hold God's hand, everywhere I step is Holy and Sacred and in His Presence.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Books and Writing
I want to finish a book. Not finish READING a book, I have no problems with that. I have problems with bits of half-fleshed out ideas inked onto paper that I abandon, never to return.
I love to write. My energy for it wanes, though, at the end of a long day already spent in front of a computer. Even with story ideas it becomes difficult to keep staring a couple more hours into a monitor.
Still, I keep thinking this is my one true gift, and I am not using it to its potential.
I have two whole weeks off work at Christmas, and I keep coming back to the idea that some of this time could wisely be spent working on this story in my head that keeps cropping up and making noise and being all distracting.
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive and inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. Colossians 3:23-24
Writing a book for God. Huh. Wonder how this will turn out.
I love to write. My energy for it wanes, though, at the end of a long day already spent in front of a computer. Even with story ideas it becomes difficult to keep staring a couple more hours into a monitor.
Still, I keep thinking this is my one true gift, and I am not using it to its potential.
I have two whole weeks off work at Christmas, and I keep coming back to the idea that some of this time could wisely be spent working on this story in my head that keeps cropping up and making noise and being all distracting.
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive and inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. Colossians 3:23-24
Writing a book for God. Huh. Wonder how this will turn out.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Christmas is Coming!
We've been subjected to the the exclamation Christmas is Coming since mid-July, it seems. I love Christmas, and one of the joys of being a single adult of independent means is that I get to celebrate it however I like.
Since it is my policy to never celebrate Christmas with relatives, pretty much everything gift-related has been handled, and me, being me, cannot WAIT to open a gift until the actual day of Christmas, so my actual Christmas Day has nothing whatsoever to do with gifting. I rather like that.
I choose the Mass I go to, sometimes going to more than one because midnight Mass is soo beautiful, and the Children's Mass is so darn cute, baby angels and a wee Joseph who goes on walkabout.
Generally, I'll pop into a friend's holiday feast. Someone once remarked that having friends as well as relatives at their holiday dinner encouraged everyone to be on good behavior, as few families will air out petty grievances in front of strangers. So everyone is having a good time, and I'm contributing to the general happiness just by being there. When I weary of people, I get to leave!
I'm looking forward to having Two Whole Weeks off work. I am weary and bit burned out from work and just need some rest, some time to do my own thing and think my own thoughts.
For once, I am jealously guarding my "down time" and making very few commitments. This is difficult for me, but I keep reminding myself, the point of this time is to reboot, to get back in touch with what really matters, to regain proper perspective.
Which is kind of the whole point of Christmas, really, anyway. Our Savior came to this world so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.
Since it is my policy to never celebrate Christmas with relatives, pretty much everything gift-related has been handled, and me, being me, cannot WAIT to open a gift until the actual day of Christmas, so my actual Christmas Day has nothing whatsoever to do with gifting. I rather like that.
I choose the Mass I go to, sometimes going to more than one because midnight Mass is soo beautiful, and the Children's Mass is so darn cute, baby angels and a wee Joseph who goes on walkabout.
Generally, I'll pop into a friend's holiday feast. Someone once remarked that having friends as well as relatives at their holiday dinner encouraged everyone to be on good behavior, as few families will air out petty grievances in front of strangers. So everyone is having a good time, and I'm contributing to the general happiness just by being there. When I weary of people, I get to leave!
I'm looking forward to having Two Whole Weeks off work. I am weary and bit burned out from work and just need some rest, some time to do my own thing and think my own thoughts.
For once, I am jealously guarding my "down time" and making very few commitments. This is difficult for me, but I keep reminding myself, the point of this time is to reboot, to get back in touch with what really matters, to regain proper perspective.
Which is kind of the whole point of Christmas, really, anyway. Our Savior came to this world so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Unexpected Delight
I try to embrace the surreal in life. I kind of enjoy that odd people come up and talk to me for no particular reason. Sometimes it is just strange, and sometimes it is strange and beautiful (like the guy on the beach in San Diego who told me I sparkle, and he wanted me to know that in case no one had ever told me! Or the woman who approached me at Scottsdale Fashion Square to tell me I had a bright blue aura and that I just glow... etc. ) That stuff happens all the time to me, and I like it.
I like when you come across unexpected beauty. Like in my pic above, the graffiti butterflies. (I do so love street art!) Or you happen across a flash mob.
One of my favorite surreal things is the I-17 Christmas Tree. From all the research I've done, whoever does this every single year has kept their secrets well. It just shows up to my great delight.
This isn't a great picture, as the sun was not cooperating in its placement in the sky, and I had to dodge semis to get a good pic at all... but there it is. Alone on a desolate stretch of desert highway, its only purpose to bring a smile to strangers' faces.
A reminder that someone loves us all. A reminder that sometimes all something has to do is exist in order to bring happiness.
A small place of unexpected beauty and delight.
I like when you come across unexpected beauty. Like in my pic above, the graffiti butterflies. (I do so love street art!) Or you happen across a flash mob.
One of my favorite surreal things is the I-17 Christmas Tree. From all the research I've done, whoever does this every single year has kept their secrets well. It just shows up to my great delight.
This isn't a great picture, as the sun was not cooperating in its placement in the sky, and I had to dodge semis to get a good pic at all... but there it is. Alone on a desolate stretch of desert highway, its only purpose to bring a smile to strangers' faces.
A reminder that someone loves us all. A reminder that sometimes all something has to do is exist in order to bring happiness.
A small place of unexpected beauty and delight.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Peace? Stoicism?
Philippians 4:6-7 is reminding me to not be worried, to talk to God and His peace will descend upon me.
DESCEND! DARN IT!!
Truthfully, it isn't so much that I am worried about anything, it more about being tired and disappointed.
I'm no Pollyanna. I'm fairly practical. I know that being human means we're all imperfect and that we regularly disappoint each other. Neither am I a particularly trusting sort or very optimistic in general. I believe in developing stoicism and becoming strong so that whatever happens, you will either survive it, or die honorably.
I also know from simple observation that the Lord working things out in His time does not necessarily correspond to my personal happiness at any given moment. Job is an excellent example of this. I don't suppose the first set of Job's children were all that excited about their part to play in God's plan.
Sometimes, it is just a wee bit hard to shake off the sadness when someone disappoints you, especially if one is sad about a host of other things when such things occur. Sometimes, it is hard to take an eternal view, which is how God sees everything.
Still, I know, even when I don't FEEL it particularly, that the Lord does have plans for me, and you, and the disappointing people, and the hurting people, and the sad people, and the anxious people... plans for our good and not to hurt us, giving us a future and a hope. (Jer 29:11-13)
When I am weary and sad, I try to hold on to that.
DESCEND! DARN IT!!
Truthfully, it isn't so much that I am worried about anything, it more about being tired and disappointed.
I'm no Pollyanna. I'm fairly practical. I know that being human means we're all imperfect and that we regularly disappoint each other. Neither am I a particularly trusting sort or very optimistic in general. I believe in developing stoicism and becoming strong so that whatever happens, you will either survive it, or die honorably.
I also know from simple observation that the Lord working things out in His time does not necessarily correspond to my personal happiness at any given moment. Job is an excellent example of this. I don't suppose the first set of Job's children were all that excited about their part to play in God's plan.
Sometimes, it is just a wee bit hard to shake off the sadness when someone disappoints you, especially if one is sad about a host of other things when such things occur. Sometimes, it is hard to take an eternal view, which is how God sees everything.
Still, I know, even when I don't FEEL it particularly, that the Lord does have plans for me, and you, and the disappointing people, and the hurting people, and the sad people, and the anxious people... plans for our good and not to hurt us, giving us a future and a hope. (Jer 29:11-13)
When I am weary and sad, I try to hold on to that.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Playing with Matches
Okay, fine, I can admit this... I signed up on an online dating site this week. What is scary is that I have done this occasionally before (admittedly, it has been a number of years since I've done so) and have rarely gotten second glances.
So, I'm a wee bit overwhelmed that I'm getting any response, much less the level I've had. A couple look actually promising, which is even stranger.
However, I have to just laugh about human nature for a bit. I'm describing myself as "about average" which, when I look around, that's about right. Anyway, I've got lots of pictures so someone can determine for himself if I'm average or not in the looks department.
What cracks me up are guys who described themselves as "athletic and toned" when, um, I think I could beat them in Festivus feats of strength, and not just because I'm freakishly strong for a woman. Or someone who describes himself as having a great sense of humor, and every pic looks like he is attending a funeral. Or someone who claims a college degree and every other word is misspelled, and not in a "typo" way.
I'm sure I'm not a paragon of perfection when it comes to writing a profile. Still, I like to think if one is going to bother with it at all, try to make it a quality experience!
So, I'm a wee bit overwhelmed that I'm getting any response, much less the level I've had. A couple look actually promising, which is even stranger.
However, I have to just laugh about human nature for a bit. I'm describing myself as "about average" which, when I look around, that's about right. Anyway, I've got lots of pictures so someone can determine for himself if I'm average or not in the looks department.
What cracks me up are guys who described themselves as "athletic and toned" when, um, I think I could beat them in Festivus feats of strength, and not just because I'm freakishly strong for a woman. Or someone who describes himself as having a great sense of humor, and every pic looks like he is attending a funeral. Or someone who claims a college degree and every other word is misspelled, and not in a "typo" way.
I'm sure I'm not a paragon of perfection when it comes to writing a profile. Still, I like to think if one is going to bother with it at all, try to make it a quality experience!
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Chicka Doodle Soop
I've been battling the plague this week. As a result, I've been living off chicken soup and herbal tea and some sort of tree bark syrup a friend SWEARS will help and is better for me since it is Natural. And it tastes really good, so I'm using it and just not telling her I am supplementing with NyQuil.
Anyway, in a fit of optimism,I tried to go to work a few times and got unceremoniously sent home by my staff. As I left, I could hear them spraying my office with Lysol and some sort of Clorox mixture. No respect.
Today, I worked out a wee bit (really, ,just enough to remind me I'm sick) and ran a few errands, spending prolly half my pay in the raptures of enthusiasm for Christmas.
I got home and realized, I'm kinda hungry. Yay! Haven't even looked at food in a week. Two cans of chicken soup and herbal tea is about 300 calories a day. (I freakin better have lost weight this week!!!) Fortunately, I was prepared for this day and have sandwich stuff on hand. I ate about half of my sandwich and now I'm blogging about it before I fall asleep.
I really wanted to be my normal energetic self this week. I missed a lot of fun stuff due to this... Two holiday parties, my friend Steve's wedding. Still, loving self care means addressing your body's needs, not ploughing through ignoring them.
And really, I do really like chicken noodle soup. Not the grown up kind or gourmet anything... Campbell's Condensed Soup that is intended for little kids. Don't fancy it up with stars or princess shapes, either. I'm a purist.
That and my electric kettle were my best friends this week. Thank you, God, for mass production.
Anyway, in a fit of optimism,I tried to go to work a few times and got unceremoniously sent home by my staff. As I left, I could hear them spraying my office with Lysol and some sort of Clorox mixture. No respect.
Today, I worked out a wee bit (really, ,just enough to remind me I'm sick) and ran a few errands, spending prolly half my pay in the raptures of enthusiasm for Christmas.
I got home and realized, I'm kinda hungry. Yay! Haven't even looked at food in a week. Two cans of chicken soup and herbal tea is about 300 calories a day. (I freakin better have lost weight this week!!!) Fortunately, I was prepared for this day and have sandwich stuff on hand. I ate about half of my sandwich and now I'm blogging about it before I fall asleep.
I really wanted to be my normal energetic self this week. I missed a lot of fun stuff due to this... Two holiday parties, my friend Steve's wedding. Still, loving self care means addressing your body's needs, not ploughing through ignoring them.
And really, I do really like chicken noodle soup. Not the grown up kind or gourmet anything... Campbell's Condensed Soup that is intended for little kids. Don't fancy it up with stars or princess shapes, either. I'm a purist.
That and my electric kettle were my best friends this week. Thank you, God, for mass production.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Like I Count
The best compliment I ever received was about ten years ago when I was working for this storefront law firm in Evansville, IN. I was helping a mother with the estate of her 20 year old daughter who had been killed in a car accident. The mom had maybe a fifth grade education and cleaned offices at night to make ends meet for herself and her other four children. At our last meeting, after all the papers were signed, she said, "I wanted to thank you!" I replied, "my pleasure, it's my job" or something equally inane, and she stopped me and said, "No. Thank you for being so patient and for answering all my questions and never making me feel stupid and treating me like I count." I was a bit gobsmacked. I stuttered something like, of course, and she smiled and I smiled and we parted. The thing was, I did not treat her any differently than I treat anyone else, but it never occurred to me until that moment that she might not get treated with respect by everyone.
Yesterday, when someone asked me in passing, How are you today? I groused, Tired and cranky! He laughed and said, Your tired and cranky is happier than most people in chipper mode!
A while ago one of my colleagues described me as, She's the one who makes things happen for us!
It occurred to me yesterday afternoon that my mission in life is being a Valkyrie and defending people who need it, helping people when possible, and in general sticking up for what I see as Right and Fair. FAIR is a very important value to me.
It also occurred to me that while I SHINE at doing that for everyone else, I am terrible at doing that for me.
This stops now. I count, too.
A handful of things have happened recently wherein it was brought to my attention that I am a complete doormat in certain situations. My historic way of coping has been to simply internalize it and become self-destructive or just move along. Sometimes that is the right answer. Sometimes the right answer is to stick around and slog through the muck.
It is never the right answer to curl up in a corner and stew.
As I threw darts at a map yesterday to determine my next relocation (I find this soothing) it occurred to me that perhaps the people involved simply do not understand that I am serious. I have couched every request in bubble wrap and as negotiable.
I have a couple tough conversations today, once I take a bit more time to pray over it and get a clearer picture of what God is expecting of me.
Yesterday, when someone asked me in passing, How are you today? I groused, Tired and cranky! He laughed and said, Your tired and cranky is happier than most people in chipper mode!
A while ago one of my colleagues described me as, She's the one who makes things happen for us!
It occurred to me yesterday afternoon that my mission in life is being a Valkyrie and defending people who need it, helping people when possible, and in general sticking up for what I see as Right and Fair. FAIR is a very important value to me.
It also occurred to me that while I SHINE at doing that for everyone else, I am terrible at doing that for me.
This stops now. I count, too.
A handful of things have happened recently wherein it was brought to my attention that I am a complete doormat in certain situations. My historic way of coping has been to simply internalize it and become self-destructive or just move along. Sometimes that is the right answer. Sometimes the right answer is to stick around and slog through the muck.
It is never the right answer to curl up in a corner and stew.
As I threw darts at a map yesterday to determine my next relocation (I find this soothing) it occurred to me that perhaps the people involved simply do not understand that I am serious. I have couched every request in bubble wrap and as negotiable.
I have a couple tough conversations today, once I take a bit more time to pray over it and get a clearer picture of what God is expecting of me.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Down Again, Up Again
I was so terribly excited to be back on track again. I had gone thoroughly off course in September and October, and finally through most of November was back on track exercising every day, eating healthy, getting out of the house.
Heck, I ran every single day I was in Houston for Thanksgiving and ate very sensibly despite being on vacation and having lots of insensible choices!
Saturday, a germ caught up with me, and I've spent most of the last few days sleeping and watching Downton Abbey episodes on my iPad. I'm exhausted and worried yesterday that I'm all off track again and this is TOO hard, etc, ad nauseum. Let's just ignore that I've been living off chicken soup and herbal tea and some sort of syrupy natureopathic remedy that tastes really good but has uncertain results.
I want cookies. Except the thought of actually eating them sounds awful, as I'm not really into food when I'm sick.
Okay, what I REALLY want is someone to pat my head and tell me, "You are going to be just fine and the world is turning without you and here's some more tea that you don't have to get out of your cozy bed and freeze to death to make."
Cookies really AREN'T comfort. What a nice learning and growing moment for me to learn other ways of self care. Whatever. I'm curling back up under the comforter and letting Roxy use me as furniture.
Since I worried out loud of being off track YET AGAIN this year, the person I said this to pointed out that I'm not ACTUALLY off-track, I am sick, and that is different, and as long as once I feel better I get back into my normal rhythm of life, it won't count even a little bit as being off-track.
That DOES make me feel better, actually. I know I ought to feel happy and proud that I've managed to maintain my weight for almost a year, despite that this year has been so challenging in so many ways, but a lot of times, I just feel like I'm never going to get where I really want to be. Now, I've never actually defined what is in my head for where I want to be, but I do know I'm not there yet.
Yes, I know that is crazy-making. I've come a very long way from two years ago, and I recognize that. In a month, I will be 43 years old, and frankly, I'm getting restless.
Maybe it's just time to change things up a bit.
Heck, I ran every single day I was in Houston for Thanksgiving and ate very sensibly despite being on vacation and having lots of insensible choices!
Saturday, a germ caught up with me, and I've spent most of the last few days sleeping and watching Downton Abbey episodes on my iPad. I'm exhausted and worried yesterday that I'm all off track again and this is TOO hard, etc, ad nauseum. Let's just ignore that I've been living off chicken soup and herbal tea and some sort of syrupy natureopathic remedy that tastes really good but has uncertain results.
I want cookies. Except the thought of actually eating them sounds awful, as I'm not really into food when I'm sick.
Okay, what I REALLY want is someone to pat my head and tell me, "You are going to be just fine and the world is turning without you and here's some more tea that you don't have to get out of your cozy bed and freeze to death to make."
Cookies really AREN'T comfort. What a nice learning and growing moment for me to learn other ways of self care. Whatever. I'm curling back up under the comforter and letting Roxy use me as furniture.
Since I worried out loud of being off track YET AGAIN this year, the person I said this to pointed out that I'm not ACTUALLY off-track, I am sick, and that is different, and as long as once I feel better I get back into my normal rhythm of life, it won't count even a little bit as being off-track.
That DOES make me feel better, actually. I know I ought to feel happy and proud that I've managed to maintain my weight for almost a year, despite that this year has been so challenging in so many ways, but a lot of times, I just feel like I'm never going to get where I really want to be. Now, I've never actually defined what is in my head for where I want to be, but I do know I'm not there yet.
Yes, I know that is crazy-making. I've come a very long way from two years ago, and I recognize that. In a month, I will be 43 years old, and frankly, I'm getting restless.
Maybe it's just time to change things up a bit.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Prayers and Death and Stuff
I'm home sick today and so between sleeping and listening to my neighbors slam doors, I have lots of time to think.
My BFF Tracy got some horrible news today -her cousin, Lisa, died of a heart attack on Friday. Lisa was 43. She was in terrible health, obese, diabetic, stressed out, etc... But still, 43. Dang. Tracy tried to make me promise I would keep taking good care of myself because she would not handle my death well. Since I don't make promises I'm not sure if I can keep, I just said, "fingers crossed I will yet outlive you." She was content with that.
I'm disgruntled because my dear friend Hope is undergoing brain surgery on Thursday, a bit of a last ditch effort because her tumor is growing again and not responding to chemo, and we keep missing each other on the phone. She leaves me a message telling me she loves me and asking for prayers... I leave her a message telling her I love her and that she is always in my prayers... She leaves a message telling me I am her prayer warrior and she is counting on me... I leave a message telling her she is my faith anchor and without her I am adrift... You get the picture.
Hope and her husband Rob have been struggling with Hope's brain cancer for over 7 years now. Even though we've faced her mortality for over 7 years, whenever her death comes, I know I will not handle it well. Hope is my friend who reminds me to have faith. She reminds me to pray and bring my troubles to our loving God. What will happen to me when she isn't reminding me of these things?? I asked her that once and she said someone would likely take up the task, If i asked God for that help! Even as she faces all of this pain and illness, her faith does not waiver. No matter the outcome, she knows she is in the hands of God, and knows peace. It is the rest of us who are struggling.
Very few people get to be my age and not have had death strike near to one's heart. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, friends... Between illness, war, aging and accidents, it's a wonder how many still survive! Still, I long for a happy death for everyone I love... After a long life, surrounded by people who love them, secure in the knowledge of a life to come, peacefully accompanied by angels.
For now I shall tuck away my well-developed dark side and continue my prayers for healing for Hope, and peace for Tracy's family, and that God bubble wraps us all in His love, today and always.
My BFF Tracy got some horrible news today -her cousin, Lisa, died of a heart attack on Friday. Lisa was 43. She was in terrible health, obese, diabetic, stressed out, etc... But still, 43. Dang. Tracy tried to make me promise I would keep taking good care of myself because she would not handle my death well. Since I don't make promises I'm not sure if I can keep, I just said, "fingers crossed I will yet outlive you." She was content with that.
I'm disgruntled because my dear friend Hope is undergoing brain surgery on Thursday, a bit of a last ditch effort because her tumor is growing again and not responding to chemo, and we keep missing each other on the phone. She leaves me a message telling me she loves me and asking for prayers... I leave her a message telling her I love her and that she is always in my prayers... She leaves a message telling me I am her prayer warrior and she is counting on me... I leave a message telling her she is my faith anchor and without her I am adrift... You get the picture.
Hope and her husband Rob have been struggling with Hope's brain cancer for over 7 years now. Even though we've faced her mortality for over 7 years, whenever her death comes, I know I will not handle it well. Hope is my friend who reminds me to have faith. She reminds me to pray and bring my troubles to our loving God. What will happen to me when she isn't reminding me of these things?? I asked her that once and she said someone would likely take up the task, If i asked God for that help! Even as she faces all of this pain and illness, her faith does not waiver. No matter the outcome, she knows she is in the hands of God, and knows peace. It is the rest of us who are struggling.
Very few people get to be my age and not have had death strike near to one's heart. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, friends... Between illness, war, aging and accidents, it's a wonder how many still survive! Still, I long for a happy death for everyone I love... After a long life, surrounded by people who love them, secure in the knowledge of a life to come, peacefully accompanied by angels.
For now I shall tuck away my well-developed dark side and continue my prayers for healing for Hope, and peace for Tracy's family, and that God bubble wraps us all in His love, today and always.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Chillin in Texas
A couple months ago as I contemplated my choices for Thanksgiving travel, I tapped my chin and thought, hmmm, who do I really WANT to see that I haven't seen in a while? My aunt Maryle came quickly to mind and it was no hard feat to decide to visit her in Houston.
I lived with her and Uncle Bob for a short time when I was trying to get as far away from Indiana as possible and yet stay in the continental 48 and they were really sweet to me during a difficult time. The last time I saw my aunt was at my uncle's funeral almost two years ago.
Plus, it was uncomplicated. We like each other, both enjoy churchy things and the food is always awesome.
My vacation actually felt like a vacation. I slept, ate, visited with my aunt and various cousins, went to daily Mass and even a bible study one night. I did a wee bit of running so the pecan pie would not catch up to me. Saw Anna Karenina. Other than daily Mass, I never really had to be anywhere at any set time, and for a person whose life is chronically over scheduled, that was a huge huge vacation in itself. (Plus, my aunt is very good at spoiling me!)
My lungs even got a vacation being at a lower altitude, and my hair was its wild curly self. Ahhh, humidity, thy name is Houston!
Someone once said hospitality is about making people feel comfortable, and making room for them to be themselves. It is making space for people, not just physically, but mentally. My brain, always spinning with the next thing to do, work to accomplish, project to finish, responsibility to take care of and strategy to plan, got to take a bit of a break and could just be, with nothing more important to decide than what sounded good for lunch.
There's a verse in Hebrews about entertaining strangers because you may be entertaining angels unawares. Well, I'm no stranger, and my aunt is well aware I am no angel. Sometimes that can be the hardest thing about company, knowing them!
But, whether I was 5 and crawling into bed with her when her family visited us in South Bend, or 25 and needing a soft place to land, or 42 and just missing a wee bit of mothering, all she has ever shown me is love, and this Thanksgiving, she holds my greatest gratitude.
I lived with her and Uncle Bob for a short time when I was trying to get as far away from Indiana as possible and yet stay in the continental 48 and they were really sweet to me during a difficult time. The last time I saw my aunt was at my uncle's funeral almost two years ago.
Plus, it was uncomplicated. We like each other, both enjoy churchy things and the food is always awesome.
My vacation actually felt like a vacation. I slept, ate, visited with my aunt and various cousins, went to daily Mass and even a bible study one night. I did a wee bit of running so the pecan pie would not catch up to me. Saw Anna Karenina. Other than daily Mass, I never really had to be anywhere at any set time, and for a person whose life is chronically over scheduled, that was a huge huge vacation in itself. (Plus, my aunt is very good at spoiling me!)
My lungs even got a vacation being at a lower altitude, and my hair was its wild curly self. Ahhh, humidity, thy name is Houston!
Someone once said hospitality is about making people feel comfortable, and making room for them to be themselves. It is making space for people, not just physically, but mentally. My brain, always spinning with the next thing to do, work to accomplish, project to finish, responsibility to take care of and strategy to plan, got to take a bit of a break and could just be, with nothing more important to decide than what sounded good for lunch.
There's a verse in Hebrews about entertaining strangers because you may be entertaining angels unawares. Well, I'm no stranger, and my aunt is well aware I am no angel. Sometimes that can be the hardest thing about company, knowing them!
But, whether I was 5 and crawling into bed with her when her family visited us in South Bend, or 25 and needing a soft place to land, or 42 and just missing a wee bit of mothering, all she has ever shown me is love, and this Thanksgiving, she holds my greatest gratitude.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Gemini Sighting
I love the stars. Even as little kid, when my older brothers tried to teach me about constellations, I would just stare at them in awe and send wishes to any star I saw... it really didn't matter if it was the first star in the sky that night. The only one I could reliably point out was the North Star, and my oldest brother promised when he grew up and started exploring space, he would move near there so I could always find him.
Different constellations have little rooms inside my heart. I can find Orion now, no problem, and since Orion is always tickling Castor's foot, I can always find Gemini. Gemini has a special place in my heart, and two of my tattoos are little dotted Orion and Gemini with Castor and Pollux picked out. I love the thought of The Hunter playing with the Twins. I find it comforting.
I love living in a city that values being able to see stars so highly we have all kinds of rules about night lighting -we are an official Dark Sky City. No matter where you are, the stars are twinkling at you, reminding you to look up and gaze in wonder at something so much bigger than yourself.
It is the one place it is easy for me to connect with God, also something much bigger than myself. Under the quiet sky, trees rustling, planes and satellites and meteors causing excitement in the foreground of the placid indigo sky, my breathing (usually tight and shallow) eases slow and deep, and all the petty annoyances of my daytime life seem to ebb away.
Different constellations have little rooms inside my heart. I can find Orion now, no problem, and since Orion is always tickling Castor's foot, I can always find Gemini. Gemini has a special place in my heart, and two of my tattoos are little dotted Orion and Gemini with Castor and Pollux picked out. I love the thought of The Hunter playing with the Twins. I find it comforting.
I love living in a city that values being able to see stars so highly we have all kinds of rules about night lighting -we are an official Dark Sky City. No matter where you are, the stars are twinkling at you, reminding you to look up and gaze in wonder at something so much bigger than yourself.
It is the one place it is easy for me to connect with God, also something much bigger than myself. Under the quiet sky, trees rustling, planes and satellites and meteors causing excitement in the foreground of the placid indigo sky, my breathing (usually tight and shallow) eases slow and deep, and all the petty annoyances of my daytime life seem to ebb away.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Death is a Good Joke
In the same week a dear friend had a baby, I found out that a couple I am remotely acquainted with are having twin boys and another dear dear friend's father passed away. (For the record, in that same week, I got unwelcome news from my asthma doc, closed a big gift for my university, had a few difficult work issues crop up, had a major car repair and learned a lot about football.) So, I got a big bucketful of LIFE this past week.
I was so stoked to see the new pics of the new baby -she is so tiny and perfect and beautiful. It was just joy and happiness for her family.
My friend Tracy and I had just been discussing that Ann had been out of contact for longer than usual when we received an email that she had spent the past week in her hometown with her dying father, who passed away on Friday. Neither of us can go to the funeral, which is in Illinois, and so we are trying to be supportive remotely.
Grief is normal and works itself out in odd ways, and takes longer than you think. She asked how long it took me to get over my mom dying and I was honest... you never actually "get over" someone you really love dying. You just get better at managing the pain and remembering that you are still alive and have things to take care of. But you will always miss them and have a bit of a hole in your heart.
My sister in law told me that when my mom and brother died, because she had gone through it with her own dad when she was only 21. And she was right. It's good advice, so you don't feel weird about missing people who have been gone for 14 years... or one year... or one week.
Elizabeth Bishop said, "The art of losing isn't hard to master..." and I think in a way she is right. As we move through life, we learn to hold everything lightly -people, places, things, expections, hopes, dreams, goals. There will be a point, much sooner than you think, when you will have to let go of every single thing you love on this earth, if not before you die, well, certainly at death.
As part of our eternal life, we will be healed and our relationships will be healed and everyone we love restored to us. It is a soothing thought. And true that we are eternal beings. I know my mom is actually alive. My brothers, my grandparents, my cousin, my friends -all actually still alive.
As Hafiz says, Death is a good joke -too bad it isn't true.
I was so stoked to see the new pics of the new baby -she is so tiny and perfect and beautiful. It was just joy and happiness for her family.
My friend Tracy and I had just been discussing that Ann had been out of contact for longer than usual when we received an email that she had spent the past week in her hometown with her dying father, who passed away on Friday. Neither of us can go to the funeral, which is in Illinois, and so we are trying to be supportive remotely.
Grief is normal and works itself out in odd ways, and takes longer than you think. She asked how long it took me to get over my mom dying and I was honest... you never actually "get over" someone you really love dying. You just get better at managing the pain and remembering that you are still alive and have things to take care of. But you will always miss them and have a bit of a hole in your heart.
My sister in law told me that when my mom and brother died, because she had gone through it with her own dad when she was only 21. And she was right. It's good advice, so you don't feel weird about missing people who have been gone for 14 years... or one year... or one week.
Elizabeth Bishop said, "The art of losing isn't hard to master..." and I think in a way she is right. As we move through life, we learn to hold everything lightly -people, places, things, expections, hopes, dreams, goals. There will be a point, much sooner than you think, when you will have to let go of every single thing you love on this earth, if not before you die, well, certainly at death.
As part of our eternal life, we will be healed and our relationships will be healed and everyone we love restored to us. It is a soothing thought. And true that we are eternal beings. I know my mom is actually alive. My brothers, my grandparents, my cousin, my friends -all actually still alive.
As Hafiz says, Death is a good joke -too bad it isn't true.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Prepping for Jail
I'm part of our parish jail ministry and I'm on for next week. Since I will be gone until right before I'm supposed to show up, I decide to prep the materials today.
Next week is the Solemnity of Christ the King, when we take a bit of time to celebrate and explore the meaning of Christ being King.
The Gospel reading is from John about the exchange between Pilate and Jesus right before Jesus is executed. (John18: 33-37) ... Jesus answered, "You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
Whenever I wonder why God chose to come down to earth, suffer everything it means to be human, and then get abandoned by His friends and THEN die an excruciating death by the state, I am reminded: He came to testify to the truth.
And look what it got Him, in purely human terms: abandonment, torture, humiliation, death.
One thing He said, among many, many things, was that the truth would set us free. If the crucifixion were the end of the story, that's a blatant lie. Up to that point, all the truth brought Jesus and His followers was a bucket full of pain. I'm so glad He resurrected and showed us by His rising that the Truth really does triumph over the slavery of evil and lies and despair.
There is a song by Avalon called "Testify to Love" that can become a bit of an earworm, but I do so love the lyrics: For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love, I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough. With every breath I take, I will give thanks to God above. For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love.
I think this is why this jail ministry is so important to me. When things are at their darkest, we all need reminding that we are more than our worst mistakes, that we are loved beyond all reason by a God who created us to embrace truth and love. If any of us are ever to become the people God created us to be, we need to know that we are LOVED, simply because we exist, by a God who died for us.
I have been reminded of that when I desperately needed it. The least I can do is pass along the message.
Next week is the Solemnity of Christ the King, when we take a bit of time to celebrate and explore the meaning of Christ being King.
The Gospel reading is from John about the exchange between Pilate and Jesus right before Jesus is executed. (John18: 33-37) ... Jesus answered, "You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
Whenever I wonder why God chose to come down to earth, suffer everything it means to be human, and then get abandoned by His friends and THEN die an excruciating death by the state, I am reminded: He came to testify to the truth.
And look what it got Him, in purely human terms: abandonment, torture, humiliation, death.
One thing He said, among many, many things, was that the truth would set us free. If the crucifixion were the end of the story, that's a blatant lie. Up to that point, all the truth brought Jesus and His followers was a bucket full of pain. I'm so glad He resurrected and showed us by His rising that the Truth really does triumph over the slavery of evil and lies and despair.
There is a song by Avalon called "Testify to Love" that can become a bit of an earworm, but I do so love the lyrics: For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love, I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough. With every breath I take, I will give thanks to God above. For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love.
I think this is why this jail ministry is so important to me. When things are at their darkest, we all need reminding that we are more than our worst mistakes, that we are loved beyond all reason by a God who created us to embrace truth and love. If any of us are ever to become the people God created us to be, we need to know that we are LOVED, simply because we exist, by a God who died for us.
I have been reminded of that when I desperately needed it. The least I can do is pass along the message.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Sigh
My brother and sister in law's divorce has been on my mind. It just feels so unreal that people who have been together for 20 years can simply be done with each other.
They certainly aren't the first people I love to go through a divorce... It just seems that it happened so fast. Six months from announcement to finalization. Deciding on who gets what and how parenting will be handled and all the million surgical cuts that are made to separate a family, all accomplished in six months.
I do not know how people recover from this. I know that they do, mostly.
I have only seen a couple of marriages I would want to emulate. Considering that most of the people I know are married, that is a poor statistic. But the marriages I admire are the ones where each spouse's love for the other is so big that love spills out onto everyone around them - their kids, friends, coworkers. Everyone. They speak respectfully to each other and about each other. They are thoughtful and kind to each other. They see themselves as on the same team.
I really do wish I saw more of that sort of behavior among married couples. Maybe that's why the divorce rate is so high.
Personally, I'm waiting for that kind of relationship to get married in the first place.
They certainly aren't the first people I love to go through a divorce... It just seems that it happened so fast. Six months from announcement to finalization. Deciding on who gets what and how parenting will be handled and all the million surgical cuts that are made to separate a family, all accomplished in six months.
I do not know how people recover from this. I know that they do, mostly.
I have only seen a couple of marriages I would want to emulate. Considering that most of the people I know are married, that is a poor statistic. But the marriages I admire are the ones where each spouse's love for the other is so big that love spills out onto everyone around them - their kids, friends, coworkers. Everyone. They speak respectfully to each other and about each other. They are thoughtful and kind to each other. They see themselves as on the same team.
I really do wish I saw more of that sort of behavior among married couples. Maybe that's why the divorce rate is so high.
Personally, I'm waiting for that kind of relationship to get married in the first place.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Faith and Truth
As I see the clouds parting, I spent some time yesterday discussing Truth with a friend. When I get all blue, I tend to forget a few basic things, and think I've spent all this time and energy and have gotten nowhere when I could have taken that same period of time and investment of resources and explored all the varieties of chocolate available in the world.
There are times I feel that Nothing Significant Has Changed.
It has been over two years since I wrote my own personal manifesto, and then almost two years since I made the actual commitment to myself to learn how to take loving care of myself. This past year has been pretty tough. Life got turned on its head at least 3 times.
The blessing in all that pain was that Truth floated to the surface, and I realized part of my commitment to learning how to love myself was about Seizing the Truth (hence the name of this newer blog.)
There is a sort of grief that comes from embracing Truth -it means that you have to acknowledge that some of the dreams you had simply won't come true, that not every choice is yours to make, that your life will in fact look much, much different than you ever imagined.
What makes Truth at all palatable for me is Faith. Sometimes (like last night) God will put someone in front of me who will remind me that Faith has an active role to play in my life. It isn't just for those rock-solid times when no matter how bad things look, you still know in your bones that there is a Plan and a Purpose and you are totally okay with not getting a floodlight into the future.
Faith is also for the times when you are confused and distressed and have no energy left for the fight. Faith is also for those desert places when God seems very far away and darkness beckons seductively because all you want is to feel anything but sad, even just for a few minutes, even if that feeling can only be pain or anger or simple numbness. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)
You can't really have Faith without Hope, because without Hope, the darkness will take over, because sometimes even the memory of sunshine is erased, or develops a weird dreamlike quality. Hope reminds you to have Faith. Faith exposes and helps you survive the Truth, and, as Jesus says, the Truth sets you free.
In exactly one month, I will be celebrating an anniversary of sorts, a milestone personally significant to me. That alone is a quiet reminder that there has been a sea change.
Thank you, dear Lord, thank you.
There are times I feel that Nothing Significant Has Changed.
It has been over two years since I wrote my own personal manifesto, and then almost two years since I made the actual commitment to myself to learn how to take loving care of myself. This past year has been pretty tough. Life got turned on its head at least 3 times.
The blessing in all that pain was that Truth floated to the surface, and I realized part of my commitment to learning how to love myself was about Seizing the Truth (hence the name of this newer blog.)
There is a sort of grief that comes from embracing Truth -it means that you have to acknowledge that some of the dreams you had simply won't come true, that not every choice is yours to make, that your life will in fact look much, much different than you ever imagined.
What makes Truth at all palatable for me is Faith. Sometimes (like last night) God will put someone in front of me who will remind me that Faith has an active role to play in my life. It isn't just for those rock-solid times when no matter how bad things look, you still know in your bones that there is a Plan and a Purpose and you are totally okay with not getting a floodlight into the future.
Faith is also for the times when you are confused and distressed and have no energy left for the fight. Faith is also for those desert places when God seems very far away and darkness beckons seductively because all you want is to feel anything but sad, even just for a few minutes, even if that feeling can only be pain or anger or simple numbness. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)
You can't really have Faith without Hope, because without Hope, the darkness will take over, because sometimes even the memory of sunshine is erased, or develops a weird dreamlike quality. Hope reminds you to have Faith. Faith exposes and helps you survive the Truth, and, as Jesus says, the Truth sets you free.
In exactly one month, I will be celebrating an anniversary of sorts, a milestone personally significant to me. That alone is a quiet reminder that there has been a sea change.
Thank you, dear Lord, thank you.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
I almost said, "Suck it!"
Let me set the scene:
I got up earlyish, worked out in the hotel gym (not a hard-hitting workout as I'm meeting my trainer tonight, but quite respectable) and after downing some fake eggs at the free hotel buffet, I realized I needed real coffee and headed to Panera down the street.
Panera is a wealth of temptation, and I succombed to a truly delicious chocolate croissant. Quite justifiable, along with a small 20 oz coffee.
As I sat there reading Ann Landers and taking a quiet moment to savor real Costa Rican coffee, I noticed a man a few tables down looking at me. When I looked at him, he looked away. This went on for a while and finally I called over, "I'm sorry, do you know me?" He shook his head, said, "Sorry!" and looked away.
I knew it wasn't over, but decided to stick around and see what this was about. Besides, free refills on coffee. I wasn't rushing anywhere. He was drinking something and reading a paper. He looked like he lives in a gym.
As he walked by me to leave, I could see him hesitate a moment, and I said to God, okay, please be here with me on this one, and the man turned to me and said, "Do you eat those all the time? They are really bad for you."
Okay, it's one of THEM.
I said, "Why? Did you spit on it?"
He cracked a smile and again hesitated and then said, "You are really pretty, you know. You could be so hot if you lost some weight."
Apparently, God really did stick with me because instead of screeching, "SUCK IT!!" and scratching out his eyeballs and filling his skull with explosives, I smiled and said, "Would you like to sit down?"
I could tell he wanted to say no, but he for some reason, he DID sit down, and I said, "Hi, I"m Amy" and he replied, "Hi, I'm Rob."
I took a deep breath and asked, in my kindest I'm-not-going-to-scratch-your-eyeballs-out-and-fill-your-skull-with-explosives voice, "SO, why did you say that to me? You don't even know me."
He looked terrorstricken for a moment then said, really slowly, "My mom died of diabetes. It's just that being healthy is really important and I believe people ought to take care of themselves. Sometimes I think people don't even try, and it just gets under my skin. I was rude. I shouldn't have said anything." and then he poured out his story, which is too long to relay here. Apparently, he needed an ear. And he is a computer programmer who does personal training on the side. He has two sisters who are overweight and a brother who sits around playing video games and smoking weed.
Cutting to the chase: Although that wasn't EXACTLY an apology, I said, "I forgive you. But just as I could make judgements about you being an arrogant asshole gym rat, you made a judgment about me. For all you know, I"m about to go to my mom's funeral and was just taking a break from the grief. Or back from visiting my quadraplegic brother at the veteran's hospital" He looked horrified, so I quickly informed him neither scenerio was true in this case, but it COULD have been.
He was still sitting there, so I said, "The thing is, I spent the last couple years trying to be really healthy. I lost a lot of weight and I actually AM really healthy. You might not know that just to look at me drinking coffee and eating chocolate, and that's okay."
Rob said, "That's awesome, stay on track! And eat whatever you want to!"
And I laughed and said, "You don't need to give me permission -I give my own self permission."
He had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed and said, "I think it is great what you've done."
I took a deep breath and said, "The thing is, if you really CARE, you get to know people and encourage them and help them make good decisions. Two years ago, that opening statement you made would have sent me down a spiral of me thinking I'm not living up to some stranger's idea of what I ought to look like. It doesn't do any good and just creates more ugliness and fear in the world. You seem like a basically nice guy. Why create more sadness? Isn't there enough already just from what life does to you?"
Then I shared a little bit more, "I've dealt with eating disorders and self-loathing all my life and was pretty unhealthy for a long time. I have a bunch of brothers who never, ever bugged me about my weight, and did what they could to encourage me anyway. And they are all kinds of athletic and run marathons and crazy stuff like that. When I decided to do this for myself, they were on it like white on rice to help me find the right way for me. BUT, until I decided to love my own self enough to do this for me, nothing they said would flip that switch. If they had added their critical voices to ones already in my head, it would have been a much harder thing to do.
"Loving someone through whatever they are going through, watching them hurt themselves through their decisions, and still loving them and being there for them is the hardest thing in the world, but that's what love does. Love means being there whether you approve or not, whether you agree or not, and whether you like it or not. It doesn't mean allowing their crazy to take over your life, or rescuing anyone it means just loving them so that they know that they are lovable and worth knowing, even when by anyone else's standards, they aren't."
By this point, we both had tears in our eyes. Two complete strangers who will never see each other again, and having an unforgettable moment.
I'm so glad I didn't just tell him to suck it.
I got up earlyish, worked out in the hotel gym (not a hard-hitting workout as I'm meeting my trainer tonight, but quite respectable) and after downing some fake eggs at the free hotel buffet, I realized I needed real coffee and headed to Panera down the street.
Panera is a wealth of temptation, and I succombed to a truly delicious chocolate croissant. Quite justifiable, along with a small 20 oz coffee.
As I sat there reading Ann Landers and taking a quiet moment to savor real Costa Rican coffee, I noticed a man a few tables down looking at me. When I looked at him, he looked away. This went on for a while and finally I called over, "I'm sorry, do you know me?" He shook his head, said, "Sorry!" and looked away.
I knew it wasn't over, but decided to stick around and see what this was about. Besides, free refills on coffee. I wasn't rushing anywhere. He was drinking something and reading a paper. He looked like he lives in a gym.
As he walked by me to leave, I could see him hesitate a moment, and I said to God, okay, please be here with me on this one, and the man turned to me and said, "Do you eat those all the time? They are really bad for you."
Okay, it's one of THEM.
I said, "Why? Did you spit on it?"
He cracked a smile and again hesitated and then said, "You are really pretty, you know. You could be so hot if you lost some weight."
Apparently, God really did stick with me because instead of screeching, "SUCK IT!!" and scratching out his eyeballs and filling his skull with explosives, I smiled and said, "Would you like to sit down?"
I could tell he wanted to say no, but he for some reason, he DID sit down, and I said, "Hi, I"m Amy" and he replied, "Hi, I'm Rob."
I took a deep breath and asked, in my kindest I'm-not-going-to-scratch-your-eyeballs-out-and-fill-your-skull-with-explosives voice, "SO, why did you say that to me? You don't even know me."
He looked terrorstricken for a moment then said, really slowly, "My mom died of diabetes. It's just that being healthy is really important and I believe people ought to take care of themselves. Sometimes I think people don't even try, and it just gets under my skin. I was rude. I shouldn't have said anything." and then he poured out his story, which is too long to relay here. Apparently, he needed an ear. And he is a computer programmer who does personal training on the side. He has two sisters who are overweight and a brother who sits around playing video games and smoking weed.
Cutting to the chase: Although that wasn't EXACTLY an apology, I said, "I forgive you. But just as I could make judgements about you being an arrogant asshole gym rat, you made a judgment about me. For all you know, I"m about to go to my mom's funeral and was just taking a break from the grief. Or back from visiting my quadraplegic brother at the veteran's hospital" He looked horrified, so I quickly informed him neither scenerio was true in this case, but it COULD have been.
He was still sitting there, so I said, "The thing is, I spent the last couple years trying to be really healthy. I lost a lot of weight and I actually AM really healthy. You might not know that just to look at me drinking coffee and eating chocolate, and that's okay."
Rob said, "That's awesome, stay on track! And eat whatever you want to!"
And I laughed and said, "You don't need to give me permission -I give my own self permission."
He had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed and said, "I think it is great what you've done."
I took a deep breath and said, "The thing is, if you really CARE, you get to know people and encourage them and help them make good decisions. Two years ago, that opening statement you made would have sent me down a spiral of me thinking I'm not living up to some stranger's idea of what I ought to look like. It doesn't do any good and just creates more ugliness and fear in the world. You seem like a basically nice guy. Why create more sadness? Isn't there enough already just from what life does to you?"
Then I shared a little bit more, "I've dealt with eating disorders and self-loathing all my life and was pretty unhealthy for a long time. I have a bunch of brothers who never, ever bugged me about my weight, and did what they could to encourage me anyway. And they are all kinds of athletic and run marathons and crazy stuff like that. When I decided to do this for myself, they were on it like white on rice to help me find the right way for me. BUT, until I decided to love my own self enough to do this for me, nothing they said would flip that switch. If they had added their critical voices to ones already in my head, it would have been a much harder thing to do.
"Loving someone through whatever they are going through, watching them hurt themselves through their decisions, and still loving them and being there for them is the hardest thing in the world, but that's what love does. Love means being there whether you approve or not, whether you agree or not, and whether you like it or not. It doesn't mean allowing their crazy to take over your life, or rescuing anyone it means just loving them so that they know that they are lovable and worth knowing, even when by anyone else's standards, they aren't."
By this point, we both had tears in our eyes. Two complete strangers who will never see each other again, and having an unforgettable moment.
I'm so glad I didn't just tell him to suck it.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
My Niece Kat
My niece is awesome. Now, I know I'm biased because she is also my Godchild, but seriously, I wish I was half as together at her age (18) as she is.
This is isn't even her birthday or feast day or anything. I'm just overwhelmed at what a talented and beautiful and Christ-centered young woman she has become.
When I was a freshman in college, I was pretty much a hot wet mess. I had skipped my senior year of high school and went from a fairly sheltered existence right into the exposed air of a large state university. And promptly fell on my butt. I did not have a single sensible thought in my head for probably 2 years.
To be fair, my brothers tried to help guide me, but I was utterly resistant. I suspect it was only prayer that kept me from doing any really permanent damage (other than the head injury, but that's another story entirely!)
Everyone makes mistakes at college, and I'm certain Kat will have (and probably has had!) her fair share. It is a time of adventure and risk-taking, after all.
Still her love for God shines through her very self, and as long as she continues to keep Christ as her guide, I cannot worry about her. She is generally quite sensible as well, so no matter the circumstances in which she finds herself, she will be fine.
And if not, well, she has a Valkyrie for an aunt.
This is isn't even her birthday or feast day or anything. I'm just overwhelmed at what a talented and beautiful and Christ-centered young woman she has become.
When I was a freshman in college, I was pretty much a hot wet mess. I had skipped my senior year of high school and went from a fairly sheltered existence right into the exposed air of a large state university. And promptly fell on my butt. I did not have a single sensible thought in my head for probably 2 years.
To be fair, my brothers tried to help guide me, but I was utterly resistant. I suspect it was only prayer that kept me from doing any really permanent damage (other than the head injury, but that's another story entirely!)
Everyone makes mistakes at college, and I'm certain Kat will have (and probably has had!) her fair share. It is a time of adventure and risk-taking, after all.
Still her love for God shines through her very self, and as long as she continues to keep Christ as her guide, I cannot worry about her. She is generally quite sensible as well, so no matter the circumstances in which she finds herself, she will be fine.
And if not, well, she has a Valkyrie for an aunt.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Peace Makes It Light
I'm declaring a truce on my battle with asthma. My emotional response to it has simply worn me out.
I've spent literally YEARS resenting the fact I have asthma. Every time I feel my chest start to tighten I feel a wave of frustration and sometimes anger. It's just not fair, I cried to myself as I saw other people running blithely through dirty air, completely unaffected.
Of course, getting all emotional about it just makes it worse. Panic especially guarantees I'll be sucking on my inhaler and waiting for death.
On Friday I had a doctor appointment that literally left me in tears. The doctor was super sweet as he explained to me that when the air is bad up here, I just need to exercise inside. Between the elevation and the air quality, my exercise-induced asthma will flare and my poor benighted lungs are simply being pushed beyond their limits. (He then pointed out I gained 6 pounds since my last visit 3 months ago, and that extra weight does not help asthma. He did not know my priorities had to shift a bit the last six months, so he was just doing his duty as my doctor to point that out.)
The main reason to live in Flagstaff is to be outside on the beautiful mountains and in the canyons. I could feel my lungs tighten as he kindly relayed that forest service control burns and all these darn popular wood-burning stoves are not good for lungs sensitized to pollution.
I had been hoping he would have some sage advice that would lead to a cure and that someday I would not be struggling with this. He did say that asthma can eventually go away, but stressing my lungs won't help that happen. Take the meds properly, warm up properly, and be aware of air quality. He is very pro-exercise so he never said Stop if the air quality is bad, just shift it inside.
After a private meltdown at home and a couple whiny texts to Jesse-the-Trainer, I settled into a fine sulk that I let color my entire weekend.
This morning I met two friends to work out at the gym. Had a great workout, took a long time to warm up, let the lungs tense up and then ease (which is what is supposed to happen with exercise-induced asthma) and slammed the rest of the workout. When I left the gym, I felt great, in sharp constrast to the last few times I ran outside. When I finished those runs, I felt defeated and weak and frustrated and angry. And painfully out of breath.
I decided this morning that I will look at the asthma as an extra handweight. It is not a roadblock to my progress or happiness. Asthma is not even a speed bump. It is simply present. It is not Me. It is just an extra handweight - something I'm aware of and have to take notice of, but not something to stop me. Being upset about it makes it 100 pounds. Peace makes it light.
My friend Jayne gave me a pep talk this morning after working out. She said that even though my weight is stable, my shape is changing, and she sees it every time we are together. When she got to the gym this morning, I was actually running on the treadmill, and she pointed out how impossible that seemed a year ago.
A year ago, six months ago, just last Friday, asthma was 100 pounds of anger.
I vow to remember, peace makes it light.
I've spent literally YEARS resenting the fact I have asthma. Every time I feel my chest start to tighten I feel a wave of frustration and sometimes anger. It's just not fair, I cried to myself as I saw other people running blithely through dirty air, completely unaffected.
Of course, getting all emotional about it just makes it worse. Panic especially guarantees I'll be sucking on my inhaler and waiting for death.
On Friday I had a doctor appointment that literally left me in tears. The doctor was super sweet as he explained to me that when the air is bad up here, I just need to exercise inside. Between the elevation and the air quality, my exercise-induced asthma will flare and my poor benighted lungs are simply being pushed beyond their limits. (He then pointed out I gained 6 pounds since my last visit 3 months ago, and that extra weight does not help asthma. He did not know my priorities had to shift a bit the last six months, so he was just doing his duty as my doctor to point that out.)
The main reason to live in Flagstaff is to be outside on the beautiful mountains and in the canyons. I could feel my lungs tighten as he kindly relayed that forest service control burns and all these darn popular wood-burning stoves are not good for lungs sensitized to pollution.
I had been hoping he would have some sage advice that would lead to a cure and that someday I would not be struggling with this. He did say that asthma can eventually go away, but stressing my lungs won't help that happen. Take the meds properly, warm up properly, and be aware of air quality. He is very pro-exercise so he never said Stop if the air quality is bad, just shift it inside.
After a private meltdown at home and a couple whiny texts to Jesse-the-Trainer, I settled into a fine sulk that I let color my entire weekend.
This morning I met two friends to work out at the gym. Had a great workout, took a long time to warm up, let the lungs tense up and then ease (which is what is supposed to happen with exercise-induced asthma) and slammed the rest of the workout. When I left the gym, I felt great, in sharp constrast to the last few times I ran outside. When I finished those runs, I felt defeated and weak and frustrated and angry. And painfully out of breath.
I decided this morning that I will look at the asthma as an extra handweight. It is not a roadblock to my progress or happiness. Asthma is not even a speed bump. It is simply present. It is not Me. It is just an extra handweight - something I'm aware of and have to take notice of, but not something to stop me. Being upset about it makes it 100 pounds. Peace makes it light.
My friend Jayne gave me a pep talk this morning after working out. She said that even though my weight is stable, my shape is changing, and she sees it every time we are together. When she got to the gym this morning, I was actually running on the treadmill, and she pointed out how impossible that seemed a year ago.
A year ago, six months ago, just last Friday, asthma was 100 pounds of anger.
I vow to remember, peace makes it light.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Cold Butt, Warm Heart
I am not, on any level, a garage sale person. I do not go to them. I do not have them. I am perfectly content hauling stuff to St. Vincent de Paul or Goodwill when my need for it changes.
Then Superstorm Sandy struck and I decided that what I needed to do to help was: Have A Garage Sale and donate the proceeds to disaster relief.
I consulted the experts, my friends Angele and Toni, who gave me sage advice on how to have a successful garage sale, mostly related to good advertising and not being married to a particular pricepoint for anything.
As word got around, people were immensely helpful -donating items, stopping by to take a look. My friend Michelle came by the night before to help set up. One colleague from work, Renee, offered to let us use her pop-up tent and my friend Annette volunteered to spend the day helping me. Another friend came by the day before to help with the heavy lifting.
Weather predictions were dire. Once the date had been set, suddenly, it was supposed to snow. Being blessed AND lucky, I knew that the outcome was purely in God's hands, not mine. Still, I knew it my heart it wasn't going to snow.
The day before, rain and sleet poured down. I stoically painted signs and reassured callers that, snow or shine, the sale was going forward.
The streets were perfectly fine and the skies clear by 5am when I wandered around putting the signs up. At 7AM, shoppers started popping by.
Thank GOD for Annette, who froze her own behind off along side me helping staff the sale. The warmest it got while we were out was 25 degrees F. We started to trade time inside just to not freeze to death! Roxy was too cold outside and too alone inside, so she was rather discombobulated most of the day.
It never ceases to amaze me what sells at a garage sale. Stuff I would have thrown out went fast, while a really lovely old dresser never moved.
By 1pm, almost $400 was in hand. We took down the signs and headed to Wildflower Bread Co for soup and anything hot to drink. I really don't think I actually got warm until almost evening.
Still, it was sweet that so many of my coworkers stopped by, giving a few dollars extra each time to help out the folks impacted by the storm. I met quite a few of my neighbors and fielded calls from people asking about the snowblower and bicycle.
This really reminded me how awesome so many of the people in this town are and how blessed I am by my friends.
Then Superstorm Sandy struck and I decided that what I needed to do to help was: Have A Garage Sale and donate the proceeds to disaster relief.
I consulted the experts, my friends Angele and Toni, who gave me sage advice on how to have a successful garage sale, mostly related to good advertising and not being married to a particular pricepoint for anything.
As word got around, people were immensely helpful -donating items, stopping by to take a look. My friend Michelle came by the night before to help set up. One colleague from work, Renee, offered to let us use her pop-up tent and my friend Annette volunteered to spend the day helping me. Another friend came by the day before to help with the heavy lifting.
Weather predictions were dire. Once the date had been set, suddenly, it was supposed to snow. Being blessed AND lucky, I knew that the outcome was purely in God's hands, not mine. Still, I knew it my heart it wasn't going to snow.
The day before, rain and sleet poured down. I stoically painted signs and reassured callers that, snow or shine, the sale was going forward.
The streets were perfectly fine and the skies clear by 5am when I wandered around putting the signs up. At 7AM, shoppers started popping by.
Thank GOD for Annette, who froze her own behind off along side me helping staff the sale. The warmest it got while we were out was 25 degrees F. We started to trade time inside just to not freeze to death! Roxy was too cold outside and too alone inside, so she was rather discombobulated most of the day.
It never ceases to amaze me what sells at a garage sale. Stuff I would have thrown out went fast, while a really lovely old dresser never moved.
By 1pm, almost $400 was in hand. We took down the signs and headed to Wildflower Bread Co for soup and anything hot to drink. I really don't think I actually got warm until almost evening.
Still, it was sweet that so many of my coworkers stopped by, giving a few dollars extra each time to help out the folks impacted by the storm. I met quite a few of my neighbors and fielded calls from people asking about the snowblower and bicycle.
This really reminded me how awesome so many of the people in this town are and how blessed I am by my friends.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Why?
This morning as my ADHD brain wandered about freely before the adderall kicked in, I realized I know the word, "why" in 7 languages.
It amused me greatly when I realized I can ask WHY??? in so many different ways, and NEVER UNDERSTAND THE ANSWER!
por qué warum pourqoui почему perché bakit poukisa dlaczego
Spanish, German, French, Russian, Italian, Tagalog, Haitian Creole and Polish
Wait -that's 8 -well, I told you I was ADHD!
I pick up bits and pieces of languages and sometimes some words stick. I'm not really fluent in any language except English.
My French accent is atrocious, so even though I know a bit from taking it in high school, I never ever speak it. It comes in handy reading stuff when I'm in Canada, though. I lump along in Russian okay, at least enough to make it to the American Embassy if I am ever in trouble. A wee bit of Tagalog that my dear friend Hope taught me when we were roommates. I remember "poukisa" from a Law and Order episode where an interrogator said, "Poukisa my a$$" and I had to look it up and it has been occupying a part of my brain that might otherwise have found the cure for cancer. German and Polish (swear words and insults mostly) from having the relatives I have.
I digress. So, I can ask WHY and not understand the answers because I don't actually know the language.
I think it is all metaphorical for when I shake my fist at the Heavens and begin demanding answers from God, mostly relating to WHY??? WHY???
WHY are there kids eating freakin mud in this world when others have so much food they waste it?
WHY do wonderful, good, faithful people develop horrible illnesses like brain cancer and evil people seem to be healthy and prosperous?
WHY did God make it so we can't see ALL the colors?
and many more WHYs than answers I understand.
Sometimes, I think God and I speak completely different languages.
It amused me greatly when I realized I can ask WHY??? in so many different ways, and NEVER UNDERSTAND THE ANSWER!
por qué warum pourqoui почему perché bakit poukisa dlaczego
Spanish, German, French, Russian, Italian, Tagalog, Haitian Creole and Polish
Wait -that's 8 -well, I told you I was ADHD!
I pick up bits and pieces of languages and sometimes some words stick. I'm not really fluent in any language except English.
My French accent is atrocious, so even though I know a bit from taking it in high school, I never ever speak it. It comes in handy reading stuff when I'm in Canada, though. I lump along in Russian okay, at least enough to make it to the American Embassy if I am ever in trouble. A wee bit of Tagalog that my dear friend Hope taught me when we were roommates. I remember "poukisa" from a Law and Order episode where an interrogator said, "Poukisa my a$$" and I had to look it up and it has been occupying a part of my brain that might otherwise have found the cure for cancer. German and Polish (swear words and insults mostly) from having the relatives I have.
I digress. So, I can ask WHY and not understand the answers because I don't actually know the language.
I think it is all metaphorical for when I shake my fist at the Heavens and begin demanding answers from God, mostly relating to WHY??? WHY???
WHY are there kids eating freakin mud in this world when others have so much food they waste it?
WHY do wonderful, good, faithful people develop horrible illnesses like brain cancer and evil people seem to be healthy and prosperous?
WHY did God make it so we can't see ALL the colors?
and many more WHYs than answers I understand.
Sometimes, I think God and I speak completely different languages.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Not About the Election
I am blessed and lucky.
This past week, I collected three prizes. One was getting my story published, one was a Radio Flyer wagon I bought a raffle ticket for at the county fair and the third was a real true genuine iPad3 a vendor was raffling at a conference I attended recently.
I am blessed.
Blessed for SO MANY REASONS -my wonderful, supportive, amazing friends, having parents who valued education, having family who is there when push comes to shove, a comfortable life, a neurotic adorable dog, access to great health care of all kinds, people who believe in me when I forget to believe in myself, a job I love that I am really good at and that makes a big difference in the world and most especially a God and Savior who loves me beyond all reason.
I am lucky.
I have been genuinely surprised when I enter my name in some drawing and didn't win. I am lucky not just because I tend to win things like raffles and card games, but because in retrospect, so many many things could have turned out so, so differently and mere chance (and intervention of the angels that surround me!) seemed to have played a part. Small decisions that at the time seemed almost meaningless, that led me down an unexpected path to where I am today -geographically and spiritually and physically.
I met with a gentleman yesterday who came to Mesa, AZ during WWII to train with the Royal Air Force (he was English, needless to say.) He chose Mesa out of the other 5 training choices because he figured it was near to California and he might see some movie stars! He ended up building his life here and has become a great philanthropist. He pondered that that simple decision when he was 19 years old made all the difference in how his life played out.
I am blessed and lucky.
Usually, it is the small and simple daily decisions that determine the direction of our lives. Today, will I work out or sleep in? Will I let my mood determine how I treat people around me? Will I touch base with God's loving power or give into the relentless whisper of despair? Will I think of myself as Blessed and Lucky in a life led by God or at the mercy of faceless Fates?
Just a thought. This isn't about the election.
This past week, I collected three prizes. One was getting my story published, one was a Radio Flyer wagon I bought a raffle ticket for at the county fair and the third was a real true genuine iPad3 a vendor was raffling at a conference I attended recently.
I am blessed.
Blessed for SO MANY REASONS -my wonderful, supportive, amazing friends, having parents who valued education, having family who is there when push comes to shove, a comfortable life, a neurotic adorable dog, access to great health care of all kinds, people who believe in me when I forget to believe in myself, a job I love that I am really good at and that makes a big difference in the world and most especially a God and Savior who loves me beyond all reason.
I am lucky.
I have been genuinely surprised when I enter my name in some drawing and didn't win. I am lucky not just because I tend to win things like raffles and card games, but because in retrospect, so many many things could have turned out so, so differently and mere chance (and intervention of the angels that surround me!) seemed to have played a part. Small decisions that at the time seemed almost meaningless, that led me down an unexpected path to where I am today -geographically and spiritually and physically.
I met with a gentleman yesterday who came to Mesa, AZ during WWII to train with the Royal Air Force (he was English, needless to say.) He chose Mesa out of the other 5 training choices because he figured it was near to California and he might see some movie stars! He ended up building his life here and has become a great philanthropist. He pondered that that simple decision when he was 19 years old made all the difference in how his life played out.
I am blessed and lucky.
Usually, it is the small and simple daily decisions that determine the direction of our lives. Today, will I work out or sleep in? Will I let my mood determine how I treat people around me? Will I touch base with God's loving power or give into the relentless whisper of despair? Will I think of myself as Blessed and Lucky in a life led by God or at the mercy of faceless Fates?
Just a thought. This isn't about the election.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Remindering
In my head, I figured by the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I would be about 2 sizes smaller than I actually am. I am the exact same size I was back in February. Pretty much all of my weight loss happened 2011, and 2012 was spent maintaining ... really, it is a plateau.
I was a bit down about it until I reviewed the year as a whole, From Oct 1, 2011 to Oct 1, 2012 my life was turned upside-down at least three times. I became clinically depressed in late summer and needed treatment for that. This was one of those years where it felt like the house of cards just couldn't stay in place.
Despite everything, I did not gain weight, I kept exercising, I tried to keep my eyes on God and not on the muck I was wading through.
How did I do that? Imperfectly. Humanly. Surreally. By the Grace of God.
For everyone who is struggling to balance major life events and their own well-being and their love for God and His call for their lives, I just wanted to let you know that no one ever accomplishes something worth having without speed bumps and cracks in the veneer or with constant good cheer.
God loves us through it all, and the lessons we learn make us able to love like that, too.
I was a bit down about it until I reviewed the year as a whole, From Oct 1, 2011 to Oct 1, 2012 my life was turned upside-down at least three times. I became clinically depressed in late summer and needed treatment for that. This was one of those years where it felt like the house of cards just couldn't stay in place.
Despite everything, I did not gain weight, I kept exercising, I tried to keep my eyes on God and not on the muck I was wading through.
How did I do that? Imperfectly. Humanly. Surreally. By the Grace of God.
For everyone who is struggling to balance major life events and their own well-being and their love for God and His call for their lives, I just wanted to let you know that no one ever accomplishes something worth having without speed bumps and cracks in the veneer or with constant good cheer.
God loves us through it all, and the lessons we learn make us able to love like that, too.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Sugar High
Yesterday was my own personal holiday I call "Half Price Halloween Candy Day." I did not celebrate it in my usual way, but for once kept a white-knuckle grip on my office chair and did not set foot in any store that sells candy. I consider that a win! I am patently ignoring the amount I actually consumed due to generous co-workers and their scandalously full bowls of sweets!
I am having a heck of a time getting back into normal eating. I spent most of September living off of cookies, and much of October experimenting the limits my circulatory system has for refined sugar.
So, last night I was chatting with my Roxanne in bewilderment that all the usual tactics for getting back on track are simply not working.
So, we'd already covered that the more sugar one eats, the more one WANTS to eat. It can be an addictive substance. We'd covered that if I eat regular healthy food first, that cuts down on the ability to eat candy.
So, where is the downfall?
We narrowed it down to evenings. Evenings are when I am least likely to eat healthy and most likely to binge on sugar.
So, we went over my usual evening, from walking in the door, setting my stuff down, letting Roxy out, starting laundry, staring in the fridge, opening mail, remembering I started laundry and going back in and moving it along and then remembering I need to get my leftovers from lunch into the fridge and then noticing I only opened half the mail and then thinking, oh, wait, I need to eat, and then playing with Roxy and feeding her (because she is insistent I do so immediately) and then noticing I never hit the "run" switch on the washer and then noticing that all my workout clothes need to be washed, too and finally as I walk from room to room from half finished task to starting a new one, I give up the idea of a healthy meal and start in on whatever I don't have to think about.
When my ADHD meds wear off, somewhere around 6pm, usually, figuring out dinner just gets thrown into the mix.
It was like a light bulb went off over both our heads at the same time. This really wasn't about emotional eating, it is about a disrupted structure that needs to be reestablished.
As a person with off-the-chart ADHD, I know I need structure in order to get anything accomplished. Apparently, that "anything" includes eating properly. With the disruptions of the last two months, the established structure had to be changed, and nothing ever replaced it.
So, we went over some ideas and I feel confident I will be back on track soon!
I am having a heck of a time getting back into normal eating. I spent most of September living off of cookies, and much of October experimenting the limits my circulatory system has for refined sugar.
So, last night I was chatting with my Roxanne in bewilderment that all the usual tactics for getting back on track are simply not working.
So, we'd already covered that the more sugar one eats, the more one WANTS to eat. It can be an addictive substance. We'd covered that if I eat regular healthy food first, that cuts down on the ability to eat candy.
So, where is the downfall?
We narrowed it down to evenings. Evenings are when I am least likely to eat healthy and most likely to binge on sugar.
So, we went over my usual evening, from walking in the door, setting my stuff down, letting Roxy out, starting laundry, staring in the fridge, opening mail, remembering I started laundry and going back in and moving it along and then remembering I need to get my leftovers from lunch into the fridge and then noticing I only opened half the mail and then thinking, oh, wait, I need to eat, and then playing with Roxy and feeding her (because she is insistent I do so immediately) and then noticing I never hit the "run" switch on the washer and then noticing that all my workout clothes need to be washed, too and finally as I walk from room to room from half finished task to starting a new one, I give up the idea of a healthy meal and start in on whatever I don't have to think about.
When my ADHD meds wear off, somewhere around 6pm, usually, figuring out dinner just gets thrown into the mix.
It was like a light bulb went off over both our heads at the same time. This really wasn't about emotional eating, it is about a disrupted structure that needs to be reestablished.
As a person with off-the-chart ADHD, I know I need structure in order to get anything accomplished. Apparently, that "anything" includes eating properly. With the disruptions of the last two months, the established structure had to be changed, and nothing ever replaced it.
So, we went over some ideas and I feel confident I will be back on track soon!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
SO MANY IDEAS
I haven't published a blog post in a few days and I am BRIMMING with ideas:
How US Airways SOMEHOW managed to destroy my suitcase on a simple Portland-to-Flagstaff trip. My suitcase has been all around the world, like, twice (without me, of course!) and survived.
How today is All Saints Day, not just my personal holiday of Half Price Halloween Candy.
The various travel stories I collected this week, like discovering the Bettie Page Clothing store in Salt Lake City!
The fact I had a short story published and am excited all out of proportion to the event!
The Doll
OR that tonight is the last night of my running "class" and I am relieved and grateful and also will miss it.
All the various life changes the past couple months.
But, my heart is in Haiti right now. That is country that just can't seem to catch a freakin break! Natural disaster after natural disaster relentlessly pummels an already starving country (THE poorest country in the Western Hemisphere!)
So, I am now moved to action.
My first and most simple thing, is that I put a hot link to donate to World Vision Haiti disaster relief on this blog. If you are so moved, please donate.
I am holding a garage sale on Nov 10th, proceeds to go to Haiti disaster relief. I've already had some local people pledge items and assistance, which is a relief, because I haven't had a garage sale in like, 10 years and I kinda suck at this.
My third thing is the mostmost difficult but I think will be most internally-transforming at the same time. I love dessert. I really could eat dessert all the livelong day and wash it down with wine. Almost every time I go out to eat, I save room for dessert. So, my personal pledge for the next year is that every time I go out to eat and would normally buy dessert, I will eschew dessert and donate $5 to Haiti-related causes. People in Haiti are eating mud. I can give up cheesecake for one year.
You may hold me to this.
How US Airways SOMEHOW managed to destroy my suitcase on a simple Portland-to-Flagstaff trip. My suitcase has been all around the world, like, twice (without me, of course!) and survived.
How today is All Saints Day, not just my personal holiday of Half Price Halloween Candy.
The various travel stories I collected this week, like discovering the Bettie Page Clothing store in Salt Lake City!
The fact I had a short story published and am excited all out of proportion to the event!
The Doll
OR that tonight is the last night of my running "class" and I am relieved and grateful and also will miss it.
All the various life changes the past couple months.
But, my heart is in Haiti right now. That is country that just can't seem to catch a freakin break! Natural disaster after natural disaster relentlessly pummels an already starving country (THE poorest country in the Western Hemisphere!)
So, I am now moved to action.
My first and most simple thing, is that I put a hot link to donate to World Vision Haiti disaster relief on this blog. If you are so moved, please donate.
I am holding a garage sale on Nov 10th, proceeds to go to Haiti disaster relief. I've already had some local people pledge items and assistance, which is a relief, because I haven't had a garage sale in like, 10 years and I kinda suck at this.
My third thing is the mostmost difficult but I think will be most internally-transforming at the same time. I love dessert. I really could eat dessert all the livelong day and wash it down with wine. Almost every time I go out to eat, I save room for dessert. So, my personal pledge for the next year is that every time I go out to eat and would normally buy dessert, I will eschew dessert and donate $5 to Haiti-related causes. People in Haiti are eating mud. I can give up cheesecake for one year.
You may hold me to this.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Drink Beer, Talk About God
I won't be at a computer again for a few days. So here's an extra to tide you over.
This blog is dedicated to Jesse-the-Trainer
This evening as I sat at the bar and ate dinner, I got into a couple of text conversations. Usually I would talk to the people around me, but the woman on my right was lit before I got there, and the couple on my left were more into each other than the food. The bartender was fun, but then, he had a job to do so I had to entertain myself somehow.
My awesome trainer and I texted a bit (his wife and baby are out of town and when such things happen, he usually waits in a dark room, mournfully petting his dog, Daisy, until they return and the sun comes out again) and when I asked him what he was up to, he sent me a photo of some folks sitting around a table drinking beer -with the label "Church!" I forgot he has a Friday night small group gathering at his followers-of-Christ church. (Normally, I would say "Christian" but apparently that term has fallen into something that makes people cringe, including him, so in deference to delicate feelings, I shall use preferred terminology.)
I texted back: You are SO on your way to becoming Catholic!
There is a long and beloved history of Catholics and beer. And tattoos. (Dude loves tattoos and gets a new one for every major event, like: It's Monday Again!)
First of all, St. Augustine of Hippo, and MIGHTY man of God, is the patron saint of brewers. Yes, there is a patron saint of brewers, and a very strong manly one at that! He also ought to be the patron saint of People of the Second Chance, given his own history, except that POTSC aren't into the whole patron saint thing. Yet.
Loads of monasteries brew beer. They even pray over it as it is made. There is also an actual Blessing of Beer ritual!
As point of fact, the modern origins of a "toast" in someone's honor (holding up a glass and doing a shout-out) has its roots in the Eucharistic Liturgy where the priest lifts the chalice of wine to offer it to God. TOTALLY CATHOLIC, thank you!
Then there is St. Brigid's take on it:
I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.
I'd love the heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.
....
I'd sit with the men, the women and God
There by the lake of beer.
We'd be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.
There are loads of pics of our current Pope with a stein of good German beer in his hand. Every good fish fry at any parish has a keg tapped, not mention parish socials, special events and quilting bees.
Theology on Tap is a current permutation of the "drink beer and talk about God" tradition in Catholicism. Basically, it is a time to gather at a local bar, invite a smart theologian to show up for the discussion, talk about God and see if you can stump the theologian. (Actually, that's not really its purpose, but it is a fun thing to try to do.)
I'll chat about tattoos in a few days when I'm back at a computer.
Too bad Jesse-the-Trainer isn't Catholic. Yet.
This blog is dedicated to Jesse-the-Trainer
This evening as I sat at the bar and ate dinner, I got into a couple of text conversations. Usually I would talk to the people around me, but the woman on my right was lit before I got there, and the couple on my left were more into each other than the food. The bartender was fun, but then, he had a job to do so I had to entertain myself somehow.
My awesome trainer and I texted a bit (his wife and baby are out of town and when such things happen, he usually waits in a dark room, mournfully petting his dog, Daisy, until they return and the sun comes out again) and when I asked him what he was up to, he sent me a photo of some folks sitting around a table drinking beer -with the label "Church!" I forgot he has a Friday night small group gathering at his followers-of-Christ church. (Normally, I would say "Christian" but apparently that term has fallen into something that makes people cringe, including him, so in deference to delicate feelings, I shall use preferred terminology.)
I texted back: You are SO on your way to becoming Catholic!
There is a long and beloved history of Catholics and beer. And tattoos. (Dude loves tattoos and gets a new one for every major event, like: It's Monday Again!)
First of all, St. Augustine of Hippo, and MIGHTY man of God, is the patron saint of brewers. Yes, there is a patron saint of brewers, and a very strong manly one at that! He also ought to be the patron saint of People of the Second Chance, given his own history, except that POTSC aren't into the whole patron saint thing. Yet.
Loads of monasteries brew beer. They even pray over it as it is made. There is also an actual Blessing of Beer ritual!
As point of fact, the modern origins of a "toast" in someone's honor (holding up a glass and doing a shout-out) has its roots in the Eucharistic Liturgy where the priest lifts the chalice of wine to offer it to God. TOTALLY CATHOLIC, thank you!
Then there is St. Brigid's take on it:
I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.
I'd love the heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.
....
I'd sit with the men, the women and God
There by the lake of beer.
We'd be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.
There are loads of pics of our current Pope with a stein of good German beer in his hand. Every good fish fry at any parish has a keg tapped, not mention parish socials, special events and quilting bees.
Theology on Tap is a current permutation of the "drink beer and talk about God" tradition in Catholicism. Basically, it is a time to gather at a local bar, invite a smart theologian to show up for the discussion, talk about God and see if you can stump the theologian. (Actually, that's not really its purpose, but it is a fun thing to try to do.)
I'll chat about tattoos in a few days when I'm back at a computer.
Too bad Jesse-the-Trainer isn't Catholic. Yet.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Heading Out
I'm hitting the runway to travel for work to Salt Lake City and then Portland. I am in town about 18 hours on Saturday, and really, I arranged my travel that way purely because I wanted to be in town at least long enough to go to a bellydance workshop on Saturday afternoon.
Traveling and being healthy do not go hand-in-hand. I have to be intentional about eating healthy and getting some exercise. It is soooo easy to roll out of bed, grab fast food and head into a day full of meetings. In fact, eating fast food in the car is a very easy way to deal with the inconvenience of hunger as well as gain that extra weight that you've been wanting to!
I'm out of town long enough that that much time living unhealthily will actually have an effect on me when I return. In fact, this being my busy travel season, I'm out of town more than in town until Christmas. Imagine what three months of ignoring healthy living can do!
However, this is just part of how I live my life, and by thinking ahead and being intentional, I can STILL be healthy and energetic and active, no matter where I'm sleeping at night.
Years ago, a friend named Ben told me that being pro-life means being pro-my-own-life, too, and when I ask God for help with this, He will send it. Time after time, Ben was proven right.
I'm dashing this off between meetings and my flight out, so no amazing bible verse today.
I did however, see a really funny quote: I have no skeletons in my closet, but I do have a tiny box of souls in my underwear drawer.
;-)
Traveling and being healthy do not go hand-in-hand. I have to be intentional about eating healthy and getting some exercise. It is soooo easy to roll out of bed, grab fast food and head into a day full of meetings. In fact, eating fast food in the car is a very easy way to deal with the inconvenience of hunger as well as gain that extra weight that you've been wanting to!
I'm out of town long enough that that much time living unhealthily will actually have an effect on me when I return. In fact, this being my busy travel season, I'm out of town more than in town until Christmas. Imagine what three months of ignoring healthy living can do!
However, this is just part of how I live my life, and by thinking ahead and being intentional, I can STILL be healthy and energetic and active, no matter where I'm sleeping at night.
Years ago, a friend named Ben told me that being pro-life means being pro-my-own-life, too, and when I ask God for help with this, He will send it. Time after time, Ben was proven right.
I'm dashing this off between meetings and my flight out, so no amazing bible verse today.
I did however, see a really funny quote: I have no skeletons in my closet, but I do have a tiny box of souls in my underwear drawer.
;-)
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
the Fools and the Children
When I was in college, I managed to drop the corner of a bookcase we were moving on my foot, which left a lovely gash that subsequently became infected. I was too busy to coddle a mere foot, however, so spent a day walking around Chicago in ill-fitting shoes and aggravating the problem. When I finally went into the student health center for treatment, the nurse took one look and sighed, "The Lord protects the fools and the children!"
Thank God, because really, we have enough problems without adding being completely unprotected among them!
The other day, I nonchalantly mentioned to a friend that God is very protective of me. I was referring to the fact that when I visit Vegas and I'm all happy and centered, lots of chances to make big mistakes present themselves and I walk away easily. When I'm all off center and want to be BAD in a big way, suddenly there are no opportunities!
When I thought about that statement later, I kinda got all warm and fuzzy, because I really really like the thought that God really IS protective of me and places angels in all the necessary danger zones and I can take a deep breath and relax because He has it handled. I'm safe.
I love the thought that someone bigger than myself is looking out for me. I love that God cherishes me to the point He knows all my vulnerabilities and weak spots and failings, and rather than leaving me out in a field to die from my own dumbness or actively exploiting them to an evil end (As humans are known to do to each other!) He makes Himself a shield and assigns angels to the task as well.
Before every class almost, my dance teacher has us fling away all the negative energy and imagine a lovely veil floating around us that only lets positive, affirming energy in. I started doing that before I walk into the gym or to the track to run or really any other place I can feel my anxiety creeping up on me. Only I picture this warm flame of God's love and lots of happy guardian angels swirling around me and whispering love into my ears.
Today, I am praying the same thing for a young woman I love more than my life, that she feels all bubblewrapped in God's love and protection, and surrounded by happy guardian angels who will whisper love into her ears. We can do that, you know -ask God for something good and He will hear our every word.
Thank God, because really, we have enough problems without adding being completely unprotected among them!
The other day, I nonchalantly mentioned to a friend that God is very protective of me. I was referring to the fact that when I visit Vegas and I'm all happy and centered, lots of chances to make big mistakes present themselves and I walk away easily. When I'm all off center and want to be BAD in a big way, suddenly there are no opportunities!
When I thought about that statement later, I kinda got all warm and fuzzy, because I really really like the thought that God really IS protective of me and places angels in all the necessary danger zones and I can take a deep breath and relax because He has it handled. I'm safe.
I love the thought that someone bigger than myself is looking out for me. I love that God cherishes me to the point He knows all my vulnerabilities and weak spots and failings, and rather than leaving me out in a field to die from my own dumbness or actively exploiting them to an evil end (As humans are known to do to each other!) He makes Himself a shield and assigns angels to the task as well.
Before every class almost, my dance teacher has us fling away all the negative energy and imagine a lovely veil floating around us that only lets positive, affirming energy in. I started doing that before I walk into the gym or to the track to run or really any other place I can feel my anxiety creeping up on me. Only I picture this warm flame of God's love and lots of happy guardian angels swirling around me and whispering love into my ears.
Today, I am praying the same thing for a young woman I love more than my life, that she feels all bubblewrapped in God's love and protection, and surrounded by happy guardian angels who will whisper love into her ears. We can do that, you know -ask God for something good and He will hear our every word.
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