Lost & Found

Some things can be lost and then found.  Once they’ve been reclaimed, all you’ve essentially lost is that time of separation.  A favorite piece of jewelry, a ten dollar bill in last year’s coat pocket… 

Other things are lost and replaced by something else…some surrogate that fills the void, elicits the same feelings, or distracts you from what you’ve lost - like filling the void of a broken heart with a rebound relationship, an addiction, or a jam-packed social calendar.  Bandages can stop the bleeding and cover up the wound, but with enough activity or wear and tear, they will eventually peel off and reveal the wound again.  Surrogates can be exciting and satisfying until that moment comes when you look squarely at that replacement and realize it’s not the same as what you lost.  Not even close.

Some things can be found or rediscovered.  But the value of that thing might have changed.  The lost dog returns home, but it is now skittish.  The couple reunites, but their love will never be what it once was.  Time has passed.  Circumstances have changed.  Life has happened.  Damage cannot be undone, only forgiven and reconciled. 

Other things are lost forever - innocence, for instance.  Trust. 

Some make choices that they know will surely lead to the loss of something valuable.  Then once they’ve lost it, they recognize its worth and vow to do whatever it takes to get it back.  This is a phenomenon I will never understand.  I find it insulting and infuriating.  If you would hate to lose a possession in your car, don’t carelessly leave it unlocked and then complain when someone opens it and steals your belongings.  If you would hate to lose your husband, don’t cheat on him and then mourn his absence once he leaves you. 

I'm starting to believe I cannot ever reclaim what you took from me.  I can only heal and learn from it, and inform my future with the knowledge and experience of my past.  You will always be the reason I have changed.  How I hate giving you that power, but I know by now it is true.  That's okay.  I’m stronger.  I’m wiser.  I’ll never be the “me” that I was then.  You took things that can never be returned nor replaced, only rebuilt with a new look and a new feel...  I'd like to believe that the strength and wisdom I gained from your intersection in my life will make it impossible for me to ever give myself completely....to the wrong man. 

"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost."

~Gilbert K. Charleston

So Small

“And when you figure out love is all that matters after all, it sure makes everything else seem so small.”

~Carrie Underwood

Sometimes I feel so alone.  My life is full of a lot of things – lots of friends, family, my children, my work, my faith, my hobbies and interests…..but I feel alone sometimes because I don’t have a partner, a significant other.  No matter how much is in your life – even a strong relationship with God – nothing can quite fill that particular hole.

More than one person has suggested, implied, or outright commanded me that I should “just be happy to be a mother” when discussing the lack of a romantic companion in my life.  My response to that would entail another blog entry, so let’s just say that I disagree and that no one in my shoes would be foolish enough to say something like that.  It’s as foolish as telling the infertile couple who wants a child that they should just be happy to have each other.  The parent/child relationship is more like a manager/employee relationship.  My job is to raise them to be successful human beings – financially, socially, academically, occupationally, spiritually, etc.  It is not to be confused with a relationship between two consenting parties where each is concerned with the welfare of the other.

I’ve made peace with the fact that I am alone in this sense, and I am exceedingly grateful I did not make a commitment to the wrong person.  God allowed me to experience a tremendous amount of hurt so that I would not experience even greater hurt further down the line.  It’s crystal clear to me that he intervened in a way I could not ignore, and it’s an amazing, humbling thing.  I also realize I may or may not ever find someone to share my life with in only the way you can with a life partner.

So then I move to problem solving mode.  What can I do to fill the void?  I can seek out and find love.  Nothing that would feel like that “partner love” of which I speak, but the next best thing.  I find love in genuine friends of mine whom I can share soul-searching conversations with.  I find love in animals.  I find love in my children, yes.  I find love at church.  I find love when I talk to God.  I find love when I see people perform acts of kindness for one another.  I find love in the fall leaves, the winter snow, a sunny day at the lake…basking in the glory of God’s creation.  In music, in movies, in literature…even if it’s a fantasy, I find love.

The challenge is to train oneself to look for love.  Consistently negative people don’t see it, because they choose not to.  When we become bitter and jaded, or when we throw pity parties for ourselves, we miss out on all the love around us.  And believe it or not, there’s a lot of it out there.  You do have to look for it though – first by deciding you want to see it. 

What you got if you ain't got love
the kind that you just want to give away
its okay to open up
go ahead and let the light shine through
I know it's hard on a rainy day
you want to shut the world out and just be left alone
but don't run out on your faith

'cause sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
is just a grain of sand
and what you've been up there searching for forever
is in your hands
when you figure out love is all that matters after all
it sure makes everything else seem so small

it's so easy to get lost inside
a problem that seems so big at the time
it's like a river thats so wide
it swallows you whole
while you're sitting 'round thinking 'bout what you can't change
and worrying about all the wrong things
time's flying by
moving so fast
you better make it count 'cause you cant get it back

sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
is just a grain of sand
and what you've been up there searching for forever
is in your hands
oh when you figure out love is all that matters after all
it sure makes everything else seem so small

Fear & Faith

Since listening to another thought-provoking sermon this morning, I've been thinking all day about fear.  My fear.  It's true that I'm afraid of bats, carwashes, failure, and rejection; but I can easily identify my greatest fear at this moment in my life: fear of love.  Well, more specifically, fear of romantic love.  For the first time in my life, I've become so afraid of loving a man, I've simply removed myself from the dating arena entirely.  As one might guess, my fear is born from a bad experience (that may be the understatement of the year). 

Pastor Ken used an illustration of a seesaw with fear on one side and faith on the other.  But I found myself wrestling through an internal debate on this topic.  What does my faith in God have to do with being safe in a human love relationship?  After all, I wouldn't be dating God.  Humans are fallible, sinful creatures, and there's no guarantee that overcoming my fear would equate to a worthwhile relationship with another human.  It's not God's responsibility to plop me in the path of a Godly man.  Are we talking about trusting God to lead me to a person worthy of loving and worthy of loving me?  I don’t really believe it works that way.  At least it hasn’t before.  He didn’t lead me to that type of person before – several times in fact.  To be fair, when I met the men who ended up hurting me the most, I didn’t necessarily meet them under Godly circumstances or doing Godly things.  Except for the one I actually met at church.  But I digress...

I have this thing called freewill that enables me to make all sorts of decisions that will guide my encounters and decisions in life.  Likewise, other humans have freewill that determines their choices and behaviors.  Being a faithful Christian doesn't protect us from life's hurts. 

So I’m back to the same question: how will my faith in God outweigh my fear of loving?  Since I have freewill and since God isn’t responsible for leading me to a good man, how does this work?  Or maybe it doesn’t look like that at all.  Maybe it looks like me loving God and enjoying my life whether someone is in it or not.  Maybe it has more to do with trusting God to help me with discernment.  I can already see the ways in which he has repeatedly shone His light on certain traits of certain people, making it impossible for me to continue in relationships with them.

I guess I've been wrestling with this, thinking that faith would cancel out bad things.  But I think Pastor Ken's point was not to equate the absence of fear with the guarantee of success.  Faith doesn't guarantee success.  But it does guarantee that we won't walk alone.  It gives us strength and courage, which enable us to take chances and even to deal with the inevitable failures and hurts that will come our way. 

"I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart.

And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give.

So don’t be troubled or afraid." John 14:27

"This is my command—be strong and courageous!

Do not be afraid or discouraged.

For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

"But even if you suffer for doing what is right, God will reward you for it.

So don’t worry or be afraid of their threats." 1 Peter 3:14

Idolatry

When I was a kid learning The Ten Commandments, there were certain commandments that I glazed over with relief, feeling they would not ever be an issue for me.  Thou shalt have no other gods before me was one of them.  Certainly I don’t worship any other “god” in the way I might worship God at church or pray to God.  But the term “worship” is a slippery slope.  Idolatry is part of the ice on that slippery slope.

If we’re not careful, we may find ourselves in a one dimensional relationship with another being or even a thing that borders on idolatry or worship.  I’m sure you can think of people you’ve known who had that sort of relationship with their expensive sports car, with their spoiled pet, or with another person, even a celebrity.  Inevitably, that object of “worship” fails us in some way, whether it be by death, destruction, or its absence from our life.  We find ourselves devastated, searching for the elusive North on our internal compass.  Maybe we allow another person to get away with behaviors for which we would hold others accountable.  Perhaps we make excuses to justify our idol’s place on a pedestal?

Yesterday, I read a status update on Jason Aldean’s Facebook page in which he apologized for his recent “inappropriate behavior” which involved “drinking too much” and “embarrassing” himself and his family.  The photos that had been published showed him kissing and intimately touching a woman who was not his wife and the mother of his two daughters.  For the most part, the fan reactions have been forgiving and supportive.  I wonder how forgiving and supportive those same people would be if it was their husband or their father or their sister’s husband or their daughter’s husband who behaved that way?  I suspect they might be more condemning of such behavior if it hit a little closer to home.

I felt personally disappointed when I read the news reports and saw the photos.  I’m a huge fan of Jason Aldean’s and just recently saw him in concert for the second time.  I had to ask myself – if I’m just a fan of his music, why do I have any personal expectations regarding his behavior?  Another artist of whom I’m a fan is Prince, who once pointed out that he doesn’t like the term “fan” because it is short for fanatic.  So, while I don’t have a shrine to Jason Aldean and I don’t attend weekly services to praise him, maybe I need to let go of the idea that there are any among The Ten Commandments that don’t apply to me.   

Figure It Out

Sometimes I hear the echo of your words in my head. 

“Figure it out.” 

In a way, I ought to thank you for being so precise and honest.  Those chilling words were delivered callously, with a sneer, and without a trace of remorse or second thought, with no sign of guilt or trepidation.   You were walking out on us anyway, but I reminded you of the commitment you’d made to my children – most immediately to care for them before and after school.  But your response of “Figure it out” stopped me dead in my tracks.  Although you continued to shock and devastate me with the actions you chose in the hours to come, it was this moment that made me see you for what you are.

So guess what?  I figured it out.  I figured out that not everyone keeps their promises.  I figured out that some people love conditionally.  I figured out that I’m one of the few people my children can count on to love them and care for them whether I’m angry, disappointed, annoyed, or anything else.  I figured out how to resolve the identity theft you committed – both literally and figuratively.   I figured out that seemingly nice people can do horrible things.  I figured out that faith is better placed in God than in people.  I figured a lot out, just as you instructed me. 

What you said when you left
Just left me cold and out of breath...
...and when you slammed the front door shut
A lot of others opened up
So did my eyes so I could see
That you never were the best for me
~Daughtry

Halftime Already?!

Note: This blog was inspired by the message my Pastor Ken Murphy shared this morning.  Check it out yourself at http://thecwc.net/media.php?pageID=11 (should be posted by Tuesday 8/21).

Have you ever watched such a riveting football game that you found yourself stunned when you realized it was halftime?  In an analogy my pastor used this morning about life as a football game, I realized it's quite reasonable to think that I may be close to - or at - halftime in my life, with two quarters completed and two to go.  That was a strange, attention-getting revelation to make!

Halftime is best spent taking a quick rest, reflecting on your performance in the first half, and strategizing for the second half.  Oftentimes I find myself wondering "what am I doing?" or "what have I done with my life?"  On paper, it looks pretty good.  I graduated high school, graduated summa cum laude from Ohio State, earned a master's degree, got married, had two healthy children, bought a home, and have been blessed with employment that, for the most part, is satisfying and enables me to provide for my family. 

At a second glance, however, I might add that there is a lot that is missing.  The marriage didn't last, and I'm a single mother.  I've yet to find a Christian man that can contribute to a respectful and loving relationship on a long term basis.  I'm a hard core romantic with a lot of love to give, and while there are a lot of other souls I can and do love and care for, it's no substitution for a mutually beneficial adult romance and partnership.  It's lonely.  It's exhausting.  It's depressing.  But it's also a refusal to settle.

There are certain things in this world that I am extremely passionate about: music, women's issues (especially reproductive health and rape prevention), and writing.  And while I've dabbled in karaoke and choirs, volunteered for various women's issues/causes, and have this blog...I'm not really pursuing any of those dreams.  My excuse?  Unless I really "made it" in one of those areas (i.e., touring as Miranda Lambert's opening act or writing a couple best-selling novels), they don't pay well, and I can't afford a low-paying job asvthe sole breadwinner in my family.  For instance, my "empty nest" dream (when I have the ability to be on call) is to become a midwife, but I'm terrified of being directly responsible for a woman and child's life or death. 

I felt a spark of excitement today as our pastor encouraged us to find that "sweet spot" where we can best serve God and others using the talents with which we've been blessed.  He reminded us that it often takes a few tries until we find that place where we look forward to serving, even as we change lives while doing it.  I was reminded of a non-profit where I volunteered but realized it wasn't a good fit....and of being guilted into serving in children's ministries at another church and hating every minute of it.  Neither of those was the target I'm trying to hit.

I felt a renewed sense of hope, that maybe the second half can be a game-changer.  Maybe, for practical reasons, my career will  not align with my passions, but maybe I can find that place in my church or in the community where I can feed my passions and derive a sense of purpose where I truly feel that I'm making an important difference in the world and not just increasing someone's profits.  And maybe while I'm doing all of this, I'll run smack into a good man who is not just taking from the world, but giving back as well.  Stranger things have happened.

"you say you don't want it again and again

but you don't really mean it
you say you don't want it  - this circus we're in
but you don't really mean it...

...how many fates turn around in the overtime?"
~Tori Amos, "Spark"

Promise Me That You'll Give Faith A Fighting Chance

The day you were born, so many thoughts passed through my mind.  Mostly, I was just feeling sheer joy, pure exuberance.  You were a miracle - a miracle that came after a diagnosis of "infertility" and many roller coaster months of hope and disappointment.  I thought about your infancy, your toddler years, and your childhood.  I thought about you as an adult - with a career, a home of your own, and an identity that would sprout from your roots.  I did not think about this moment.

Tonight I sat in an auditorium at your sixth grade orientation, and I felt - vicariously - the nerves, anxiety, uncertainty, and excitement that comes at this age with a new school, new classmates, and a new chapter in life.  I wanted to wrap my arms around you, but knew I could not because it would embarrass you.

Those "middle years" were hell for me.  Girls can be so horribly mean.  Everyone is maturing at a different pace, both physically and emotionally.  I always felt I was the last one to cross each milestone - to shave, to wear makeup, to date, etc.  Those that had gained access to those rites of passage tended to rub it in my face to make themselves feel superior.  I was not attractive, I had hair that was changing from stick straight to curly, I was a nerd (i.e., smart) and I was not athletic. 

Sunday nights were routinely filled with sobbing pleas to my folks - begging them not to make me go back to school.  They would remind me of the big picture, including college, and I'd insist that I wasn't going to go to college - therefore there was no need to finish school.  I wanted so desperately to escape those awkward years when I didn't know myself and didn't know who I wanted to become.

I pray that it's different for you - better somehow.  I pray that having divorced parents doesn't negatively impact your sense of self or your upbringing.  I pray that you always remember God is on your side, at your back, and leading the way...that he loves you immensely and will protect you and guide your steps if you listen to his will.  And like the song we used for your baptism ("I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack):

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance. 

On I Walked

I saw you today.  You saw me.  The look on your face was priceless – it spoke volumes of shame, guilt, and embarrassment.  You managed a sheepish grin.  Your fingers formed into the peace sign.  My face was stone.  An eyebrow raised, chin lifted higher, and on I walked.  An onlooker would never have fathomed how close we once were.

Why was I trembling, shaking, and struggling to breathe?  I guess all that hurt returned to me for a moment.  In an instant, those feelings of vulnerability, shock, hurt, and pain all returned to me, as if in waves.  I didn’t feel safe.  But I felt aware, and so I guided my breathing and regained my composure, reminding myself that I am safe.  You can never hurt me again.  And on I walked.

Prodigal

I was raised in the church.  I’ve heard the “Prodigal Son” story more times than I could recall.  But tonight I heard it in a new way, while looking through the eyes of the older, loyal brother who became so angry when his father made such a big to-do about his unreliable, irresponsible, selfish brother’s return home. 

I found myself thinking about how aggravated I can get at work, when I feel that I am responsibly following the rules while others are shirking them.  I often feel as if I’m giving my best effort when others appear to be just skating by, barely performing at an average level.  Sometimes I feel that way in personal relationships too – whether dating relationships, family relationships, or friendships.  It’s like sometimes I start keeping score, rather than taking my own advice and attending to my own affairs instead of worrying about what everyone else is doing and why.  In all honesty, I can fall into the trap of feeling superior to others when I turn a blind eye to my shortcomings, focus on the things I’m doing well, and contrast that to others who fall short in the areas where I excel. 

As a manager, I still must have performance standards for employees, and must coach them to meet these standards and evaluate them accordingly.  But as a person, I need to realize that I don’t get any extra credit for being “on track” longer than someone else.  What’s important is that the lost are eventually found.  And true forgiveness means truly letting go of what came before redemption.

Forks

I've been trying for days to find the words to describe the experience I had volunteering at a women's shelter over the weekend, and I'm not sure they're ever going to come in the eloquent way I'm hoping for.  So forgive me if this blog is jagged and meandering, but sometimes things just have to come out whether they're polished and pretty or not.

I have an advanced degree in an area that makes me seemingly "well-equipped" for just this sort of service.  But as I've learned over and over again in life, there is an enormous chasm between theory and practice.  In other words, talking the talk is much easier than walking the walk.  The honest, horrible truth is that I was dreading this volunteer experience.  I knew I wanted to do it and felt compelled to volunteer.  But when it was time to go, I was in knots.  A lot of that was due to the fact that I didn't know what to expect.  I like to walk into new situations with reasonable expectations and a clear sense of rules and boundaries.  I'm fond of dry runs, dress rehearsals, and rough drafts. All I really knew was that I'd been told to not bring my purse or wear valuable jewelry, and that I was encouraged to engage the women there in conversation.  So there was this strange air of caution about the situation, and it was making me nervous and uncomfortable.

This isn't a domestic violence shelter.  It's a shelter for women who have nowhere to sleep at night, for a plethora of reasons you can probably brainstorm pretty easily.  I walked in there and immediately felt foolish...green...privileged...  I think my appearance lends itself to some pretty easy stereotypes, and I could sense I was being assessed as you'd expect a straight, white, professional female to be assessed. 

It was sensory overload.  I was putting all of my energy into not letting my face give away my thoughts (which is pretty tough for me) or at least not letting my jaw literally drop.  The appearance and personalities of these women varied tremendously, and with each one, I couldn't help but wonder what the circumstances were that prompted her to start heading down the path that led her here.  I thought of so many forks in my life's path and how I could have easily made a sequence of choices that might have led me down a similar road.  Somehow I was able to wait until I left to call my folks, sobbing, thanking them for giving me access to a great education, for instilling top-notch morals in me, for introducing me to God, and for raising me to believe in myself and seize opportunities in life.

I surprised myself by agreeing to lead a little game the leader of our group had planned.  The plan was for the women to write their answers on index cards, but no sooner did she announce that, then someone quietly asked me if I could help her spell because she didn't really know how to write.  So I encouraged the women to just shout out their answers.  It was trivia about popular sayings from TV shows in the 60s and 70s (they had to guess who said the phrase) and they would competitively scream out the answers and then reminisce about that era.  I heard one woman say she hadn't laughed in the longest time.  It made my chest hurt as I fought back tears.  We passed out gift bags to everyone there, containing things like bath sponges, shampoo, body wash, and other personal care items.  I heard a woman squeal with delight, saying she really needed shampoo...

Shampoo.  In your world and in mine, we might find ourselves irritable when we finish a bottle of shampoo because this means we may have to make an unplanned stop at a store and pick up a new bottle.  We're irritated at the inconvenience, but not grateful for the means of transportation that can get us to the store, and not grateful for the money we have so that shampoo is not a luxury.  We might complain about how messy our homes are, but forget to be grateful for a permanent residence.  While I complain about how hot I'm getting in my hammock, someone is wishing they had a yard.  And while I turn on my white noise to help me fall asleep in my bed, someone is wishing the gun shots would stop, or the person next to them in the shelter would stop arguing so loudly with whomever that is.

I can't walk away from this just feeling grateful for my blessings after a powerful reality check.  I walk away from it, challenged to think what more I can do to make some sort of difference in even one of these women's lives.  I walk away challenged to be sure I'm not doing this to feel good about myself, but to truly serve with a pure heart.  Mostly I walk away from it thinking about prevention - and - thinking about raising a young boy and girl to be successful, well-adjusted, capable adults.

Guideposts

I wrote a book review this week about a book I just read - The Story of Edgar Sawtelle.  As I reflected on the book, I was thinking about the functionality of guideposts in our lives.  Quite literally, we rely on things like street signage, directions on a medicine bottle, recipes, etc.  Those "guideposts" inform our decisions and actions whenever we cannot rely upon our own knowledge and experience for that type of information. 

For many of us, people like parents, spouses, teachers, & pastors are our guideposts too.  We feel that, as long as their presence is a part of our life, we cannot veer too far off track.  They mark the edges of the path we are walking.  They assure us we are headed in the right direction, and they may even mark out the path ahead of us. 

What happens when a guidepost is removed or blocked though? It can feel very unsettling and create anxiety, because we rely on those guideposts so much.  But the truth is - parents die, teachers retire, pastors are assigned to other congregations, and so forth.  Friends and lovers fade out of our lives when we least expect it.  In Edgar Sawtelle, Edgar is mute, but his family trains dogs. So Edgar teaches the dogs sign language so that he can communicate with them, giving them signals, directions, and even praise.  He refuses to allow an unconventional means of communication to hamper his ability to do his family's work.    Likewise, the dogs adapt to having someone make hand motions to them, rather than hearing commands spoken our shouted.  They make do. 

The alternative is to believe we are helpless and waste time wandering about aimlessly through our lives, waiting on someone to be a leader or mentor for us so we can find our way.  There is a saying that we don't know what we are capable of until we are forced to endure it, and I believe that to be true.  I never would have thought I could manage to be a single mother of two children without the "guidepost" of a husband.  But I'm doing it, and doing it well.  I had to learn to rely on myself more, to educate myself on certain things, and to be braver and stronger than I was.  They key is to know oneself completely, to be kind to yourself, to challenge yourself, and hopefully to rely on God and his word to lead you through life's challenges and dilemmas. 

Our sight doesn't change, but the view does...

I don't know if this is accurate, but an opthalmologist once explained the phenomenon of aging and related changes in our sight as follows: he said that our capacity for sight doesn't change with age - that we are born with the level of "sight competency" we will die with; however, our ability to compensate for our sight deficiencies weakens with age.  If it's not true, then I apologize for spreading false information, but that's what he said - and hey - it makes for a good blog. 

As children, we see things at face value.  We don't tend to question motive or sincerity.  We trust.  We don't worry about what will happen if we let go and love someone.  We believe in people and we just assume they will do right by us. 

As we age, I'm not sure that our hearts change all that much.  Some of us are born leaders.  Some are blessed with big, compassionate hearts.  Some are shy, some are bold and brave.  We learn so much and we do change.  But do our hearts?  We experience life.  We experience hurt and disappointment, loss and betrayal.  This changes the way we see the world and the people who roam this planet.  But the world hasn't changed.  Sure, certain aspects of the world change.  There are technological advances, natural disasters. changes to government and systems of education, and so forth.  But good and evil have always existed and always will. 

Our ability to focus on the basics slips away, as our vision becomes clouded with life's responsibilities and hardships.  We have to work harder and harder to see what was once so obvious, so pure...

I Hope You Know

I hear your comments and questions, and it's not lost on me - the reasons you speak such things.  I know you're confused.  I know that, for you, it's as simple as the fact that you loved him and believed he loved you.  You liked having a father figure in the house, and you believed in the promises he made to you, your sister, and me.  The excitement in your eyes could not be manufactured.  Not from a child your age.  You were both surprised and pleased that someone appeared to love me as much as you. 

Buddy, I wish you hadn't been one of the casualties.  Mommy feels so guilty.  I thought we were making our little family bigger and better.  I know you feel abandoned and you don't understand.  It's hard for me, when my romance falls to pieces, knowing it is breaking your heart too.  Not only are you suffering your own loss, but you watch me suffer as well, and it hurts your little heart. 

All I can tell you is that Mommy has a tremendous capacity to love and wants to be loved in return.  That's how I found myself with him in that moment, making those plans for the future.  Just as I feared I couldn't love another child as much as I loved your older sister (before you were born), I feared I wouldn't have room in my heart or our home to let someone else join us.  But I did. 

I'm sorry you wound up feeling, once again, screwed over.  Im sorry that, once again, someone walked out of your life without a proper goodbye, viewing you as disposable.  I know you feel protective of me, just as I do toward you and toward her.  I know you worry about me and you try to help in big and small ways, whether it's giving me some spare change to "help with the groceries", or drawing a beautiful picture for me, or reminding me that you are a Cub Scout and are always wiling to help set the table, for instance. 

I'm sorry our family doesn't look like most of your friends' families.  One thing I can promise you is that there will always be peace, love, and respect in this house.  And I will deprive myself of a partner if I can't find one that will bring those things and abide by the very values I am trying to instill in you.  This is our safe harbor, and I will protect you.

Reflections on the Bioluminescent Bay

I recently had the privilege of traveling to Puerto Rico.  While there, I had an amazing experience kayaking in one of the few bioluminescent bodies of water in the world.  This one was La Laguna Grande - you can look it up if you want the scientific explanation as to how and why the microscopic, single-celled dinoflagellates light up when agitated by movement. 

Let me just mention that this was my first experience with kayaking, which I found to be both challenging and instructive.  I enjoyed using my body and brain together to achieve a goal.  I also enjoyed the teambuilding aspect of it as I shared a kayak with a coworker.  There were elements of trust, partnership, leadership, and cooperation involved.  At one point, I realized that it was not unlike other physical activities that two humans share together, like ballroom dancing and making love.  It requires a certain amount of coordination and intention, mixed with a certain amount of flexibility and free expression.  Focus and flow.  If you have an individualistic mindset, your results are going to probably come more slowly (if at all), and you will garner a lot of frustration and disagreement along the way.

There was something a little scary about being out on the water during the dark of night, having only a glow bracelet on the kayak in front of you to follow.  From time to time, we'd bump into low trees back in the narrow channels of water, and even get stuck on the shoreline.  So it required a certain level of bravery and faith.  And about the time you built up a little confidence and courage....that's when the miraculous part of the adventure happened.

As the oar made contact with the water, it blazed a trail of glowing luminescence in the water.  It was beautiful, amazing!!  Curiosity thrust my hand into the water, and as I gently stroked the water, I left a temporary mark of glowing finger trails in the water.  Splashing the water on your legs left a fleeting bit of glowing "paint" splattered on your skin.    It was awesome!!!!!

Now....if you'll bear with me, here's where the metaphoric part of the experience comes, as well as the personal aspect of the adventure that I created for myself. 

About a year ago, I was engaged to be married.  The engagement and the relationship turned out to be less durable than the Titanium wedding band I'd purchased for him.  After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at selling the ring (gold is what's popular now I guess), I decided I'd unload it by taking it to Puerto Rico and leaving it there.  I took it to the bio bay that night.  And as I relied upon my new kayaking skills, the instruction of a stranger, the partnership of a colleague, and the light of the moon to help me find my way....I felt an immeasurable swell of peace.  In one of the darkest bends of the narrow channel of water, I slipped that ring off of my thumb.  I felt conflicted about what I was about to do.  In some ways it seemed unnecessary, wasteful.  I consciously thought to myself "You need to let go of this hurt and this pain.  You need to believe that God is not going to let you tip over into murky water or leave you washed up on the shore.  He's given you just enough light to navigate on the water.  He's given you a capable leader.  He has shown you that what at first seems scary and insurmountable can turn out to be peaceful, beautiful, and awe-inspiring."

When that ring hit the water, it created a momentary glow that emanated up through the water as the ring spiraled down before coming to rest.  It was rather beautiful. 

I wish our love was right now

I wish we could come together, as a team, yet as two strong individuals knowing who they are and what we want out of life.  I wish I could lean into your strong body, feeling your chin rest on the top of my head as I let myself believe you would do anything to protect me.  I wish we could finish each other’s sentences and laugh at each other’s jokes until tears seep from our eyes.  I wish we could admire each other’s accomplishments.  I wish we could share our dreams and challenge one another to pursue them.  I wish we would always treat one another with love and respect, even when we disagree, even when we make each other mad and we get short with one another and find each other annoying.  I wish we would make it a priority to invite God into the center of our relationship, and grow in our faith together, but separately.  I wish I could take care of you in my little ways and let you take care of me in your ways.  I wish we could regard one another with pride in our eyes.  I wish I could count on you to have my back.  I wish we could always keep it in the forefront of our minds that love is precious and rare and can never just coast on fumes of fuel – that it must always be fed or at least maintained and cared for.  I wish I knew where you are.  I wish I knew who you are. 

You Put Your Gum WHERE?!?

During my family's Easter dinner, my sister-in-law discovered there was not one, but two pieces of chewed gum stuck under the dining room chair upon which she was sitting.  We spent a moment or two blaming the children and speculating as to its origin.  I half-jokingly blamed an ex of mine.  Yeah, I'm goin' there.  Not an important question in the grand scheme of life, but really - how hard is it to properly dispose of gum you're done chewing?

This guy put gum in the most inopportune places.  I mean, I found it on furniture, on coasters, on bookshelves, on the interior of the car......and I it explained to me.  I realize maybe some people can't swallow their gum, or don't want to.  But how hard is it to make it to the nearest trash can, to put it on your plate, etc.?  To whomever stuck their gum under my parents' dining room chair...the kitchen is 10 shakes away and there's a trash can right there.  So I don't get it.  Hell, I've swallowed other people's gum before...in a tight spot.  Sheesh!

Making Music

Have you ever sang in a choir?  As I sat in church last night watching the conductor of our orchestra, I was mesmerized. It's because it reminded me of the experience of singing in a choir. 

When you sing in a choir, you should be exhausted afterward.  There's a lot of thinking going on as you keep one eye to the sheet music, one eye to the director, anticipating what's coming next, remembering oddities about the music, remembering where to breathe so as to not wind up breathing in the middle of a word, and so forth. 

To me, it's an amazing thing to experience.  Part of it is because I'm not one to let someone else be in control of me.  But in this case, it feels good because it's allowing me to be a part of creating something beautiful: music.  With one motion of the hand, or with raised eyebrows, or a look in the eye....you as a singer get the message they are trying to send: "louder" or "get ready - that tricky part is coming" or "nice job!"  You have to learn to trust the director, that they aren't going to cue you to sing on a rest or get loud when you're supposed to sing quietly.  Essentially, you do whatever they direct you to do, plus you bring your hours of rehearsal and preparation to the table. 

It's really like a master puppeteer scenario.  Sometimes I feel as if there is a tiny string between the director's finger and my ribs.  When they give that hand motion that you'd give someone to say "come on over - quickly - the coast is clear" I push out air from my diaphragm to follow the cue of singing louder, louder, until sometimes my body is trembling from the exertion of air.  But you're not just a puppet....you're a willing, prepared, talented participant.  You're there to perform the best you possibly can, and they are there to steer you and to push you. 

Singing in a choir also brings that rare experience of working together in utter cooperation and teamwork.  You want, more than anything, for those tenors to hit their harmony right.  You need the person next to you keep in time so as not to distract you.  You silently pray that the sopranos will hit that high note and when they do, the corners of your mouth pull into a smile because you're so proud to be a part of such a talented group of people, and because you're genuinely happy for the sopranos for nailing it, because you know how much they struggled in rehearsals with that measure. 

Why can't we live our lives like that?  Reflecting on all of this made me think about how we conduct ourselves in the workplace, but mostly about how we conduct ourselves as people.  In music (and in sports I would argue) we experience the things I described above....if we're doing it right.  But when's the last time you've really wanted to see your coworker succeed and not been secretly pleased to see them stumble?  When's the last time you've felt a part of something amazing that you could not have done by yourself?  Are you willing to follow the rules or guidelines while you trust the person in charge?  Are we assembled in the risers with one eye on God and one eye on His written word, doing our best to follow it to a "T"? 

Each of us brings a talent, a unique voice.  But when we're willing to join our voices with other amazing voices, to practice our parts, memorize the words, and take instruction from the director, our talents are amplified and multiplied into something far bigger than we are.

Affix Your Own Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others

Anyone who has been on a plane has heard this bit of advice.  Recently, I've been reminded of this concept as a parent, friend, manager, and employee. 

I have reactive hypoglycemia and have to plan for - and treat - low blood sugar every few hours, every day.  After mowing the lawn on a warm afternoon last weekend, I found myself struggling to stay upright as I finished the last few rows of grass.  I knew exactly what was wrong, but I chose to press on (stubborn people can become downright belligerent with moderate hypoglycemia) and finish the task at hand (I'm a Type A list maker who derives pleasure from crossing things off said lists).  The mower made it to the driveway (not to the garage), and I made it inside the house, but not up to the kitchen where my glucose tablets live.  Then I'm shouting at my kids, asking them to run and get my glucose, something to drink, and a granola bar, as well as my blood sugar meter.  They've seen this a million times and have even seen me pass out several times, so they aren't too impressed by my dramatic entrance and desperate demands.  So at the same time I'm trying to articulate what I need and whip my kids into action (my daughter is wasting time by asking what kind of granola bar I'd prefer and whether she can have one too), I'm also trying to retain my consciousness while my head is swimming and my body is trembling. 

If I had just stopped mowing and taken a break to have a snack, I wouldn't have arrived in this moment of helplessness and panic.  And for as long as I was in a compromised state of health, I was unable to be much of a parent (or much of a lawnmower!).

In life, too, we must learn to recognize the signs our bodies and souls give us, signaling that we are fatigued, overdrawn, compromised, conflicted, or failing.  We need to spend time tending to ourselves.  Only then, when we are more full than empty, more fulfilled than in longing, more restful than weary...are we able to provide reliable support or guidance to other people, other causes.  Stretching ourselves too thin winds up serving no one.  Not well, anyways. 

Lopsided by Design

It’s really hard for me to let someone else pay my way without what I consider a “good reason,” like my birthday or because they are thanking me for something.  This makes dating me a slippery slope (on the rare occasion I find a man who can and will offer to pay for a night out), but I digress…  Why does it bother me so much?  I’m a generous person, and I love giving to others when I’m able.  I like picking up things that make me think of someone, I love surprising people with small kindnesses, sending notes, doing anonymous acts of kindness, etc.  Why is it difficult for me to accept favors and “gifts for no reason?” 

I guess it’s mostly because it makes me feel indebted to that person, and I hate that feeling.  I feel that I owe them, and I can’t let it go until I pay them back one way or another (either reimbursing, taking a turn paying their way, or at the very least a prompt thank you note).   Maybe I can’t stand having an imbalance of power.  Maybe I’m afraid I’ll forget to “make it right” if I don’t do it right away.  Maybe it’s because I was raised to be considerate and fair.  Maybe it’s because I’ve had friends who liked to keep score, so I learned that nothing was ever truly a gift unless there was a “good reason” for it.  Maybe it’s because I’ve dated people who said “put your money away – I’ve got this” and then invoiced me for my half, down to the dime.

I know there are those of us out there who appear to be very comfortable taking from others, so my reaction to receiving gifts is not universal.  “The LORD will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands. You will lend to many nations but will borrow from none.” (Deuteronomy 28: 12).  I’m not a seminary student or theology scholar.  I’m not sure exactly what this verse means, to be honest with you.  Maybe we’re just being encouraged to give more than we take. 

The season of Lent gives me the opportunity to reflect on the ultimate example of “paying my way.”  You see, I believe that God paid the debt of my sins – those I’ve committed and all those I’ll commit in the future – by sacrificing his only son’s life.  For me.  It’s the biggest, most meaningful, most powerful gift I’ll ever receive, and there is nothing I can do to even attempt to repay it.  I have to just accept it.  It’s humbling.  It wasn’t done for me because I deserved it, and not because I earned it.   

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6: 23).  The key word in that verse, for me, is free.  I don’t have an address to send a thank you note.  Even a quid pro quo offering would be insufficient.  There’s nothing I can do to make myself feel better about receiving this gift.  It’s severely lopsided, and that’s by design.  It’s so far beyond my comprehension.  God believed I was worth it.  Period.  All I can do is spend my life trying to honor Him in my daily living.  I’ll fail each day.  But I’ll always continue to keep trying, to reflect, to learn, to stretch myself and grow.   And hopefully I'll always be humbled by this gift and my inability to pay it back.

Ask Me To Dance

“I finally asked you to dance on the last slow song “

I remember being a teenager, being at a dance, and spending far too much time and energy wishing a certain boy would ask me to dance.  When he did, I found myself wishing like hell he’d asked me earlier in the night so that we could have shared many more dances together.

Life’s like that a lot, and I’ve been both parties: the one leaning against the wall, waiting to be asked to dance, as well as the one working up the nerve to ask.  From where I stand right now, my message in both instances is don’t wait.  Don’t “waste the pretty” standing around hoping someone will notice you, realize your worth, love you the way you deserve to be loved, etc.  Likewise, when contemplating going after something you really want, don’t let fear hamper your timing.  Instead, imagine what it would feel like to get what it is you want….and imagine getting it sooner rather than at some hypothetical “right time.”

Of course I know this is easier said than done.  This is a message for me as much as anyone else.  But I do know this to be true: the chemistry of a good dance to a great song with the perfect partner is really something.  But when you know the lights are about to come up and this will be the last song played, it’s a little bittersweet knowing you could have been feeling that way all night and not just for that four minute song.   And by the way…I’m not really talking about dancing.

Allergic to Caterpillars, Not Butterflies

People always think I’m joking when I tell them I’m allergic to caterpillars.  Even those in the medical field respond with “Beg your pardon?” or “That’s a new one!”  The first thing in my life that I can recall is the day I learned I was allergic to caterpillars.  I was in preschool and we had discovered woolly caterpillars crawling all over a tree on the playground.  I was delighted and began to touch them, pick them up, and eventually let them crawl on my arms and legs.  The rest of the day involved extreme discomfort, hives, rashes, and itching that couldn’t be lessened by bathing or any sort of topical treatment.  To this day, when I see a caterpillar, I overreact a bit to make sure we don’t make contact with one another.

Interestingly, I don’t seem to be allergic to butterflies.  I haven’t spent a lot of time in contact with them, but I’ve certainly touched them, and I’ve had no allergic reaction.  It’s like once they’ve spent some time all wrapped up in their cocoons, sort of hibernating away from the rest of the world, and make that transformation into a new being, our interactions have completely different results.

I spent this winter in hibernation.  I wanted to hunker down with the comforts of home, close friends, and family, seeking solace in the simplest things, like cuddling on the couch and watching a movie or reading a book.  My cocoon was somewhat involuntary.  It was there to prevent aftershocks, rebounds, and additional instances of poor judgment in undeserving people.  Much like a child who’s been startled at someone jumping out of the darkness, I found myself carrying a metaphorical flashlight at all times, or avoiding the “dark” places altogether. 

I wasn’t done healing, the wounds were still seeping.  I was still flushing the toxicity from my system that came from the events I experienced last spring and summer.  I also didn’t want anyone looking for their missing parts in my junk yard, because I felt I had nothing I could bear to part with, needing each and every scrap for my own survival.  I fed myself spiritually and got on the path I'd danced around for so long, but never truly committed to in all the ways that I needed to. 

But now spring has come, in more ways than one.  Everything’s not resolved or forgotten, and there is still hurt that remains, promises that weren’t kept, and “let downs” of enormous proportions.  I'm still afraid.  And yet, after a season of rest and renewal, of self-protection and self-preservation, I think this may be my time to emerge from my cocoon.  I may look different than I did before.  After all, I am changed. 

So many new people and new opportunities have come into my life, and I want to explore them, relish them, allow them to lift me up and permit myself to give again – hopefully without being ripped off in every sense of the word.  I intend on spreading my wings and doing some flying as the Earth is reborn.  Time is so short.  Perhaps shorter than I can fathom.  And while a period of solitude is understandable (and cocoons are comfy), it is not a permanent solution.  It’s time to spend more time laughing than crying, time to do more celebrating and less mourning.  It’s time to dream, and dream big.  My cocoon has split due to my growth.  Here I am.  Let’s do this.

And one to grow on...

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• I lost someone who meant the world to me and who promised to love me forever.  Six weeks before our wedding date, he did some horrible things that stunned me and broke my heart as it has never been broken before.  I still haven't recovered completely and am not sure I ever will.
• I took on the difficult responsibility of becoming the sole custodian of my two children.
• I exhausted myself by adding a part-time job to my long list of responsibilities.
• I struggled with heath problems, had life-changing surgery, and am concerned about ongoing testing and diagnoses.
• I lost a friend to suicide.
• I've lost touch with some friends in my life.
• I'm spread too thin, running my kids to sports practices & games, music lessons, scout meetings, and church activities.

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• God intervened in my life and stopped me from making a big mistake.  I'm learning more and more about what I do and don't want in a partner. 
• I've been blessed to grow closer with my children than ever and to guide their lives in a positive direction.
• I was given a fabulous opportunity to earn additional income for my family and to meet some amazing women.
• I am healthier than ever, now that I've stopped smoking and have increased my physical exercise.  I have access to world-class health care facilities and physicians and have fantastic insurance coverage.
• I gained a new appreciation and value for my own life and realized that - as our preacher said today - "if I'm not dead, I'm not done".  God has a plan and a purpose for my life, even if I sometimes am tempted to quit on everyone around me.
• I've gained new friends that challenge me, inspire me, make me laugh, and encourage me to grow.
• My children are developing talents & interests they are passionate about, and I'm able to support their involvement.  I've also found a church I can call home for the first time in many years, and I look forward to attending worship and bible study there each week.

Both lists are true, and both are about me.  Attitude is everything.  I won't lie - sometimes hurt, pain, stress, and worry occupy my heart and mind.  But I try more and more to live on the other side of the coin, choosing to see the positive in my present circumstances, and inviting God to come in and fill those empty spaces, to soothe those worries, and to give peace when I don't understand. 

"Well, still...pretty good year." :) 

Cold Turkey

People have always told me they were surprised to learn that I smoked.  I’ve never really known what they meant by that.  I guess they expect a smart person to not do something as stupid as that.  I guess that’s why I was a closet smoker at times.  I didn’t want them to judge me.  It took my kids years to figure it out because I hid it well from them for so long.  It wasn’t an example I wanted to set for them, and I certainly was never going to smoke around them and expose them to second hand smoke.

For me, smoking was the thing I did that didn’t make sense or didn’t add up when you consider who I am as a whole person.  It was my crutch.  It was my “go to” when I was sad, angry, frustrated, or bored.  But it was even more routine than that.  It was a part of driving, a part of eating, a part of work, a part of play, a part of practically everything. 

In January, I tried to quit smoking.  I asked my doctor for a prescription (which I’d taken once before for another purpose) with a side effect of smoking cessation.  Apparently, although it wasn’t created for that purpose, it’s used for that purpose quite a bit.  Without effort, I found myself cutting way back on quantity and even frequency, reducing my intake by a third.  But to be honest, I was also pretty much waiting for the medicine to work a miracle all by itself.  I wasn’t giving up easily.  Unfortunately, I quickly remembered why my previous usage of this drug was short term.  For me, it creates a horrid sense of depression and despondency – so much so that after a few days of coming home from work and doing nothing (no laundry, no cleaning, no errands, no exercise, no work for my part-time job, no fun activities with the kids....and folks, there is no other adult in my household), I realized this medicine was changing me and that I had to end it immediately, lest I lose myself completely.  And so I continued to smoke.

Then my pastor did a sermon series on stewardship.  He spoke a lot about letting God into all areas of life, including the area where our hurts and our bad habits reside.  I immediately thought of people who had habits “worse” than mine (as if we can rank our mistakes or sins).  He talked about the distinction between accepting Christ as our Savior and accepting Him as our Lord.  He explained this in a way that really made sense to me for the first time.  I began to think about ALL of the areas in my life, and I challenged myself to think about what it would look like to live in a way that honored God’s will for me, rather than honoring my little plan for myself.  This isn’t a new idea for me.  I have always tried to live in a Godly way and to demonstrate my faith by my actions and words, although I have admittedly failed many times.  I knew, deep down, that if I was honest with myself, living according to God’s plan for me could not include smoking.  There was no excuse that would enable me to do it.

This rested on my heart for a week or two.  Then one day I saw that I had two cigarettes left and thought to myself “okay, I need to stop and get smokes on the way home tonight.”  But then I thought, “or do I?”  It had to come to me in this way.  I never bought that next pack and the end of day 9 is drawing close tonight.  There are absolutely times I still want a cigarette.  There are times I don’t know what to do with myself without one.  I’ve bought healthy snacks, started exercising more, and a coworker surprised me with his decision to quit 3 days ago, so that is helpful as well.  We take walks together now instead of smoke breaks.  Mostly I try – and it’s a behavior I have to learn – to let God in to the place where smoking was…to ask Him to fill the holes that loneliness and boredom make, to let him soothe my nerves and calm my worry and anxiety, to let him mute my temptation and desire down to a manageable level.  I’m not really sure I’m doing anything at all, and when I feel that I am, I’m careful to give the credit to Him instead, so that credit won’t turn to pride.