Seeing Takes Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

The weekend was one of the best ever.

Liquor is Quicker

The old saying:

Candy is Dandy but
Liquor is Quicker
-Ogden Nash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pink Ribbon Sweet Potatoes

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

So, here they are!

Ingredients

Sweet potato

Green pepper

Onion

Spinach

Feta

Bacon 

Black pepper

Garlic

Salt

 cinnamon

Avocado for garnish.

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

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

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

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

So yum. 

Showing Up

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

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

But here are bright spots from the last couple weeks:

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

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

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

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

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

Getting a free First Class upgrade to Detroit.

Getting to work out at a local gym for free.

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

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

Remembering and living that Love Means Showing Up.

The Healing Season

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

This was an absolutely amazing book.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sugar Fast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, love is always what makes the difference.

Being Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Lent, y'all!